#ah well i have to remove some comic strips

[maounosekai]

Me: Alright, we have *checks list* 10 more comic strips to make and remake for the BLEACH fancomic compilation Also me, this evening: I was supposed to remake this one Christmas comic strip how did I end up into making this into a wholesome cute story but divided in *counts* 7 comic strips (not yet final count)??????

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[colossal-fallout]

Hear me out. A dom Yelena with a male bodied reader smut one shot. Imagine the kinkiest thing you can imagine and accelerate it to 11.

- wipes brow -

This is... Prepare yourself 😂

Teacups ☕

Warnings; NSFW 18+ Smut. Kinks. Basically just filth.

Lord be with you

I am now tainted

The harsh snap sound of the belt peirced the air as Yelena turns to face you, pulling at the strap of leather with force; her grin spreading wider.

"Well now. We have been a naughty boy, haven't we?"

"Babe, it was an accident I swear!" You plead. Although you were enjoying her being this dominant, your "punishment" was genuinely misplaced.

"Is that so?" She sighs in an almost boredom.

"Yes!" You insist. "It just slipped out of my hand and I -"

"And you broke my favourite tea cup. Accidental or not, you did it. And now you must face the consequences."

Ah, shit.

She struts towards you where she had you tied with your hands above your head. You'd fallen for it again. She'll act all horny and sweet and once your guard is down, bam! You're in a scissor lock and being tied up.

You begin to get nervous when you see that insane spark trying to ignite behind her eyes.

You flinch when she raises her arms above you - but relax in a cautious curiosity when she places the belt between your teeth.

"Don't speak." She orders. "You're going to need that."

You whimper almost comically wondering why you get yourself in these situations.

Because you love it, that's why.

Your cock was already rock solid from the luring teasing shed done before tying you up, the excitement of your "punishment" only adding fuel to the fire; especially now she was stripping off her clothes.

She turns and fumbles with something out of view.

"mmhmhmmm??" You ask.

"Shut up."

You let out a sigh through your nose. Here we go again.

Eventually she turns, revealing she'd equipped a strap on, with a huge veiny cock attached to it.

Where the fuck did she get that from?!

She climbs onto the bed when you notice she has what looks like elastic bands in her fingers.

"mhmhm...?"

"I said, shut up." She pings one of them off your shaft, making you cry out in a pleasured pain.

She then places her face close to your dick.

"Aw, how can I stay mad at you?" She begins to sensually and sloppily kiss your dick.

You didn't know if she was talking to you or your manhood, but either way, the way she was now slobbering over you felt amazing.

You moan loudly, the leather vibrating your lips as she pushes your cock down her entire throat. She'd always been amazing at that.

The room was now full of slopping, popping and squelching as she fucks you with her skull devishly. Your grip on your restraints tighten when she suddenly... Stops.

You look down and see here fumbling as she tightly fastens one of the bands around the base of your cock, constricting all of the blood flow into the muscle.

She then begins to lightly slap her prosthetic dick off yours, seemingly enjoying the little sword fight to herself for a few moments.

"Yelnhmhm!" You scowl.

"Hm? Oh. Right." She shakes her head.

She moves her head down and fits your balls into her wide mouth, slobbering and sucking them, before spitting on your arsehole, running her tongue down your crack and prodding it inside, fumbling with your sack with her hands.

It was a strange sensation but God did it feel good. It distracted you from your constricted cock that was becoming an alarming shade of crimson.

She spat some more, and again, drooling all over your manhood and hole before sitting up and lining up her cock to your heat.

"Prepare yourself." She mutters in a monotonous tone before beginning to prod the head into you.

Your eyes sting and you're certainly glad she'd given you that belt to bite down on as it felt like she was ripping you apart from the inside.

"Are we good?" She checks in when she's half submerged.

You nod.

"good."

It takes a little while but she's eventually fully inside you, spitting down for some more lubricant as she slowly begins to rock.

Your back arches, feeling so full and the pleasure was so intense, you thought your cock was going to swell and snap that elastic.

"Take me." She grins manically. "Take all of me. Take your punishment, you filth."

She grabs your hips to help here thrust you into the next world - your cock aching now, needing to be released.

"plsmsnsmmm"

"What's that?" She smirks.

You push out the belt with your tongue.

"Please god, Yelena I can't take it! Let me cum, touch me! Take that damn band off!"

"Are you sorry?"

She's still thrusting.

"Yes! I'm sorry!"

"For?"

"For breaking your damn cup, I'll buy you another, fuck me, please!"

With a satisfied smile she removes the band, the release of pressure heavenly as she strokes you, still moving her hips in rhythm.

You cry out, you cuss, you hiss... You're not entirely sure what you're doing as you leave your body, your huge orgasm just around the corner.

Her nails dig into your flesh with her free hand.

"Yes. Feed me." She marvells, feeling you twitch and tense.

You fucking roar when you cum, she reaches over and opens her mouth as you shoot your mess, more cum than you thought was possible to be held inside your sacks.

Eventually you thought you were spitting out dust, as you seemed to stop your surging eruption of cum, but you still seemed to be orgasming.

Once you finally settle down and your vision returns, you look down to see Yelena's face covered in your thick white mess, licking her lips.

"Have you learned your lesson?" She asks, slowly removing the cock.

"...I'm never making you tea again."

This was fun tbh. I could have went a lot further but your "11" and mine could be so so different 😂

[collective-laugh]

Writing prompt: MC, Asra, and Julian playing strip poker and it ends in a threesome 👀

So, this was really fun to write, and I am so, so sorry it took so long to get out. I’ve been pretty swamped, but I hope you like it!

Warning(s): Smut, threesome, swearing, seriously it’s pretty nasty, it’s pretty rushedPairing: Asra x MC x JulianWord Count: 1700 ish

“Please, Asra, you couldn’t bluff if your life depended onit!” Julian laughs, his voice carrying through the shop. They lifted thetankard to their lips when Asra’s mouth hung dramatically, feigning offense atthe mockery, and they couldn’t really believe that Julian had actually bestedthe magician in their little game of poker, couldn’t believe that Julian hadn’ttried to wrangle them into it yet.

“Why don’t you join the fun?” Asra asks, trying to sound likehe wasn’t upset at just how tragically the stakes were looking for him,considering he’d already bet away fifty gold bits and a beautiful dawdle he’dkept on the shelf. Julian still sat smug, his tankard empty, though he caredmore for the surplus of prizes sitting before him.

Julian’s face lights up at the suggestion, and he agreesimmediately, “You should! Help me put Asra The Great and Powerful in hisplace!” His words are punctuated with a dramatic sway of his hand and a grinaltogether too large for his face.

The Apprentice nearly chokes on their drink, but manages tosmile and shake their head, “Sorry, I’m not much for cards.” They lie, knowingfull well they could take Julian’s drunk arse any day of the week, regardlessof sobriety.

There’s no shortage of ‘please!’s and ‘come on!’s from bothof the theatrical people sitting before them, but they stand stoic in theiranswer, rising to refill all of their drinks.

“Why could you possibly need me to join?” They ask, balancingthe three drinks precariously, and Julian stands to help them, taking his andAsra’s beverages.

“You’ll certainly be more formidable than this drabcompetitor!” Julian announces to half of Vesuvia.

Asra rolls his eyes, accepting his drink, “And certainly abetter conversationalist than him.”

Julian scoffs, feigning offense, “Please, I’m the epidemy ofcharm.” He flips his hair, “Do join us, darling, and save me the headache.”

“I’m no babysitter.” They claim, sitting back down, refusingstill to play their game, “But I won’t stop your fun, kiddos.”

“What if we raised the stakes?” Asra offers, a grin pullingat his lips, “Wager a bit more?”

Julian barks out a laugh, “You’ve hardly anything left tobet.”

“Clothes.” Asra retorts, deadpan, “Strip poker, I suppose.”His lips curl into a little smirk when the Apprentice does choke on their drink this go round, and Julian’s smile drops.

Julian sputters like a fish out of water, looking between thetwo people, “That’s, uh…that’s not necessary, I, uh…”

“Oh, come on, Julian, I thought you liked a challenge?” Asragrins salaciously, and it’s obvious what he’s playing at.

The Apprentice couldn’t deny the fact that the idea wastempting. The people before them were absolutely gorgeous, and who were they todeny them.

“I’m in.” They agree, trying not to sound too enthusiastic,but the mirth in Asra’s eyes is enough to let them know they sounded all tooexcited. They clear their throat and pull their chair up to the table, waitingfor Julian to agree.

He still looked like a fish out of water, his mouth agapecomically, “I, ah…” And then, like a switch had been pulled, he smiles andadds, “Sounds like you’ll be nude by the end of this, Asra.”

“What are we playing?” The Apprentice asks, trying still tocalm their voice, as not to betray their anticipation, rubbing their hands ontheir thighs to try and hide their sweaty palms.

“Blackjack.” Julian answers, his voice cracking, so he clearshis throat and tries again, “Blackjack.”

“You seem nervous, Julian.” Asra says, more joy in his voicethan ought to be possible. “If you aren’t up to the challenge -.”

Julian scoffs out a laugh, “Please. My only concern is foryour dignity.”

“I haven’t had any dignity in years, and I don’t plan onstarting now. Deal.” Asra takes a long drink, as if trying to give himselfliquid courage to continue, “Every time you bust, you take a piece of clothingoff. If you reach twenty-one, you pick who someone to take a piece of clothingon.” Asra smiles, “Pairs of clothes count as one – gloves, socks, things ofthat nature.”

Julian deals quickly and deftly, three cards a person, “Verywell, hit or miss, Asra?” Julian asks, folding his cards out of hiscompetitors’ view.

With his cocky grin in place, Asra answers, without evenlooking at his cards, “Hit me.” Julian arches a brow, but does as he says.

Asra checks his cards, finally, and almost looks upset when hedoesn’t bust. The Apprentice sees that they have a three, an eight, and a one,and they tell Julian before he even asks, “Hit.” Julian does as they say, andjust to make matters worse, they pull a ten.

“Bust.” They say, and despite the fact they lost, a smile wasfirmly in place. Julian grins, and Asra makes some mocking noise, and as a result,the Apprentice pulled their night shirt off, revealing that they were bare fromthe waist up. Julian wets his lips while Asra tries to look like it was themost mundane thing in the world, though his face was betraying him, “Your turn,Julian?” They ask, leaning forward on the table, crossing their legs at theankles.

“Yes!” He exclaims, leaning back into the game, trying tolook forward, “Yes, it’s my turn…I’ll, ah, yes, I’ll miss.”

Without prompting, and without taking his eyes off theApprentice, Asra says, “Hit me.”

It comes as no surprise when he busts, and none still when heshrugs that worn scarf off, followed by his shirt, despite the rule that heonly need to remove one piece of clothing.

“Eager, I suppose?” The Apprentice teases, a grin pulling attheir lips.

Asra laughs, honest and loud, “When in present company, it’shard not to.”

Julian looks surprised at that, but instead of sayinganything, shrugs his jacket off, seemingly joining in on the fun.

“I suppose I won this round.” Julian says, glancing over tothe Apprentice, “Another?”

And so it continues, a vicious cycle of cheating and jokesand drinks, and plenty of clothes dropping to the floor. Asra is,unsurprisingly, the first to be completely nude, while Julian was a closesecond – as he too began to intentionally drop his clothes – and the Apprenticesits with only their smalls. Julian blushes something fierce, and Asra sitsthere, looking like the cat that ate the canary and its cream.

“I don’t mean to presume,” Asra says, eyes hooded, “but I’massuming this was an invitation to more than cards.” He licks his lips, and theApprentice has to adjust themselves under his heavy gaze.

Julian’s eyes widen, and he has to take a breath to composehimself as he lies his cards down, face down, “I mean…I suppose…” He looks atthe Apprentice, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

That’s how Julian ends up on the table, the Apprenticesitting on his face, and Asra between his legs.

The Apprentice threads their fingers in his hair as hecontinues to work his magic, thrusting their hips downward. Asra does something down there that has Juliandigging his fingers into their thighs, and they groan aloud.

Julian squeezes, andthey gasp, accidentally yanking his hair, and it comes to their surprise whenhe groans onto them. They give another experimental pull through the euphoria,and he looks up at them, eyes wide and ravenous, and he sucks, hard and fast, drawinga ragged moan from the back of their throat.

Julian makes such a sad noise against them when Asra pullsaway, climbing up the table. The Apprentice turns, trying to find what waswrong, and their met with a passionate kiss, all teeth and tongue and they onlycome back down when Julian keens. They pull away from Asra, leaning down tokiss Julian, making sure to rub their ass against Asra.

Asra presses forward, and the Apprentice nips at Julian’s lip,and they wonder if it’s the adrenaline or the alcohol, but they definitely didn’twant this fever dream to end anytime soon.

Asra pulls away from them both for a moment, with a promiseof returning soon, and Julian wastes no time in kissing the Apprentice again,groping their ass, leaning up to pull them closer, and they thread their fingersin his hair, pulling roughly, more daring in the fact that he liked it. Theysnake a hand between them, giving him a few experimental tugs.

“You’re so fucking…” Julian thrusts upward, groaning, “fuckingbeautiful. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck.” They swear, grinding downward, and as if on cue, Asrabounds back down the stairs, a bottle in hand.

He climbs back onto the table, wetting his lips, anduncorking the bottle to wet his fingers. He opens his mouth to say somethingclever. Instead, he spreads Julian’s legs.

The Apprentice sits on Julian’s face, though they turn to faceAsra. They kiss him as he continues to prep Julian, and Julian eagerly sets towork, lapping away at them, and all over again, they’re being drawn to the edge.Asra thumbs at his asshole, and as Asra pays attention to that, the Apprenticeleans down to tug at him, and the noises he’s making are god to their ears, andpulling them closer over the edge.

They reach a set pace, and it isn’t long before the Apprenticeis coming around Julian’s lips and Julian against Asra’s chest.

The Apprentice runs a hand over their head, panting wildly astheir knees practically collapse as they come down from their high.

They lean on the table, and as they come down, the reality ofwhat they just did settling, somehow becoming more real.

They look over their shoulder at their partners, and theyfeel as if their chest is being filled with cement.

“Fuck.” They mutter, knowing that things would be sure tochange.

[justkeeptrekkin]

Okay if you're still taking prompts how about this: Aizawa finds it very, very attractive when his friend Mic speaks in other languages. And since Mic does so all the time, it's starting to get difficult for Aizawa to keep his secret.

Ah, my favourite customer! Good day to you! Ah, some pining Aizawa you say? Mic speaking foreign languages, you ask? Ho ho, I certainly have some of that up my sleeve! But how about… some ADDED ANGST…

“I call bullshit.”

Shouta watches as Nemuri points an accusatory finger at Hizashi. He leans away from it, back into his seat, but his expression is clearly doing its best not to appear threatened. The chatter of the pub drifts around them but the world seems like its shrunk to their table, and their table alone.

“What, you don’t believe me? What’s there not to believe!”

“You do not speak eight languages.”

Hizashi bats Nemuri’s hand away from his face, leans over his half finished pint of Ichiban with a challenging grin. “Do, too.”

“You can swear in eight languages. You speak two fluently, one semi-fluently, the others-”

“Yo, what? What do you take me for, an amateur? Come on man!”

“Prove it,” Kan demands, slamming down his glass on the table. He doesn’t usually join post work drinks, and neither does All Might- especially after the mess that was last time. Now, however, the five of them are supposedly ‘enjoying’ a drink to start the weekend. 

Shouta may be the only one not enjoying himself.

“How can he prove it, you won’t know what he’s saying,” Nemuri says a little belligerently, leaning across the table towards Kan and almost knocking over her and All Might’s drinks. She’s already quite a bit drunker than the rest of them.

“Puedo probártelo, solo dame algo que decir,” Hizashi announces.

Shouta sighs and stares into the top of his beer. He swirls it round and watches it foam up.

“What did you say?”“I said ‘I can prove it, just give me something to say’.” He’s cradling the back of his head with his hands and leaning back of his seat with a smug, beaming smile.

“But how can you prove that’s what you said, if none of us speak…” Nemuri trails off.

“Spanish.”

“Right!”

“You can’t, you’ll just have to trust that I’m a genius, multi-lingual sex god.” Nemuri bursts into unforgiving laughter, smacking the table. Hizashi glares at her, spluttering when no one comes to his defence. “Wh- It’s not that unbelievable!”

“I’m not sure about the last bit,” All Might says uneasily- Yagi. He should really consider him Yagi, here, but that’s still too strange. “But I can certainly believe that you can speak multiple languages. Your English is perfect, and I can at least attest to that.”

Shouta maintains his attention on his beer, drumming his fingers along the glass. His knee bounces up and down under the table.

“What else you got?” Nemuri leers, and Shouta isn’t sure whether she’s trying to give everyone a clear view down her cleavage, but it’s certainly managed to fluster All Might- Yagi- who pointedly and unsubtly turns away and goes red in the face. But then, Yagi gets flustered by most things.

“Well, there’s no point proving that I can speak English,” he starts, in English, as he leans across the table to meet Nemuri, narrowing her eyes at her. Then, in a language Shouta doesn’t recognise, “но, может быть, если я буду говорить по-русски, это произведет на вас впечатление.”

Shouta’s leg continues to bounce up and down, and his nail click more noisily against his frosted beer glass.

“Was that Russian?” Yagi asks.

“Sure was-”

“I think that deserves some of my magic cocktail-” Nemuri croons, forcing the drink in Hizashi’s direction- who, by habit has learnt to duck this way and that to avoid it.

“Japanese, Russian, English, Spanish,” Kan counts on his fingers. “You’re a goddamn show off, Mic.”

“Well, I mean-” and then Hizashi begins to rattle something off in Mandarin. The others respond with equal measures of awe, Nemuri teasing him for being a nerd, as she usually does. Shouta remains quiet and stares at the rings of condensation on the table left from his glass.

It’s not that he doesn’t find it interesting to hear Hizashi speak other languages. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. He finds it altogether too interesting. It’s stupid really; since high school, he’s been able to keep his inconvenient feelings for Hizashi under wraps. But the moment he starts speaking confidently in another language, the moment he reminds Shouta just how smart he is and how good he sounds speaking-

“You speak Italian, too, right?” Nemuri prompts, apparently forgetting her previous disbelief and poking him in the forehead. “Come on then, lover-boy let’s hear it.”

Shouta sinks lower in his seat. He feels sixteen all over again.

And then he looks up at Hizashi, and he really shouldn’t have done. Because he’s looking straight back at him. With an intensity in his eyes that only Shouta can see, behind all the amusement.

“Non direi che sono un amante. Sono innamorato del mio migliore amico e non riesco a convincerlo ad amarmi.”

Shouta’s fists clench at his sides and his throat goes dry. His knee stops bouncing up and down but his heart is certainly racing. It doesn’t matter what he just said, it never does, because Shouta doesn’t need to understand.

Enough of this. Enough.

His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he abruptly removes himself from the table. He’s distantly aware of his beer sloshing over the edge and spilling over the table, can hear Nemuri call after him, but he ignores it. He storms towards the exit, through the curtain door, and steps outside. It’s horribly cold, but blissfully cooler than the overwhelming heat inside the pub. His breath clouds in front of his face. It smells like cigarettes out here. There are a couple of people chatting in the quiet alley, the power-line cables overhead dripping with the afternoon’s rain. Restaurant signs shine neon in the puddles.

He collapses against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut. Immediately, the regret and embarrassment of storming out settles over him. Even after all these years, he struggles to keep his cool. Even now, at the ripe old age of thirty one, he wants to storm out and slam his bedroom door like a teenager.

As if Hizashi had purposefully made him do that.

Shouta sighs, rubs his face with his hands. He can hear the drip-drip-drip of the edge of the pub’s shelter. There’s a strip of dry ground for about half a meter, before it stops and the ground glistens with moisture. He stares at the floor.

A few weeks ago, he’d stood up in front of hundreds of reporters, on national television, and he’d managed to keep his feelings under control then. So why not now? Why was it that all Hizashi had to do was-

The familiar, towering presence of Yagi appears beside him, a great head poking comically out of the pub curtain.

“Ah. I thought you might have gone home.”

Shouta looks at him, rolls his head lazily back to its original position, staring ahead at the passers by. Friday night in Mustafu can be rowdy, but this part of town is quiet. It’s why the Yuuei teachers prefer it. He ignores the way Yagi takes a spot beside him, leaning against the wall.

He knows Yagi wants to be his friend. He reckons he could be a bit more accommodating, but he’s never given anyone that kind of allowance. The people closest to him appreciate that and see beyond the small talk. They don’t see a reserved hero with a resting bitch-face that needs to be loosened up. 

He doesn’t look at Yagi, but he can tell he’s staring. It’s getting pretty irritating.

“I was in love with my best friend for a few years.”

Shouta doesn’t move, feels that any kind of movement would someone confirm Yagi’s words. He goes very still, teeth clenching.

“In America. Looking back, I wouldn’t have changed any of it. He ended up having a beautiful family who I care for a lot. My only regret was I never told him. Now it’s too late.”

Shouta only listens silently, pretending that this is just some unexpected confession from a colleague after a few drinks. Even if Yagi doesn’t drink. Even if Shouta’s the one who’s had a few and can feel the light-headedness lift his inhibitions from his mind.

There’s a deep sigh a foot above him. Yagi’s head turns down to look at him again. “Aizawa, I know it’s not my place-”

“It’s not,” he interrupts, and he wishes he could control himself for one goddamn second. “And I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Hm.” Yagi nods once, looks in the same direction as Shouta, neither of them really seeing anything. “Alright. But don’t forget what I said, Aizawa.”

Shouta feels a sudden flush of irritation at the tone. There’s something in his words that his brain can’t help but interpret that as patronising. He looks away from Yagi when he says, “We’re not friends. You don’t need to dole out advice for something you don’t know about.”

A quiet settles, and the sound of the drip-drip-drip and pub clamour fills in the gap that gapes between them.

Shouta closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t-”

Surprisingly, Yagi chuckles. “It’s fine. If I were offended by the things you say and do, I wouldn’t be trying to hard to be your friend.”

Shouta feels his chest pinch slightly at that. Manipulative bastard. He looks up at him with a wan glare, and Yagi laughs again. The laughter quickly dwindles to a sigh.

“I’ll keep my nose out of your business, I’m sorry for overstepping. It’s hard not to when you recognise a situation like that from your own experiences.”

“Sure,” Shouta replies, dully. And suddenly, the image of him slouching against the wall, sulking, communicating monosyllabically, reminds him an awful lot of his newly enrolled hero-course student. The realisation makes him rub his face wearily, the urge to laugh rising within him. “Shit. I’m drunk.”

“Says the man who boldly claims that he never gets drunk.”

“Don’t listen to anything he says when he’s drunk, he never knows what’s going on.”

Shouta and Yagi turn to see Hizashi leaning out of the doorway. He steps fully outside, gaze fixed on Shouta. He looks away. The conversation meets an abrupt halt, and Yagi pushes himself off from the wall, awkwardly lingering between the two of them.

“I suppose since you’re out here, I should make sure Kayama isn’t trying to drown Kan in alcohol.”Hizashi looks up in acknowledgement and laughs, the corresponding smile a bit too strained for Shouta’s liking. “Yeah, man, you should do that. No one wants death by vodka cranberry.”

Yagi nods, looks between the two of them for a long, uncomfortable moment. Shouta has to reason with himself not to kick him in the shins. And then, he disappears inside the pub, leaving Hizashi to look at him a few feet away. Those eyes are wide and alarmingly… alarmed. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, perhaps against the cold, perhaps in defence. Maybe Shouta’s looking a lot stormier than he realised.

“Yo.”

“Hey.”

Hizashi shuffles awkwardly. “You OK? You kind of disappeared suddenly. I’d ask if it was something I said, but I know you don’t speak Russian or Italian.” He pauses, eyes widening impossibly more. “Right?”

Shouta looks away, stares at his feet. “Right.”

He knows that Hizashi is waiting for some kind of explanation, but he has no idea how to provide it.

“It’s hard to explain,” is what he ends up, uselessly, opting for.

Hizashi nods slowly, and the disappointment in his face is both confusing and terrible. It’s half lit up with the light from inside the pub. There’s a burst of incongruous laughter from within, and it sets Shouta on edge.

“Ask me what I said,” Hizashi whispers.

Shouta looks at him, blinking dumbly. He wishes he hadn’t started drinking tonight. “What?”

Hizashi’s gaze is so intense that Shouta almost wants to back away. “Ask me what it was I said in there. That last bit.”

Shouta doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t bother trying to ask him to elaborate. He doesn’t know why Hizashi’s asking him to play this game, and it’s annoying, and he’s tired, and he asks anyway because he finds it damn near impossible to deny him. 

“Go on. What did you say.”

Hizashi doesn’t reply. He just stares at him, eyebrows pinched and eyes shining, lips pressed together nervously- in a way Shouta hasn’t seen in a while. And that concerns him. He tries to find the words to ask what’s wrong, to figure out what this is all about.

But Hizashi stops those thoughts in their tracks when he takes two brisk steps towards Shouta and kisses him.

His immediate reaction is to tense up, shoulders rising to his ears and mouth pursing in defence. And maybe it’s because he’s wondered what this would be like for years, maybe it’s because he’s been in love with Hizashi for just as long, or maybe it’s because he trusts him implicitly- probably all of the above. Whatever the reason, a moment later, Shouta finds himself kissing back. Hand shakily, hesitantly holding Hizashi’s arm to keep him there, for as long as possible.

Hizashi breaks away, takes a sharp intake of breath. Expression frantic and eyes searching for his attention.

“That’s what I was saying. Back inside.”

“Huh,” Shouta says lamely.

For all the languages that Hizashi can speak, he seems speechless now. And Shouta has no problem with that as he kisses him once more.

[thecorteztwins]

Fabian Cortez vs The Serpent Society

[Context: During the early 90s, Fabian was not only leader of the Acolytes, but a member of the Upstarts as well. Long story short, the Upstarts were a sort of supervillain competition between rich young bored mutants, refereed by the telepathic “Gamesmaster” who put forth the tasks and awarded the points.] “You see, Gamesmaster?” Fabian proclaimed with dramatic pride as he held up the glittering cube, “I, the Supreme Mutant, have succeeded where all the other Upstarts have failed! I have conquered all obstacles in my path with grand ease! I have obtained the---wait, what was it called again?” “The MacGuffin”, explained the telepathic projection of the Gamesmaster, a bald omnipath who shockingly was NOT Charles Xavier despite their similiar powers and hairless heads. “But you need do more than that, Fabian Cortez. To win this challenge, you need not only obtain it...but hold on to it for the next 24 hours.” “Pfft”, scoffed the Supreme Mutant with utmost confidence, “That is no challenge at all!” “Let us see how you feel 24 hours from now” said the Gamesmaster, as the psychic vision faded away from Fabian’s eyes. Fabian, however, was undaunted, “24 hours from now---I will have my reward!” *** Though twenty four hours had not yet passed even halfway yet, Fabian had decided to gloat and celebrate in advance. He took out the Cava---only Americans though champagne was classy---cranked up the hot tub, and, MacGuffin beside him within his reach, turned on the hologram projector above the bubble where he watched. Ah, it was like a vision of things to come---including him---once he was finally given his due.  He had just started to really relax when security klaxon sounded, accompanied by the sound of a woman cursing. No, several women! “Mamba, I thought you got them all!” “Asp’s sting blasts are what were supposed to disable them!” “Will you two bimbos stop yer bickering?! He’s gonna hear us!” “Something tells me he’s already aware we are here, Anaconda.” To Fabian Cortez, brilliant schemer and strategist that he was, it was obvious what was happening.  And he was ready for it. *** “Keep your guard up, ladies”, warned Asp as she and her two comrades slunk through the building, “The alarm is off. He knows we’re here. Yet nothing has yet happened. That in itself is suspc---” She was cut off by a booming, bombastic voice. “LADIES!”

On the platform above, a spotlight suddenly shown down. Standing upon the former and under the latter was a tall muscular redheaded man,wering naught a tiny towel around his waist, and a cape around his shoulders. Said cape was blowing backwards despite lack of wind, as was his lustrously conditioned ponytail. “Get him, Ana!” yelled Black Mamba. “I ain’t touchin that guy,” protested Anaconda, the muscle of their outfit, “He’s naked!” “I know what you have come for,” Fabian continued at the trio, flipping his hair dramatically, his gaze smoldering. “Then hand it over, pretty boy!” snarled Anaconda. Fabian smirked, “Gladly.” And he removed towel. Asp screamed, firing a venom blast in shock. Sadly, her distress caused her to miss her target, and she only singed the wall behind him. “What are you doing?!” Black Mamba demanded “He’s---he’s---” Asp was covering her eyes. “Not you---YOU!” Black Mamba pointed at Fabian while shielding her own gaze as well with her other hand. “Put your towel back on, are you crazy?!” It wasn’t that the women had never seen a dick before. Hell, Mamba was once a professional escort, Asp was an exotic dancer at a strip club, and Anaconda, despite frequently being stereotyped as playing for the other team, had been caught more than once making out with Puff Adder. So they were none of them blushing virgins. But dammit, there was a time and a place for dicks!  “This is what you have come for is it not?” Fabian smirked at his own display,   “Or...will come for.” “Ana please!” Asp pleaded, “We’ll give you 45% instead of 33%, just kill him now!” “Fine, ya pansies, I’ll do it,” Anaconda’s muscular arms extended an impossible length towards where Fabian stood far above them,  “Guess I can just wash my hands after!” But speaking of washing, Fabian was still wet from the jacuzzi, causing him to slip out from Anaconda’s death grip like a particularly gross bar of soap. He leaped on to one of her massive arms and used it as a sort of bridge to slide down to where the trio where, jumping dramatically before them. “Not you!” he pointed at the baffled Anaconda, “You freakish barely-female monstrosity, you are nowhere near adequetly comely for the harem of Lord Cortez!” While Asp and Black Mamba were a pair of very conventionally attractive beauties, Anaconda was...well, she was not. Even before she had undergone the procedure that had given her scales on her skin and gills on her face along with her powers, she’d been an extremely tall woman who was, to put it frankly, built like a brick shithouse. And she hadn’t been given much of a pretty mug to make up for it either. She’d learned to take pride in other things, but she still didn’t appreciate this kind of smack talk coming from a bozo like this Cortez scrub! “I’ll give you twos BACK that extra percent if you shut him up!” she shouted, as she knocked Fabian over with the biggest backhand in the world to his entire side. “No problem, said Mamba, conjuring Darkforce energy, “Much as I hate to give this creep what he wants...” The Darkforce granted slightly different powers to everyone who could tap into it. In the case of Black Mamba, it would take on the form of the person that the target loved or sexually desired most...and make love to them as it drained their very life. “Remember, our orders are NOT to kill him!” Asp reminded her, despite having ordered her other teammate to do exactly that just moments ago, “Just to get the MacGuffin and get out---but we must leave him alive! As we were instructed!” “Pity,” scoffed Black Mamba as the Darkfoce energy swarmed the fallen Fabian like smoky Jell-O, “You could have died in ecstasy. Something tells me your eventual end at other hands won’t be half as nice as my love phantoms here could make it.” Phantoms, plural. Usually it was just one per customer, but it looked like this guy had a whole harem’s worth for the Darkforce to drawn on. Most were impossibly gorgeous women like herself, but some of them were duplicates of HIMSELF! Despite having only known him for a few minutes, this didn’t surprise Black Mamba much at all. Leaving the man writhing and moaning on the floor with the shadowy “skins” she had created, as she liked to call them, she and her fellow Serpent Society mercenaries ran off to locate the MacGuffin. *** ”Alright, lover boy, time to snap out of it.” The MacGuffin had been found, but as Asp had stated, the orders from their contractor was that Fabian Cortez had to survive its acquisition. Thus, Black Mamba had returned to release him from his sweet release while the other Serpents waited in the getaway chopper. There were so many Darkforce phantom women and Cortez-clones covering the guy that she actually couldn’t SEE him until she willed them to dissipate away...and given how he looked at this point, she really wished she didn’t HAVE to see him. ”Oh good, you’re alive,” she said, though her tone did not match her words. ”Wha...que...” he looked around dumbly from the floor, barely able to lift his disheveled head up. In typical comic book character fashion, Black Mamba explained to him exactly what had happened, and how her powers worked. ”Well, obviously your abilities were malfunctioning!” he snapped at her. Looked like he was gaining some energy back. That was fast. ”Oh?” she raised an eyebrow. This was not an uncommon accusation; people tended to be ashamed at what her powers revealed about their real selves, their real wants, their real fantasies. ”How so?” ”There was Quicksilver in there!” Fabian shouted, his wind really coming back now, “Why was HE mixed in with my well-deserved harem of WOMEN?! Is this some perverse prank?! Some secret kink of yours?!” “Sounds like it might be a kink of YOURS, buddy,” Black Mamba drolled. The guy was made that this one other dude was in there...and not that there had been about five duplicates of himself? Hmm, did it count as bisexuality if you were only attracted to your clones and not anyone else of the same sex? Except this Quicksilver guy too, apparently... “Anyway, I’ll just be going now,” she turned and started to prance away, ”Thanks for th--” “Oh no you don’t.” To Mamba’s shocked, she felt a strong hand wrap around her delicate wrist, and gasped despite herself. How had he gotten to his feet so fast?! She turned, and found his horribly leering face staring down into hers.  “You were a naughty girl, Miss...Mamba, was it? You need to make that up to m---” And that was when a real live woman, not a hologram or a Darkforce illusion, touched Fabian’s genitals that day. Specifically, she grabbed and squeezed and TWISTED. As the HOWL of the “Supreme Mutant” echoed throughout his headquarters, Black Mamba dashed out to the waiting helicopter. “I better get a BONUS for that!” she said as she climbed in. “What?” Anaconda asked. “....you don’t wanna know,” Black Mamba decided she didn’t want to explained. As they took off, she looked at the secured MacGuffin cube. “What did the Gamesmaster guy say was so valuable about this thing again?” “He said it gets the plot going,” Asp shrugged, “Whatever that means.” END

[razz-tfs]

Dicked Down

a/n: my first standalone tf story, but part of a larger universe i hope to expand upon. hope you enjoy the odd kinks! and let me know what you think

I’ve been trying to share my story for a while now, but it’s impossible to find a place to begin, and it’s not like it’s ending any time soon. Razz suggested that instead of trying to nail it down in one linear story, I should just share our adventures. Eventually I’ll probably fill in the details, but sometimes they just aren’t as important, you know?

Yesterday we revisited my tiny cock kink. Razzor is eager to engage in any type of transformation, and every so often I land back on being dominated, getting pounded down while my useless, tiny cock nub is left ignored. Normally I have a respectable seven-incher, but “normal” seems to mean very little with a demon like Razz.

Razzor has been in my life for a few months now, and it’s been a revolutionary experience. Personally I feel like the details are boring, but our sex games are where the fun comes in. My current “default” body is relatively tall, around 6’2”, and solidly muscled. I also enjoy a good chest of hair that accents my physique. But any of that can change if it strikes our fancy.

This time, Razz wanted to make it a bit of a game. Instead of a quick fuck with a shrunken cock, he sat down on the bed where I had been relaxing and pulled out the phone I got him recently. He thumbed over to open an app I hadn’t seen before.

“This will let me transfer cock size between us whenever I want,” he told me, leaning against me and showing the screen. “In fact, whenever I take some of your dick, you’ll have some other changes too. Like your ass might get bigger, or you might beg to be filled with come.” I smiled. I loved when Razz blended a couple of different quirks together.

“And remember,” he continued, “your dick size goes right to me.” I eyed the massive meat between his bare thighs, already eight inches soft, and imagined transferring my size to him. I gave a shudder just thinking about it.

“Ah, ah, honey. Only I get to decide when you get dicked down. Are you already desperate to give away your cock?” He pulled the phone away, like keeping a toy from a child. (Which was ironic, given that my muscled body had two inches and about 20 pounds on my more toned lover.)

“Yes, Razz, yes.” I couldn’t keep my voice from coming out breathy as I turned into his chest and held him. This app was a way hotter idea than I would’ve come up with. “Take an inch now! I’m not using it.”

The casual observer might have objected to that line. Razz’s little idea had me rock solid in my loose gym shorts, the tip of my (currently) above-average dick just sticking out and grazing the bottom of my tank top. But my man knew that I was more eager to see my length dwindling down than fuck anyone tonight.

“I’ll give you just a taste, love,” he said with a wink, and fiddled with his phone.

I gasped, not in surprise so much as lust, as my dick jolted and briefly contracted. I’d wager Razz only took about a half inch, knowing that teasing me would drive me wild. Just enough that my waistband could hide it once more.

I hastily reached for my pants, eager to rip them off and see my ever-so-slightly smaller package, but with a quick thought I instead looked beside me on the bed to Razz, eager to watch his changes. He had been chubbing up, so the size I gave him was lost in the process, but once he was hard I saw some girth and a bit of length had definitely been added.

Already horned up, the extra nudge from the app sent me over the edge easily. I rolled over and scooted around on the bed to dive into Razz’s crotch. Right away I was sucking his now 11-inch monster with little difficulty. If there’s one thing I’ve learned well, it’s accommodating many varied sizes.

As I bobbed up and down, I arched a fractionally-larger ass into the air. Razz, emboldened that I had taken so quickly to the app, decided not to wait any longer. He grabbed his phone and stole, with no warning, a full two inches of my prized cock.

The effects were astounding.

All at once, I felt a rush of sensory input. My primary focus was on the cock I was swirling in my skilled mouth, so I certainly noticed it surge beyond a foot in length, directly into the back of my throat. I moaned around it, grabbing at the growing base.

However, I also felt the thrill of my dick pulling into itself, contracting and sliding against the fabric to a rock solid 4.5 inches in length, shorter than I had been soft. I was now tenting my shorts instead of sticking up into the waistband.

As my hands reached toward my pants to feel the change, I found myself instead removing them, and reaching behind to play with my ass. This time the growth was substantial, and I already had a respectable bubble butt to start. My ass now was simply big, deserving of every “juicy” compliment it would be sure to earn. But even more to that point, when I plunged my fingers between the plump cheeks, I found my ass to be soaking wet.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Razz remarked as I pulled out my now-lubed fingers. “I see some of my secret additions are working too.” Cock still in mouth, I simply groaned in appreciation.

I glanced down at my dick, now that my shorts were out of the way. It was just like mine should be, but mini-size. My thighs looked absolutely amazing next to the smaller dick, too.

“I figured since you would be so desperate to be filled, you’d need a little help… accommodating me.” Razz caught my eye as I looked up at him. I hoped my look conveyed both how much I loved him, but also how hot this was to play out.

“You’re so sexy like this,” my lover said, reading my silent arousal. “Fucking whoring yourself out on my monster cock, leaving your own pitiful stick ignored.” Razz was fantastic at dirty talk, and it always got me riled up. He was right, the foot of meat I was swallowing was certainly a monster, and mine was truly pitiful in comparison.

I glanced down again at my shrunken dick, shivering with pleasure as I saw it jerking itself in place in time with my deep throating. I noticed my balls had shrunken a little as well, proportionally.

I reached back into my inflated ass, this time adding in a third finger as I loosened my now-sloppy hole. I moaned once more around Razz’s beautiful behemoth, unable to articulate more as I sucked and licked and worshipped it. I picked up the pace, and I reminded myself that I was pleasuring two and a half inches of my own cock, stolen by the man I loved. Plunging a fourth finger deep into my ass and shoving the massive dick down my throat, I lurched forward and pushed Razz and myself over the edge — him coming deeply into me, and myself barely dribbling over my own thigh. I felt more relief accepting his load than I did releasing my own.

I came down from my high, and extricated myself from Razz’s dick. I wiped my mouth in satisfaction and gave a dopey smile to my demonic lover. The cheeky smirk I saw on his face told me this little ride wasn’t quite over.

“So, what next?” I asked, ready to go again. My ass was still wet, and I was eager to try stretching it around Razz’s new cock.

“Well I’ve got to go set up your Tumblr since you always seem to get distracted halfway through,” Razz said as he stood up from the bed. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to pass the time.”

And with that, Razz walked out of our bedroom along with a third of my cock. What I had left softened to less than three inches as I sat up on my pumped-up ass. I marveled at my shrunken state, never really spending much time soft with a smaller dick in any of our previous sessions. It looked almost adorable nestled between my thick and powerful thighs, a stark contrast to my otherwise stereotypically masculine body.

Usually our transformation games have a definite beginning and end, but this time I wasn’t really sure when I’d be getting my length back. We usually toyed around with me going down to about this size, sometimes hard and sometimes staying pitifully soft, unable to even ejaculate. But by this point I’m used to Razz’s transformations, and I’m never anxious to end any particular fantasy, except when I have a new idea for the next one. I trust him completely, and we’ve always immediately ended anything I didn’t enjoy. (While I like the experience of changing to be drawn out, Razz can do things instantaneously when he needs to.)

After relaxing from that hot blow job, I wanted to check out my ass a little more. I had been so fixated on my smaller cock, I hadn’t realized that I had the perfect way to show off both — my jockstrap. As I slid the jet black fabric up my legs, I felt it settle into place around my engorged glutes. The pouch in front was comically under-filled compared to my more common 5-7 inch soft range. While my butt stretched the straps out, my 3-inch dick and smaller balls left only a subtle dent in the front.

After a few minutes of modeling myself and taking a few pictures, I changed into my favorite tiny pink thong. This one was designed with a mini-cock in mind. The thin strip of fabric slipped right between my pillowy cheeks as the tiny triangle in front acted as an appropriately-sized pouch. This fabric was thin enough to show every outline and shape of my package. I turned in the mirror to see how the back of the thong completely disappeared into my blown-up ass.

Right at that moment, I felt a shock. My eyes shot to my crotch and I watched in rapture as my little softie shrank further, down to two inches soft, where even in this ridiculous thong it was starting to get tough to see. Everything had gone with it proportionally — my balls had pulled tightly against my dwindling dick. Shit. I knew Razz would manage to surprise me again!

Immediately, I reached into my thong and realized, wildly enough, that it was the first time I was using my hands on my own cock in hours. I pumped my cocklet a few times, using just a few fingers to poke around in the fabric, until it hardened a bit and pushed to 3 inches long. Now that it was “stretching” the pouch once more, I could appreciate how small it had gotten. The sight drove me wild, knowing that Razz had now stolen 4 inches of my hard length. I abandoned the useless dick and dove for my bedside table, where I kept a handy dildo. “Be prepared” is the Scout’s motto, after all.

I was luckily able to use my own ass lube to get things going, after pushing the sopping wet string of the thong aside. In no time I was lying back on my bed, working the dildo into my hungry hole. I pounded in and out of my ever-growing ass, stimulating my prostate with the toy until I shuddered in a dry orgasm. Well, I say dry, but my self-lubing asshole was anything but.

I was basking in the afterglow, petting my still-hard cock (could I still call it a cock at this size?) through the thong, when I felt that familiar jolt. Excitedly, I looked down to my crotch to see how much more I’d lose. The tingling managed to take yet another inch in length, bringing me down to just two inches again, but this time while hard. I flushed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment by seeing my “endowment” not able to make a respectable bulge in the tiny thong’s pouch. Men my size would usually stretch this thing right off their bodies, but my dicklet couldn’t even fill it.

The exhilaration of shrinking almost distracted me from my growing ass. But this time, my hole was positively quivering with need. I grabbed the messy dildo and slammed it back into my waiting hole. My hand pounded the dildo harder into my even-fatter ass as I had a lucid thought.

I realized, stupidly, that at that point Razz’s own cock must be truly monstrous. I was moaning and shaking with need on the bed, when my dick jolted down another half inch. There was barely a visible bulge at this point, and the thong is skin tight. I realized that the dildo was just a sad facsimile for what I really needed then. I needed Razz.

I left the dildo where it was so I wouldn’t be empty. My stupidly huge cheeks bulged around it, keeping it held in place. I laughed when I realized I still had the thong on, but I really loved seeing how this skin tight outfit showed off my dicklet. There was no mistaking exactly how little I was packing.

When I got up out of the bed, a shifting weight on my chest brought my attention to my pecs, which had apparently gotten bloated up along with my ass during one of the last transfers. I became distracted from my quest for Razz’s dick, and grabbed my engorged nipples, groaning at a sensation that rivaled stroking two dicks at once. (And my opinion on the matter should be trusted.) My nipples had really fattened and were even sticking out. Shit, my nipples could almost rival my cock nub, but that’s not much of a challenge.

As I twisted them together, I felt an indescribable pleasure at the same, delirious moment that Razz decided to take another half inch from my nub of a dick. My former glory could pass as a fold in the fabric of this thong as it dwindled down to a single inch. My ass bulged around the dildo, my tits pumped a bit more, and my urgent need for Razz finally put my legs into motion. I hurried down the hall, calling for my lover.

“Please, please fill me, Razz! I need your cock. My cock you stole from me. I need you to really fill me up!”

My brain was too addled by lust to string together anything more than begging. One of my hands was still teasing a nipple as I, at last, reached Razz.

His cock was beastly, looking around 10 inches soft, maybe a bit longer. And what was even more astounding was its massive girth and the low-hanging balls resting beneath. Razz was lounging proudly across our couch, still naked, with his half-stolen equipment trapped between his legs. When clearly it was made to fill my hole.

“Oh, honey,” Razz said, looking up from his phone as if he were just noticing that I had entered the room, as if he hadn’t heard my moaning pleas. “You’re covered up? I want to see what a pathetic nub you have left.” He winked, and my knees went weak even as he mocked my microscopic dick.

I quickly went over and joined him on the couch. As I crawled across his lean body, I dragged my beefy tits against his skin, once more teasing my nipples. I shook my ass and jostled the dildo around, bringing Razz’s attention to the toy.

“Ah, so this is what kept you from finding me sooner,” he said, as he removed the thong from around the dildo. He then grabbed the toy and pounded it into my ass a few times. “I thought I was going to have to take the whole thing to get you to come out here.”

At that idea, I came instantly. Well, the orgasm felt like coming, at least. My nub barely got out a drop of pre for the event, but my ass spasmed wildly against the dildo and my nipples felt like they were on fire.

“Let’s look at what you have left!” Razz announced, and we leaned apart.

I gaped at my crotch. I knew I had lost most of my length, but the one inch nub was truly tiny. I reached to grab it between my thumb and forefinger, and was surprised at how little I felt it.

“I redirected pretty much all of your pleasurable sensation elsewhere in your body.” He slammed the dildo home again and I saw stars.

I dove onto his mouth and kissed him passionately, while grinding my ass back against the fake cock he was still fucking me with. I broke from kissing him just a moment to whine “fill me for real”, unable to really enact any plan myself.

Razz, for his part, was deeply enjoying my obsessive state. He finally began to chub up, though his newly engorged tool took time to get fully hard. He started to grind into my crotch, his massive organ dwarfing my entire package.

I whined again, not caring about anything other than a real, actual cock in my leaking, needy, fucking desperate asshole.

Instead, Razz rolled us around on the couch so that I was laying back, the dildo momentarily left forgotten but still wedged in my ass. He leaned over me and grabbed yet another dildo off the table, a larger one that better approximated his new size. He put it into my hands without much further guidance, and then proceeded to blow my mind by sliding his huge dick against my chest, fucking my pecs-turned-bitch tits. I groaned in satisfaction, feeling around behind him to exchange the silicon dicks. My size donations had really beefed Razz’s dick up to a thrilling girth, so even though he was maybe two inches longer than before, it felt like a massive difference.

My eager hole might have been disappointed at the lack of real cock, but my tits were singing in bliss. As Razz fucked against my chest, pushing them from every angle, my nipples started to tingle. I then felt the bizarre sensation of my nipples leaking… lube? Yeah, it could only be lube. I looked up in wonder at Razz.

He simply grinned, and used his massive cock head to smear the lube around my chest, sliding his slick rod back and forth between my pecs. I couldn’t believe how sensitive my chest was — almost as if I actually was getting fucked. With every pass of his massive dick near my mouth, I would give it a quick lick. It began to leave more and more thick pre behind as Razz’s pace increased. I could feel his ball sack completely overlap my minuscule package as he dragged it back and forth along my crotch.

He reached behind himself, and grabbed the discarded dildo from before. With inhuman dexterity, he managed to continue fucking against my chest while also guiding the first dildo to my ass. My greedy hole was ready for any challenge to prove its mettle, and I grabbed the fake cock and joined it alongside its bigger brother. My wet hole stretched satisfyingly around both cocks, my fat cheeks squeezing the bases together.

As I drove the dildos into me, prepping myself for the real pounding to come, Razz grinded forward and lodged the head of his dick in my mouth. I worked my tongue all over his massive cock, fighting to get as much of it in my mouth as possible. He was positively flowing pre at this point, his engorged (stolen!) balls probably over-producing. The feeling of the length of his thick cock dragging against one of my nipples, while his nut sack covered my tiny dicklet like a blanket, alongside my DP-dildo hammering that was running on auto-pilot, caused me to orgasm yet again. My dick stayed more or less dry, but I gushed around the dildos crammed into my ass, squirted a fresh batch of lube from my nipples, and positively shook in pleasure. I couldn’t articulate anything more sophisticated than a satisfied moan.

Razz was holding out on his own orgasm for the grand finale. He pulled back and away. I was too dazed to give that any mind. I don’t think even Razz at his most teasing would have resisted fucking me at that point, as I was completely gone and certain to be useless until I got a good fucking out.

Right on cue, Razz pulled me up and turned me around, bringing my dildo-filled ass around to his huge, delicious, real, actual cock. He feigned carelessness as he reached in between my cheeks, pulled out the toys, and dropped them on the couch. Then he finally readied his glorious manhood. His dick was almost literally 50% mine at this point, as I glanced down at my pitiful, rock-solid one inch nub. He lined up with my well-stretched hole, and pushed in.

Bliss.

I know sex with Razz is always ecstasy, but the flavor is always unique. I can’t put into words the sensation of his massive tool widening me as much as two cocks had. He pushed in slowly but steadily, and I couldn’t believe there was more, inch after inch.

After an agonizing, tortuously delicious entry, I felt Razz, impossibly, bottom out against me. Usually his balls would be slapping into mine at this point, but my almost-nonexistent nut sack wasn’t coming close.

As my need grew, I felt myself lubing Razz up while he increased the pace. He reached around and started toying with my nipples, making them leak again.

“So baby, how do you like your new tits? They give off a special kind of milk that I find more practical.” Razz loved making it all the realer by saying it out loud. He reached down further to my crotch.

“You know, this baby dick isn’t even doing much for you any more, is it?”

“No!” I managed to wail between my heavy pants. “Take it! It’s yours!”

“You’re always so generous, Derek.”

Razz brought his cell phone around in front of me. He didn’t even stop fucking my ass as he expertly navigated the app. There it was. A percentage bar of how much cock Razz had stolen from me. By mass, Razz had taken 90% of my package. He simply tapped an arrow a few times, and changed that to 95%.

A change in five percent, from my current perspective, was half of what I had left. Enraptured, I watched my rock solid nub truly contract, shrinking down under half an inch long. My balls were completely gone. I was so caught up in my dick, I barely even noticed my tits swell and my ass push harder against Razz’s length.

“There. Look at you, honey,” Razz said as my last change came to a halt. “Almost completely cockless. Just a little useless nub.” I whined in pleasure. “You gave it all,” he grunted, “to me.”

And then I felt his dick jump in size. It didn’t feel proportional to the size he had just stolen, but I wasn’t about to complain when I felt that satisfying stretch.

“I guess you could say yours is still hard, but shit, it’s not even much of a dick at this point.” He grabbed at the nub, but there wasn’t a lot to hold onto.

I couldn’t really disagree. I couldn’t care less about my clit in terms of pleasure. I was milking everything I could out of Razz and I hadn’t even noticed my own hand had been playing with a nipple for who knows how long. Who needed a dick when I had these beefy tits or this sloppy cunt?

Fuck. Cunt? Did I really just call my pussy a cunt? Holy shit. Wait, did I think clit earlier?

Razz interrupted this train of thought. “So the last special change was a vocab mixup. I can undo it if you want.”

I considered it a moment, but figured what the hell and shook my head. “Though,” I tried to snark between his thrusts, “if you had wanted to fuck a pussy,” thrust, “you could’ve just given me one of those instead.”

“In the end, I just wanted to hear you insult your own pathetic nub.” Razz punctuated the thought with a particularly deep thrust. I moaned like the slut I was and pushed back into him.

“Yeah?” I asked. “Well I know this little clit is useless. Hell, it’s not even much of a clit. Why would I need something like that when I can just give it all to you and you can fuck me with it?”

“Oh?” Razz pretended to be surprised, and showed me the app again. “So why don’t you give me the rest of it? Your whole package. Since you aren’t using it.”

I grabbed both of my over-sensitive nipples and bounced on Razz’s monster cock. I hadn’t really thought about it, but feeling around on top of him he had to be over 14 inches long at this point. I felt proud knowing that my dick contributed to this masterpiece. I knew I needed a more fuckable ass, more fuckable titties, anything and everything I could get from giving away what little cock I had left. 5% really wasn’t that much to lose at this point, anyway.

“Yes, yes Razz. Take it all!” I dreamed of how it would feel.

“Oh no, babe. I won’t take it from you. You can give it and I’ll accept it, but you have to be the one to do it.” Razz knew me so well. Keep control away and then give it back to me right at the end, right when I really didn’t have a choice. I had to know the feeling, if not today then the next time we tried this fantasy. Even clear-headed I would’ve probably made the same decision.

I swiped over to my slider and dragged it down to 99%. I wanted to feel one last moment from both sides. I watched in pure pleasure as my nub pulled almost entirely into my body. I basically had a little miniature dickhead, and that was it. I knew it served no purpose whatsoever, but I still wanted to see what it would look like. Kind of adorable, really. And in another way, absolutely hilarious hidden in the expanse between my powerful thighs and defined waist.

As I looked up from my mini clit, I watched as my tits swelled even further outward. The sensitive and enlarged nipples that sat on them grew ever-so-slightly, and I could even feel their increased sensitivity. One hand shot from the phone to my nip, caressing the supple flesh that far surpassed the size of my nearly nonexistent dick. As I massaged, it began to leak more of the highly-effective lube.

Razz was completely ceaseless in the pounding of my fattened ass. It inflated ever-larger around his dick, which itself grew from my donation. It pushed just a little deeper and stretched just a little wider. I took a steadying breath as Razz pushed into me.

He reached, in jest, for his phone. “Done?” he quipped.

I grunted in panic, and grabbed the phone quickly. With my other hand I pressed against my penis — reduced from 7 full inches when hard, down to less than a dick head. I couldn’t even call it a proper clit. My touch, somehow, seemed to excite it a bit, and I felt a jolt that might have, at one point, passed for a come shot. It barely registered to me as an orgasm. I slid the bar down fully, and gave 100% of my package to Razz.

Razz does like the dramatics.

I was watching, ready to see what my nullified crotch would look like. I had openly talked about my tiny dick fantasies, but we hadn’t really discussed taking away the dick entirely. My only hangups about the idea came from fear about permanence. Fantasies are fun in moments of passion, but I don’t want to get caught actually hating a situation. Trusting Razz lets me experience the impossible, and then feel like a normal person the next day.

In this moment, I was not a normal person. Even given my already-ridiculous proportions, Razz must have decided that hitting 100% deserved a bit of a reward. For both parties. My “last bits” just seemed to count extra.

At first, I was elated to see my smooth crotch. Nothing there, no dick or balls or vagina or anything. It was completely taken away! And it was gifted back to me in the form of the cock slamming into my hungry, slutty cunt.

But elation fell to confused disappointment when my view was obscured. It took a moment to register that my swelling tits now blocked the view of my cockless crotch! I reached up to play with my nipples out of habit and immediately forgave them their intrusion. It felt too good to play with them, sliding around their slick mess.

I did drop one hand, though, and grab the smaller discarded dildo. My mouth was feeling annoyingly empty, and it seemed like it would fit.

All the while, my ass was not to be left out. The original transfers had begun the booty-swelling process, so by now my ass was completely impractical. It would actually take a monster cock like Razz’s to get enough dick into my hole. The round shape was perfectly maintained, probably defying a few laws of physics, or at least asking them to take a short break. The rush of pleasure caused a gush of lube around Razz’s massive tube.

Speaking of, Razz really did want to celebrate taking all of my manhood. His cock jumped wildly inside me, and he seemed to pull out forever before slamming back in. I would have to estimate the massive tool at over 16 inches, and it sure as fuck was solid as steel. I cannot begin to explain the pleasure of my pussy stretching around his growing manhood, knowing that I gave him that virility.

Razz reached around and grabbed the null area between my legs. Free real estate. It actually felt kind of pleasurable, like a phantom tickle I couldn’t reach. I could barely focus on it, though, given the frantic sucking I gave the dildo. I grabbed the larger dildo too and started rubbing it around my messy chest, fucking my tits with the toy.

Razz was clearly pleased with his handiwork. He had gotten an amazing session in and barely changed himself. His dick was bigger, but we had done that before. I was so desperate in my head, though, that I felt crazed. I crammed one dick in my mouth as I slid the other across both slick nipples, shuddering the whole time. Razz had adopted a wildly unpredictable tempo with my ass, which left spurts of lube shooting out around the tight seal. I found myself wishing I had more cock to give so I could be stuffed even fuller.

I rocked back and forth, and Razz started to moan in my ear. I knew he was finally getting close. He and I joined hands in rubbing my flat crotch, trying to stimulate what wasn’t there. Every bit of cock I had was attached to another man, fucking me nearly a foot and a half deep in my wet, stretched-out cunt. My whole torso was slick from the lube dripping from my milky tits.

“I’m there,” he groaned into my ear, shoving himself fully into me, unleashing a wild pleasure as he magicked up another two inches worth of cock to push me and himself over the edge. I dropped the dildo I had left in my mouth and moaned like the dirtiest whore, riding a shockwave of ecstasy as Razz’s 18 inches came deep, deep inside of me. He pumped more and more of our shared production into my eager pussy, and all I could do was beg for more and more.

I clearly couldn’t ejaculate in my state, but that didn’t hold me back from a powerful orgasm. My ass practically vibrated as it tried to milk Razz for everything he had. That alone felt like coming. I could feel his satisfaction as deeply as my own. My tits had nipples more sensitive that some dicks could ever be, and I gasped as Razz reached and grabbed one. He clearly wanted to play since he gave me these ridiculous things.

After a while of rocking back and forth together, we both came down from our high. He pulled out, but quickly replaced his hose with a butt plug to hold his load in place. I felt no need to complain, but Razz must have whisked away the hazy horniness that had clouded my thoughts for the past few hours. I felt a bit less overwhelmed by all the sensations, though it was jarring even to just be lying there with my odd form.

My muscled body did a fine job of supporting the added weight of my engorged pec-tits and my astounding ass. An ass which was managing to leak a little lube and come around the buttplug that wasn’t designed for my stretched out cunt. My nipples still dribbled a little come, and I felt that my tongue had even thickened slightly in my mouth throughout some part of the process. And nothing could beat the truly bizarre feeling of rubbing my thick thighs together and feeling absolutely nothing between them.

We arranged ourselves into a more comfortable cuddling position on the couch.

“Maybe next time,” Razz whispered in my ear, reaching around and rubbing my null crotch as he nestled his monster cock between my asscheeks, “I’ll put the app on your phone.”

Hm. Now that, that’s an interesting idea.

[kneesheee]

Little Devil

warnings:  cursing | vague references to child abuse | age regression

|two|

Jason stared down at the girl bowing before him. She was a foot and some inches shorter than him standing at a solid five feet. Her once milk chocolate colored hair was fanning around her face, but he didn’t concentrate on that. No, he paid attention to the white strip curling through her hair. He had no doubt that if she were to look up then her eyes would be glowing green.

“My apologies for declining to answer your messages,” she stated into the night. “I had not known that it was the Born-Again Prince that was attempting to contact me.”

“Mila,” he groaned exasperated. Jamila Al Ghul. Daughter of Nyssa Raatko and Slade Wilson after Ra Al Ghul decided to play mad scientist with his daughter’s genes. Sister to Conner Hawke/Al Ghul/Queen whichever one he was going by these days. The only friend he had made while in Talia’s care. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Did you honestly think that I was going to stop, dear cousin,” she questioned as she stood from her crouch. The two of them stared at each other before folding into a hug. It had been awhile since they had last seen each other. “Are the rumors true? Are you the new Heir to the Demon?”

Jason grimaced, “Yes. And before you ask, so are the rumors about Nyssa attacking Talia.”

Jamila sneered, “I always knew Mother held no honor. Despite my resentment of him, I am thoroughly grateful that Grandfather chose not to reveal my existence to either of my parents.”

Jason sighed and ran a hand across his face, “Despite everything, T is doing well and she’s safe. I need a favor from you though.”

His cousin slouched a little and crossed her arms, “The Big and Bad Red Hood needs a favor from mwah? Oh, whatever shall I be?”

“No need for the snark,” Jason crossed his own arms looking at her. Her own eyes glowed with the power of the pit behind them. He didn’t want to know how she ended up in such a predicament. He knew she could take of herself. He knew she could overcome the effects of the pit. If anything, it just made his skin crawl as recounted his own experience with the magical waters. “What I do need is for someone to be out there getting me intel. I need a link to the League so I can know Shiva’s process on helping T and if she needs any backup. I also need someone with ears on the ground for whatever it is Nyssa might be planning.”

“And pray tell, why you cannot do this yourself?”

“From what I’ve been told, I’m the reason that Nyssa attacked Talia. If I step outside of Gotham, then I’m going to have eyes on me everywhere. I need to keep a low profile.”

Jamila hummed as she looked him over. She ran a hand through her hair. “The wishing well near Ivy’s Garden. Whatever information I managed to get then that’s where I’m going to leave it.”

“Don’t you want to be the Heir instead, Mila?”

“Not a chance in Heaven or Hell,” she scoffed.

Jamila moved towards the edge of the rooftop the two of them were standing on. A slight breeze picked up and blew her hair through the air. She turned to look at him and the fierce expression on her face soften into something gentle, “Jason, do be careful. You may not be my cousin by blood, but you are the cousin of my heart. I will destroy the world thrice over if it meant that you keep some happiness.”

She fell backwards off the edge before he could give promise to her words. But he watched as she appeared a few buildings over and heading away from the streets of Gotham and he wonders if she can hear his silent pleads that she do the same.

--

When Jason made it back to the manor, he slipped in through the window leading to his old room. A quick glance at his bed and he could see Talia still lying there sleeping peacefully. Even in her sleep, she still looked like a warrior princess.

He sighed deeply. He needs to find a way to help her get back to her rightful age asap. But… but a part of him wanted to delay it as long as it was possible. He wanted to give her the childhood she should have had instead of the one she was forced to live.

He removed his boots and armor from his body before walking into the bathroom to slip into more comfortable clothing. He checked to see if Talia was still asleep before carefully moving two of the floorboards and placing the minimum weapons, he had carried on his person back in their place. With one last check on his charge, he reestablishes the rigged security system on the window that he made. Bruce and the others were so sure that the motion detectors would catch anybody sneaking onto the premises, but Jason learned his way around those from the very first moment he put on the pixie boots. At least with his security, whoever might try to break it would lose their fingers and then their life when Jason arrived to catch them.

Talia sacrificed everything for him. It’s only right that he repays the favor.

Jason made his way out the room with one more glance at Talia before softly closing the door. When he turned around, Cass was standing there. He quirked an eyebrow. “Guard duty,” was all she said.

He nodded his head and the two of them continued down the hallway. Making their way to the kitchen where the rest of the family had gathered before Jason left to make contact with Mila. Three days had already passed with Talia being stuck as a toddler and he was no close to figuring out how to help her. They had no knowledge if it was magic, science or even technology that made her this way.

“Ah, Master Jason, welcome back. Have a seat. I’ll bring out something for you,” Alfred greeted, walking off before Jason could protest. He shook his head with a fond smile and made his way to the dining room where the rest of the family was waiting.

“I’m just saying Bruce, we shouldn’t be distributing so many resources to help that-that woman after all she’s done to this family. It’ll be for the best to keep her as she is. At worst with our help, we can keep her from turning into the Talia we know today and at best, we can just ship her off to another family.”

It had been years since Jason had felt any effects from the pits. Maybe it had ignited after seeing the evidence on his cousin or maybe the anger he was feeling at Barbara’s words were strong enough to relight it. Either way, he could feel it nipping at the back of his mind... Staying there. Stagnant. It was more of a tool for him to use instead of a leash to control him.

“Look Gordon, I get you have your issues with Talia. But you don’t know jackshit about her and if you speak another word about her, then I’d happily show you exactly just how you’re not actually all that great.”

The rest of them startled not having noticed him come in, but he only had eyes for Barbara. He looked up to her. Cherished her even. She was his batgirl. But Talia was his mother and he wont stand for any ill will to her.

“Jason, what Babs was trying to say—” Dick began, but Jason rose a hand in the air. “She can speak for herself, Dick, and she made it perfectly clear how she felt. I’m making it known how I feel, and I won’t stand for any slander against her. You can speak about whatever problem you have with her on your own time, but so long as she’s here… so long as I am here, then you will keep your thoughts to yourself or leave her wellbeing to me and go back to playing with your computers.”

The two held a small staring match as she tried to gauge how serious he was, and he expertly conveyed the threat in his eyes to the next person that spoke on Talia negatively. She nodded her head at him before turning away. Jason took a deep breath and mentally pushed the pit away. He had been doing good and he didn’t need a relapse.

He kept on to his seat and thank Alfred as he placed his food in front of him. He said a quick blessing over his food just like Talia had demanded of him before he slowly began to it.

“Um, Jason, what did your contact say,” he heard Timmy ask from his seat. Jason looked up to see him typing furiously on his computer with one hand and reaching for the coffee cup that Cass was carefully keeping out of his hands.

“She didn’t tell me much and I didn’t press for much. What she did say is that the rumors about who the new Heir is and how fast the information surrounding Nyssa’s attack is spreading.”

Everyone’s brow furrowed. To know that there was someone out there that might be getting ready to start the biggest war in the criminal world was frustrating. They didn’t know who they were looking for or what to expect from them.

“Well, did she at least tell you who the Heir was,” Stephanie questioned. All eyes turned to him and he narrowed his eyes at her. He took great care of what he alluded with his body language before he answered. Heaving a deep sigh and taking on a look of exasperation, he set his fork down and ran a hand through his hair.

“I already knew who the Heir was and believe me when I say they want nothing to do with the title.”

Tim went back to typing on his computer, “Still it would be good know who the Heir is just in case they cause trouble later down the line.”

Jason scowled at the brat, and here he thought Timmy was his favorite. He then sent a silent prayer of forgiveness to Jamila and he swore he could her sharpening her knives and cursing at him. Jason sighed as if he was exhausted with the topic and didn’t want to let this particular amount of leverage go. “Her name’s Jamila. You’d probably find better information on her if you looked up Death Demon. It’s her code name, but she’s even more of a ghost in the underground world than the Winter Soldier from your comics, Timmers. But she is real. I met her a couple of times while training with the League. She put a knife to my throat and told me to stop killing all of her teachers before she got finished punishing them.”

“Am I the only one trying to figure out why Jason seems to be on first name basis with assassins,” Dick exclaimed.

Jason snorted, “I was one myself, Dickhead. I worked directly under Talia before she let my leash go and set me out on the world. Hell, in some parts, I’m still considered one. There are many places that are living in fear afraid of the Red Ronin to come back and rain down vengeance.”

“I don’t think that’s something to be proud of,” Duke muttered from his spot at the table.

Small patter of feet caught everyone’s attention and Jason looked over to the doorway to see Talia peeking in. Her features were twisted in a scowl and Jason was sure that only he and Cass could see the fear lurking in her eyes.

He rose up from his seat immediately catching her attention and then she disappeared. When he sat back down, he pushed his chair further from the table to catch the small body that landed in his lap.

“Hello, تاليا,” he muttered as he scooted back near the table. She laid her head on his chest and whispered, “Hello, Jason” in English. Jason nearly cried with joy. In the past three days alone, she had spoken in French, Spanish, German, Greece, Swahili and Chinese. Sometimes she would switch languages mid-sentence. It was nice to know that she could speak English also though he still felt like a scolded kid whenever she rose a brow at him when he stumbled from her dialect switch.

He handed her the fork in his hands and let her eat the fruit off his plate. Another thing everyone learned was that she was a vegetarian. But she had spoken to him in silence and broken words that Ra had already been training such weakness from her and forcing her to eat meat. She hates it but she won’t go against her father.

“Hi, Talia. I’m Stephanie!”

Right, despite that they had been here for three days coming and going because like hell was, he going to spend the night at the manor… Talia successfully managed to avoid everyone in the house. Everyone except Alfred and Tim that is. She had told him that watching them concentrate on their task was soothing and orderly. It reminded her of home.

She looked up at Stephanie with a blank stare before looking back at Jason. “It’s up to you.”

“Bright.”

Jason nodded his head, “Hey, Steph. Tone it down a little.” He looked backed down at Talia who nodded her head. “Hello, Stephanie.” The girl in questioned almost squeal in delight before the rest of them started to introduce themselves.

When Damian introduced himself, Talia blinked before leaning his direction. She turned back to Jason, “He looks like Mother’s brother. Family?”

Jason pretend not to notice the emotions in Damian’s eyes. He knows that the boy knows little of his Grandmother’s family. “He is my brother.”

“Potential,” she stated with a raised brow. “Worthy of Nobutora name.”

Talia smiled lightly at Damian before she disappeared from his lap and the sound of her feet were heard back in the hall as she headed back to the room. Jason turned to look at Damian who was staring after his mother with a shocked look on his face.

“She had never told me that before.”

Jason crouched down beside him, “It doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

He ruffled the kid’s hair and gave thanks to Alfred for the dinner. He walked out of the room with everyone else wondering what Talia told Damian. “Call me if you get a lead or anything,” he called behind him.

He needed to get back to his apartment and give Talia her bath before they settled in for the night. The Bats could handle patrol for one more night.

[veridium]

“A Little Tipsy”

Cass x Olivia 

Summary: Olivia is brought back to the Seeker’s quarters having enjoyed a little bit too much to drink. Adorable clumsiness ensues. Who knew a Mage as formidable and straight-laced as Olivia would prove the most delightful lightweight? 

--

“No! Really, I am just fi—I’m fine!”

A giggly Olivia reassured her friend Clara as she was escorted to the Seeker’s bedchamber door. With one arm around her friend’s shoulder as she steadied her footfalls, Olivia looked anything but “fine.” But, of course, what would a tipsy woman say to the assumption that she was drunk besides argue that she was not.

Clara chuckled and knocked on the door with her knee, having both hands used up in making sure Olivia didn’t wiggle out of her hold.

“My Lady?” she asked aloud.

Cassandra had been tending to cleaning her armor when the disturbance at the door made itself known. She had become used to Olivia’s quiet wandering in through the doorway, so hearing not only a polite knock but an unfamiliar voice was most atypical. She promptly made her way over and opened the door. Her brow raised when she saw Olivia smiling with a hand to her mouth, her index finger wedged between her teeth in a flirtatious expression. Clara stood with her hand around her waist looking most apologetic.

“Hello, Seeker, I—”

“Oh Maker, isn’t she just beautiful?” Olivia interrupted, before erupting into more giggling.

Cassandra tilted her head. “What on Earth..?”

Clara closed her eyes and sighed. Her friend had been a most jubilant and hard to censor drinker. “My Lady, forgive me. We celebrated a birthday down at the tavern, and Olivia…well,” she hesitated as Olivia tried once again to shimmy out of her hold.

“Clara, you are such a worrier! Honestly, for gosh sakes…” Olivia slurred a bit, but in a most bossy way as she tried to shake off her careful grip around her waist. “I’m fine, really.”

Clara sighed. “Yes, Olivia, I am sure.”

Cassandra couldn’t help but be a bit amused, even though she was a most disciplined personality. Olivia was never out of line or sorts around her; her sobriety and clarity of mind were one of her trademark qualities.

So, as she broke free and walked inside, passing Cassandra and winking at her in a most uncoordinated way, it felt like reality had become comically distorted. She turned back and looked at Clara, who was watching her friend move as if she were about to break into a million pieces.

“How much did she drink?” Cassandra inquired, taking hold of the doorknob again.

Clara, in return, shrugged and folded her arms. “No more than two rounds. She was barely halfway through the first one before she started singing…”

From across the room, Olivia could be seen starting to undress, not caring as to whether or not she had an audience besides her lover. As she began tugging at the laces to the bag of her dress, flailing a bit as she did so, she cursed under her breath.

“I’m fine!” she said again, as if preemptively answering a question she had been asked too many times in the evening.

“Forgive me, Seeker,” Clara bit her lip, “if it is any consolation, she was the delight of the evening.”

Cassandra watched Olivia struggle to figure out the mystery that was her dress, shaking her head. Hearing her friend’s apology, she promptly turned back to face her. She assumed Clara would be expecting harshness from her, or a stern warning not to misguide her lover into foolish behaviors again. But, she only grinned.

“Do not worry, Clara. It was all in good fun,” she replied. “Thank you for escorting her to me. Have a restful night.”

The two women then exchanged nods – Clara clearly relieved that she wasn’t going to incur the Seeker’s wrath for being Olivia’s enabler in her fun – and Cassandra gently closed the door. Turning her attention to her workaholic lover who decided to let loose, she stifled a laugh. Olivia, having finally resorted to pulling her gown over and not under, had gotten stuck with it halfway off. She was groaning with disdain for her predicament as her arms waved and tugged at the stiff fabric.

“Ugh! Maker!” she said, her voice muffled by her clothes.

Cassandra approached carefully, not wishing to surprise her. “My Love, wait a moment.” She reached her hands and gripped onto the skirt that had become amassed around Olivia’s shoulders and head and pulled it off of her. Revealing a most disheveled head of blonde, wavy hair.

Olivia blew a whiff of air from her lips, sending a few strands of it flying in the air.

“I am so tired,” she sighed, “I just want to sleep! Sleep like a baby!” she put her hands on her hips, her arms limp like noodles almost.

Cassandra folded her gown casually between her arms, quickly moving for the table to set it down. “You are most fortunate, then, as it is now time for bed.”

More giggling from Olivia as she shifted her weight lucidly from foot to foot, now standing with nothing but her smallclothes on. She clasped her hands and held them to her lips, looking like the most foolish kind of prayer.

“Can you believe it? I get to go to bed with you. You! Of all people! You’re so beautiful…” she said melodically through her laughter, her cheeky smile most uncoordinated.

Cassandra sighed, a smile on her lips as she remained appeasing of Olivia’s most jovial temperament. “I would hardly believe that to be a sentiment shared by all, but if you appreciate it, then I suppose it is all well and good.”

“Who? Who does not think you are beautiful? I’ll show them!” Olivia’s nose scrunched, and she started making her way towards the bed. On the last few steps she stumbled and fell, landing across the bed. As she did so she burst out in more laughter.

Cassandra put her hands on her hips and watched her land softly after an otherwise clumsy display. Well, at least she ended up in the destination she was supposed to be in. As Olivia curled her legs up against her stomach and tossed her arms to rest up over her head, she looked like the textbook image of joy.

“My Love,” the Seeker cooed as she came closer, marveling at the energy she still had even as she said she was exhausted. “You should remove your smallclothes before sleeping.”

Olivia sighed, then, and let her legs straighten. “Ugh, but it is so cold!”

“We can remedy that, once you remove them,” Cassandra offered her hands out to her woman, who pouted her lips to one side of her face before accepting. As Olivia leaned upright, she raised her arms up over her head.

“I’ve given up on the intrica…intra…oh! Just help me, please!” she huffed.

Cassandra smirked and got to work at once. Olivia’s way with words was infamous, but clearly it had taken the night off. Without much fuss, she slipped her smallclothes top off her, tossing it to the same table where her day gown was placed. Feeling a chill and not having much tact to speak of, Olivia folded her arms over her chest and slouched.

“Oof! There needs to be a fireplace in here, Cassandra. I can make one, with just one twist of my fin—”

“Olivia, it is alright, no need to make a fireplace with your magic,” Cassandra said with an alarm to her tone. She knew how easy it would be for things to get out of hand if Olivia thought a problem could be solved with her magic.

Olivia smiled and began to shimmy out of the bottom of her smallclothes set, laying back and letting the cotton slip down to hang around her knees. “Oh, what fun you are!” she teased as Cassandra slipped them fully off her legs.

Once she had been fully stripped down, Cassandra was relieved that the remaining step was to simply get in bed and hopefully captivate Olivia enough with physical affection to settle her down. Blowing out the remaining candles, she slipped out of her tunic shirt and pants and slipped into the sheet. Olivia wasted no time in crawling in with her, settling herself into her embrace and laying her head on the pillow beside her.

“Warm…” Olivia muttered, “so warm…”

In the dark of the room, Cassandra could only imagine what silly, wonderful face Olivia had whilst she said these words. With her arm around her, she began playing with her hair.

“I promised you it would not be so cold,” she replied in a hushed tone.

Olivia moved her thigh up to rest across Cassandra’s hips, and the Seeker placed her free hand atop it.

“Cassandra…” Olivia whispered with mischief in her voice.

It was then Cassandra worried that Olivia’s quirk for pillow talk would be all the more ravenous. Without alcohol, Olivia was quite precocious. Her lack of contented sleep by virtue of her dreams meant night time was just as active for her mind as the day was. But now, she had no filter, and that meant that anything could happen.

“Yes, my Love?” she asked in return, preparing herself for the stream of silly, thoughtful consciousness that would surely follow.

“I…” Olivia hesitated, breaking with her display of brazen expressiveness. At this stalling, Cassandra tilted her chin a bit so as to peer down at her. Through the dark she could see that Olivia’s eyelashes were fluttering open and closed as watched her fingers trace along the skin on Cassandra’s chest.

“I think you are very…neat…” she managed to finally say.

The Seeker chuckled heartily, tightening her hold of her. “Yes, I know. Thank you.”

“And you…are very funny. Especially when I pro….provoke you…”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Yes,” Olivia giggled softly, “you blush. It’s…so funny.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes with affection. “I do not keep track of such things, but if you say so.”

A moment of stillness then, as Olivia stopped talking. Cassandra could hear her breathing start to deepen, as if she was drifting into sleep. This relaxed her protectiveness for her, and eventually she trusted it enough to close her eyes and begin searching out rest for herself. It was this way for some minutes. Then, a soft voice.

“I love you so much…” Olivia breathed, settling in deeper against her, “please do not ever leave me.”

Cassandra opened her eyes slightly, staring up at the ceiling. The poignancy of Olivia’s words had sent a subtle shock through her heart. For some reason, the thought of her saying all this while intoxicated felt like she was telling her a secret.

“Do not worry, Olivia. I’ve got you.”

“Good…because I really…” she took a tired breath, sighing heavily, “I really do not think I could bear it.”

“You do not need to worry of such things now. All you must do now is rest. I will not go anywhere.”

Olivia nuzzled her cheek into her shoulder. “That would suck.”

Cassandra once again had to stifle a laugh. It was most surprising and unnerving, in the best way, to see her this way. She would have to ask the Inquisitor in the morning for comparative knowledge – was Olivia always this giggly and sweet when drunk? It would make sense in the most endearing of ways. Of course, the sweetest and kindest woman in Skyhold would be this way after a few drinks, what would make more sense than that?

“Cassandra?” Olivia asked again, her voice more breathy. She was clearly fending off sleep.

“Yes, Olivia?”

“…Varric told me what happens in the next chapter of Swords & Shields.”

Cassandra raised a brow. Oh, another reason to suppress the urge to punch Varric – he got to her drunk girlfriend.

“Alright, my Love, it is time for sleep now.”

[fanaticwritings]

Unspoken [part eight]

Eventual Sam x Reader [AU series]

Catch up here: PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE // PART FOUR// PART FIVE // PART SIX // PART SEVEN 

A/N: We’re nearing the end!!! Ah, I hope this chapter is better than the last!

When Y/N wakes up with a start, the next morning, her head pounding. She groans as she sits up and rubs her eyes. She’s drenched in hot, stinking sweat. The slow fan. Sigh. Turning to her side, she opens the drawer and pulls out a strip of aspirin and swallows a pill. That should take care of the headache.

A few minutes later, she gets up and walks to the bathroom, the ache already reducing.

She opens the tap and the water pours out in a rush. Y/N looks at herself in the mirror. Mess. She is an absolute mess. Her hair is sticking out in all directions and her eyes are red and puffy from all the crying she did last night.

She remembers her breakdown. God, that had been awful. She remembers everything else too, one by one. But none of it affects her as much anymore. She has cried it all out and the pain is nothing but a dull stab now.

She splashes water on her face, relishing the coolness it provides.

Yesterday had been thoroughly exhausting. It shouldn't have affected her as much but too many things had happened at once and the breakdown had been overdue.

At least it is over.

She's late for college but doesn't care. She needs a break and besides, she's only missed around four days this year. Mentally convincing herself, she proceeds to fold the bed sheets.

Her room is in total chaos and she decides that cleaning it might ease her somehow. Sure, she feels lighter after all the crying but it didn't make her feelings disappear.

She mindlessly picks up the clothes off the floor and tosses them into the laundry basket. One by one, things find their place in her small apartment.

It is cramped but it's cheap and still her home. She makes do with it.

An hour later, her room is almost tidy.

She hardly ever uses the small living room, which can accommodate only one sofa, so it doesn't need much cleaning.

The kitchen, however, is in total disorder. Dirty dishes lay in the sink and the floor is littered with empty packets. She realises, then, that she hasn't had anything since last evening and as if on cue, her stomach rumbles with hunger.

Upon checking her refrigerator, she finds that she has some fruit, three-fourths of a pizza and some milk. She heats the pizza, cuts herself some fruit and makes some coffee. A decent meal.

After she is done eating and tidying up the kitchen, she decides that she deserves a hot bath.

Her mind is in chaos right now. Her thoughts are all cluttered and each begs for her attention. Too much happened yesterday and she’s got college stress as well as the pressure of providing rent. She was under tremendous pressure yesterday, there’s no lying about that.

Y/N undresses and slides into the tiny bathtub of her bathroom. She can barely stretch her legs but the warm water is soothing so she doesn't seem to mind. A hot bath might help her unclutter her mind.

She thinks about Jim, at first. She should have anticipated that. All the times he had tried to warm up to her- should she have read the signs? There was also the way he seemed jealous when he had asked about Sam. But..even if she had known, what could she have done?

Also, she couldn't blame Jim. He couldn’t be blamed for liking her.

Jim and she are almost in the same situation. It is comical.

She let's Jim slide as Sam occupies her mind. Sam Winchester. The cliche tall handsome stranger, whom she had taken a liking to.

No, she wasn't obsessed. Nor was Jim, now that she thought about it. He had backed away without a word, when she had been straightforward.

She still has feelings for Sam. That much she knows. But now that her mind is clearer, she knows that she has to accept her own advice. To understand that if he likes Madison, she has to back away.

Sure, it hurts. It hurts a lot. But, Y/N isn't some psychopath. If Sam wants to be with Madison, he has every right to be so. Heck, he doesn't know who Y/N nor the fact that she's the one behind the notes.

She can't blame him.

Everything is so simple now that she has it all laid out in front of her. She still hopes that she has a chance, though. The tiny voice in her head is telling her not to jump to conclusions but she knows what she has to do.

She will apologise to Jim today and talk it out with him, if he is willing to, that is. And she will accept rejection like a normal person. Cry a little, eat some ice cream and be over it.

Simple and easy.

By the time Y/N's shift begins, she's feeling much better. She knows what she needs to do and that helps her focus as she walks into the library. She keeps her head down and saunters right to her desk, plopping into the armchair.

The turnout today is roughly the same as yesterday. She scans the library but there is no sign of Jim.

So much for her 'plan'. What was she to do now? What if he never showed up?

She's still processing this when her eyes come to a rest on Sam. He's wearing a long sleeved white tee over a blue one, in a way that accentuates his sturdy arms. There it is again, the feeling that tugs at her every time she looks at him.

But, to Y/N's slight dismay, he's sitting right next to Madison.

Well, that is predictable, Y/N thinks. She wouldn't be surprised if he had already asked her out.

They're both reading their respective novels but Madison keeps glancing over at him. Y/N rolls her eyes.

But what surprises her more is that she isn't overwhelmed by envy anymore. It pricks when she looks at them but then vanishes. She marvels at herself. Is she over him? So soon?

But maybe she's not. Her heart still flutters when she looks at Sam. The way his hair falls over his eyes and those dimples and his gorgeous smile- she’s a goner. Her heart thrums as she looks at him.

No, she's not over him.

She sighs.

She's finished with the book. It had been a good read in itself but the ending had ruined it for her.

Now she needs another one. Books are her drug. A cheaper and healthier version. She walks over to the fiction section soundlessly. The shelf is full of colorful covers and interesting titles. She picks out a few that seem interesting and reads the back covers. She picks one that sounds really interesting- it's about magic and a world that isn't like her own. She's in the mood for fantasy and this fits perfectly.

Instead of taking the straight route to her desk, Y/N walks past the library door and behind the right side of the shelves. Sam and Madison are sitting at the table closest to these shelves.

They seem to be talking in hushed tones. It isn't strictly forbidden to speak in the library but since it is almost always silent, people generally prefer to whisper.

Y/N didn't come here purposely in order to be near them. She had seen some books that needed arranging in this particular shelf.

Call it a chance of fate.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop but the proximity and the pin drop silence in the library, carries their whispers straight to her ears.

She pretends to straighten some books but her ears are straining to hear them.

"Do you like The Fault in Our Stars?," Sam seems to be asking.

"Yeah. I do," Madison whispers back.

Y/N isn't sure if she imagines Sam's shoulder droop for a moment.

She removes all the books from the shelf and sets them aside.

"Why?" Sam asks, looking at his book.

"I don't know. It speaks to me, I guess. I relate to it on some levels," she answers back.

Y/N rolls her eyes.

Sam shrugs and then says "People generally see what they look for huh?"

He turns to look at her expectantly.

Y/N stiffens the moment he says those words, because she recognises the reference. He's quoting ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.

Madison looks back at him, confused. Why are you staring at me? She seems to be saying.

"People generally see what they look for and hear what they listen for..?" he whispers, completing the quote.

Madison looks at him like he's got a loose screw.

"Have you never read To Kill a Mockingbird?" he asks, confusion written all over his face.

Y/N can see where he's getting at and a book almost slips from her hand because of how fast her heart is beating against her chest.

He thinks Madison sent those notes.

Madison shakes her head, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"You're not the one sending me notes?!" Sam whispers a little too loudly and some heads turn to look at him.

He sinks back into his chair, sheepishly.

He looks back at Madison who's still confused.

"No?! What are you talking about, Sam?" She says.

Sam's face falls at her words.

Y/N can see that Madison is curious and jumping to ask what he means by 'notes'.

She can't believe what she's hearing, her heart is beating so fast she fears she'll have a cardiac arrest. Sam still cares for those notes? Her notes? He cares enough to remember she quoted the book? The thought thrills her.

Y/N watches as Sam sinks lower into his chair. He tries to hide the disappointment in his face but it's clear how lost his eyes look even though his book is out in front of him.

Madison continues to glance at him but Sam doesn't even seem to notice anymore. He's biting his lip and Y/N can see he's thinking hard.

Y/N doesn't linger around, afraid Madison will notice her spying on them. That would be awkward.

She goes back to her chair. Her heart rate hasn't slowed down a bit, the obvious disappointment on Sam's face still fresh in her mind.

She feels awful for feeling good about it but then she was bawling her eyes out yesterday. For nothing, it turns out.

Madison keeps glancing at him but Sam ignores her. She mumbles something then and Sam responds, out of courtesy but looks disinterested.

Y/N hates that she's enjoying it.

Sam wants to find the person behind the notes. He was disappointed to find that it wasn't Madison. Which means two things, he either liked Madison too much or he likes the person behind those notes.

This changes everything.

Sam looks awkward sitting next to Madison because she seems to notice the shift in Sam. She looks a little offended as he gets up then. He waves her an awkward goodbye and heads for the exit, but not before Y/N notices the visible slump in his broad shoulders. 

She hates to see him go but there is a new spark of hope inside her and it's slowly burning brightly.

Sam Winchester could just be in her league, after all.

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[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 7

My eyes flew open and I abruptly raised my head, panic setting in as I scrambled to find the clock, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t overslept. It read 6:52. Yee fucking haw, crisis averted and eight more minutes to sleep. As I laid my head back down on the pillow, I wondered how in the hell I’d managed to see what time it was. I explored my face with my hands and deduced that I’d slept with my glasses on. Oh, that’s how. Shit, shit, SHIT. I was about to inspect them for damage when I took note of something heavy and warm wedged between my legs. And pressed against my back. And resting across my stomach. And on my right boob. Memories of last night’s dalliance flooded my mind, and the panic I’d alleviated just moments ago came roaring back with a vengeance, conflicting with an undeniable, deep-seated hunger for more.

The fact that I’d expected him to leave and he hadn’t, and instead was right here, right now, snuggled against me, legs entwined with mine, was the root source of my anxiety. That and the fact that I hadn’t WANTED him to leave. Less than twenty-four hours had elapsed since we first met, yet we’d spent the night sleeping curled around each other. A level of closeness and intimacy had been established between us that I normally never permitted, no matter how much I craved or desired it. And it had happened in an instant, a heartbeat, without so much as a single protestation from me. I had let someone in, and the uncertainty of the consequences that might arise from this chink in my armor was incredibly unsettling.

There was one thing I was certain of…last night had been the hottest fucking of my life to date. I decided revisiting the details would be a welcome distraction and was midway through my internal video replay when I felt him stirring behind me, morning wood prodding firmly at the crack of my ass. Deep-seated hunger claimed its victory over panic as he purred in my ear.

“I’d like to inquire as to whether the offer to fuck you sideways still stands, please.” I thrust my hips back against him. “Mmm, I’d like to take that as a yes, but propriety dictates otherwise.”

I reached around to slap him on the ass. “How’s that for a yes, Thomas?” His cock twitched, and I lifted my left leg off of his, planting my foot firmly on the bed to allow him access. “Have at it, good sir.”

His entire body stiffened and I swiveled so I could see his face. For the second time in a few short hours, his pupils were blown wide, irises barely visible. He squeezed my breast, first massaging it then rolling the nipple between his index finger and thumb.

“Have at it? You’re serious?” His brows were so elevated it was almost comical. I grabbed his wrist and relocated his hand to my mound, shrugging.

“You tell me.”

He slid a finger into my slit and gasped. “Fuck, Maude. Are you always this wet? And this quickly?”

I chuckled. “Yes, Tom. Yes I am. Especially when there’s a beautiful man in my bed with his rock hard cock nestled in my ass crack asking for permission to fuck me.” He started to slowly circle my clit. I bucked up against his hand. “Orgasms happen to be one of my favorite pastimes. I masturbate. Frequently. I read erotica. I watch porn. I have a vibrator, and I’m not afraid to use it.” He pressed his pelvis forward, cock working its way between my lips. “Hmm, what else…oh, right. I know the precise location of my G-spot and I’m pretty sure after last night you may as well, so I would appreciate it immensely if you’d be kind enough to rub something up against it. Like, NOW.”

The clock alarm went off. I was sure it was out of the reach of my arm, but perhaps my leg…I lifted my foot from the bed and extended it as far as it could go, using my big toe to hit the snooze button. I grinned at Tom. “Yoga.”

He removed his hand from my pussy and grasped my leg behind my knee, holding it aloft as he entered me, pressing inside languidly. I attempted to speed things along but he held me in place. I whined.

“Ah, ah Maude. I’m in charge this time.” I tightened my muscles, squeezing him repeatedly. I could feel his focus shift, grip on my leg faltering, and I seized the moment, pushing backward to take him all in.

“I’m sorry, Tom, what were you saying?” The moan that escaped him was so loud it startled me. His lips crashed into mine, sucking, biting, tongues tangling, leaving me breathless. He began thrusting, unhurriedly, moving in and out and rolling his hips until he dragged across my G-spot just the right way, making me howl like a wild animal.

“FUCK, Tom. There. Right there. Harder. FUCKING HARDER!” He pounded vigorously, rocking me a little further forward on the bed with every thrust. “Yes. Yes yes yes yes yeeeesssss. Don’t stop, Tom, don’t you dare fucking STOP.” That spurred him on, pistoning in and out, squelching in my juices, that and the slapping of his hips on my ass the only sound in the room. I reached behind me to grab hold of him as my orgasm washed over me, muscles clenching around him, squeezing and squeezing as I rode out my bliss.

I gulped for air, trying to get my breathing under control. He was still moving, slowly, gently. He waited for me to recover, and when my hips began to cant he reached between my legs to rub my clit, pinioning it between his index and middle fingers, tugging it, stroking up and down. He nibbled on my earlobe.

“Think you can come again, Maude?”

I growled. “Absofuckingloutely, Tom.”

He sped up, and I met him thrust for thrust. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting as I mewled. His movements became erratic, jerky, rhythm faltering. The pace of his fingers quickened and I felt the fire spread in my belly, muscles tightening, craving release.

“Come with me, Maude. Please. Now. Please.” The naked desire in his voice, stripped bare of all the trappings, his unabashed need to share something so primal pushed me over the brink and I cried out his name, feeling him spurting deep within me as I convulsed around him. He wrapped both arms around me, burying his face in my hair.

We remained silent for several minutes, until I observed that our bodies had ended up nearly at the edge of the other side of the bed. I rolled over, instantly regretting it as he slipped out of me, meeting his gaze as I raised an eyebrow.

“Congratulations, Thomas. It appears you’ve managed to literally fuck me sideways.” He got up on an elbow, evaluated our position and burst out laughing. I giggled madly along with him. The alarm clock started screeching at us, snooze expired. I gave it a mildly abusive slap when I saw that it was 7:15. “Damn. I have to get my sorry ass in the shower, pronto. I need to be downstairs by 8:45 at the latest.”

He kissed me, then brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ears. His eyes wandered to my chest, and his hand reached out, gingerly touching my necklace. I’d forgotten I was still wearing it.

“This is a very unique piece. Do you mind sharing where it came from?” His expression was a mix of genuine curiosity and trepidation, and I realized that on some level he assumed it was from a boyfriend or lover…someone I’d cared for enough to warrant wearing it as a reminder even when the rest of me was naked. I shook my head.

“My father had it made for me when I graduated from high school in 1995. It’s black tourmaline. I’d always been fascinated by crystals, and this type is my favorite. It’s supposed to transform negative energy into positive energy.” I could feel the sadness rising in my chest. Shoving it back down quickly, I attempted to shift the topic with the aid of some self-deprecating humor. I feigned an exasperated sigh.

“Well, now the cat’s out of the bag….you’ll do the math and calculate my age, thereby discovering I’m nothing but a cradle-robbing crone.”

“You have grossly overestimated my ability to do math.” He kissed my forehead. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a day over 25.”

I snorted and grabbed his chin. “Oh, that is SO going to get you laid, Hiddleston.”

“That was the plan.” He threw a leg over me, pushed himself up and straddled my waist. The view was spectacular, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was almost fully erect again. I rolled my eyes.

“Dude, I honestly don’t know which of us is worse. You’re incorrigible. I’m incorrigible. It’s sexual anarchy up in here.” He bent down to kiss me, roughly thrusting his tongue into my mouth, which I bit down on gently. He groaned, pulled back and hopped off the bed, hand extended.

“I suppose I’ll have to take one for the team and don the mantle of responsibility this time around.” I took his hand and he pulled me up, smacking my ass as soon as I was standing. “Go get that luscious booty in the shower.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Did you just use the word ‘booty’? Hmpf. Someone’s T-Hiddy is showing. And yes, I read Tumblr.” He flung himself back on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms behind his head, smiling widely.

“Shall I order in breakfast?” I tried to stop staring at him. I really did. But he looked like a Michelangelo sculpture and all I wanted to do was dive back in and fuck him all day long, seminars be damned. He clucked his tongue at me.

“Maude? Breakfast?” I reluctantly shifted my gaze to his face.

“Right, right. Breakfast. Eggs. Sunnyside up. White buttered toast. Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon. And tea. Maybe some juice? Thanks.” He picked up the in-room phone and began placing our order as I headed for the bathroom, trying very hard to not drip come all over the carpet as I went.

************************************** There was a knock on the bathroom door as I was rinsing my hair, and it suddenly crossed my mind that someone else might need to make use of the facilities. I spent so much time alone that such things were never an issue, and I had no clue what the protocol for this should be.

“Tom? You can totally come in and do whatever needs doing.” The door opened, a whoosh of cooler air making the steam swirl around prettily.

“I was wondering if you had a T-shirt similar in size to the one you had on last night that I might borrow…and, yes, I…erm…well…actually…” I knew without looking that a blush was creeping up his neck. I poked my head out from behind the curtain, but without my glasses all I could see was a vague blurry person-shape.

“I have no problem whatsoever with you draining the lizard while I’m in here. Though in your case it’s more like draining the dragon. Anyway. Other bodily functions are perfectly acceptable as well. Ya gotta, go, ya gotta go. Plus, that’s why god made exhaust fans.” I pulled the curtain shut. “I can’t see anything at all through this, not to mention I’m blind without glasses, in case that was a concern. T-shirts are in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. They’re all 2X, so a little big for you but that’s preferable because if I have to look at you in another tight shirt I’m never going to make it to my seminar.” I heard the toilet flush as I soaped myself, followed by the sound of Tom brushing his teeth.

Though the shower had memory settings for water temperatures, it lacked a detachable shower massage. Trying to properly rinse my crotch with a stream that was four feet above it seemed ludicrous, and I was precariously balanced with one leg up on the edge of the tub and an arm extended behind me as a brace so I could lean way back to try and get the job done. I was so absorbed in the task I didn’t hear the curtain open. He cleared his throat, scaring me half to death. I yelped, then squinted at him, growling.

He laughed. “I’m so sorry. Couldn’t help but sneak a peek at a wet, soapy, naked Maude.” Someone began knocking at the door. “I suppose I’ll need to get that. I hope it’s just breakfast and not Luke. Or a search party he’s hired.”

“Does he not know you were…out?”

“I figured he’d hazard a guess, but I could be wrong.” The door clicked shut as he exited the bathroom, which rendered hearing what was going on outside as I finished rinsing nearly impossible.

Stepping carefully over the tub rim, I grabbed a towel and commenced with drying myself off, wondering why I hadn’t given a blessed thought to what Luke would make of all this. He’d just hired me yesterday, and here I was fucking his client. And mine.

I put on my glasses, opened the bathroom door a crack and sighed with relief when I spotted the room service cart just inside the room door. Tom, having donned one of my black T-shirts, was pacing and speaking briskly to someone on the phone. Everything descended into a foggy haze as my glasses protested against the temperature change.

“Luke. Enough. We’re adults. Professional people. This won’t be a problem.” He paused, listening. “Oh, please. I seem to recall someone going to dinner and clubbing with Simon immediately after his interview, followed by a walk of shame the morning after. So you really aren’t in a position to judge, are you?” Another pause. “Are you inferring that on the job romance is a valid concept when it applies to your life, but not to mine?” Tom stopped and threw his free hand up in the air. “Well, fucking FINALLY. So, what time will they be here?”

I had quietly made my way out of the bathroom and was tiptoeing around Tom in an effort to reach the wardrobe. “Well, that completely blows my day out of the water, but if they want me to be involved at that level I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” He rolled his eyes. “I was planning on having dinner with Maude. Oh, shut up you tosser. Call them and confirm. Thanks, mate. You want to talk to her?”

I shook my head frantically. He put the phone on speaker. I flipped him off.

“Good morning, Luke.”

“Good morning, Maude. Ready for your last hurrah?”

It took me a few seconds to process what he was referring to. “Oh, yep. Ready as I’ll ever be. Filming it and everything.”

“Will you have time tomorrow night after hula class to sit down and go over our schedules?”

“You betcha.”

“Great. Good luck with everything today. Enjoy your breakfast. I’d imagine your energy needs significant replenishing after being so busy last night with work and all.” Tom grabbed the phone and was about to tell him to shut it when I pulled it back.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe how busy I was, Luke. But I love ge…I mean BEING busy. You’re right, I am in dire need of sustenance. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tom hung up on him, shaking his head. “Sorry about that. He has no right to comment on any of this. He met his fiancé, Simon, when he interviewed him to be his PA. He hired him on the spot, they stayed out all that night, and have been together ever since.” I pulled on some underwear, walking over to him with my bra straps up over my shoulders.

“It’s fine. Perfectly understandable that he’d be concerned.” I turned my back to him. “Hook me, please? Second row.” I could feel his hands shaking slightly as he worked the clasps together. I spun around and took his hands in mine.

“Tom? You okay?” He bit his lip, frowning.

“The executives from Legendary are flying in and want to meet tonight about Skull Island. We need to go over details and the new shooting schedule, and they want my input on casting choices. Which is great, but they won’t be here until around six and we’re having dinner at eight and I have no idea how late it’s going to run so I’m afraid may not be able to see you tonight. I’m terribly sorry, Maude.” He leaned down to look into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction before I spoke, giving me the distinct feeling that his frequent, and often lengthy, absences had been a significant issue in past relationships. I gave his hands a gentle squeeze.

“The seminar doesn’t end until four, and then I have to sit down with the editing department at Kamana Media to go over all of the footage, so I won’t be done until nine at the earliest. If I’m lucky. That, in conjunction with a day spent dealing with two hundred plus people, will most likely make introverted me either want to cry or kill someone. Which would make me incredibly poor company, so let’s consider it a blessing in disguise.” He pulled me to him, enfolding me in his arms.

“You can’t possibly be an introvert.” I peered up at him, nodding emphatically.

“Too much time surrounded by too many people drains me dry. If I don’t take time to recharge my batteries, I turn into a horribly wicked bitch. Present company, excluded from ‘people’, obviously.” He touched his forehead to mine.

“Duly noted. Breakfast on the balcony?”  

“Sounds dreamy. I’m fucking starving.” I marched over to open the doors, not realizing until the breeze hit me that I was in my underwear. I turned around to see Tom standing with his arms crossed, one side of his mouth curled upward in a half-smile. I face palmed and shook my head. “I’m going to get arrested for public indecency one of these days, I just know it.”

“Maude, it is my fondest wish that I’m an active participant in whatever escapade causes that to occur.”

************************************** Tom cleaned up our breakfast dishes, placing them neatly on the room service cart, then moved it out into hallway for retrieval. I stripped off the tank top and shorts I had worn while we dined…mainly because I had zero faith in my ability to consume grease-laden bacon without making a mess of my professional attire. Turns out it was the dippy eggs that wound up making me their bitch, the giant yellow crusty splotch across my chest serving as a testament to their claim.

A khaki linen tunic hanging in the wardrobe caught my eye, which worked perfectly when paired with white linen Capri pants, my Floral Crush print Birkenstocks and a seven-crystal silver necklace. When I turned on the bathroom light to work on taming my tangled lion’s mane so it could pass for human hair, I beheld the rather large love bite on the left side of my neck. It was a good bit below my ear, at least two inches long and an inch wide, in vivid red, purple and bluish hues. I prodded it, first hissing at the pain, then shivering with pleasure at the thought of its origin.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I’d have to spend my day not only in front of a room full of people, but in front of a camera as well. “Son of a bitch.”  

Tom called in to me. “Maude? Is something the matter?” I could hear him walking towards the bathroom. He saw my reflection in the mirror, smiled and leaned in to kiss my neck, pushing my hair aside. “You look amazing, darl…” His eyes widened. “Oh, shit. That’s…that’s fucking HUGE. And you’re being filmed today, aren’t you? I am so, SO sorry.” He started chuckling, tried to compose himself, failed miserably and wound up bent over with his hands on his knees instead, guffawing.

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “I’m getting the impression that you’re not a single, solitary bit sorry, Thomas.” He stood up and grabbed my upper arms from behind, liquid fire replacing the jovial gleam in his eyes.

“Actually, seeing my mark on you makes me want to bend you over and fuck you, right here on the counter in front of the mirror, so I can watch you watching me as I hammer my cock into you over and over again until you scream.” I closed my eyes and exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. He let go of my arms, his reflection smirking at me.

“But since we’re short on time, I fear I’ll need to attempt to make that less noticeable instead. Do you have any cover up? And neutral tone eyeshadow?” I pointed to the tiny makeup bag. I wore it very infrequently, and when I did it was just muted shades with a little lipstick and mascara. I had discovered rather quickly that my former gothic style didn’t exactly fit in with my career aspirations after leaving Anne’s employ.

I held my hair back, watching in the mirror as Tom worked his magic. By the time he was done it was barely visible, and if I left my hair down no one would be the wiser. “Can you maybe write that down for me so I can do this again in the morning?” He turned me around and moved me directly under the fluorescent light, tilting my head to the side.

“Well, would you look at that …good to know all those hours sitting in the make-up chair weren’t a total waste of time, eh? I’ll text you instructions later. Though I’d much prefer to be here in person to take care of it for you.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sighing. “It’s 8:35.”

I walked to the toilet, turned around and started to pull my pants down. “Sorry, need to pee before I leave…first bathroom break isn’t until 10:45.” He remained, putting the make-up away, then headed out to the main area. By the time I joined him he had packed up my laptop and was loading it into my bag, along with my tablet and iPod.

“I saved all the things you had open, but your battery is at 20% so you should probably plug it in. I put two waters from the fridge in there for you, too.” When I didn’t respond, he turned to look at me. I was staring, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Um…no. No. Not at all. I…ah…I’m just not used to having, you know, help, I guess.” The smile he flashed lit up the room, making me a good bit weak in the knees as I reached for the messenger bag.

“Keycard and car keys are in there as well. And ‘Finders, Keepers’. May I walk you to the conference room?” I nodded, still incapable of forming a coherent sentence. “Here, let me carry that for you.” He snatched the bag away from me, slinging it over his shoulder as we walked out the door.

************************************** Tom kept me company until the videographers from Kamana arrived. I was completely taken aback when he introduced himself, spiritedly shaking hands with Dante and Serena and asking questions about their equipment. He glanced at the conference room clock and excused himself when he saw that it was 9:15, apologizing for taking up so much of their time and kissing me on the cheek as he left. I couldn’t be positive, but I thought I may have heard Serena aw-ing under her breath as she poked Dante’s bicep. You and me both, Serena. You and me both.

As soon as the seats were filled, a switch flipped in my brain and I became Maude Gallagher, LLC. The attendees were intently focused, eyes on me, listening attentively to what I had to say. Fingers flew over keyboards and tapped on screens as they scrambled to take notes. Before I knew it, 10:45 had arrived and I was dismissing everyone for their first fifteen minute break. I pulled out my phone on my way to the bathroom, and it vibrated in my hand just as I locked the stall door behind me.

It should be break time now so I thought I’d say hello. So, hello. Hope everything is going well. – T

I had barely finished reading that one when another came through.

And, I hope you don’t think this is an utterly ridiculous thing to say, but…I miss you. Quite terribly, actually. – T

Not at all ridiculous. Feel the same way. In the bathroom, BRB. – M

I finished up my business, washed my hands and began working my way back to the conference room, typing as I went.

Sorry about that. Again, not ridiculous. It’s taking every bit of willpower I possess to not run out of here screaming. :P – M

There are approximately 8,452 things I want to talk with you about. That’s how many I’ve had time to write down, anyway. So far. - T

Well, I have 8,457 so…winner, winner chicken dinner. :D – M

Is that a southern thing? :P – T

I think it has pervaded all areas, but it’s much more amusing with a southern accent. – M

He didn’t reply for several minutes.

Maude, I feel like every moment of time up until we met was never even half as important as I thought it was. Like it was all a dream, with me sound asleep, waiting for you to awaken me so my life could finally begin. – T

I wept as I read it. Because it made perfect sense. Because I understood. Because I felt exactly the same way. It was pure insanity. A complete departure from who I thought I was, who I had tried to be. Not even remotely connected to reality. Yet, there it was. Two days ago he was a stranger I criticized as part of making my living, and now…he was the reason that made me, maybe, just maybe, want to live again.

You still there? – T

Yes. Sorry. Have to get back to work. But, first, two things. One, you made me weep. –M

Tears? :/  – T

Incredibly feelsy, happy, joyful tears. – M

Phew. Happy tears, okay. - T.

And two, thank you for that, Thomas. Suffice to say you aren’t the only one.  XO – M

Not to change the subject, but you’re in a rush, so…do you get a lunch break? – T

Yes, but Serena and Dante want to spend it looking over footage to see if they’re on the right track. Sigh. – M

Damn. I’ll just have to send you naughty texts instead. – T

You’d best not, or I’ll be crashing your dinner meeting and dragging you into the loo for a quickie. – M

Promises, promises. – T

We’re starting here. Gotta go. Talk to you later. – M

XO – T

The rest of the day flew by in a blur, with me having to continually rein in my errant thoughts and cease pondering unanswerable questions. The footage from the morning had looked decent, so we carried on as planned and headed to the Kamana studios as soon as the seminar was over. It was after ten when I got back to the hotel, completely peopled out. I fired off a quick text to Tom to let him know I had arrived safely. We’d been chatting all day when time permitted, and while it wasn’t even in the same stratosphere as being in his presence, it was actually easier to converse in such a manner since the possibility of fucking at any moment wasn’t a constant distraction.

I carefully removed my clothes and hung them up…since Dante intended to combine the best of both seminars, it was essential that I looked exactly the same tomorrow as I had today, which meant wearing the same outfit again. And, miracle of miracles, I hadn’t gotten either lunch or dinner on myself so they were actually still clean.

The room looked…different. I couldn’t tell why, initially, but abruptly came to the conclusion that it was because I could see the floor again. The bed was made as well. I opened the wardrobe back up…there hung my dress from yesterday. My favorite sleeping shirt was tucked away in its drawer, as were my shorts, underwear, and bras. I grabbed my phone off the dresser.

Dude, all my stuff is clean and hung up and shit. Would you happen to know anything about this???? – M

Only have a minute. Waiting for execs to come back from bathroom. Someone did your laundry?  – T

Thomas, did you do my laundry? Because I don’t think I can deal with it if you did my fucking laundry. It’s just…too…too… and how did you even…shit, you totally took one of the keycards, didn’t you? – M

Yes. Yes I did. Sorry, not sorry. :P - T

You’re too much. Seriously. – M

My motivation was purely selfish…everything smelled of you. I may or may not have sullied a pair of your knickers in the process. But you’ll never know which ones now, will you? – T

I don’t suppose you charged the batteries for my vibrator while you were skulking around? Seems I might have need of it this evening. – M

Execs heading my way. I should stand when they reach the table, but…no can do. In case I don’t catch you before you sleep, goodnight, my Maude. – T

I’ll be thinking of you, Thomas. Over and over. And over. :P Sleep well. – M

I set the phone back down on the dresser, then spent entirely too much time picking up each pair of my underwear individually, silently inquiring ‘is THIS the one he jerked off into?’ as I squirmed, shifting my weight from leg to leg and clenching my thighs together. Yanking my suitcase from its spot near the bathroom, I fished around until I found my vibrator. It appeared to be in perfect working order, but I charged the batteries, just in case. If it crapped out in the middle of my fun I would be rather…disconcerted.

Yawing, I unhooked my bra and stuffed it neatly in with its companions, pulled out my sleep shirt and slipped it over my head. The laptop was still in my bag, and after turning it on and opening Word to write the letter I should have completed last night, I found that couldn’t come up with a blessed thing. I sat, staring, watching the cursor blink repeatedly, mocking me.

I gave the screen the finger and stuck out my tongue. “Yeah, fuck you too. Asshole.” Maybe I’d have better luck modifying the site menus. Coding and designing always drew me in, allowing me to disappear for hours on end, serving as a virtual pause button for all the other activity running amok in my brain. One change led to another and before I knew it I’d reworked the entire layout and theme of the site. The system tray clock read 12:47 when I hit the save icon.

“Gee, Maude, maybe you should get some fucking sleep at some point.” I got up to check my phone. Nothing from Tom. I sat back down to glare at my cursor some more. After 45 minutes, I’d finally come up with something I could deem acceptable.

Hi all,

If you’ve worked with me in the past or attended one of my seminars, you’re most likely aware that I tend to be rather voluble. Which makes it rather ironic that, as I sit here at my desk on the beautiful island of Kaua’i, attempting to pen this missive, I‘ve found myself at a loss for words. Thankfully, I’m able to fall back on another one of my qualities…cutting to the chase. So, without further ado, here we go.

I’ve accepted a position with a private company, effective immediately, and will no longer be lecturing or consulting.

Believe me, it’s just as much a shock to me as it is to you. Completely unexpected, yet exactly what I was looking for. Though I had no idea that I was looking. For anything. Life’s funny like that, isn’t it? I feel a bit like Bilbo Baggins. Does this mean second breakfast can be a thing for me now?

Do note that my seminars will be available for you to purchase here within the next few weeks, and I intend to keep this site running indefinitely. Feel free to help yourself to the information it contains. Apologies, but I won’t be able to answer questions, address concerns and so on.

I am eternally grateful to you all, as without your support and patronage the success of Maude Gallagher, LLC would have never been possible. I simply can’t thank you enough for making my dream a reality, and I wish you all the best in your own endeavors.

I’ll see you around,

Maude

I saved my work, uploaded the site and posted a link on all my social media accounts. Doing so had imparted a soothing sense of finality for me, but at the same time seemed to deplete every ounce of energy that remained in my body. It appeared the date I’d planned with my vibrator would need to be rescheduled. I barely managed to drag myself over to the bed and pull the covers back, eyes closing as I slid between them. I felt something on my cheek…scratchy, paper-like. It was a note from Tom, writing on hotel stationery.

I miss you, Maude, and wish I was there to hold you tonight.  – Tom

His handwriting was messy, like mine, but beautiful, flourishing. I put my glasses on the nightstand and turned out the light. As I pulled them up to my ears, I noticed that the linens positively reeked of our mingled scents. I smiled sleepily, still clutching his note in my hand as I dozed off.  

[mitchstongue-blog]

Solo - Eager (XXX)

Mitch was dancing to the beat of the music when he feels it.

He's got his sixth--seventh?-- vodka tonic in his hand and he's feeling the urge to go pee.

The DJ is playing some club remix of his favorite Rihanna song, and he's making his way into the bathroom when he sees him. The sexy blond man is washing up when Mitch enters, causing the brunet's steps to falter a bit before going about his business.

When Mitch is done, he's surprised (not really) to find that the man was lingering by the sink, pretending to check his appearance in the mirror as Mitch approached the sink. The brunet boy smirks to himself as the blond flushes when their eyes met in the mirror.

Caught ha, Mitch thought to himself.

Mitch decided to take some pity on the man, who was obviously nervous to strike up conversation.

Funny, he wasn't nervous when he was grinding on me, Mitch thought to himself.

"Hey I really like your half sleeve, where'd you get them done?" Mitch asked plainly, eyeing the flowers that were placed on the upper arm of the taller man.

The blond released a breathe, looking awfully thankful that Mitch had spoken up before replying, "My friend actually, Romeo Lacoste? He works not too far from here actually. He's here tonight with me too."

Blondie looks more comfortable, and Mitch beams up at him when he hears the name.

"I have an appointment with him in a few days! That's so cool that you know him." Mitch answers, taking a step toward the blond and reaching out his arm to touch the flowers and study their intricate detail.

Okay, and maybe to touch the older man's biceps but he didn't need to know that.

"Wait you're Mitch right? He was talking about how excited he was about your piece. What is it?" Scott asks, placing a hand on Mitch's waist and escorting them towards the corridor.

"It's a surprise blondie, what's your name?" Mitch finally asks, getting tired of using random descriptors in his head to address the man.

Yes, he had already heard his name from the other boy but the blond didn't know that.

"I'm Scott." He answers, stopping them from entering the madness that was the dance floor just then.  Both men could feel the tension between them, even during what had seemed like an innocent introductory conversation. Scott bit his lip as he eyed Mitch, loving how small and taut his body looked.

"Well Scott, you maybe want to take this party back to my place?" Mitch leaned up into Scott's ear and whispered, enjoying the way a shiver raced throughout Scott's body at his tone.

It was going to be a good night for the both of them.

*

As the men rode in the Uber Mitch texted Kirstie to let her know he had found a boy and he left the club. Sounds rude but he didn't care at the moment. Mitch set his phone down and they could not take their hands off each other, so it was no surprise that as soon as they entered the hotel and got to Mitch's room Scott pushed his body against the door, reaching around to turn the lock.

"Eager aren't we?" Mitch mumbled against Scott's lip, smirking as the blond just growled and kissed him harder.

Mitch wound his hands around the blond's neck, moaning as Scott ran his hands down his backside before grabbing the backs of his thighs, and pulling him up onto his waist. They both groaned as their clothed dicks rubbed against each other, the little amount of friction causing such intense pleasure to rip throughout their bodies.

"Mmm, where's the bedroom baby? " Scott asked as Mitch released his lips in favor of kissing along his neck. He had taken to a particular spot under Scott's ear, sucking a little love bite there before directing the tall man to his room.

Once inside, Scott threw Mitch onto the bed, and began making quick work of the brunet's pants after throwing a package of lube and a condom onto the bed.

"So you were expecting to get lucky tonight?" Mitch cheekily asked, as he removed his shirt, watching as Scott slid his jeans down his legs.

The blond chuckled, the sound making Mitch's tummy feel funny.

"Not expecting more like hoping. Especially after I saw your sexy ass, I had to at least try." Scott replied, quickly stripping down to his boxer briefs and lowering himself to place kisses on the brunet's chest.

Scotts boyfriend clearly didn't cross either of their minds once.

Mitch gasped as Scott began kissing down his torso, forgetting the witty reply he had in his brain. All his mind could think at that moment was ScottScottScottScott, and he was perfectly okay with that.

Soon Scott reached the waistband of Mitch's briefs, kissing the fabric covering his dick, and looking to the brunet for permission before pulling them down and swallowing Mitch into his hot mouth.

"Oh fuck Scott!" Mitch gasped out, immediately moving his hands to the blond locks, tightening his grip and throwing his head back when that causes Scott to moan around his cock.

Scott moves his hands to Mitch's waist, keeping the man from raising his hips to move faster, which makes Mitch whine as he tugs on Scott's blond strands.

"Please, please, please. I need more Scott." Mitch whines as Scott still slowly bobs his head up and down, staring cheekily into the eyes of the brunet. He pulls off Mitch's cock with an obscene pop, and kisses his inner thigh.

"Want more baby?" Scott asks, although he was already grabbing the lube, and positioning Mitch to lie on all fours, ass in the air and his hole on display.

Mitch just moaned as he nodded, the thought of Scott's long fingers in his ass causing pre-cum to drip down the tip of his dick. He arched his back more, and slid further down his knees, the perfect position for Scott to his his bud with those long fingers.

Scott placed his index finger at Mitch's entrance, all lubed up and shiny. He slid the finger in slowly, watching as Mitch pushed himself onto it the rest of the way and groaned at the appendage stretching him slightly.

"Mmm, what am I? A-ah a china doll, put another in." Mitch sassed out, smiling when Scott swatted him on his ass before pressing his middle finger up next to the index. The finger went in as easily as the last, this time making Mitch gasp at the slight burn he could feel from the stretch.

It continued like this for a few minutes, Mitch grinding back onto Scott's fingers and moaning every now and then while Scott stroked himself to the sight of it. Though soon Scott began to get antsy, wanting to feel Mitch wrapped around his cock and not his fingers.

"I wanna fuck you Mitchy. so fucking bad." The blond admitted, smirking when Mitch gasped out a 'fuck yes' in response. With that he was pulling his fingers out, and getting up right behind Mitch and sliding himself in.

Scott groaned at how tight the man was, going in slowly until Mitch pushed himself back onto his dick, bottoming out.

"Fuck you're so big." Mitch said, trying to adjust to the size of Scott. Scott just smiled and muttered something about how tight he was in response before Mitch began moving and he kind of couldn't breathe.

The brunet in question had begun fucking himself on Scott's dick, moving every which way to get the blond's cock inside of him at a steady pace.

"Yes, baby, show me how much you want it." Scott mumbled, reaching to hold Mitch's waist in his grip to control the boy's speed. He didn't want this to be over as soon as it had started. Mitch just quickened his pace though, Scott's words firing him up and motivating him to push through the ache in his legs.

They both built up a rhythm with each other, Scott pushing into Mitch as Mitch pushes back, causing moans and pants to escape from both their lips.

Scott stopped Mitch's hips suddenly, wanting to fuck into the boy's hole while the younger was on his back. He replayed this much to Mitch and the response he got was comical.

"Fuck yes! How long were you gonna wait to ask?" Mitch replied, sliding slowly off of Scott's cock and laying himself on his back, legs spread as far as he could.  Scott positioned himself inside once more, before he wrapped Mitch's leg around his waist and began pounding into the boy.

"Oh god! Yes Scott, fuck me! Take me there baby!" Mitch screamed, tightening his hold on Scott's waist as the blond pounded Mitch's prostate, over and over, causing Mitch to feel himself getting closer.

"Getting close babe?" Scott grunted out, feeling Mitch's hole tightening around Scott, pushing the blond close to the edge as well. Mitch nodded into his chest, reaching down to stroke his leaking cock in time with Scott's strokes.

About a dozen strokes later Mitch was cumming over his chest, the involuntary tightening of his hole bringing Scott to his peak not too shortly after. He laid himself on Mitch's chest, slowly withdrawing himself from the brunet's hole causing Mitch to whimper at the loss.

They adjusted themselves under the covers, Scott holding Mitch close to his chest, pressing a kiss into his shoulder as they both got comfortable.

"So are you staying for Round 2 and breakfast?" Mitch asked sleepily, holding onto the arm that was wrapped around him.

"Well that depends, is it in that order or?" Scott answered, already knowing he would stay anyway.

Mitch just laughed, knowing that Scott would stay either way, and closing his eyes, ready to wake up to those gorgeous blue eyes in the morning.

It was definitely a good night for the both of them.

----

Big thank you to beautie143 for helping me out and writing an amazing smut scene!

[wrotebytoast]

hello, welcome to the first post of this blog :0

fandom: The Comic Strip Presents, Bad News, femBad News

pairings: Vim/Sally (implied)

warnings: none

summary: the group run out of petrol on the way to a show

The Bad News van drives down the motorway late at night with Den at the wheel. Vim and Spider sleep in the back wherever they can find space - while Caitlin’s been banished to the passenger seat for being too annoying. Luckily for Den, she is also asleep. The radio plays, crackling between stations, and Den stares blandly ahead at the barren road.

The engine sputters but this doesn’t cause Den any alarm - the old van is always making noises. It isn’t until the whole vehicle shudders that she looks around uneasily. The van begins to lose acceleration despite Den’s efforts - and a quick examination of the dash reveals that the problem is (at least in principle) simple. Out of petrol.

Den: Oh fucking hell.

Den pulls over to the shoulder and the van rattles to a stop. The commotion wakes Caitlin up and she rubs her eyes.

Caitlin: What’s going on?

Den: The pissing van’s out of petrol.

Caitlin: What!

Den grumbles, getting out of the car. Caitlin watches from her seat as Den goes around to the back and pounds on the doors.

Den: Oi, get up!

Vim and Spider startle awake.

Den: We ain’t got anymore petrol.

Vim: (grumpily) Bloody hell.

She clambers for the door and pushes it open. Spider merely rolls onto her chest and props her head up in her hands.

Vim: Where are we?

Vim squints at the dark motorway - their own location lit by a harsh street light.

Den: In the middle of fucking nowhere.

Grudgingly, Vim gets out of the van - rubbing her arms against the night’s chill. She flips the small cover to the tank open to inspect it, as if that will achieve anything.

Vim: When was the last time you stopped at a service station?

Den: I haven’t.

Vim: What d’you mean you haven’t?

Den: I haven’t - I just been driving.

Vim: Well fucking hell Den, don’t you know you’re supposed to fill up the tank before the needle hits E?

Den: I do -

Vim: That stands for empty, you know -!

Den: Yeah, I know, I know that!

Spider’s giggle drifts out from the van.

Spider: Empty like Den’s head, heh heh.

Den: Piss off, Spider.

Vim: Why didn’t you -?

Den: Look, I know that - but I thought whoever was driving last would fucking say something if we were low on petrol.

Vim: Well who was fucking driving last?

Caitlin is leaning out the window.

Caitlin: It was you, wasn’t it?

Vim: No it fucking -

Vim thinks for a moment - then sighs in aggravation.

Vim: Fuck, it was.

Den: There, ya see - ya see! It’s not my fault -

Vim: How was I supposed to know you’d never look at the fucking gas-o-meter-gauge whatever the fuck it is?

Den: It’s not my job to fill your bloody van.

Vim: You were bloody driving!

Caitlin: Look! Look, hush you two. There’s no sense in arguing who’s fault it is. You’re obviously both to blame - so I -

Vim groans loudly and turns away, trying not to listen.

Caitlin: So I suggest we focus on finding a solution. Let’s approach this like reasonable adults.

Spider: We’re not going to get very far then, are we?

Caitlin: Miss Spider Webb, you can either contribute productively to this conversation or you can keep your comments to yourself.

Spider: Oh, yes Miss, sorry Miss, won’t happen again Miss.

Caitlin purses her lips in annoyance but otherwise ignores Spider’s cheek.

Caitlin: Now, does anyone know where we are?

Vim: Yeah, we’re on the side of the road listening to some complete twat.

Caitlin: Vim -!

Den: We’re somewhere between here and Grantham.

Vim rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath.

Caitlin: Right -

Caitlin looks at her watch.

Caitlin: - and it’s 3 in the morning. There’s bound to be more cars on the motorway in a few hours -

Vim and Den protest at the thought of waiting around.

Caitlin: Well what do you geniuses suggest?

Spider pipes up again.

Spider: Let’s blow up the van.

Everyone: No.

Some hours later, the sky has brightened to a dull grey as the band mills around the still broken down van. They hold out their thumbs to passing cars - with no luck so far, most likely due to their tired, sour expressions. Caitlin is the only one who makes an effort - standing closer to the road and putting on her most charming smile.

But she too grows frustrated as four or five cars pass without even slowing.

Caitlin: Well you can go to hell!

She tramps back to the others, frowning.

Spider: It was a nice try, Caitlin.

It’s unclear whether Spider is being sarcastic or not.

Vim: This is going to take fucking ages - we’re supposed to be on the stage at 5:00.

Den: That still gives us - what?

Den pauses to count in her head.

Den: What, how long?

No one has an answer. Caitlin tries to do the math on her watch.

Den: Well it gives us about a day - someone’s gotta pick us up eventually.

Spider: They’d do it a lot sooner if Caitlin would just flash her tits.

Caitlin: I beg your pardon!

Spider: Yeah, go on then.

Caitlin pulls her jacket close and scampers away.

Caitlin: Don’t be so foul!

Another hour or so passes. Vim and Caitlin sit on the ground by the van. Spider kicks at one of the tires and Den waves her gangly arm towards the road, thumb pointed out. Amazingly, a car finally slows and comes to a stop a few yards away.

Den: (excitedly) Oi!

Vim and Caitlin look up - the band then goes running to the car. The driver rolls down their window. It’s Sally

Sally: I thought I recognized those sorry faces.

Sally looks Vim over with a familiar smirk, which Vim returns with a wily grin.

Sally: Hiya Vim. What’re you lot doing out here?

Vim: Long time no see, Sally - uh, our van’s broken down.

Sally: Sounds about right.

Vim: Could you give us a lift?

The girls look at her imploringly and Sally sighs.

Sally: S’pose I could.

She glances into the back of her car - it’s cluttered with junk, obscuring half of the back seat.

Sally: Looks like I can only fit three of you in here though.

Vim is already walking around to the passenger seat to let herself in.

Vim: That’s all right, one of these tossers can wait with the van.

Den: Spider can do it.

Spider: Eh?

Not comfortable leaving Spider with the entirety of their belongings, Caitlin cuts in.

Caitlin: Uh, no, no - I think, uh, you had better stay here, Denise.

Den: Ah, wot - I’m not waiting here.

But both Vim and Caitlin have already gotten into Sally’s car - unconcerned with Den’s protests. Spider and Den glance to one another briefly - then scrabble for the last seat.

Some moments later, Sally pulls away, leaving Den kicking the dirt by the side of the road.

Sally: (out the window) Back in a jiff, mate.

Den: (muttered) Wankers.

At the nearest petrol station, Spider stands by one of the pumps - filling cartons with fuel. Vim and Sally are nowhere to be seen.

Inside Caitlin uses a phone to call home.

Caitlin: No, no, mummy, don’t take those clothes to the charity shop! I told you - the clothes in the marked boxes at the foot of the bed. (she gasps) Mother! Would you stay out of my closet! No, no, don’t put daddy on - I’m sorry for shouting - no, don’t get - Daddy! Hello - no, I wasn’t raising my voice to mum, erh -

Spider sidles up to the conversation, raising her eyebrows in mild curiosity. Caitlin blushes fiercely and tries to turn away.

Caitlin: Eh, yes, of course -

Spider paws at Caitlin’s arm.

Spider: Oi, Caitlin.

Caitlin does her best to wave the drummer away.

Spider: Caitlin.

Caitlin: - no, sir, no of course -

Spider: Cait.

Caitlin: (hissed) Piss off! (into the phone) No, no, not you! Uh, um, there’s um, a tramp nearby -

Spider seems to be completely oblivious to the phone conversation.

Spider: Caitlin, can I see your watch?

Caitlin: (distracted) What? Here.

She holds out her wrist for Spider to read the time.

Caitlin: I’m not in some slum, daddy, it’s called a petrol station.

Caitlin is so wrapped up in what she’s doing that she doesn’t notice Spider nimbly remove the watch from her wrist. Spider drifts away again.

Caitlin: I didn’t say that with any kind of “tone”.

Later, Spider tops off the last container and screws the top closed. Vim and Sally finally reappear. Sally fixes her hair and Vim keeps her hands stuffed in her pockets, a small spring in her step.

Spider: Where you been?

Sally and Vim answer simultaneously.

Vim: Toilet.

Sally: Toilet.

Spider grins knowingly.

Sally: You sorted then?

They are loading the petrol into the back of Sally’s car when Caitlin returns hurriedly. She holds one hand to her wrist, looking around in a panic.

Vim: Oi, you ready? We’re leaving.

Caitlin: Have you seen my watch? I’ve lost it somewhere.

Vim and Sally look halfheartedly around their feet and shrug.

Caitlin: No, no, we have to find it. That watch was a gift from da - uh, er - that watch was a gift!

Vim groans impatiently.

Spider: Don’t worry about it, Caitlin.

Caitlin: What - do you have it?

Spider: No.

Caitlin: I’m going to ruddy worry about it then!

Spider waves her hand.

Spider: No, no, don’t worry about it - I swapped it for the price of petrol.

Caitlin: What!

Vim laughs.

Vim: Wish we had thought of that sooner.

Caitlin: You get it back right now!

Spider: No, man, I can’t do that. The transaction’s been carried out - done deal.

Caitlin opens her mouth to protest but Sally interrupts.

Sally: Look, do you girls want to get back to your van or not? Because I’ve got places to be now.

Caitlin: We can’t leave! Not until -!

Vim: We can fucking leave and we’ll leave without you if we have to.

Caitlin’s lip trembles in distress.

In the car, Caitlin sits with her arms and legs crossed, pouting as they drive back to the van.

Vim: Hey, daddy’ll buy you a new one, eh?

Caitlin: Shut up!

[sinkingorswimming]

omg!!! outsider POV (idk, phichit, the Katsukis, Chris???) of the early days of Taker when they were still just having sex

Oh my God yes this thank you for this beautiful, golden treasure.

It’s not quite that the season’s in full-swing yet, but Chris knows mid-July is bearing down on him like a plane making an emergency water landing. Still, he enjoys what quiet he can between meetings with his choreographer, Josef, and his costume designer. He’s thinking something sexy, like a teasing shower display for a lover for the short—they just haven’t pinned the song yet.

Chris checks his Instagram feed, seeing that Yuuri’s Thai bestie has posted a series of videos to his story—it’s him landing his newly-ratified quad. Chris is probably the only figure skater in the world who doesn’t know this musical, but he thinks maybe he should check it out someday as he watches Chulanont’s beaming smile and West End-caliber grace.

Speaking of Yuuri, though—Vitya’s been in Hasetsu for about two months, give or take. Though, he’s been quiet for a week. Chris sends a text with an attached pic of Bianca’s dainty body curled up in the nook of his arm. 

Allo, Vitya! Comment vas-tu?

It’s only then that Chris pulls up the timezone for…what was it called? Kyushu, that’s right, he thinks and he sees that it’s going on ten pm there. Hm, well hopefully he’ll get a reply tomorrow.

He gets comfortable on his best chair with a cup of rosehip tea and Bianca by his arm, turning to his Netflix account. He��s been working his way through an American drama about a family of morticians when his phone chirps.

Chris adjusts his glasses and checks the screen. Defying all odds, it’s Vitya. 

Hello! Sorry—things have been a bit hectic.

Chris smiles and shrugs. The season hasn’t technically started, how hectic can it be? Is Yuuri demanding all of your time, off-rink and on?

It takes a while for him to respond.

…You might say that.

Chris stares at his phone. He thinks of half a year ago in another part of the world, champagne flowing, inhibitions dropping like flies. He thinks of the first solid smile he’d seen on Victor’s face in longer than he can recall, a furious paso doble, stripping and taking turns holding each other while wrapped around a pole as “Partition” filled the room…

He thinks most of all of a shell-shocked Victor’s eyes lighting up and glowing, a faint flush on his face as a drunken Yuuri begged him to be his coach, and the way Victor led him out of the ballroom, Yuuri’s pants in one hand while his other fished in them for a room key, Yuuri half clinging like they were one person.

Good on you, Chris thinks. Ah, such young lovers. I should have guessed truly.

There’s another long break, and Chris gets up for more tea. The phone chirps twice while he boils the water. The rosehip blend is lovely, a birthday gift from his mother. He should thank her again.

Chris gets cozy with an afghan from his Grandmere and Bianca, sipping the tea. Then he looks at the texts.

Yuuri and I aren’t romantic.

…I think.

Chris raises an eyebrow as a third text comes in.

We’re not just professional, but we’re not dating. I’m pretty sure we’re not dating.

Before he can reply, he sees the animation that tells him Vitya is typing. It goes on for a while, sometimes disappearing altogether. He’s starting a text before scrapping it entirely, Chris realizes.

Then finally: No, we’re not dating. We’re just—I mean, it’s not really anyone’s concern but ours, but we’re not an item. We’re just what we are. 

Which is? Chris prompts.

It takes so long for a reply, Chris thinks Vitya’s fallen asleep. It’s fine if he has—he’s an early riser by trade. He finishes the tea, washing the cup and drying it with a ginger touch. Inherited bone china, priceless and impossible to replace.

Bianca sits by her dish, offering a plaintive meow. Chris smiles. “Ah, bebe,” he says. He kneels and she rubs against him before sitting by the dish. Her fluffy white tail swishes once. “Not dinner, not yet. But—some anchovies—”

He grabs them and gives her two. She eats them happily, licking her whiskers clean when she’s done. He notes he’s low and needs more, so he adds them to his shopping list.

Chris heads back to the television to turn it off, having missed the bulk of the show. An old rerun of Tintin is on the telly, and his beautiful girl’s namesake sings an aria on the screen. His collection of the comics is quite impressive, and he managed to win a Herge original a while back.

The phone beeps. Chris reads.

How do you tell someone you want more than they’re able to give?

Chris’s face becomes a bit dark, like the very beginnings of a summer storm. I don’t follow what you mean.

Vitya replies thus: How do I tell Yuuri that he means more to me than just a body at night? And how do I make him see I ache to be that more to him?

Chris removes his glasses, cleans them, then puts them back on because surely he didn’t read that right. Alas, no, he did, it’s absolutely what he saw the first time—Yuuri is having casual fun and Vitya’s in deep, mataphorically and presumably literally. 

Jesus. 

He wipes his mouth with his hand. I think you should just ask him what his expectations are for you both, and you should be up front about yours in return. If you don’t see eye-to-eye, perhaps it would be best to cut and run.

Again it takes a while, and Chris opens the book on his end table. It’s a non-fiction account of Josephine Baker’s life. She’s stunning and fascinating—a huge inspiration for his skating.

He’s so perfect and I knew with the first—well, I knew right away that I’m his. That isn’t going to change if he—

It’s another fit and start.

I feel how I feel. It won’t change. But is it so wrong to want him to feel the same for me?

Chris grimaces. Not that he has a lot of serious relationship experience—just one when they were both too young and naive to make it solid for the long haul—but he knows better than this. Vitya should in theory too, though he mostly keeps to himself when he’s at loose ends. 

Sit him down, ask him. If given the green light, keep it going and see what happens. If a yellow or a red, you should stop whatever it is until he’s figured himself out. 

He thinks, then sends another.

Try not to expect anything. And Vitya—if you think you’re capsizing, bail before you drown. Please.

Vitya doesn’t reply this time, either because of Yuuri or because he’s asleep. It hardly matters. Chris worries he’s overstepped a line or come across like ordering instead of offering advice. 

Chris puts his phone facedown on the side table. Bianca curls in his lap as he ignores the telly for the light’s slow fade out his picture windows. Yuuri wouldn’t hurt Vitya on purpose…but on purpose isn’t not at all. 

He recalls again the night in Sochi, the stars in Yuuri’s eyes and heavenly-light of his smile as he dipped Vitya, pulling him tight hip-to-hip and spinning like they were the only two in the hall.

Chris breathes and talks himself out of the worries. They’ll be fine. They’ll even end up happy.

At least, he thinks they will.

[definitelyameatbag]

Perri meets the Biker

A quick fic inspired by @drawbauchery‘s Biker/Librarian AU and the art they’ve done for it.

---“...and she had spent the entire night locked in there!”, concluded Laplace, giving an anecdote about her coworker as they returned through the doors, “It was good we had a group from Medieval Studies come in the morning, I can assure you they had the scare of their lives!”

The tale of the archivist’s plight had Perri in a giggle, her stomach aching, all the while sparing some pity for Amy, Perri remembering a traumatising experience involving locking herself in the bathroom as a little girl. “God, this Amy sounds like a riot!”

 “If you mean she’s unplanned and uncontrollable, then I’ll have to agree with you!”, beamed Laplace, laughing as well, although still trying to keep it reserved. “But she’s a sweetheart when you get to know her.” Shrugging her shoulders, she walked around her desk and took her seat again, noting the meager pile of books in her ‘Return’ bin. “Ah, this can probably still go a few hours before sorting. The year is young, and when the work for the students gets harder, so it will for us. But, for now...”, she peered into the bin, tongue stuck out, rather like a kitty, Perri observed, “Hmm, Homer, Voltaire, Yeats, good places for anyone to start as far as all are concerned...”

 Perri once heard a saying, ‘Make sure you are friends with a librarian.’ This did her good service when getting her degree, her old librarian was the best search engine she could ever have. He wouldn’t give her 100,000 searches, but he’d give her the three that she needed. She looked into the bin, seeing The Iliad on the top of the small pile. She reached in and--

 “Ah. Ah. Nope!”, interrupted Laplace, raising a finger. “No removing books from the bin. Those are the Rules.” Picking up the book herself, she checked the front page, and turned to her computer, typing one key at a time. “I cannot ever get used to typing.”, she admitted, seeming regretful. “I’m useless at it. I suppose you’d be much better at it than I.”

 “Uhh, I suppose.”, responded Perri, cheeks going rosey as she scratched her head. “I once clocked myself at about 80 words a minute.” At the corner of her eye was an open notebook on Laplace’s desk, half filled and with one of those old-style fountain pens sitting on top of it. Perri could see it clearly enough that it was some of the most beautiful calligraphy she ever saw. She hadn’t written in cursive since she was eight years old, and she could hardly remember the last time she wrote something down longer than a shopping list.

 “My word, I wish I could be that fast!”, complemented Laplace, finishing the processing of the book. “And here you are, Ms. Fifecksgee, I present to you Homer’s Iliad.”, she handed out the book with two hands and a bow, in a way Perri imagined was a little more dramatic than how she regularly did it, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. She grabbed the book with both hands, instinctively returning the bow. “Wow. Thanks for the...suggestion, I guess? I’ll give it a read when I can.”

 Laplace smiled from ear to ear, “Great! Just pop it back in when you’re done, don’t try to put it on the shelves, and obviously don’t fold the pages. Oh!” She ruffled through her desk to find something, picking up a strip of paper. “You can borrow one of mine!”

 Perri accepted the bookmark. She could see that it had a drawing of two cats, one green and the other blue, having an eskimo kiss, with a heart above their heads. Noticing which one she had just given Perri, Laplace blushed, “Umm, I have other ones if you--”

 “No, no, this is lovely.”, Perri cut her off, pulling in to emphasise, “You been very...friendly, to me. I never thought I would ever pick up a book like this. Usually it would just be some New Wave Sci Fi or mang--well, comic books.”

 Laplace gave a warm chuff. “Well, you’ll have to bring me some issues to make it fair. I suppose Superman always appealed to me.”

 “Heh.”, Perri answered, nervously, “Yeah, I’ll bring something at some point.” Leaving unmentioned exactly what kind of comics she collected. She’d probably be fired if she brought them onto campus grounds.

 “Well, I suppose I shall see you later, Perri. Thank you for the tea.”

 ---

 Perri’s mind buzzed as she went back to her desk. She always thought artsy students were, well, dim, but the deep knowledge Laplace had was impressive. She had a habit of running her tongue, but she never seemed to be ‘snooty’ about it, probably out of the sheer, although collected, enthusiasm she had about talking about such things. Perri never thought she would do anything but hate poetry and history and mythology, but Laplace had something to her...sweetness?...that made it all sound wonderful. She passed the library’s section on calculus, think about how she talked about her work. She never thought of herself as being particularly good at explaining to people her work, she’d slip and stutter and then she’d see them getting bored and finally she’d just stop talking. She was proud at managing to graduate, extremely proud, but even her own parents couldn’t ever see the beauty of something as basic as running a simplex algorithm, aside from being told about the salaries that await people who are good at it.

 But Laplace, she was so patient, so genuinely interested in her field, even if she herself was terrible with computers. She felt good about sharing her expertise with her, and she felt better learning about her interests, she wanted to know more about them, she wanted to know more about...her...

 Her legs wobbled as she walked into her office. She felt queasy, but swallowed it down. Must’ve been the tuna sandwich, she told herself, falling into the chair. Maybe it was just the flu returning to campus. She shook her head straight and turned her eyes to the computer. A bead of sweat feel from her forehead as she finished reading the line about someone, somehow, managing to turn off antivirius in every computer in one of the admin offices, half an hour ago.

 Taking a deep breath, she checked her watch. 2:00PM. She checked how many computers were infected. She reckoned she’d have the job done by six.

 ---

 On Mondays, buses ran from the campus until 11:00PM, and Perri managed to get halfway through the light rain until watching the last bus pull away from the stop.

 “Wait, WAIT! STOP!”, her sprint quickly burnt out, like the Shooting Star of Hope promptly disintegrating upon hitting the Atmosphere of Despair, and blew off the urge to curse with a few stomps on the ground.

 Through the darkness, through the rain, she saw something glisten in the corner of her eye, as she walked towards administration to call a taxi. The carpark nearest the library was nearly empty, aside from two forms near the bike railings. The larger one reflected the Moon and streetlamps like metal, and the smaller one seemed to be moving around it.

 Paying closer attention, it seemed to Perri that the light it reflected off was a familiar shade of blue.

 “Hey!”, she shouted, frustrations with infected computers boiling over any rational human response to probably not try to start business with bikers. She stomped towards bike and biker as intimidatingly as possible. In short, ‘not very’. “Yu nearly ran me over this morning! I demand to be given an apolog--”

 She stopped in her tracks, about ten feet away from the bike and its rider, who turned to face her, not in a combative stance, as the rational part of her brain had tried to scream at was likely, but in surprise, recoiling back with a gasp, bring their hands up to their mouth. “Perri?”, came a familiar voice.

 The thought offended Perri’s common sense that she was reluctant to name it. It sounded mad.

 “Laplace?”

 The form took a few steps forward, coming into the light. It revealed Laplace, without her sweater and scarf, instead wearing a black leather jacket, unzipped, and a white tank top.

 Laplace was the first to react, speaking in a rushed tone, “Oh Perri, I’m so sorry for this morning! I rode in and I nearly didn’t see someone walking out and I just swerved at the last second and--”

 “Laplace, it’s ok!”, Perri nearly shouted over what seemed to be Laplace’s dive into a panic attack. She reached out with her hands, not entirely sure way, and Laplace lowered down her own hands and grabbed them. Laplace seemed to have the start of tears in her eyes, but her hastening breathing slowed down again as she squeezed Perris hands. “Listen, I’m not angry. Hey, I didn’t look both ways, it’s as much my fault as well.” Perri’s brain still ticked over the confusing sight before her.

 “No, don’t apologise, I should have turned around and apologise to you this morning. It’s just...” Laplace huffed. “I was too shy.”

 Perri was confused, unashamedly so, and the face Laplace saw told her she needed to explain further. She blushed, presumably at having been ‘caught’ by someone she knew for one day.

 “I thought it would attract unwanted attention if people found out the Librarian was a...’Biker Chick’. I worked in other places before this, and I would just get...followers. People who wouldn’t leave me alone.” Her face flashed in panic, and she pulled Perri towards her. “Please don’t tell anybody! Please!”

 Perri stared straight into her trembling eyes, she heard her give a soft whimper and she pleaded.

 Perri regained her footing, raising both pairs of hands up to chest level, and smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.”

 Laplace sighed in relief, releasing Perri’s hands and throwing her arms around her back, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Perri.”

 Perri was left winded from the sudden grip around her lungs, but just about managed to return the hug. She was almost reluctant to ask any more questions less the night get any stranger.

 “So, why do you...well, why do you ride a bike?”

 Laplace released her slowly, before turning to look at the motorcycle beside her. She spoke slowly, some reluctance behind divulging it, “When I was little, I had trouble...talking, to people. Not responding to cues. Or sometimes just repeating what was said to me. ‘Like talking to a mirror’, my grandmother used to say. So, I got put into equine therapy by my parents, and it...helped. Learning to focus my brain on multiple things at once, bonding with the horse, it helped me...’rewire my brain’, to some extent. That is probably just how I imagine it, rather than how it helped, but I could understand people better after it. Obviously, I can’t afford to own a horse, but then, when I was 17, I got my first motorbike. A tiny thing, it was a surprise it stayed together, but when it’s feels a lot like riding a horse. I can feel myself becoming more confident just putting on the jacket, I can practically walk on air after a ride. You feel like a knight leading a charge as you fly down that road.”

 Laplace turned to Perri again, noticing her looking at the back of her jacket. “Oh, heh, it was a gift from my parents when I came to the city. Artificial leather, of course.” She turned again to show Perri the full pattern on her back, two blue angels wings unfurled in a ‘w’ shape, with words along the top.

 “Blue Bird.”, read Perri.

 She turned and faced Perri, sitting down on the seat of the bike. “So, yeah, now only you and Amy know.”

 “Oh, you can trust me, I won’t tell anyone.” An awkward silence loomed, which made Perri realise that it was no longer raining. “Well, uhh, I need to call a taxi, so...”

 “Oh?”, Laplace’s cheeks began to blush again. “Well, I can give you a ride home if you want.”

 Perri suddenly felt short of air. “Ah, um, isn’t that called...?”

 Laplace interrupted, “Well, the proper way of saying it is ‘Riding Pillion’. I have one installed, Amy sometimes needs a ride.”

 Perri looked at the bike uncertainly. “I’ve never rode one before, but...well, I can hardly afford to use taxis on my budget, so I guess I’ll say yes.”

 Laplace jumped in the spot and flashed a grin. “Yay! Well...” turning to the bike and boarding it, swinging her left leg around and falling onto the pad, she kicked off the stands. “You better hold on tight!”

 Something about the sight before her made Perri quake. We wanted it to be anxiety.

“You..do wear your glasses when you ride, though?”

Laplace looked offended, “Of course! I’m not an animal.”

 Before her brain told her to stop, Perri duly boarded the pad behind Laplace. “Oh, here’s my helmet, if you want.”

 Perri automatically took the black helmet and slid it onto her head. “Alright, tell me when you’re starting o--”

 With a kick of the starter, the bike revved into life, causing Perri to grab tightly onto Laplace. “Ahhh!”

 With a laugh, and turning to see the helmeted Perri clutching tightly to her shoulder, Laplace hit the pedal and drove out of the campus grounds.

[ephemeralem0tions]

How about Levi and Hanji getting each other's names for secret santa???? and i can see either Erwin or Mike (or both) rigging it so haha ;)

sorry it took long! I worked on Fearless and Stow Away before I started working on prompts again. I hope you like what I did for your request despite it looking a bit too cliche and having to much jokes about crap lol :P

send in a request here if any body want more short fics!

His Happiness (LeviHan - Christmas AU)

Theme: Exchange Gift

Rating: PG

Warnings: curse words, loads of shit jokes, and a reminiscent of the iconic LeviHan scene; pulling hair and dragging momma closer while on a horse

Four presses and eight ‘dings’ later, he was still standing in front of a huge porch, is left foot tapping impatiently with a steady beat. It them who persuaded him to come to the party, and yet, no one seemed to attend to him when he actually went.

Everyone knew he would rather get stuck in his house, drinking tea a day before Christmas and his Birthday, but he actually made effort this year and came to one of Erwin’s big celebrations. He was starting to rethink why he even bothered to go when he was going to be locked out for the rest of the night. It was also damn freezing outside, the wind becoming stronger by nightfall, although the snow had not fallen yet. He hugged his coat tighter to himself and pressed the button thrice, praying someone will actually answer him in two minutes, or else he’s be damn out of the driveway soon.

“Oh hey Levi! Why are you outside?” She greeted him as soon as she stepped unto the wooden floor.

“Looking for Maple leaves” he 'tsked’

“Ah, but you won’t find some in London” she received a scowl from him.

“I know that”

“Then why are you locked out- oh! you can’t reach the door knob?” she laughed while he glared at her.

“I can read the damn door fine shitty glasses. No one is opening the door, its locked, maybe they are all trying to take a shit and it just won’t come out so they can’t come out” he groaned.

“Well if you were using the door bell, I doubt any one would answer. The music is always blaring loud at times like these. Let me take care of it” she cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Its Hanji and Levi open the door!” she banged on the door, making him wince at the loudness of both her voice, and the pounding.

Not even a second later, Mike had opened the door and sniffed the air before smirking.

“I see Levi had actually joined us today” he spoke.

“Nice to see you too Mike” Hanji smiled and went past him.

“Move, I’m freezing” he growled at the tall man, slightly pushing him to the side.

Holiday music had greeted his ears once he came in. The place warm with heater, and everyone around him sporting a smile on their faces, along with horribly designed sweaters. He seemed out of place, looking the most decent in his opinion, the only one that did not wear and ugly sweater.

“Levi” Erwin greeted him, laughing at the sight of his cringing face. If there was an award for the shittiest, most ridiculous sweater in the crowd, he’d give to Erwin. It was a picture of a sloth wearing a Christmas hat, only that it seemed the clothing was actually made as per instructions to have thick ass eyebrows like his friend.

“Your sweater is horrible” he bluntly said.

“Thank you” Erwin replied, still laughing. “Yours look, kind of normal”

“I’d rather not wear a shitty sweater thank you” he hissed.

“I see you actually bought a gift” Erwin commended, eyeing at the yellow box in his hand.

“I wouldn’t have if you did not ask me to”

“Its a part of the fun Levi! Everyone has someone to give to, and something to receive” he scowled at the man beside him.

“I doubt mine was actually fair” he rolled his eyes.

“My, what would make you say that?” Erwin laughed once more. “I’d have to refill the eggnog, enjoy the party for now Levi”. He definitely knew the man had something up his sleeves, he had the feeling ever since they did draw lots, and it seemed like the sniffing man had also been involved.

“Levi! Come here for a second” He whipped his head to the Director’s office and groaned, standing up from his roller chair.

As much as he hated paper work, he needed to at least have capital before he could start his own cafe. Being able to only study up to high school, he was already lucky to be an editor at the news paper company he had been working on for almost a year. He would not have the opportunity of working here if Erwin wasn’t the current director, but he was thankful that he had actually been friends with the 'eyebrows’ back then.

“What?” He huffed, closing the glass door behind him, Mike and Hanji following close behind a few second later.

“You two pick for the boxes” Erwin handed him a pink box while Mike gave Hanji a blue one. Both men had sinister smiles upon their faces, he clearly knew something was wrong.

“What is this?” Hanji asked first.

“Just some draw lots” Mike responded.

“For what?” He asked.

“Pick first before I tell you” Erwin commanded, voice faked to be stern. He groaned and put his hand in the box, feeling the tiny strips of paper before grabbing one. “Buy a gift for the person you picked and come to the Christmas Party this weekend, no questions”

He unrolled the paper and stared at it wide eyed. Hanji’s name flashed before him in bold and print letters.

“Oi! Erwin!” he growled at his superior.

“No other words Levi! You can now resume with what you are doing” the man laughed as Mike escorted him out the office with a smirk. He frowned at the behavior of the two, they set him up, that’s for sure.

The party had been boring like he thought it would be. He recognized some familiar faces from work, but they never bothered him nor did he want to bother them. He silently drank his spiked eggnog (care of Hanji) from a corner of the living room.

“So, you like the hint of rum I poured in there?” she skipped towards him, a glass of her own at hand.

“Not bad at all shitty glasses” he replied, taking another sip.

“I know Erwin and Mike rigged the exchange gift” he turned to her and looked at her straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to give me a gift if you don’t want to. Don’t force yourself” she smiled. “I was really going to give you a gift anyway, but you don’t have to give me one”

“Shut up” he hissed. “I wanted to give you a damn gift four eyes” he didn’t even know where he got his words from. He was worried for her, the moment he saw sadness in her doe eyes which was much more expressive than her whole face. He always noticed her stress, fear and worry on her eyes despite her bright smiles and laughter. He hated seeing her putting up a brave mask when her eyes told the opposite.

“Well thank you then” the light returned to her irises, making him sigh in relief. “Erwin said we could give each other our presents any time we want to. Of course they would want something to gossip about in the office, but he would rather much think about your comfort first”

“why don’t we go to the terrace, the damn boring atmosphere is making me lose my shit” he groaned.

“You better go up the bathroom then” she laughed.

“I won’t drop my shit in someone else’s house, where they crap without following my damn standards” he cringed, imagining a dirty yellowish toilet.

“I don’t think Erwin shits that much. His ass is way tighter than his budget and we all know that” her 'unique’ laughter echoed through the halls as they made their way up the stairs. For others, she sounded like a witch, for him, she sounded like damn angels ringing some bells on Christmas evening.

He opened, the door, wind blowing through his face. He should have gotten his damn coat and hers before going up, it started snowing before he even knew it. “I think we should go-” he was cut off before he could even suggest to go back in and not freeze to death.

“This is wonderful!” she ran past him, holding out her bare hands to catch some snow.

“Oi shitty glasses! You’ll get sick” he snorted.

“Just get the boxes and open them will you” she pointed from behind him.

He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of the presents. There were two that sat by the glass doors, one having plain blue wrapping paper, and one having bright green and red stripes. He crouched down and read the tags. Despite her messy handwriting, it was clear to him that both gifts were his.

“Why two?” he asked, lifting the blue one.

“Open the other one first!” she stopped him. “That one’s for your birthday” she pointed at the box he currently held.

He picked up the other box and slowly peeled the tape of the wrapper. He heard a small groan from her as her hand reached out to hold his.

“Stop being such a small clean freak right now and tear the gift, I’m excited to see your reaction” she scolded him, patience diminishing at his manner of opening presents.

“I do my damn thing four eyes” he retorted, proceeding to carefully remove the wrapping paper while she just stared at him groaning.

He lifted the top of the box once all paper were folded beside him. Small jar lids greeted him and he started taking them out one by one, eyes seeming a bit wider in surprise.

“They are different kinds of tea leaves, the ones that have the best effects for relaxation and aroma. I didn’t know which one was your favorite so I bought eight ounces of each” she explained. His mouth still hung agape, not able to know what he would say to her. “Don’t speak yet!” she stopped him holding her hands out. “Open the other one first”.

Just like the first one, he opened the blue gift with care,  avoiding to tear the paper, and folding it exactly four times before setting it aside. He slowly opened the lid, deeming that the next present was heavier than the other. A clear Pyrex glass tea brewer, the latest one, and cost more than a hundred bucks, laid at the middle, surrounded by comical pink styrofoam peanuts.

He held the pot with care, looking at every inch of it as if he was judging it.

“You don’t like it?” she asked, sadness returning to her eyes.

“You damn four eyes” was all he can say after hitting her softly at the nape in a joking manner.

“I noticed how you hated instant tea and had to go through the pain of brewing and straining, partly complaining when the tea gets cold easily, so I bought you this. Now you don’t have to scald yourself transferring from pot to pot” she rubbed the spot where his palm hit a few moments ago.

“I’m not good with words, but this isn’t bad at all” he whispered, still caressing his new items in his arms.

“The best compliment I can get from you” she chuckled lightly. “Can I open my gift next?” she pouted.

He stood up and grabbed her present that he set down on the balcony. She eagerly snatched it from his arms even if he was still a good distance away from her. He smiled at the way her eyes lit up like a child, overly excited with the gift he gave her. He was nearly embarrassed of how small and meaningless his gift was to her. It was almost like an insult even, but he was never good with things like these. He just hoped that she would understand, and smile, be truly happy and not just fake it.

“I love it!” he snapped out of his thoughts and searched for any hint of lying from her eyes. He found none, he knew she was genuinely happy, and it was enough to make it the best Christmas and Birthday ever. “How did you know I love the smell of vanilla?” she asked.

“You rarely took a bath by yourself, but I noticed it every time you did” he huffed. He bought her a scented candle set, because she stinks, but he didn’t know that’s she’d be very grateful with his choice of fragrance.

“I really love it! Thank you Levi!” she stood up and pulled him in for a hug.

He stiffened out of her sudden touch, yet the warmth created by their contact inviting him to give him. His mind told him to resist, but his heart felt right for the moment. Before he even knew it, his hands were behind her back, and he was returning the gesture. Their difference in height made him look up to her where he saw the genuine happiness he always wanted to see from her. Snow fell down from above them, creating a powdery effect on her hair, shoulders, and ridiculous bird nose.

He took notice of the green spec above them accompanied by three smaller red dots. It was without a doubt a mistletoe.  He didn’t see that before and thought hard to remember but instead, he thought of a crazy idea.

“Oi four eyes, it is unfair that I only gave you one gift”

“But I told you, it was my choice to give you the presents” she replied.

“And its my choice to give you more too” his gaze upon her becoming more serious.

“Really?! Where?!” her head turned frantically, searching for a second box.

“Right here” he growled, pulling her hair so she could face him.

He was dangerously close to her, his heart pounding faster. Tier one, she noticed his stare and looked into his eyes, he pulled her closer. Tier two, he stared at his lips, he closed the gap between them. Tier three, she closed her eyes, he finally made the decision, closing his eyes slowly and directing his hand towards her nape, where he knew he could pull her much gentle.

The cold snow felt nothing as his body erupted into a million fireworks. Despite the difficulty of having to tip toe in order to reach her, he savored the moments and went with the gentle caress of her soft lips. She leaned forward, making him more comfortable with his stance, as she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as well.

It wasn’t anything rough, just a soft gentle kiss, a reminder of how much he cared for her, and how much she cared for him. He didn’t want it to end, but they had to breathe in some point. Her eyes still remained locked with his even as they pulled away. They stared it him, with a new emotion he didn’t quite get. The sparkle indicated much more than happiness, but what was it?

A flash ruined their moment. He closed his eyes and winced as she groaned in the sudden eruption of light. He scowled, Erwin must be shitting him again.

“Damn you Mike! You forgot to turn off the flash!” Nanaba hissed from behind a plant inside the house.

“Oi! We know you are there” he growled, inching closer to where they hid.

“Don’t take it all on them Levi” Erwin appeared from the side, an amused look plastered across his face. “Remember how I told you before that if you start to doubt yourself, you will end up regretting your decision?” he asked Levi, but he only returned a frown to him. “I definitely won’t regret asking for Mike’s help to rig the exchange gift” he laughed.