#and i already drew a fleshy
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Photo
So the background being that poppy was a pure anything but anything grimdark neutral looked wrong afterwards so...pop~ Today is a day of artistic edge or whatever you call it and alas-Aiden had to suffer my mood here today because ~aesthetics~-they are there to be enjoyed
#what do you mean its 3am again#i am genuinely surprised every time bc time isnt real#the witcher#aiden#zkretchy#art#i had to chuckle drawing the lilies#bc lilies are poisonous to cats and aidy is a cat witcher bla bla#putting the fun in funeral#does this count as some kinda body horror?#flower horror?#idk my tolerance for this shit is high so i cant rely on instinct or whatever#dont judge my words rn like i said-3am#and i already drew a fleshy ??????good boy#so we are vibing on aesthetic horror atm#if i had been bothered to give even more fucks i could have probably found a way to go make his hair look like bloodsplatter or smth#but alas-i liked it that way and didnt wanna redraw it#anyhow hope you enjoy one of my most ~aesthetics pieces#bc it was a lot of fun to do it#and just slap effects on and play w/ colours etc a lot#i will now go pass out until work calls again which i rly wish i didnt have to do#i'd rather go draw some more but alas...bills gotta be paid somehow
30 notes
·
View notes
Note
Grr i love your zoro fic, do you write for ftm character? If you do please ftm sanji x domtop male reader 🫠🫠🫠 WANNA EAT HIM OUT SB
I WANT MORE! — TOP MALE READER X VINSMOKE SANJI
synopsis. sex with sanji always feels good. it's exciting. and fun. there's an issue though: it's just good, but never too good. well, here's the thing — sometimes, overwhelming pleasure bordering on overstimulation might be a good way to spice things up . . . wc. 1.7k
tags. ftm! brat! sanji, dom! reader. cunnilingus, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum eating, overstimulation, choking with thighs, reader's a little little mean, fluff!
Sanji gasped into the back of his hand, panting desperately.
Two warm palms had reached between his thighs and gently pried them open, a wet sensation digging into his clothed cunt.
“F-fucking hell, sweetheart,” Sanji muttered as your tongue drew up to swipe against his soaked clit. He let out a sharp exhale as you mouthed him through his boxers, wetly sucking at the fat nub. “What—what is this? Where’d you learn this from?”
You didn’t respond, too occupied with what was in front of you. The stain only grew in size as you buried your face into the sweet, musky scent, and you hummed with satisfaction, making him jolt with a whine as the vibration sent a shockwave of pleasure straight into him.
“Answer—hn, me!” Strong thighs clamped down around your head as he mindlessly rutted back against your mouth, making you see stars. “Who taught you?”
“No one,” you said, or at least tried to say, as your mouth was muzzled by Sanji pushing his wet cunt at you, smearing your face with saliva and slick. You had read about it in one of Robin’s books, and had wanted to try it.
“What? Who?” he asked dumbly, throwing his head back onto the pillow as he rocked his hips against your mouth, trying to coax your tongue out. “It better not have been those—hngh, women at the island!”
You almost wanted to laugh at how ironic it was, that the infamous Vinsmoke Sanji—known for being a womaniser—was now jealous of the women he usually fawned over.
“Hn, hah, this ain’t half bad—”
You growled, annoyed at him for using your mouth like one of his toys. You held his thighs still over your shoulder to stop him from moving, lips curling with amusement at the way his hips bucked, not understanding your displeasure. “What?” Sanji panted, raising his head to glance at you irritatedly. “Get on movin’!”
You frowned. Who did he think he was?
With measured strength, you pulled back just enough to show him a sickly sweet smile. “Shall I help you take it off, Sanji?” Fingers grasped the hem of his boxers as you pressed two thumbs into his lower crotch, enjoying the way he squirmed at your touch.
“Y-yeah,” he muttered. “Take it off already.”
What a brat. Perhaps you spoiled him a little too often.
You peeled the clothing off, revealing a lovely, fleshy pink cunt, its lips parted and drooling all over the sheets already. It was always a sight to have him under you, his hole pulsing around you as you drilled your thick cock into him, but this—this was something else entirely.
“Hold your legs open for me.”
“What?”
“Do it, or you won’t be coming tonight.”
Sanji frowned, opening his mouth as though to argue back but then deciding against it, that getting to come was far more important than any sense of self-worth tonight. He reluctantly brought his legs up and slowly spread them for you, flushing and trembling as the action exposed the entirety of his pussy to you.
Sanji thrust up against you impatiently and you immediately grabbed his hips, tight enough to bruise. You glared up at him with a warning, to which he completely ignored. “Hurry up, sweetheart,” he griped, rubbing his wet folds on your lips. “Wanna come.”
Oh. So that was all that he thought of you: something for him to hump on. You were going to teach him a lesson.
“Yeah?” You grinned. “You wanna come?”
“So bad,” Sanji whined, hips bucking as you held him still. “Just fucking go already!”
You pretended to frown and pull away, only to have him whimper, eyes widening and shaking his head frantically. “You want me to go? I’ll go.”
“No! Not what I meant—goddammit, sweetheart, you know what I want, so give it to me already.”
You barked out a laugh. “I’m not a mind reader, am I? How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”
Sanji glowered at you, almost shivering with frustration. He knew what you wanted. You wanted to see him beg, to come undone before you even touched him properly, and he was so close to doing whatever you wanted him to if it meant he would finally be able to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, sparing them of any humiliation.
“Please,” he whined your name softly. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
You smiled, pleased. “Fine with me.”
Without wasting a moment, you shoved his hips up at the same time as your tongue plunged down, sliding between the slick folds of his pussy to penetrate him. Sanji jackknifed off the bed with a hoarse scream, one hand letting go of his thigh to blindly grab for your hair, tugging at the strands painfully.
“Oh fuck—please!” he cried out, legs spasming as he shoved your mouth deeper into his cunt. You lapped at his insides with abandon, drinking and swallowing greedily the slick that drenched his hole, enjoying the way the salty tang of it rolled deep down your throat and left a fragrant aftertaste.
Drool dripped down your chin as you ate him out messily, loosening the most tender parts of his insides the way you had never been able to: by pounding your fat cock inside his pussy, or having him take your thick fingers as you stretched him out—those were good, too, but no, this was so much more sensual, and tasted so much better, and you were almost angry at yourself for not trying this sooner.
Sanji was a sobbing, whining mess when you raised your head to look at him again, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he cried out your name, begging you to take him and then take more of him. “So fuckin’—good!” he moaned loudly. “I want more!”
It’s filthy, humiliating, and so fucking arousing, and before he knew it, he was rutting back against your face, lost in so much pleasure, all at once way too much and not nearly enough to satisfy just yet—
“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come!” Sanji screamed, back bowing off the bed as he came all over your face, thighs involuntarily clamping down hard around your neck, choking you so hard you blacked out for a second.
The next thing he saw when he came to his senses was your face, shiny with his come and slick, edging toward his pulsing cunt again.
You grinned at him, almost wickedly.
“No, no, no.” Sanji shook his head wildly. “No more. I just came, please, sweetheart, please—”
“You said you wanted more.”
“Just give me a second—I’ll be ready for you in a second. Please, baby.”
You ignored him. “I’m going to give you what you want, since you’ve been so good for me. Right, Sanji?”
Without waiting for his answer, you grabbed him by the ass and hoisted him up into the air, sucking eagerly at his oversensitive clit as his breath seized up, lips parting and yet unable to make noise anymore, just trembling and convulsing as the muscles in his thighs continued to spasm with too much pleasure it nearly bordered on pain.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as Sanji gasped and shuddered, clutching your hair so hard you thought you felt them getting torn up by the roots. And then you committed the next atrocity. Instead of diving in and slurping his pussy like you did before, you stuck your tongue out, using the hands gripping his ass to slowly push his cunt up your tongue, and then down, and then up again, repeatedly—fucking your tongue with his hole.
Sanji gave a helpless whimper that sounded suspiciously like your name as he writhed on your tongue, pupils so dilated you could barely see their rim. “Please,” you thought you heard him sob faintly, as though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for anymore.
“Please what?”
This was his last chance to stop you—you weren’t that cruel, after all.
“Please,” he cried weakly, “make me come again!”
You grinned, a sense of pride overwhelming you as you dove back in to finish the job—he was so well-trained, so good for you. And who were you to deny him? He was begging so nicely, after all.
Sanji let out a stream of broken moans as you continued your assault on his pussy, his thighs clenching around your head so tightly that stars pooled at the edges of your vision. Your tongue reached deep inside him and caressed a spot so good and fucking right that the coil of pleasure in his stomach started to get looser, and wetter, like a dam being driven to burst—a feeling he scarcely ever felt, but whenever he did, whenever he did—
You latched your mouth over his entrance, sealing it properly as he squirted down your throat.
His lower half went limp in your arms as he continued to tremble and whimper, and you feared for a second that you might have broken him. But when he opened his half-lidded eyes to look at you with a tenderness that you rarely ever saw, you knew that wasn’t the case.
“Never knew—” Sanji panted for breath, “that you could be so mean.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to do it again?”
He snapped out of his daze, eyes widening with horror.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Not now. I meant after.”
“Oh,” Sanji said, softly. “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.” A second shock seized him as he looked at you, almost guiltily. “What about you? You haven’t come yet.”
“No. Making you feel good was enough.” You smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that you were so hard it fucking hurt, aching with the need to feel his cunt tightening around it, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. You’d take care of it later, in the shower, maybe, jerking off to thoughts of earlier.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go sleep, I know you’re tired. I’ll clean you up. And, I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbled tiredly. “So much.”
masterlist! # i apologise for accidentally blue-balling the reader again it was not my intention; also i love you anon i didn't know i needed this until i started imagining it
#✧ blood of reptile.#top male reader#dom male reader#ftm sanji x male reader#sanji x male reader#vinsmoke sanji x male reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#sanji x reader#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x male reader#top reader#dom reader#male reader#x male reader#bottom character#vinsmoke sanji#bottom male character#one piece smut#no beta we die like ace
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Boss' Secret
There was something familiar about Daniel. Jon recognised his face from somewhere, although he could not put his finger on where. They shook hands, being introduced as colleagues for the first time by their senior leader. But as Jon studied his facial features, he could already see that Daniel showed no signs of recognising him in return.
“Daniel will be overseeing most of the accounts from now on,” Rachel explained, clearly a little taken by the slender twenty-something as she showed him around. “He’s got some fantastic ideas to really rejuvenate things around here and save on costs.”
Jon could feel his teeth clenching. He knew that they were hiring for a new member of the team, but he wasn’t aware that that recruited person would be working above him. It was yet another shitty move from the higher-ups, promising them all pay-rises and progression, then hiring in from outside and going back on their word. And then they wondered why morale was so low?
“Can you believe that?” Jon grumbled later to Kathleen at the desk behind him. He could feel a rage building inside him. “They’ve hired that skinny little shit to come and put us all in our places!”
“What else did you expect?” Kathleen sighed, rolling her eyes and agreeing with him completely.
It was things like this that caused Jon the most frustration in his life. He was tall, broad, muscular and extremely masculine-looking with his well groomed beard. He weighed more than 240lbs, having the largest glutes and thighs than anyone else in his gym. In his day-to-day life, people naturally looked up to him and listened. But, here in work and throughout his career, he’d had to fight for every last thing he had received. “Where’s he from?” he asked Kathleen, still unable to shake off the recognition that he felt.
“New York,” Kathleen replied. “Janice drew up his contract. I know I shouldn’t say this, but… he’s going to be on more money than you and I combined.”
Jon shook his head and looked over the desks at his new, younger boss, already despising him. Guys who worked their way up the ladder this quickly were always the type to take credit for other’s work, or throw people under the bus whenever they’d fucked up on something. In no way could Jon ever trust a guy who had climbed the ranks this quickly. But, even so…. where the fuck did he recognise him from?
Gina had been an awesome distraction for Jon that night, turning him on by gorging her big fat belly on pizza and cake. She sucked him off so perfectly and easily gorged on at least three thousand calories to satisfy his kinks. In return, he’d fucked her just as hard as his big thighs and powerful hips suggested he was capable of; leaving her feeling completely satisfied and grateful as he slipped out the door.
No stranger to casual sex, Jon had to admit that he enjoyed the fatties more than any other. Their soft, fleshy bodies made him feel so powerful and in control. When they ate for him, he knew they would be carrying additional pounds that were his alone; that he had added to them. The whole thing was a buzz like no other. It was the reason why he frequented those feederism websites and apps; happily perusing through one the following evening in the hope of finding more possible connections with fat girls.
That was when Jon’s eyes boggled and his jaw dropped to the floor. Staring back from the screen at him was his new boss’ profile picture. The idiot was sharing his face and everything; all there for everyone to see. Jon remembered coming across him several times in chat rooms. The guy was just another fat-lover, like himself. However, he didn’t seem to have the right charm or dominant approach to getting the attention that Jon enjoyed from the larger ladies. Sure, his face was pretty, but the moment he started talking on there, most people assumed he was a simple catfish.
Anonymously, Jon clicked on the guy’s profile, seeing that he had just moved from New York and was on the hunt for a larger lady to ‘feed-up and pamper’. Jon couldn’t believe what he was reading. This was absolute gold! Imagine what would happen if he exposed this at work! He screenshotted the lot, storing it ready for himself, just in case.
“So why is Daniel meeting with my client?” Jon demanded, incensed. “They’re my client! I was the one who brought them here from my last job!”
“He’s done the same thing with some of Kathleen’s clients,” Fred added, whispering in case others heard them. Daniel’s reign was still in its infancy and loyalties had not yet been fully established.
“That’s the fifth time this week he’s pissed me off,” Jon complained, similarly looking around to check that no one was listening in. “Is that all they’re paying him for? To take clients… clients we already have… out to lunch?”
Fred laughed but nodded in complete agreement. None of them had yet to see the great ‘innovation and cost-saving’ that Daniel had promised to deliver. As far as they could all see, Daniel was nothing but hot air and a sickening stench of self-importance.
“I’m meeting with a client on Friday and I want you to come with me,” Daniel announced a few weeks later. “I think you’ve got the sort of charm with the ladies that may work with this one,” he explained.
Jon laughed inwardly to himself. There was no tolerance for sexual exploitation in this office, apart from when they needed his muscular body to help them swoon a new client. “Sure,” he nodded nonchalantly, requesting the case notes to read through beforehand. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Daniel was asking for help to seduce a potential new client into signing. Once you looked beyond his pretty face, there really wasn’t much personality to find within. Despite being on those feederism sites most evenings, Daniel didn’t seem to be making much impact there, either. Although he had at least found some sense to remove his face from his public profile.
As arranged, Jon made his way to the restaurant that Friday, frustrated that Daniel had already sat down with the client. Why hadn’t they all just arrived together at the same time? Was it a strategy of Daniel’s, simply to make himself look more professional in front of the client by arranging that Jon was a little late? He’d certainly known insecure bosses to pull similar stunts in the past.
Plastering a smile on his face, Jon set to work, doing exactly what he did best. There were occasions when he had to deflect some poor interferences from Daniel but, on the whole, no one could argue that the successful outcome of the lunch meeting was entirely down to him.
“Well, I think I owe you a beer,” Daniel conceded afterwards, as the client left with a giant smile across her face. “I certainly didn’t think she was going to sign for that length of time.”
“You’ve gotta be ambitious,” Jon shrugged. “I knew I had her the moment she brought out those pictures of her dog.”
“Yes! That was definitely the moment she started coming around,” Daniel nodded in complete agreement. “Thank goodness your mom bred all those German Shepherds when you were growing up.”
Jon looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. Had he really been as gullible as the client?
“That was all bullshit?” Daniel asked in surprise. “But you sounded so knowledgeable!”
“A dog’s a dog. You just have to tell the client whatever they want to hear,” Jon chuckled, finishing his coffee and standing up. “I also have an uncle who works for the New York Yankees and a cousin in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. They never fail to impress the clients when I talk about them.”
Daniel looked as though he wasn’t completely sure that Jon was still making things up. Then the pair of them simply laughed.
“I’ll catch you back at the office,” Jon announced, striding back through the restaurant as people subtly swooned over his muscular thighs and butt in his tightest work pants.
Scrolling through the feedism app that weekend, Jon couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Daniel had posted a status the night before that seemed bizarrely out of character. He had recounted visiting a restaurant with his ‘muscular colleague’ and had described his body in quite surprisingly erotic detail; ending with: ‘I so wish I could fatten him up!’
“Cheeky fucker!” Jon laughed aloud from his bed as he read it. He searched back through the guy’s profile, realising that there hasn’t been any hint of bisexuality before now. It was part of the reason why the guy had failed to make any impact on there. No one could really make any sense of what he was actually after. Whereas Jon always went in hard and confident; flirting with anyone with a big appetite and at least a hundred pounds of extra blubber.
Jon sat back and smirked. So his boss had a little crush on him? That was definitely unexpected. And yet, it was also something that he could definitely use to his advantage.
“Off out for lunch with the boss again today?” Fred smirked, trying to conceal his jealousy with humor. “The Chosen One, yet again!” he laughed.
Jon nodded. He had started to do quite well under Daniel’s reign. A month earlier he had been looking for jobs at other companies. But now he found himself feeling rather content with his work life. The favouritism was obvious and Jon could feel the relationships with his colleagues becoming a little more tense, but the trade off would be worth it when his pay review came up. “Daniel’s the numbers guy, and I’m the charisma,” he simply joked back to Fred. “You’ve gotta admit, we’ve never taken on so many new clients in such a short space of time.”
“All these free lunches on the company expenses account,” he grumbled. “You’ll start looking like the boss soon, if you’re not careful.”
Jon nodded and quietly laughed. It was something they had all noticed in the last couple of weeks. A distinct dad bod had started to take hold of Daniel’s slim physique. Bombarded by an onslaught of company lunches since he had arrived four months ago, a distinct paunch had started to push its way out below his chest, straining the buttons of his ‘slim-fit’ shirts. It was his own fault, Jon noted with surprising glee. He’d seen for himself how carelessly the guy ordered from the menus, selecting signature dishes rather than considering what was actually in them. He’d also not got his apartment straight since he’d moved from New York, relying on microwave meals and take-out more often than not. What else should he expect?
“Don’t you worry about me,” Jon smirked, tapping his trim waistline. “I think there’s only space for one little chub in this office,” he winked, happy to show that despite being so much in favor with the new boss, he also wasn’t above making a joke at his expense.
A few days later, Jon and Daniel sat at the bar, congratulating each other with a beer after having secured yet another large account that evening. They’d done their homework beforehand and executed their strategy to perfection. To be fair to Daniel, the guy really did put the hours in. There wasn’t a single figure that he hadn’t had to hand the moment the clients asked for it; saving Jon’s pitch and smooth talking each time they tried to catch him out. Still, all these work hours were taking their toll on the boss, with his squisher glutes starting to spread themselves a little wider across the bar stool.
“Hello, stranger!” came a loud voice as a giant lady started striding towards them.
“Gina!” Jon smiled, getting up to kiss and hug the large girl from the feederism website, all dressed up and fancy on a night out with her friends. “Looking good!” he swooned, suddenly remembering that Daniel shared his larger taste in women. “Gina, this is my boss, Daniel,” he smiled, making the introductions.
Daniel rose to his feet, looking rather overwhelmed. He shook her hand and seemed quite out of breath once she had left. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, sounding impressed.
“Nah,” Jon replied, shaking his head. “She’s a beautiful girl, and I enjoy messing around with her every now and then,” he smirked, letting Daniel know exactly the sort of fun they got up to. “But she’s also very high maintenance!”
Daniel was still staring at Gina’s enormous rear as she disappeared out of the door to the restaurant. “Can I ask you something?” he mumbled, seeming now to look up to Jon more than ever before. “How do I get a girl like that?”
Jon smiled, enjoying the dynamic that had seemed to form between them. He wasn’t intimidated by the overly serious, sometimes humorless nature of Daniel, like so many others at the company were. He’d read too many status updates about himself on the guy’s feedism profile, describing Daniel’s crush on him in quite some detail. One had particularly made Jon laugh, where the younger boss had described how the pair of them had been in an elevator together, before a giant influx of people joined at a later floor, squishing them both together. The boner this had given Daniel, having Jon’s large, muscular glutes pressed up against him, was written up in extraordinarily graphic detail that even gave Jon a semi when he read it.
“Girls like Gina,” Jon began, with an air of expertise, “they love confidence. They’re big and heavy and they love a guy who can handle all that. When they see a big, strong man like me, they know they’re in for a good time.”
Daniel looked down at his own body with dismay. “Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong,” he sighed. “Since moving here, I’ve accidentally let myself get a little doughy.”
Jon chuckled. He knew that he was supposed to make Daniel feel better and tell him that he looked no different to how he did five months ago, but what was the point? They’d all noticed the pounds he had gained. “Listen,” he began, leaning in a little closer and choosing to have some fun. “Even that little paunch of yours is a marketable asset,” he stated with certainty, deciding to play with the guy. “Who usually ends up with the fat girl in the end?” he asked. “It’s always the fat boy!”
Daniel looked across at Jon the same way most guys did; as a man who knew exactly what he was talking about when it came to seducing girls. “You’re saying I shouldn’t lose weight?”
Jon rolled his eyes. Surely Daniel knew him well enough by now to work out when he was playing with him? He always took everything so damn seriously! He sighed, deciding to see how long he could stretch the joke out instead. “Of course not,” he laughed. “Keep going! Add a few more pounds. It’ll all be worth it in the end.”
“I never thought about it that way before,” Daniel nodded, looking down at his softer middle with renewed understanding. “I guess the type of girls I like would find this all pretty hot,” he considered, rubbing his hand against the blubber in his stomach.
Jon looked on with surprise. Did he let on that he had been kidding? Or did he simply let this ideal roll?
“Fuck!” Jon gasped as he checked into the feedism app the next evening. “What the hell has he done to himself?” he laughed.
There, on the screen, was a brand new picture of Daniel added to his profile, showing his body from the neck down dressed only in some very tight underwear. Just what had all this careless eating done to his physique? The guy was positively flabby! A generous coating of fat had surrounded his stomach area, destroying the tight waist that had been visible in previous pictures. Likewise, his chest had begun to soften, with fresh blubber seeping itself around his nipples and beginning to make them pointed and sensitive-looking. His underwear seemed tight around his thighs as even his legs seemed considerably more padded with softness. It was one thing to see Daniel looking a little softer and doughier in the office. But without his clothes on, there was no hiding just how far his lifestyle had thickened him up. Jon’s boss was actually fat!
Jon read through all the comments the picture had attracted. As well as the mountain of likes, guys and girls had complemented and teased Daniel with as much enthusiasm and arousal as Daniel must have hoped for. The horny guy had replied to each and every one of them, promising to keep up this new look. That was when Jon actually felt himself getting hard. He’d been the one to start this. This had all been his idea. Had he single-handedly created his very own monster?
“Are you okay?” Jon asked, stepping into Daniel’s office a few days later and seeing his boss looking a little surprised and flustered at his sudden appearance.
Upon seeing that it was only Jon, Daniel relaxed and pulled back a hastily concealed box of doughnuts, grabbing a fresh one for himself. “I thought you were Rachel,” he mumbled, resuming what had obviously been a mid-morning bout of gluttony.
“What’ve you got there?” Jon asked, stepping closer and picking up the sweet scent.
“It’s a pack of twelve. You want one?”
Jon waved his hand and shook his head. “You keep at it, buddy!” he smiled, dropping a report with the projected sales figures for one of their client’s companies. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting lunch at your desk today?” he asked, perching himself on Daniel’s desk.
“I’ve actually got a lunch date,” Daniel replied, holding up a doughnut, as if this explained everything. “She likes big guys, so I may have exaggerated and told her I’m a little heavier than I actually am,” he continued.
“How much did you tell her you were?” Jon asked, peering down at his boss’ bloated stomach.
“Two hundred and thirty five,” Daniel replied, wincing like he was quite some distance off that figure.
Jon pulled a sceptical face. “Yikes! What possessed you to tell her you were that big already?” he chuckled.
“I’m really into her,” Daniel sighed, as if this explained it all. “She’s big… very big. I’ve never had a chance with a girl like that.”
Jon looked down on his boss with pity. Having had more than his fair share of larger ladies, he could hardly begrudge Daniel his first opportunity to enjoy himself. “Well, I guess we could try and bloat you up a little bit before you go,” he suggested, taking the report back and deciding that his boss had far more important things to attend to. “Doughnuts won’t work all by themselves. I can whip something up for you, I’m sure.”
Jon soon left Daniel to finish his doughnuts whilst he emptied his large gym bag and headed straight to the convenience store down the block. There he bought a large gallon bottle of water which he immediately tipped out, and replaced with a mixture of several items, including whole milk, cream and a few sachets of the calorie boost powder he kept for after his gym sessions. Without a blender, he merely had to shake the daunting mixture up after he pulled it from his bag back in Daniel’s office.
“This’ll put some meat on your bones!” Jon grinned, pleased with the surprisingly large mixture he had created within ten minutes.
“You want me to drink all that?” Daniel asked, amused by the idea.
“Well, why not? You made light work of those doughnuts,” Jon joked, spotting the empty tray. “I don’t see how this is any different.”
He passed over the great container to his boss who simply looked at it, perplexed. The bottle was so heavy, Daniel couldn’t hold it up to his mouth without help, and so Jon stood behind his chair, reaching his arms out to support the bottle as Daniel tried to tip it up and into his mouth.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. The guy was actually doing it!
“You’re doing the right thing, buddy!” Jon coaxed him. “This’ll blow you up for your date in no time!”
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Jon kept his eye on the door to the office, silently wishing that he had locked it behind them.
“This is a good effort!” Jon continued, noticing that Daniel still hadn’t stopped for a break. “Your shirt buttons are getting tighter already.”
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Suddenly the bottle was light enough for Daniel to hold himself. Jon stepped back, feeling the stiffness in his crotch as he saw for himself the monster he had set loose.
With only a third remaining, Daniel finally lowered the bottle and paused, clearly trying to release a burp; the sound of it eventually coming rolling up his throat at a velocity that was unknown to most people; gargling through the large amount of liquid that had already filled his stomach.
“Awesome work, buddy!” Jon chuckled, clapping the guy on his back. “Better out than in!”
“My gut feels like it’s about to explode!” Daniel groaned, setting the bottle down on the floor.
“That’s exactly how it looks as well,” Jon grinned, still standing somewhere behind his boss’ field of vision. “She’s going to be one lucky lady when she meets you later!” he marvelled at the stout bloat that had pushed Daniel’s shirt buttons to the absolute limit. He grabbed his bag and held it so that his crotch was covered, advising Daniel to take his time with the last third, then made his way out, back into the bustling office space once more; where not a single person could have guessed what had just gone on behind that closed door.
Jon didn’t need to wait until the following Monday to find out how his boss’ date had gone. Daniel had written all about it on his profile, describing the incredibly decadent and gluttonous time he had enjoyed. By Sunday, there were more pictures of him; this time drinking shakes that looked suspiciously like the one Jon had made up for him, with a caption that told everyone that the drinking of these was the biggest turn on he had ever experienced.
A few more weeks went by. For the first time ever, Jon had been asked to accompany Daniel to a hotel in Toronto where they were meeting with huge new clients and putting the finishing touches to a major project they had been working on with them for quite some time; one that would be the crown jewel of Jon’s CV if it all came together.
“This place is unreal!” Jon gasped as they arrived in the hotel lobby. “Have you seen the spa facilities?” he asked, showing Daniel a copy of the brochure he had been perusing whilst his boss had been checking them in.
“Go for it!” Daniel chuckled as their bags were carried ahead of them up to their rooms. “It’s all on the company account. They stand to make a lot of money on this, so take full advantage. The flight home isn’t until Thursday.”
Despite the optimism, the work schedule had been surprisingly gruelling since they had arrived in Toronto. It wasn’t until the Wednesday that things started to relax and the two men could finally spend a little more time enjoying the lavish hotel. A confident Jon strode into the changing rooms with his chubby boss. He’d never been shy about his own body. He’d always been taller and better built than most guys, and he had learned that, even when flaccid, his penis was significantly bigger than the average.
If anything, Jon was most curious about whether he would later end up reading about the experience of getting changed in front of Daniel on the guy’s feederism profile. It had been some weeks since there had been anything written about him whatsoever, with Daniel writing post after post about his own body instead. Perhaps a little glimpse of Jon’s large, muscular glutes. that the boss’ profile had previously stated he found so alluring, would soon prove to be the key to correcting that.
Daniel’s undersized swimming trunks pinched at the guy’s back fat like nothing Jon had ever seen before. It was as if his former athletic body was still perfectly visible, yet the puddles of fat invaded it all from above, not yet fully integrated, but simply leeching onto wherever it could. Jon had to admit that even he had been shocked at how Daniel looked without a shirt on now. Sure, he’d seen pictures on the feederism website, but that hadn’t prepared him for the fluttering of the back fat when he walked behind Daniel into the sauna, nor the way it all rolled up when he sat his wide butt down in the dry heat.
“Does this sauna feel hotter than most others?” Daniel asked, sweating so much that his whole blubbery body glistened.
Jon looked at him and chuckled. “I was just thinking how much less intense it is in here than the ones I’ve been to in the past.”
Daniel threw his sweaty head back against the wooden walls and tried to breathe a little deeper. “It must just be me then.”
“Or, it could be all this recently installed insulation,” Jon joked, poking his boss in his tummy and being genuinely surprised at how far his finger went in with so little effort; especially after how tightly the man had packed his gut at breakfast. “Being a hit with the ladies does have its consequences!”
Daniel nodded and seemed to relax a little more, grabbing a roll of his fat and jiggling it. “It’s all come on so fast,” he agreed. “My friends back in New York will be so shocked when I see them.”
“Of course they will,” Jon smiled. “You’re a fat boy now.”
Daniel grinned. “I really do love it!”
“I know you do,” Jon laughed. “It’s hot!” he blasted, suddenly realising that he was being a little too forward. “I mean… you know, it’s hot when fat girls really embrace it and let you play with their fat; maybe feed them a little,” he added. The pair of them had discussed their love of larger ladies in the past, but their conversations had never gone as far as talking about feeding them.
Daniel’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Actually…” he smiled. “There’s a girl I met online. She’s really keen to… be the one to feed me.”
“Oh…right,” Jon replied awkwardly. The conversation and gentle flirting had been so fun, but hearing that there was someone else ready to take on all the hard work that Jon had begun with Daniel actually made his teeth clench with jealousy. “What’s she like?” he asked.
“She’s so hot!” Daniel beamed. “We’ve only met a few times but…”
“You’ve actually met her?” Jon asked, feeling even more scorned now.
“Oh, yeah!” Daniel nodded, delighted with himself. “We’re actually dating.”
Jon listened as Daniel droned on and on about the new love in his life. He’d always felt somewhat in control of the situation; that he could snap his fingers and make the guy fall for him, should he ever wish for it. Yet now there was someone else. He’d waited too long. Perhaps Daniel had never really been into him as much as his profile made out.
Daniel wouldn’t have noticed how pissed off Jon felt, yet he still made his excuses, heading out of the sauna, claiming that he needed to make a phone call before their first meeting. But, inside, he was silently devastated.
“We’re glad we’ve finally got you on your own,” smiled Holly, the main business associate they had been dealing with in Toronto. “We’ve been very impressed with you this week and would like to invite you into discussions about coming to work with us in the very near future.”
Jon’s eyes widened. A job offer?
“Let me ask you, how would you feel about relocating here to Canada?”
“Um, well…” Jon murmured, hardly knowing what to say. He thought all the hard negotiations had been completed yesterday. Then he thought back to Daniel and how let down he had felt. As a man who had always been able to keep people hanging on his every word, he suddenly felt childishly spiteful towards sticking around for Daniel; especially if the guy was going to go off and date someone else anyway. “Sure,” he nodded. “I’m up to discuss that.”
Besides the outrageous rental prices, Toronto had turned out to be an awesome place to work and live. Jon was earning well over twice his salary at his old job and, in the three years that he had lived there, he had fallen for a girl on his team; even becoming engaged at one point.
However, things were now starting to fall apart. His relationship was over, thanks to a pregnancy scare that had uncovered a fast chasm of difference in the pair’s priorities and life goals. Also, following a car accident his father had been in, Jon came to realise that his parents were not getting any younger. Canada had been great, but it was time to move back home.
Jon began what he assumed would be a long process of trying to find a job that was even comparable to his salary in Toronto. However, the portfolio of work he had put together from his time there was a serious draw to anyone who had his CV wafted under their nose. Within a week of looking, Jon had accepted a position at a prestigious company he could never have dreamed of taking him on three years ago.
“The team are all very keen to meet you,” Gina explained, leading Jon around the new offices the company now occupied in the very heart of the city.
Everyone seemed very nice and friendly. Jon had been glad that he had worn his tightest shirt and pants as he could already see his appearance was going to earn him a lot of favour with the heavily overbalanced, majority female, staff members.
“Danny usually works from home on a Monday,” Gina explained, taking Jon into the large office that was next to his own. “But he’s come in especially today so that he can get you up to speed on things.”
A massively overweight man rose to his feet as they entered, his hand already outstretched to shake as he moved out from behind his desk.
Even as Jon took his hand, the realisation didn’t hit him until he looked deeply into the man’s eyes. ““Daniel!” he laughed. But how was this so? He was barely recognizable, with a huge ring of fat now surrounding and framing his face; well shaved skin and an extreme double chin having entirely swallowed his neck. “I didn’t know you worked here!”
“About eighteen months or so now,” Daniel nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you’d been hired. Head of marketing, huh?” he chuckled. “I guess I’ll be accountable to you when it comes to that department,” he joked, appreciating the reversal of roles.
Gina took an interest in Daniel and Jon’s previous work together. As Daniel explained it all, Jon had the opportunity to look down and see just what had happened to his old boss. Exactly how had that little pot belly exploded into such a monstrously wide gut? How had his fleshy chest suddenly become adorned with breasts that were larger than most girls’? And how did he move about these days with thighs so incredibly thick and juicy?
“I’ll leave you with Danny to get reacquainted, and he can guide you through the account I referenced earlier,” Gina smiled, making her way towards the door. As soon as it closed, both men seemed to give a great sigh of relief and looked at each other, grinning.
“Look at you!” Jon marvelled, sending his eyes straight onto Daniel’s giant gut. “You look so different! You certainly know how to take an idea and run with it!”
Daniel smiled and reached out his hand to touch the extent of his giant tummy. Even his hands had filled with fat; mere dimples where his knuckles had once been, and sweet little creases of skin where his wrists began. “I recently hit four, sixty,” he grinned, seemingly loving Jon’s startled reaction
The last three years had suddenly evaporated. Jon fell back into feeling completely relaxed around Daniel as he circled around to get a look at the guy from behind. His ass had completely blown up and the love handles were enormous! “I can’t believe you took it this far!” he laughed, unafraid to show his sheer delight. “Is this the work of the girlfriend you were seeing before I left for Canada?”
Daniel pondered for a second, wondering who it was Jon was referring to. Then he shook his head. “No… this has been all me,” he smiled, placing his hands on his wide hips. “With, perhaps just the odd bit of help from a feeder or two over the years,” he winked.
“Awesome, dude!” Jon smiled. “Absolutely awesome!”
“I agree!” Daniel smirked, sitting his giant ass back down at his desk with a plop. “Although, the back fat is rather interesting at the moment,” he chuckled, lifting his arms and showing just how much blubber had filled under his armpits, visible even through his giant work shirt. He tried reaching for some of it, but it was obvious that his body was becoming too wide for the man to reach everywhere.
Such a sight gave Jon an instant erection like nothing else he had experienced around Daniel before. He followed suit, sitting down as fast as he could in order to disguise it.
“You look no different at all,” Daniel laughed, finally content to move on.
“Excuse me!” Jon joked, raising his arms and flexing his biceps in his tight shirt. “These guns have never been bigger, actually!” He tried breathing deeply, but his sudden arousal was so much to cope with. Perhaps it had blended with his nerves about starting a new job, but he almost felt out of control; as if his mouth could run away and say something horny and stupid at any moment. “So, are we going out for lunch today, like we did in the old days?”
Daniel grinned. “Actually, I think Gina has plans for you over lunch.”
“Well… fuck her,” Jon shot back impatiently. He hadn’t felt this aroused since he was a teenager. “I want to catch up with my old buddy instead.”
Daniel’s smirk was something new entirely. He seemed to have a confidence about him in this new body; not so shy and humorless as he had once been. He inhabited the life of a massively obese man in a way that only made him ever more enticing. “How about dinner instead?” he asked. “Do you have plans after work?”
“No,” Jon lied, deciding to cancel everything that stood in his way.
After the long day, Jon headed straight into Daniel’s office to find that the large man wasn’t there.
Jon curiously took a tour of the room, spotting several candy wrappers in the little trash bucket. He pulled open the drawers, failing to find anything useful for an office worker. All of them were filled with the very worst, most fattening snacks available. Jon laughed as he sank his hand down into the drawer, lifting some out and dropping them like confetti back inside. “Oh, Piggy!” he sighed in helpless lust. “What the fuck have you been doing to yourself!”
Thankfully, Jon soon returned from the bathroom and the pair of them were quickly making their way to a cab that Daniel had booked. It was obvious that the big man walked very little around this city.
“So, where is good to eat around here these days?” Jon asked, looking out of the window and seeing that so much had changed.
“There’s an all-you-can-eat place right by my apartment,” Daniel explained. His mouth seemed to water at the mere mention of food and he swallowed the saliva that was building up. “I thought we could go there.”
Jon nodded in agreement, excited to see just what kind of damage a big man like Daniel could do in a buffet these days. He smiled to himself, wondering whether Daniel had bought his apartment in this area because of the buffet place only a few feet from his building, or whether it had all been one giant coincidence. He suspected not.
“Evening, Danny,” sighed the server as they turned up, giving Jon the impression that the fat man’s appearance was just a regular part of the monotony of her daily routine. “A table for two tonight, huh?”
Daniel stepped aside a little more so that Jon could be seen and he introduced him. They headed to a table that was referred to as Daniel’s ‘usual spot’ and she left them be whilst she got their drinks.
“We’re a little early tonight,” Daniel whispered. “The good dishes usually come out at six.”
“You really know your stuff!” Jon laughed, watching as Daniel’s greedy eyes scrutinised the staff as they prepared the buffet for the changeover; listening as the saliva was building in the guy’s gluttonous mouth and witnessing him having to swallow it down several times. However, the fat man was not wrong. Within minutes, the buffet was filled with fresh new dishes, and the two men got up to start.
Jon followed on behind, eager to take in the view of Daniel from behind. Just what the hell had happened to the guy’s hips? From this angle, the man was so incredibly wide! His butt had swollen and stretched itself outwards in all directions; the fat in his love handles bouncing and rocking with each step he took, slowly untucking his work shirt. The glutton seemed like such an expert at filling his plate, selecting the best parts of the buffet and leaving the cheaper fillings, such as the rice and the breads. It was no secret that he knew what he was doing, openly boasting about how much he had read up on how to get the best value out of these types of places as the pair of them sat down.
Jon ate slowly, whilst Daniel was up and down, fetching himself more and more. So incredibly turned on by this vast display of greed, Jon fiddled in his pockets, trying to reposition his erection so that he could stand up when needed and not expose his arousal to everyone else in the restaurant. After three years of being in a relationship with a girl from his office, Jon hadn’t explored anything to do with this world of eating and weight gain, and it was only after this encounter that he fully understood just how linked to his own sexuality it all was: nothing turned him on more.
“I am STUFFED!” Daniel chuckled about fifty minutes later, having gorged his way through most of the main courses on offer, as well as several of the dessert items. He slapped his hand on his lage stomach, not seeming to notice how strained the buttons had become.
“You’re leaving those?” Jon asked, surprised to see two macrons left to the side of Daniel’s final plate.
Daniel looked down at them. He sighed and gave an uncomfortable burp. “It’s okay. They’re not so good from here anyway.”
“Even so…” Jon smiled mischievously. “You can’t ruin your clean sweep. You’ve cleared every other plate.”
Daniel grinned. “I’d forgotten how much you used to encourage me in the early days,” he laughed. Even so, he looked down at those macrons, sighed in fullness and then shook his head. “No,” he winced. “Trust me. I’m done!”
“Surely there must be something I can do to persuade you?” Jon asked, trying to think on his feet. More than anything else, he didn’t quite feel ready to stand up and leave just yet. “How about I buy you a coffee on the way to work each morning next week?”
Daniel pulled a face. He’d never been a great lover of coffee.
“I’ll buy you a new plant for your desk,” Jon tried again, having noticed that Daniel’s current office plant was withered and mostly dead. He searched through his memory to try and recall the things used to motivate Daniel back when he knew him best. “I’ll let you feel my bigger biceps,” he offered cheekily, flexing them and never expecting his bribe to work.
Daniel considered for only a second, then he nodded and threw a macron straight into his mouth at a speed Jon had not been expecting, laughing, even with his mouth full, at Jon’s shocked expression. He then reached across to get a feel of a stunned Jon’s muscle. “Okay,” the fat man nodded. “They definitely are bigger than last time,” he admitted, mumbling after swallowing most of it down.
Jon grinned. He couldn’t believe that it had worked. Then again, Daniel had always claimed to be obsessed with his body in those early days.
Still one macron sat on the plate, unclaimed. “Eat that other one for me and…” Jon pondered, considering whether he should go as far as he was now considering, “...I’ll let you feel up my glutes next.”
Daniel’s pig-like eyes widened in surprise. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then, although he had not been able to bring himself to even swallow the last of the previous macron, he pushed the final one into his mouth, accepting the offer; forcing himself to chew and swallow them both down at long last.
Nothing was said about heading back to Daniel’s place afterwards. The two men simply got up and started walking until they reached the fat man’s building. There, they got into the elevator and made their way up to the top floor, all whilst making inconsequential small talk to fill the time.
Daniel’s apartment was large and flashy. He had great views over the city and his kitchen was straight out of a home decor magazine. But the place was also scruffy and filled with furniture that was oversized and awkwardly positioned. Take out boxes sat on the top of his coffee table, providing the slight stale odour that filled the space. However, Daniel simply seemed oblivious to it, heading straight to a massive chair in front of his TV and sighing with relief as his massive form dropped into it with a confidence in its constriction that did not seem warranted.
“This is where a lot of the magic happens,” Daniel smiled. “I’ve pushed so many calories into myself right here, in this chair.”
Jon laughed. “Not just you pushing them in either, I bet,” he teased. “You don’t grow a gut like that without a lot of encouragement.”
Daniel nodded and smirked with a confidence in himself that Jon had never seen in him before today. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking around the space and rubbing the top of his fat gut. “I’ve had a lot of fun in this apartment.” His eyes then locked on Jon’s. “And now it’s time for you to pay the piper,” he joked, beckoning him over. “That last macron wasn’t easy!”
“You want to touch the finest glutes in the city?” Jon laughed. He wanted to act casual so that he could still walk out of there with his head held high should this not go in the direction he desperately hoped it would.
Jon made his way over, positioning himself so that his back was turned to Daniel and his pert butt within reach. He heard the fat man grunt as he repositioned himself on the edge of his seat, then, two chubby hands reached out and moulded themselves onto the shapely, firm masses, exploring every inch.
Both men gave a sigh as all the pent up sexual tension finally started to release. Jon felt himself being pulled back a little more by his belt. Then, even Daniel’s nose was rolling over the material, his lips kissing each glute in turn. “Beautiful!” the fat man whispered.
It was at that point that things became all too much for Jon. His hands reached down to his belt and he unbuckled faster than he ever had in his life, pulling his thick erection out and handling it in the way he had wanted to all day. He spun around, staring only at Daniel’s greedy little mouth. “Open up, Fat Boy…” he growled, letting his lust completely get the better of him.
Despite his coarseness, Daniel’s mouth slid straight over the hardness and began working straight away; his hands holding firmly onto Jon’s strong hips and pulling him in closer.
Jon moaned aloud. It never failed to catch him off guard how great guys often were at giving head, but three years in a monogamous relationship had also lowered his expectations when it came to genuine sexual thrills like this. Daniel’s mouth was so filled with saliva, his tongue so expertly gifted at working whatever was placed on top of it; Jon felt like he could climax in no time at all. Instead, he pulled back, quickly undressing himself further and allowing Daniel to do the same once he stood back up again.
Suddenly, all that incredible flesh was being unveiled. Even after staring at Daniel’s body for so much of the day, Jon had never imagined that the guy’s nipples would sag quite so much. His giant gut was so heavy and squishy, his love handles rolling into several folds of fat that wrapped around into his back. His arms were so large and puffy, his thighs so genuinely overfilled with blubber, his calves looked positively tiny and weak in comparison. But then Daniel lifted his gut a little and reached under to grab at his almost hidden hardness, his forearm jiggling all the lard in his stomach as the fat man attempted to pleasure himself.
“Are you impressed?” Daniel asked, knowing that despite how hot and muscular Jon was, it was his own body that was the star of the show right at that moment.
“Yes,” Jon replied, tugging at himself as he watched Daniel doing the same.
“Did you ever imagine I’d get this big?” he asked next, clearly arousing himself more with his own questions.
Jon shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you to get this big,” he answered honestly; awe-struck by how extremely obese his former boss now was. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Daniel moaned and tugged at himself more, grunting with the effort of having to reach his chubby hand into his groin. “I’m nowhere near finished yet, either,” he continued, grabbing at his stomach fat with his other hand. “I still want so much more!”
Jon sighed in appreciation of the display in front of him. There were so many rolls and folds. He could spend weeks exploring and fucking every single one; never getting bored.
Stepping closer to Daniel, Jon slipped his large hand around the back of the big man’s head and pulled him in for the most lust-filled kiss of his life.
“Don’t worry, Fatty,” he grinned, finally having the freedom to tease Daniel just as he had always wanted. “I started you off on this journey…” he whispered, grabbing at the flab and jiggling it. “...And I’m going to be the one to finish the job!”
Daniel nodded submissively, his hand taken away from his own hardness and replaced with Jon’s strong, firm grip upon it instead. “Whatever you say,” he moaned back; his piggy little eyes already rolling back into his head at the sensation. “You’re the boss.”
Jon’s erection seemed to swell ever more. “Say that again!” he teased with excitement, manoeuvring the fat man so that they both slipped into the nearby bedroom. Daniel was spun around and he gladly fell upon the edge of the bed, his wide rump exposed.
“You’re the boss!” the large, horny man declared, spreading his legs wider, knowing exactly what he needed Jon to do next. “You’re the only boss I ever want!”
Jon marvelled at the sight before him, knowing that nothing would ever come close to exciting him in the way that this did. He lubricated and pushed himself inside, enjoying every single powerful thrust he made: the sheer scale of the man he was fucking, the way all the fat and blubber rocked and jiggled. Feeding and pounding Daniel was the only thing he ever needed.
“I should hope so!” Jon declared, slapping the wide butt that was so willingly taken. “I’ll be giving you your performance review in a couple of weeks…” he teased, starting to thrust harder and harder. “I’m going to need you to bring your A-Game appetite and really step things up for me.”
Daniel moaned and nodded in agreement; every fantasy in his kinky little brain starting to come to life.
“Your new boss is a real bastard,” Jon laughed. “He’s going to push you harder than ever before, Fatso!”
Jon slowed his pace slightly, allowing the huge man a short relief; sliding in and out with more tenderness and caring.
“But be prepared, piggy…” Jon smiled, starting to ramp up the pace yet again; his strong thighs beginning to come into their own. “...I need results. And, I’m sure as hell going to get them…”
#gay feedee#gayfeeder#gayfeedee#gainerfic#gainer stories#gainer story#gainerstory#gainerstories#gainer fiction#gainer fic
850 notes
·
View notes
Text
Haunted Paintings Sketches!
Part one
I hope you enjoy the sketches I made of the paintings!
Also! You’re free to use my ideas (please give credit ofc) if you’d like, bc I REALLY don’t think I’ll write this one, no matter how much I want to. It’s just too much and I’ve already got 3 unfinished fics and several other series to write for. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a submission! You can also DM if you’d like!
TW: mentions of suicide, murder, depression, mental illness, just really dark, creepy stuff bc these are haunted paintings and they torment people :/ no scary drawings tho! I only described them (click for clarity)
Jazz:
Description: Jazz is sitting at a table in the middle of a flower garden with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She looks tranquil and is dressed formally. On the table are a few plates, a plate of cookies, a bookmark, an opened envelope and a bloody butter knife, and a teapot that is slightly out of view.
Use of mediums: gouache paint, watercolor, and pencils
Focus: Jazz amidst the flowers
Inspirations:
• The Queen of Hearts from “Alice in Wonderland”
• Galna from “Mairimashita! Iruma-kun”
Location: She used to be in the home of a random crime lord in Gotham for intimidation purposes. She was kept in the crime lord’s office before being relocated into Wayne Manor, where she sits in the hall across from the library.
Extra facts:
+ Her scary form would be one where her tea is filled with blood and the roses would be replaced with decapitated heads. The sky would turn dark red and the ground would be a pool of blood. Jazz would smile and look at the viewer with shark-like fangs and hollowed out eyes.
+ The tea she drinks is Darjeeling and the cookies are chocolate chip.
+ Although Jazz is the weakest painting, her effects are deadlier, more painful, and longer lasting than the others if her victims survive.
+ She causes paranoia and dizzy spells. Her effects are rather weak compared to the others, but when spending enough time with her, victims can also display symptoms of scurvy, which cannot be cured.
+ She was the first one I drew and also the easiest to plan. I just love her so much, she’s one of my comfort characters so it’s not hard for me to find ideas for her 😭
Valerie:
Description: Valerie stands in the middle of a dark, foggy forest, wearing a long dress and pressed close to a tree as if she is about to hide behind it. A branch covers her face and the trees around her curve into a circle with multiple holes within them. There is a Fenton thermos in the background on the floor and an axe in front of Valerie, sticking into the tree and oozing something.
Use of mediums: pencils and watercolor paint
Focus: Her hidden face
Inspirations:
• The Son of Man by René Magritte
• The Beast from “Over the Garden Wall”
Location: She was kept in the back of an art museum, but the director has been hoping for someone to buy her and get rid of her, since he cannot handle the strain of having her inside of the gallery. Now she stands near the door to the entrance of Wayne Manor, a silent and deadly sentry.
Extra facts:
+ Her scary form would have her surroundings to turned into the entrance to a mouth or an intestine, red, fleshy, and bloody. There would be bones littering the floor everywhere and Valerie herself would become bloody and stained, with her face still hidden. Tortured faces would be seen through the fog.
+ The holes on the trees sometimes leak a mysterious substance.
+ Valerie is not the weakest, but she is not that powerful. However, she does amplify the others’ effects to fatal degrees.
+ She causes paranoia and auditory hallucinations, often causing her victims to feel as though they are being watched relentlessly, which cannot go away. Eventually, her victims will shut themselves into their rooms and starve to death from the fear.
+ She and Tucker had switched ideas, but I had to trash them. I never got the opportunity to draw those ideas because I struggled so much with Tucker that when I eventually got inspiration for Valerie, I just went with it. I’m quite happy with Valerie’s portrait now.
Dani:
Description: Dani, dressed formally, sits at the head of a table with a large painting and curtains behind her. She holds a fork and a knife over a pig head. Her gaze is downward and she looks like she’s frowning softly. The dinner table is messy with three other dishes and a knocked over bottle of wine.
Use of mediums: oil paint and oil pastels
Focus: Dani holding the fork and knife
Inspirations:
• Rosie’s Tea Party by Mark Ryden
• “Spirited Away” (specifically that one scene where Chihiro’s parents eat the food)
Location: She was hidden by Vlad and kept safe with him. He keeps her in his office, where he can watch her. He only recently found her again, and he was determined to watch over her. Now she stays in the Wayne Manor's dining room, but often changes her position to be next to everyone else in the bedroom hallway.
Extra facts:
+ Her scary form would be one where all of her food dishes would be replaced by very obviously human parts, especially with the pig head becoming a human head. The curtains would turn to blood dripping down the wall and Dani would be smiling, taking a direct bite of the human head that was in front of her with her fork and knife.
+ The dishes she eats in the painting are: pig head, vulture thigh, lamprey eels, and sheep brain.
+ Her at the dining table is meant to signify greed and gluttony, 2 of the most simplest sins.
+ She causes great feelings of hunger and paranoia in others. When spending too much time with her, some victims turn to self-cannibalism to sate their never ending starvation.
+ Originally, both her and Dan’s ideas were switched, so Dan would’ve been the one feasting and Dani would’ve been the one looking at her reflection. However, I switched them around because I felt like it would’ve been spookier. I even finished the drawing with Dan and everything, but then I just erased him and drew in Dani 😓
Dan:
Description: Dan is standing in front of a mirror, glancing behind his shoulder, while his reflection shows something different: him looking at everyone else and the door behind him by looking at the mirror. The party guests are all wearing masks and there are chandeliers on the ceiling. The party looks vaguely fancy, but messy with secrets.
Use of mediums: Oil paints
Focus: His reflection
Inspirations:
• Jeff Lee Johnson and his art
Location: He was kept in a locked safe within a rich person’s house in Italy. He had to been wrecking havoc on the nerves of everyone around him, but he is now safe and happy in Wayne Manor, where he is kept in the office to the entrance of the Batcave.
Extra facts:
+ His scary form would have all of the party guests dead, but their eyes would face the viewer. Dan's reflection would also be dead, but his actual self would be the same, only with an eerie smile as his eyes follow the viewer. In the doorway would be the figure of Danny. Blood would cover the entire floor and walls, but nobody would react to it.
+ Dan keeps his own masquerade mask in his pocket.
+ The woman who is directly staring at him is supposed to look like Maddie.
+ He causes viewers intense mood swings and long, often violent mania episodes or mind-numbing depression episodes. Those who keep staring at him will gain the feeling of being watched and haunted, often with visual hallucinations, resulting in losing their mind from fear and then killing others in their terror and panic.
+ I tried so hard to make Dan as handsome as possible. I think I pulled it off bc I’m a little bit in love with him ong, but I also kinda have to be bc I draw him so often
Tucker:
Description: Tucker is in the back shot of a desert, with his back towards the viewer, staring at a large skeleton that is seemingly climbing over a large sand dune. The skeleton has flowers in its eyes, and its hand reaches over the horizon. There is a single sun in the sky and an arm holding a pocket watch sticks out of the sand close to the viewer.
Use of mediums: gouache paint, pens, and pencils
Focus: The large skull
Inspirations:
• JT Music (specifically their JT album covers)
• The Giant God Warrior from “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”
• “Dune”
Location: He was originally kept in one of the rooms within the GIW headquarters. Now, he is kept within Wayne Manor, and stays in the theater room, where he whispers to the Wayne residents what movies he wants to watch. Sometimes, he moves to the garage.
Extra facts:
+ His scary form is one where the skull becomes covered in meat and flesh, oozing blood and tar while the sand turns red. The scene turns to darkness, and more limbs would sprout from the ground. Tucker would be nothing but a pile of flayed skin, crumpled into the sand.
+ GIW agents were unable to experiment on him, since he would purposefully cause machinery to misfire and slowly corrode his surroundings.
+ His painting is meant to be a little comic book-esque with one of his mediums being ink, but I felt like that wouldn’t be a PAINTing, so nvm
+ He causes visual hallucinations, hypovolemia, headaches, blindness, and osteoporosis :). Often, when his victims are autopsied, sand and salt can be found within all of their organs. He emits so much radiation that he can wear down the materials of the place he is stored in.
+ I DREW HIM THREE DIFFERENT TIMES OML, FIRST IT WAS HIM IN A WORKSHOP, THEN IT WAS HIM IN A MARSH, THIS IS THE FINAL PICTURE I CANNOTTTT IM DONE
Sam:
Description: Sam stands on top of a small, grassy hill with a path leading to a grave and an angel statue on top of it, close enough that she is blocking it. Around the hill are pomegranate trees and hanging corpses. There is no sun, but there are clouds as Sam stands with her back to the viewers in a long goth-styled dress.
Use of mediums: paper, glue, acrylic paint
Focus: Her standing on the hill
Inspirations:
• This Reddit picture of a liminal garden
• A mix of weirdcore and dreamcore aesthetics
Location: She was tossed into the ocean by her parents when they first saw her, but she later washed up on an island and now the animals and plants there act erratically and strangely. Finally, she was relocated to Wayne Manor, where she hangs on a wall within the greenhouse, happily watching over the plants there.
Extra facts:
+ Her scary form would be one where eyes would replace all of the pomegranates, staring at the viewer. The paper used to make her would become flesh textured and bloody, and Sam would appear abnormal, broken into pieces and cracked, turning around and smiling at the viewer with shark-like teeth. The grass would become hairy skin and the sky would become red, with swirls and more eyes.
+ Sam's "painting" is actually made of mostly paper, since it is a collage. It is a bit touched up by paint and all of the materials used are vegan and ethically sourced, though they do change.
+ The flora and fauna in the island she landed on have mutated so much that they’re basically mindless. They protect Sam relentlessly.
+ She causes general insanity and relentless symptoms in her victims, such as paranoia, intense episodes of mania and depression, itchiness that can result in self harm, and violent, unexplained behavior in animals and plants. She also emits so much radiation that she can cause sporadic DNA mutations, resulting in several forms of cancer and mental instability, often resulting in victims becoming inhuman and monstrous forms of themselves.
+ Originally, Sam’s portrait was supposed to be in a garden, but I wanted it more “liminal space” themed, and I think I got it right. I think it’s really simple, but I also feel like if I was able to create it in real life, it would be more interesting because it is a collage of paper and paint.
Danny:
Description: a picture of black blotches and scribbles with muddy and red stains. Any features besides the ornate frame is hidden underneath the stains.
Use of mediums: pencils, ink, charcoal, tar, blood
Focus: His crying
Inspirations:
• SCP-035 (“The Possessive Mask”)
• The Anguished Man by an unknown artist (it’s a haunted irl painting!)
• Bendy and the Ink Machine
Location: He was cloning himself in order to jump through universes to find his family. In the current universe, he was with the League of Shadows before he was found and brought back to the Wayne Manor. He is in the hallway with the bedrooms of the Wayne residents.
Extra facts:
+ His scary form is technically his normal form because he cannot turn it off. Once he is happy again, his normal form would be one with him and his family, smiling and happy. Until then, he haunts the minds of others and ravages their sanity.
+ He’s been traveling all over the multiverse in order to find his family. Coincidentally, they’ve all been in the same world for some time.
+ He screams all day and night for his family. It’s so bad that Danny has destroyed thousands of worlds in his grief.
+ He causes the worst of all symptoms, often causing the viewers who look at him to go insane and kill themselves or others, even if it is only a few seconds. Even those who stay in the same room next door to him are consumed with suicidal thoughts and intense moments of psychosis. Those who have survived encountering him and have some semblance of mind left say that he “cries” relentlessly. His paintings leak a black substance that corrodes the place around him.
+ Literally all I did for this picture was scribble in my notes app, take a screenshot, and then scribble some more on photos LMAO
Extra notes:
+ Jazz, Dani, and Dan showing their face while Sam, Tucker, and Valerie hiding theirs is intentional. Danny is a mix of both, because he actually IS showing his face, but you can’t see it past the black and red.
+ Every painting has a flower inside of it, specifically a carnation, which are often funeral flowers, and can mean gratitude, remembrance, love, and affection.
+ Every painting also has a mention or appearance of Danny in it.
+ I also tried to put hints of bad omens or signs of death within every painting. Some examples are Dani’s painting with the chopsticks sticking out of the bowl (a sign of bad luck and death), or Dan’s painting, where a woman is being strangled in the background and another is being killed.
+ All of the paintings generally have an ability to teleport to places nearby and can actually snatch up viewers to shove them into their domain. This can be a defensive mechanism (the paintings protect the Bats) or an offensive ability (they pull victims in and kill them). They also all have weapons on them that are hidden or not so hidden.
+ I struggled a lot with ideas and how to get started on some characters because I just had so many, and I wanted it to be creepy, but not noticeably creepy, like most paintings. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t able to use some of my planned ideas from inspirations of actual haunted paintings.
+ Discarded inspirations: The Rain Woman by Svetlana Telets (my favorite!! Please look it up if you can!!), this picture I saw on Reddit of a sheep being stuck under ice with its back exposed, a workshop idea with Tucker, and Dani and “Daughter of Evil” with mirrors and everything.
+ The world where Danny and co., come from is different from the world they’re currently in. It’s like a world where some people are the same, but others are not. Example: the GIW, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad exist, but Danny and Jazz never made it past their childhood. So basically a What-If world or something.
+ Their backstories are somewhat undecided, but basically, something dangerous happened to them in their home dimension and it was so bad that Danny captured all of their souls and put them into paintings so they would live (with the help of Clockwork). However, by doing this, he scattered their souls and paintings throughout the universes and he went crazy from it, and turned himself into a painting too so he could find them. Now his cloned paintings travel and sends itself to other worlds to find his family again, often leading to their destruction from his power.
Or something? Lol
#dc x dp#dp x dc#jazz fenton#danny phantom x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny fenton#dani fenton#dani phantom#dark danny#dan phantom#dan fenton#tucker foley#sam manson#valerie gray#team phantom#phantom family#haunted painting au#danielle fenton#danielle phantom
317 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Clumsy Couple Makes Out
word count: 746 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: University!AU Koganegawa x chubby!Reader
genre: suggestive fluff, touching™
warnings: mdni, strong suggestiveness, lightning-quick mentions of insecurities
At first you weren‘t quite sure if studying with Kanji was such a good idea. Having only recently confessed to you after a game, his proximity, especially if you two were alone, always kind of fried your brain which wasn‘t ideal when trying to retain knowledge. He was laying on your bed while you sat on the floor, back leaning against the frame. Whenever he sighed in frustration his breath brushed your neck, very rudely distracting you, but much to your surprise you got through your notes pretty quickly.
As you closed your eyes trying to memorize a certain date, you felt his lips on the back of your neck, letting goosebumps run all over your body. You drew in a sharp breath.
“It’s so nice to study with you… but also…”, another kiss on your shoulder and mumbling cutely against your skin he said, “you’re really pretty when you’re so focused.”
For a second you contemplated whether to pull him down onto the fluffy carpet or to climb up to him on the small bed, but he, now very eager apparently, was already slithering down to you. Pushing the notes out of harm’s way you pressed yourself closer to him. He supported your head when he carefully moved in, so that you lay back on the carpet with him on top. You never realized how incredibly comfortable this rug was until now. A truly excellent purchase. The soft music from the stereo directed the movements of your bodies.
Kanji really was an amazing kisser. Firm, but tender and his big hands were always where they needed to be. Whenever you found yourself in his arms, all your insecurities seemed to be brushed away by his hands, lips and words. Kanji made it very clear that he loved your tummy chub, your fleshy thighs and generous butt. Besides thinking that they were adorable and cuddly, it made him more confident in his advances, knowing he couldn’t hurt you so easily.
So for all his usual endearing clumsiness he changed completely as soon as his lips were on your skin. His hands now moved up to your breasts, first softly caressing them as if by accident, but when you didn’t object, he became more confident, deepening the kiss and finally cupping your breast. You gave a small gasp and arched into his touch. He smiled brightly into the kiss and squeezed again and again, finding great pleasure in your responses.
When you breathed his name, however, he got carried away. So carried away in fact that you jumped at a particularly harsh squeeze.
“Ow!”
He backed off immediately, sitting up with his back against a wall, trying to hide his obvious excitement with strategic hand placements.
“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry!”
You sat up as well, rubbing your stinging breast with a pained smile.
“A bit softer, please.”, you laughed and his cheeks turned as pink as never before. It was truly remarkable how he could flip the switch from playful lover to shy baby bean like that.
“I’m really sorry.”, he stammered again, looking down at the floor.
“It’s alright.”, you smiled and moved over to kneel in front of him, taking one of his large hands from his lap.
With a sweet smile you brought it to your breast again, closing your own much smaller hand around his to provide an example of an appropriate use of strength.
His lips parted, his eyes met yours and his breathing became very shallow.
“Just like so.”, you said innocently.
He leaned forward to catch your lips again, his kisses much hungrier now than before.
Your original plan was to casually straddle him like it was a normal Tuesday. Maybe run your fingers through his two-toned hair and then kiss him until your lips went numb.
What you did not plan on doing was kneeing him in the crotch.
He winced loudly and crumpled a bit forward.
“Oh no! Oh my god! Kanji, are you okay?! I am so so sorry!”
He dramatically fell over to the side, making a noise between grunt and a whine, which quickly turned into a hollow chuckle.
“I am so sorry.”, you repeated, patting his back, but you couldn’t help but join his laughter.
“Maybe we could watch a movie for now. Six feet apart on the couch.”, you suggested and he nodded, still grimacing a little, but agreeing to let you help him to the living room.
#koganegawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#koganegawa kanji#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#koganegawa x reader#koganegawa fluff#koganegawa smut#haikyuu koganegawa#hq koganegawa#haikyuu x reader#chubby reader#haikyuu x curvy reader
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
been reading up on your old Silent Hill Prompts and the fanart people drew of them, and not I kind of want to see what you'd come up with if you could the later games. Like what would you do for a War Veteran or a Lonely Trucker Who's Maybe A Bit Too Into True Crime?
Okay so for people not really up on Silent Hill or my opinions on it, the second game (series-defining and still considered the all time best) established that no two people have the same Silent Hill and that the town manifests vague nightmare forms out of their memories. Despite this, most of the series kept repeating monsters designed specifically for SH2's protagonist, and modeled all other monsters loosely around how his looked. In Homecoming you play a war veteran, and it has some cool monsters honestly, but none of them feel remotely war themed. In fact they're mostly themed around sexuality, which was also already the theme for a lot of 2's monsters.
The only one that feels like "war imagery" is the Smog, but it's kind of bland. The only thing that really sticks out about it to me is that its fleshy tumors kind of look like an explosion. I think that's what I'd have run with. Creatures that look like they're exploding or even look themselves like "blasts," roiling and moving like fireballs and gas clouds but they're solid, meaty things. Maybe some with vague figures writhing inside?
Not mangled gory Hellraiser haunted house stuff but abstract impressions of destruction hastily formed from flesh, burning and dissolving everything they touch.
Environmentally, instead of the rusty look of all the other silent hills I'd made his look like everything is the inside of a military vehicle. This is the interior of a tank apparently:
So other SH games indicated your proximity to the other world by the degree of blood, rot, rust and arbitrary metal stuff, and arguably that still fits in with war, but I'd define this guy's nightmare realm by extreme claustrophobia and convoluted mechanical bits. At first perhaps just a couple more buttons and dials than you'd expect, and in odd places like the outsides of houses. When he's fully immersed in his Silent Hill it looks like that photo and all that stuff is pulsing and churning and threatening to swallow him up.
This went on longer than I thought so I'll have to think on the Lonely Trucker game a bit more.
For those who don't know though, there's an upcoming brand new Silent Hill (not the shitty Bloober remake of 2) that actually does finally test out a radically new and different visual theme and that looks VERY promising, exactly how far I always wanted the games to vary:
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
Change and Her Consorts — Miguel x Fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: 13 Minutes. 13 minutes was all it took for Miguel to (metaphorically) loose everything. Getting back onto his feet wasn’t easy, especially when life was changing and all he felt was stuck. But once you come back into his life, Witty, Hot and everything in between, Miguel wonders that maybe it was the change in others he needed to witness first before he could even consider making change for himself.
WORD COUNT: 5.6k+
CONTENT: modern au, childhood friends, afab reader, mature themes of death, grief, mental health issues, slightly angsty, hurt/comfort, is it a comedy? it’s a comedy, fluff, smut, sex, male penetration, mating press, blowjob, protected sex, nice ending i promise!!, i wouldn’t say reader is oc but she has a character for definite, also miguel is very??? difficult in this and his character can also be classed as ooc but its modern au and he’s been through it so bare with
Miguel knew he had to change.
Ever since he lost both his wife and kid to childbirth, it’d been so hard to piece things together again.
It’s honestly all bullshit. Finally thinking things were going good for him just for life to chew him up and spit him out like a fleshy plum seed all within the space of 13 minutes felt dehumanising to say the least. It left him fist fighting Depression, backing liquor shots of Sorrow and occasionally sharing a bed with Anxiety. That would fuck anyone up mentally and emotionally — And it did that to Miguel for a long time. He’s just grateful he had a good enough support system to crutch him through to the other side.
He sold the house he brought with his late wife and moved back in with his parents around eight months ago. That was a whole thing in itself. Left his job and hasn’t worked full-time since. He had a whole phase where he ‘no longer had anything to work for’ and therefore just…didn’t.
His parents were nice about it for a bit. Said he always had a home under their roof and that he could use the money he got from the insurance payout and house to cruise by while he healed. But then after about 3 months of Miguel taking the absolute piss with being unemployed, heartbroken, undriven and essentially a‘bum’ (Jessica Drew’s exact words), he found work in the local dairy produce factory as the ‘Payroll Guy’.
Despite none of this being his ideal picture of how life was supposed to look at this point of time, Miguel knew he had to change in order to survive. Having being so wrapped up within his own world, he knew that moving on in some capacity was his next step. Getting comfortable with the shell of a life he had now and the things he once knew were true would help with that.
The only issue is that Miguel forgot that others changed too.
An oof leaves Miguel’s mouth as his stomach is suddenly burdened with a paper sack to it. He looks down at his mother, more than a foot shorter than him, who’s passing him a bag of coals.
“I need this done.” She vaguely says.
“For the grill?”
Miguel asks it as an inquisitive question but he’s implying it more as disbelief that he’s been asked. His mother catches on and therefore explains her reasoning.
“I wouldn’t usually (‘ask you’, she implies but doesn’t say) but your fathers quickly gone to the shop and we need to start putting things on the grill. People will be arriving any minute now.” She dusts her hands before already moving elsewhere within the garden.
Miguel jogs the bag of coal in his arms and stagnantly turns his body in his mother’s direction; like a sunflower to the sun.
“Then I don’t have to do it?” He tried.
His mother gives him a quick look. It was sharp but she didn’t follow the intention through.
“I would like to start grilling things soon.” She stresses.
Miguel doesn’t reply right away since he’s been told he needs to think before he speaks. And so he thinks, hard, about what his mother was asking him and then answers accordingly to how he thinks he should.
“So I don’t have to put the coal in now?” He slowly enunciates.
“Ay, coño— Si! Si, Miguel! You have to put them in now, I’m telling you to put the charcoal in now! Vamos!”
Miguel lets out a haggard sigh.
He doesn’t like how he always get in trouble for these sort of things. He was bordering thirty and still had trouble depicting what his mother actually meant when she made implicit remarks.
The doorbell rings and so Miguel’s mother is shooting off back inside to open up for the guests, all not before giving Miguel certain The Nike Slogan eyes and a jabbing finger point towards the barbecue.
Begrudgingly, he gets a start on filling the bottom of the grill with sooty rocks.
As he’s detaching the rack, Miguel can hear high pitched welcoming and multiple voices towards the front of the house. He faintly hears someone ask for him, followed by his mother directing them towards the backyard where he was. At that, Miguel groans.
It’s not like he hated gatherings, but Miguel would definitely prefer a phone call or the occasional text message. Or just no communication at all.
But to his avail, he had no way of avoiding this. His parents were adamant to host a casual cookout of some sort and they knew he had nothing better to do so by default he had to be present. There wasn’t even a reason for the function. Just Something about opening up the home and having more laughter flow through it. Sounds cliche but Miguel didn’t care much for laughter anymore. Not that he never laughed — there were some humorously dark memes either Peter or Jess would send him that were subjectively funny and occasionally earned a breathy snort out of him. But it was no question that joy was definitely void in his life. It was hard to look forward to things and the days seemed to drag on and lack meaning.
No matter what way he looked at it, life was dull. There just wasn’t shit to be happy about.
“Miggy!”
Miguel perks up.
He recognises that voice anywhere.
He didn’t know you were coming but it definitely made sense for you to be here. His parents were making a bigger than usual deal out of this gathering so of course old faces would be present.
Miguel hears your voice call him by that juvenile nickname over and over again as you venture throughout the house. It’d been well over a decade since he last saw you but he knows both your parents keep in touch. Because of that, he doesn’t immediately turn around to address you once you enter the garden because he’s not expecting much and he’s still trying to evenly set up the coal rocks at the bottom of the grill.
“Miggy.” You say with perky tone.
The man’s sighing as he brings his head up, dusting his hands and wiping the apple of his cheek with the smudge of his palm.
“Till this day, what’d I tell you about calling…me...”
Miguel’s words are cut off short as soon as he turns to see you.
He opens and closes his mouth several time but nothing comes out. He’s adamant he looks so stupid right now but his shock is so genuine that he doesn’t blame himself for the reaction. Honestly, awestruck didn’t even cover half of what he was.
There you stood, in all your adulthood glory, a finer woman than he could have ever imagined you’d turn out to be.
Nothing about you was the same to how it was over a decade ago yet it was all so classically you. Or, whatever that meant. He’s not sure. If you’d given him creative direction over what he’d envisioned mid-20s you to look like, he definitely wouldn’t have come up with this.
Fuck, not like it matters what he thought. Why would anyone give him creative direction over anything? No, he’s not trying to say he wanted to control how you grew but he is saying whatever did, did a good job.
Oh, Miguel hates trying to justify things to himself. He knew what he wanted to say but he just didn’t know how to say it and it was pissing him off because this was all happening inside of his head and God, he probably looked crazy to you right now but he just couldn’t compute this change.
To put it plainly: You were hot now.
A soft tinkly chuckle leaves your throat as you notice the man’s frozen reaction.
“Hello to you too, Miguel. Everything okay out here?”
Miguel’s still freaking out mentally because man, even your laugh was the same but it was just so different and maturer and older and hot.
You amusingly side eye him, no longer calling him Miggy and cautious of his behaviour. You take a few steps round the back of him which ultimately puts you outside of his vision and peripheral. You end up on the opposite side, hands on your hips and face curious as you inspect the barbecue.
As soon as you’re out of his eyesight Miguel snaps out of the trance. His mind starts to catch him up to speed and he’s stuttering like crazy when he turns to you to try and explain himself.
“I—Ee—I…yeah. I…I’m setting up some rocks. For the grill. Not…Not just any rocks, like actual— actual charcoal, coal rocks that you…that you light barbecues with and…yeah.”
“I see.” Your tone is sarcastic, lightly teasing even, and Miguel has to curse himself for acting so lame.
He blinks at you a few times (Hot.) before casting his eyes back to the grill (Not hot. Yet). He occupies himself with the task.
“Of course. You know what coal is...” He mumbles the last bit to himself, a reminder that you weren’t an incompetent bristling teen anymore to whom he had to explain everything.
Miguel spends the majority of the barbecue in your company.
Not like he had much choice; you two were the only people around the same caliber. Everyone else was either middle aged, a couple, or a bustling child weaving between adult’s legs.
Chatting to each other wasn’t all that bad. You both nursed several bottled drinks between you and straddled garden chairs towards the bottom of the yard as you caught up with each other’s lives. Whilst he would have preferred hulling up in his room, having someone new to talk to as opposed to the same two people was rejuvenating.
Over the duration of your conversation, Miguel finds out that you’re a Data Analyst and it somehow makes him feel insecure about his crappy Payroll job. You however assure him that it was nothing to be ashamed of (“You’re a Finance Bro and I’m a Finance Girly. We go hand-in-hand!”). He also opens up about how he’s attending group therapy sessions — through which he met Peter and Jess. He also, speaks about Peter and Jess, but he quickly found out that apart from Peter and Jess, there wasn’t much else for him to talk about.
But surprisingly it was enough for convo because you always had new discussions to talk through with him anyways. Some were silly, (“Come on, you’ve got to admit it! The Teletubbbies having kids is just weird.”) some were trivial (“Cats or Dogs? — And be honest!”) and others reminiscent (“Remember how we tried to build a secret hide out in this very tree?”).
Miguel also found out that you were single.
“I know you mentioned you’re doing therapy and stuff but…how are you holding up? Like, really holding up?”
An automatic groan leaves Miguel’s mouth. There it was — three hours into the conversation. The million dollar question.
He hates gatherings and functions for this very reason. No matter how much people smiled in his general direction or pretended that they weren’t tiptoeing eggshells around him, they would always ask how he was in relation to That event in his life.
Not like they cared. If they cared, they would go out of their way to ask him, routinely check up on him, and not just when he was conveniently in front of them. They only asked because they were aware of the situation. Aware of his misfortune.
The guy who lost everything in 13 minutes.
The survivor of a freak accident.
Someone you’d pity from a far but thanked whoever that the situation never happened to you.
For that reason alone Miguel always lied and said he was ‘fine’ or that he was ‘holding up okay’. They’d give him pitying eyes, tell him that ‘things will get better’ and then kept it pushing. Usually, when it came to these questions, Miguel’s automatic response is to lie. But there was just something about you; Changed yet The Same you, where Miguel felt that he owed the honest and naked truth to.
“Honestly?” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m barely holding up at all. Everyday I feel like shit and if one day I surprisingly don’t, I know it’s a fluke and that I will definitely feel like shit tomorrow. It’s just a constant state of feeling off and never truly yourself.”
There’s a slight pause. It’s comfortable.
During that pause, you’re both privy to the music of party life. Chortling men, gossiping woman, squealing kids. It’s bittersweet because it kinda reminds Miguel of what he could have had.
Taking a swig of your drink, you make a humming noise before you’re replying to his triad.
“Damn. That’s rough, buddy.”
Miguel snorts.
Not because he likes how you’ve brushed off his miniature melancholy rant but because he gets the reference. Throughout the course of the barbecue, he thinks that’s one of his favourite things he’s noticed about you.
You both fall into another comfortable silence, before you’re adding:
“You know, being a widow kinda suits you.”
Maybe he spoke too soon about what his favourite thing about you was because now Miguel’s choking on his cider and wondering whether this too was a pop culture reference.
“I— wha— you can’t just say that kinda shit!” He turns to you and exclaims.
You scoff before rolling your eyes.
“You know I don’t mean it like that. Not that I like what’s happened to you — Rest in Peace to them — but as in the reverence that’s come with the trauma? It suits you. It’s matured you.”
You lull into another short pause but Miguel knows you weren’t finished. He also wonders if you’ve always been this harsh.
“Not sure if you’re aware but you were a real tool growing up, Miguel. Utter pure, soft, sheltered muck. This whole thing? It’s pushed you to survive. Moulded you. Given you a bit of character building, if you like.”
Your voice is much more calmer but it doesn’t change the fact that you just landed him with the most self-dismantling piece of information he’s heard in a while.
And yet it’s so bizarre because Miguel can’t help but find himself laughing.
Not one of those nose snorts when the group chat send subjectively funny memes or when he watches silly animal videos on his phone. No, Miguel’s caving over, free arm clutching to his stomach as he lets out a hefty guffaw. It doesn’t last long though. After about several seconds he completely stops laughing and sits back up regularly.
Initially, you think he was about to tell you it was all an act and what you said was in fact highly offensive. But it’s when he reverts back to his original position and continues to let out small huffs of laughter that you realise he’s just not used to reacting to things he finds extremely funny.
Which you’re questioning because nothing you said was a joke, but anything to get the sad man to smile, right?
But alas, seeing as he found humour in what you said, you let out a dry accompaniment of a laugh.
The two of you probably looked crazy, or at least drunk, as you each mildly chuckled away, weakly swaying side to side. When you both found it funny enough to stop laughing, Miguel spoke up first.
“Character building…” He huffs before taking another swig of his cider. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”
You turn your body in the man’s direction and he knows you have something profound to say. Miguel realises within some meta existence outside of himself that your company is oddly easy to keep.
“How else can you view it?” You warmly reply. “That it was meant to be? That you simply have bad luck? I dunno but every other option is just too demeaning and lifeless to live by. With this explanation at least it gives you a reason to carry on.”
Miguel nods solemnly with a pondering look on his face.
“I never saw it that way.”
“Of course you didn’t. You were grieving.”
There’s a pause but it’s not like the others you’ve shared so far. This silence was slightly uncomfortable, uncalled for even. Miguel didn’t mind it because he feels he’s already gone pass the point of feeling embarrassment with you but he could tell it put you in a compromising position.
Looking over to him, your face vacates something undetectable.
“And about that…”
You softly clear your throat. Miguel is about to take another swing of his drink, but it’s when he sees a glint of something in your eyes, that he decides to slowly lower the bottle neck from his mouth.
“I’m sorry for not being there for you. In all honesty I was around when it happened and definitely knew what was going on I just…I didn’t know how to approach you about it. We’d grown apart for a bit and it was just…it felt strange to give my condolences after being distant from you for so long.”
There’s a tingling sensation scratching at the cage of Miguel’s chest.
He doesn’t know what the feeling is. All he knows is that he hasn’t felt it in awhile. But then again, Miguel hasn’t felt a lot of things in awhile so he’s not questioning what it is. But most of all, Miguel is surprised that he’s feeling things for once. He’s not sure if he wants to confront himself about them but he knows that they’re influencing his thought process.
Miguel tries to take a sip of his drink, but suddenly the liquid felt foreign in his mouth and his throat seemed unwilling to gulp it down.
He contemplates backwashing it back into the bottle but he’s suddenly subconscious about his image in front of you and how you perceive him.
Weird.
He forces the cider down.
“It’s whatever. Shit happens.” He says while squeezing the edges of his lips clean.
You make a noise of disagreeal. You used to make it all the time as a teen. Miguel wonders if you continued using it after all these years or if you just redeveloped the habit having being in his presence. He also notices how your chair seems to be a lot closer to his despite you never moving once.
“I know.” You say with slow and downward enunciation. “But either way, I’m sorry. I should have done better by you.”
You’re trying to stress something to him. He knows that now for sure but Miguel doesn’t know what you’re putting down or what he’s allowed to pick up.
He watches over at you with firm determination to find out what you’re insinuating but once he sees the way your eyes reflect the fiery dances of ambers, oranges and borderline crimson reds, he turns his head forwards again and clears his throat.
“I hear it. I appreciate your honesty.”
Miguel doesn’t know how he got into this position.
Actually, he does. He very clearly remembers how he asked you if you wanted to carry on talking inside, within his room specifically, and how he smooth talked you into getting on your knees.
But in all honesty, he didn’t mean for it to turn out this way (or maybe he did). Yeah, he may have walked up those stairs with his dick lurching colourfully within his pants at the insinuation, but his initial intentions was to give you a safer space to talk. He’s honest when he says his invitation was powered by a lot more than just pure unadulterated lust.
“Fuck…” He hisses once you scrape your bottom teeth ever so lightly against his shaft.
Miguel doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t think animalisticaly stuffing them in your hair will do him any good and he thinks a hand on the cheek is too intimate. All he can find appropriate is to splay his hands behind him and slightly lean back to watch you work.
It’s almost alien seeing how your cheeks hollow over his cock and how your eyes fluttered shut as you manoeuvre your mouth up and down the length of his member, your hand helping you with what your mouth couldn’t reach.
Miguel doesn’t think there’s anything dehumanising about this.
He was so sure you were giving him the eyes back in the garden. And with the way your lips quipped to one side when he invited you into his room? Yeah, you were big people now. Adults. These sort of things weren’t like hushed secrets or tales of promiscuous old — these were You Either Do or Don’ts — and you both decided to Do.
“I-I’m close.”
No, there was nothing dehumanising about having your now super hot (and single!) childhood friend suck your cock within your childhood bedroom whilst your parents backyard party went on just outside your window.
Whether it felt right or not was for Later Miguel to worry about.
Despite his heed, you were still working your mouth over his cock. Your lips were so prettily spaced around his girth — almost a perfect fit, and Miguel knows he could easily finish this way but he’s making an active decision not to.
He wants to be mildly selfish and ask for more.
“I-I said I’m…nrgh.” Miguel sits forward before laying a few fingers to your forehead. “I don’t want to finish like this.”
You release Miguel’s cock from your mouth with a pop but you don’t leave him hanging dry. Your hand continues to stroke at his wet shaft and fuck, the way your lips glisten with your spit and his precum is legitimately going to push him off the edge, but he has to refrain himself.
“How else did you plan on finishing?” You quip.
Miguel seems to freeze as he gives you a look of expected understanding, and at first, he’s so sure you were going to make him spell it out but as predicted, you caught on quick and your eyes widen in realisation.
“Oh.”
Your hand discontinues stroking Miguel’s cock and he mildly panics at your response.
That didn’t seem like a good ‘oh’. Miguel doesn’t mean to be an enemy of his own progress but trust for him to end the day with a fractured friendship and blue balls. Suddenly, Miguels backpedalling on his initial stance of being selfish and getting what he wants.
“We don’t have to. I—Only if it’s okay with you, if you’re comfortable with it.”
“No. It’s fine.” Your tongue pokes out to swipe at your lips. Fuck. “Might as well get something out of this.” You quip.
Miguel wonders whether he should have been cautious of how rusty his pipe game had gotten. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since his late wife and even then, he stayed off of her most of her pregnancy. Either way, as he’s thrusting his cock in and out of you, all he can think of is how forward you were with telling him about himself outside in the garden.
It’s not like he was a masochist or into degradation, but there was something about the way you were so bold and open in highlighting his flaws despite the satellite silence for well over a decade.
“How’s this for maturity, huh? For character building?” He grunts into your ear.
Okay, so maybe Miguel’s sex talk has gotten only a bit rustier, but with the way whimpering whines dribble from your lips, he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger like a promise string. He folds you into a deeper mating press, your feet cuddling his upper back and his body pressed against the warmth of your breasts.
“M-Miggy.” You moan into his collarbone.
The nickname causes an innate and deep annoyance to sprout from Miguel’s chest — so much so that he replies inadequately.
“Shut up.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he notices your stilling against his body and he immediately regrets his words. He however continues to fuck into you.
“S-sorry. I di-didn’t me—“
“Miggy.” You moan again, this time with even more intentional lust and immediately he knows what you’re doing.
“Don’t.”
His warning is solid, and inertly tinged with concern, because Miguel’s unsure how he’s supposed to look you in the eyes after this. You’re playing devious games, dangerous ones as you nail at his back.
“T-t-touch me, Miggy.”
Now, you’re really testing his patience but also his limits because Miguel is taking everything in him not to go all out.
And so he complies. Despite him knowing that it was going to rot at his brain for eons and eons to come, that he wasn’t going to be able to back away from this now that he’s had a taste, that he couldn’t go back to be being just Childhood Friends with you, he complies.
One of Miguel’s hands reaches down between the both of you and once he wedges it close enough, he allows his thumb to swipe at the meat of your swollen clit.
The mewl you let out is instant and makes Miguel’s dick hiccup inside of you and suddenly he’s seeing stars. Had you no concern for the party still very much going on? The possibility of someone hearing you? The issue of getting caught?!
A devious grin finds its way onto Miguel’s lips and he’s pressing wet open mouth kisses just below your earlobe.
“You’re so fucking dirty.” He breathes.
Quite frankly he’s lying through his teeth.
There is nothing about this experience or your request or your wanton reaction that was dirty. It was all in fact very sexy, lucrative. Hot. Miguel would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every wet second of it.
The man can’t help but look down and watch as he bounces his hips harder against your seeping cunt. White froth forms around the base of his dick and he can’t deny that the sight arouses him.
“Is this who you really are, huh? All this time…all this time.”
It’s implicit what he accuses that you’re so called hiding, as if you haven’t been transparent with him this whole time. A breathy laugh leaves your throat.
“You’re…pro-projecting.” You mutter.
All Miguel can moan in reply is:
“I know.”
It doesn’t take long after that before you’re cumming around Miguel’s dick and him into the wryly rubber of the condom.
“Where do we go from here?”
Miguel is first to speak.
The two of you have been chilling out in silence for the most of twenty minutes. He was kind enough to let you stay underneath his covers. You were comfortable as you used his bed as your own, scrolling through your phone with one hand underneath your head and your feet rubbing like cricket legs. There was enough room for both of you to lie under there but you said something about not wanting to touch him just after sex.
Miguel deadpanned and then proceeded to call you things like spoilt and bratty in Spanish, but he still let you have your way.
Now he was sat at the foot of his own bed (can you believe!), back against the wall as he idly played a game on his console.
His phone had been buzzing all day; Peter and Jess ultimately amusing themselves in the group chat all whilst occasionally asking where Miguel was and whether the social interactions of the barbecue had killed him yet. He could respond now, but he’s saving the reveal of what went down till after you’re out of his hair. That way he can fanboy in the peace of his own company.
But now that the two of you were silently sharing a space, Miguel is starting to wonder whether he wanted his own isolated company now so that he could think properly. It’s when he’s failed to complete a level for the fifth time in a row (because his minds occupied on you) that he decides to lower the controller and therefore ask you that question.
Your eyes continue to stay glued to your phone screen as you answer him.
“We don’t have to go anywhere.�� You mumble plainly. “Don’t have to put a name on anything.”
Miguel sighs loudly and he’s rubbing his face with both hands. His dramatics pass over you.
“Fuck, no, no. I’m not doing that. It’s either we are or wes isn’t. I haven’t got the capacity for any of that situationship, fuck buddies, friends with benefits bullshit people’ve got going on.”
Miguel is scared for himself once he says the words because it’s only after they tumble out his mouth that he realises they were kinda harsh — which, technically shouldn’t be a problem concerning that was this evening’s whole weird theme.
But he feels even more afraid because as stupid as it sounds, he can’t lose you. Another staple in his life. Despite him only reconnecting with you for the past few hours or so, Miguel has grown very attached to you and would be an idiot to deny that you meant a lot to him.
He couldn’t afford to lose you over one fuck.
Either way, Miguel doesn’t regret those words. They were a direct reflection of how he felt, of what he was thinking whilst he was fucking into you not even half an hour ago. He knows that this one canon event has caused a split trajectory for the both of you. Miguel thinks whatever happens after this is just another testament to how life continuously deals him rubbish cards but he can’t figure out what’s worst: having to let go of a possibly good thing or deal with the change that will now inevitably come with the relationship.
However you, clearly not as turmoiled as Miguel, slightly lower your phone screen from your face so that you could stare at the man.
“Then ‘wes isn’t’ anything then. Simple as.”
It was so obvious this was affecting Miguel internally because there’s that screw up face he does when he’s inadvertently tickled by something he’s heard. He use to do that a lot growing up.
“How can you be so calm about this?” He asks.
“Because it’s not that deep.” You shrug.
Now Miguel’s leaning closer to you, voice seeming to seethe but as a clear defence mechanism.
“Whaddyou mean it’s not that deep?!” He spits.
Because he’s acting like this, you now have to lock your phone and place it down onto the bed so that you can give him your utmost attention. You’re even thinking to back track your earlier words about him having matured. It was obvious that he was still that same young boy who sought to always get what he wanted.
In a weird sense, it was comforting.
“Not in that way, dummy.”
You force yourself to sit up against his headboard, the blanket sliding down to expose your naked chest.
“I didn’t see sex with you as casual, Miguel. It was definitely something. But I’m just… Mm. I don’t wanna say I’m not in a rush to label anything but, it’s you. Lil o’ Miggy from two doors down. There’s too much to us and who we are, how long we’ve known each other, how much we’ve experienced each other to let sex completely change that.”
You can tell he wasn’t expecting your words because his face falls and his eyes widen. He’s so unaware of his facial expressions that it’s cute.
With a huff of laughter you shake your head before slouching backwards even more. The way your eyes doll over him was surely a testament to your lack of will power when it came to him. Always has and always will be.
“I love you but in a much bigger way than just platonically or romantically or sexually. You mean a lot to me and I’m grateful we were able to have that experience to strengthen that.” You say softly.
Miguel finally closes his mouth. His eyes still bore holes into you but you can see his skin start to redden in the embarrassment from the chest upwards.
You’d figure it’d be a lot for him to take in. Granted — because hearing your childhood friend say they loved you in a much larger capacity than anyone ever could — despite having not seen each other in years, straight after sex, was definitely something. And you figure that part of it was you trying to express to him that you really were sorry, so you realise your triad can almost be viewed as borderline manipulative, but you wasn’t lying.
You loved the man in a bigger way than fathomably possible, and that was the truth.
Finally coming to his senses, Miguel leans back against his bedroom wall again, picks up his controller and resumes to play his game. Initially, you think he’s taken your words the wrong way and misunderstood you, but then he starts mumbling something as he’s watching the screen with a hard stare and blotchy crimson skin.
“That’s unfair.” He mumbles, the click of the controller working in between pauses. “You can’t tell me you love me whilst showing me your boobs. It’s cheating.”
And you laugh, because what else can you do? As hard-headed and brash as he was in his earlier days, this was who Miguel was. It’s the first version of him you ever fell in love with and didn’t stop loving. It’s the version you’re carpingly in love with now.
Lifting up a corner of the duvet, you give the man permission to join you in his own bed.
“Miggy, just get underneath the blanket and stop pouting at me.” You say, and he can’t but help instantly crawl over and dutifully comply.
#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#spiderman#across the spider verse#across the spider verse smut#atsv smut#atsv x reader#atsv x black reader smut#atsv x black reader#atsv
328 notes
·
View notes
Text
Today I ended up comin down with something so while sweating in bed I drew this based on this post (can’t find an original photographer or anything) that instantly made me think of Yuna holding a newborn Kraw (who had a different name given to him by her that I don’t think I wanna disclose just yet)
I also finally cleaned up this excerpt that’s been sitting in my notes for a scene like this. I’m putting it in the read below. It involves talk about miscarriages though so if that kind of thing is upsetting I hope you just enjoy the picture nonetheless.
Yuna found a single calf to be breathing among the small litter of underdeveloped fetuses.
She was used to this by now, though it had been many years since another attempt. She wasn’t expecting this litter in the least given the obvious anatomical differences between her and Sobehk, but she carried to term anyway. Long before this litter, she had grown accustomed to the idea of never having children of her own. Her body seemed to make that choice for her already many, many times.
She took a claw and gently cut through the umbilical cord and the partial amniotic sac still surrounding the calf. He wasn’t malformed or inside out, nor did he whimper or cry. His small fleshy body just lay there among the kelp, taking quick shallow breathes. A mess of black hair was slicked across his head. Yuna could see that he took a two legged, humanoid form like his father, though there were no down feathers or wings to be seen. The calf had gossamer fins and a fat paddle tail, like hers.
“What a waste.” She crooned, sniffing him. “You should have eaten your siblings in the womb. You might have been born stronger…I’ll have to get rid of them myself, later.”
Although he was breathing, she didn’t have much hope for him. Regardless, she would humor the idea that he would survive the night. She would humor the idea of being a parent, allowing him to nurse for the time being.
Afterwards, she scooped him up and curled into herself among the kelp, facing the pale shaft of moonlight coming in through an opening in the cave ceiling. She held the little calf against her face, keeping her hand around his small body and listening to his breaths. His heartbeat was no more than a flutter. She would continue to listen throughout the entire night.
“If you make it through the night, little one,” she murmured; “I will give you a name.”
#yuna#kraw#dragon#sea dragon#hallowed carrion#tw miscarriage#I read through it like 5 times I hope everything looks okay#I know I’m not the best writer shew#even less grammatically proficient
256 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tropetember 8
Law's Amnesia
Also check out my stories and headcanon masterlists
Law gets knocked out and gets - AMNESIA! But not the boring medical kind, the fun quirky kind of tropes. He shows the crew a different side as he forgets who he is and what hardships he had to endure
"Kind of sucks when your doc is the one who would need help..." Shachi mused as he and Bepo monitored Law's condition.
He got a massive hit in the head from Luffy - by accident, the other captain swore. Now he was out and sleeping it off.
Bepo put his paw on Law's forehead, patting his captain for comfort.
You've offered to take over so the others could get some sleep. Taking a book and some tea with you, you prepared for an uneventful night.
Law had a light bruise in his head but it didn't make him any less handsome. His face looked stern, even when he was unconscious. His fine features were heartbreaking as always and you allowed yourself to let your fingers trail down his cheek - only to check his temperature and general condition of course.
When you felt his groomed goatee under your fingers, he twitched lightly, making you jump.
He grimaced in pain and groaned, opening his eyes slowly and lifting his head.
"Law, you're awake!" You stated the obvious as you tried to keep him down. Of course, your captain had to wear a half open shirt and of course, you happened to touch his bare chest.
"You need to stay in bed or you'll get dizzy!" You warned him.
"What?" He asked, his eyes looking at you with a confused expression.
With soft force, you pressed him into the bed again, while his eyes were fixed on your face.
"Who are you? Where am I?" He asked, the softness and higher pitch of his voice sounded unfamiliar to you.
"Captain that's not funny, it's me, y/n" you still had to press him down, he was surprisingly strong for just waking up.
"Captain? Who?" He pushed against you and sat up, shaking his head.
"Wow, cool stuff!" He looked around his own medical bay as of he was seeing it for the first time.
"And who are you again?" He asked you, looking you up and down with open interest.
"Are you some kind of mechanic? Is that your tech stuff?" His voice sounded excited and light, absolutely not like his usual self.
As he moved to get out of the bed you pressed him back down with all your power and only succeeded because you surprised him with a jump.
"Whoa, babe, slow down!" He chuckled as you found yourself half on top of him, both hands on his chest.
"You uhm.. you need to lie down, you took a serious blow to the head" you explained with urgency.
"So you're like...my girlfriend?" His eyes beamed like a little boy's in a candy store.
"You're cute!" He said as he grabbed your shoulders and drew you into an embrace.
"CAPTAIN" you screamed, trying to wiggle out of an iron grip.
"Where?" Law let go and looked around.
You jumped down from the bed and caught your breath - he has lost his mind!
And he was already swinging his feet out of the bed, energetically looking around like a 5 year old on sugar.
"I have to see the rest of this thing!" He ran towards the door, and you couldn't hold him back. He was far stronger and faster than you, instead he grabbed your hand and dragged you with him through the door.
"Wow, where am I?" He asked.
"The polar tang - your ship!" You said as you tried to keep up with his long strides.
"My ship? And my girlfriend! I'm so lucky! Just the name of the ship is weird" He laughed. He dragged you down the corridor and to deck, where he stopped dead in his tracks.
"A bear!?" He looked at Bepo in disbelief. The white bear sat on deck and enjoyed some cool night air. As soon as he heard Law's comment, he blushed and stammered excuses.
"Ca...captain??? You are awake?" He eventually got a hold of himself.
Law approached his first mate really carefully.
"A talking bear!" He said.
"SORRY" Bepo bowed down.
"Hey whaaa...?" Bepo blushed until he became a fleshy pink.
As he bowed down, Law grabbed his ears and was squeezing them thoroughly while making "awww" sounds and giggling.
"What's going on here?" Shachi appeared in the door, looking shocked. "He isn't supposed to be up yet!"
"He just...I think he has amnesia!" You said.
"Amnesia?" Shachi rubbed his chin.
"Could be. In any case, you need to get back to bed Captain!" He said to Law.
"Who's this captain?" Law looked around and finally stopped molesting Bepo, who sank to his as a whimpering white mess.
"You are! And we need you! So please go back to bed, you need rest!" Now Shachi helped you to push Law back in the direction of sick Bay.
"Me? Captain? Wow, my life is awesome! I have a cute girlfriend, a ship AND a crew???" He looked like he could burst from happiness and excitement.
"...girlfriend?" Shachi asked.
"He kind of decided that I am his girlfriend" you answered, blushing.
Shachi seemed like he wanted to make a sassy comment when Law suddenly dug in his heels and stared at his reflection in one of the windows.
He studied the tattoos on his chest and hands and let his hands run through his hair.
"I...I..." he seemed overwhelmed, "I look like a crook! A gangster! A...a..." he seemed at a loss for words.
"A pirate?" You helped him.
"Yes! One of those! That would be awful!" He said it with such upstanding distaste that you and Shachi just had to exchange a glance to come to the same conclusion.
"Of course your not a pirate. You're a...fashion model!" You told him.
"Woah, really?" Law seemed to relax again - and become more docile.
"Yes and I am your girlfriend! Let's go to bed, it's late!" It still felt strange to talk to him that way, but he seemed to like what he heard and followed you like a lamb back to his sick bed.
"See? That wasn't so bad. Now you just have to lay down again so you can rest." You indicated the bed with your outstretched hand.
"It seems really small" Law said.
"It's big enough for you" You said.
"And you?" Law blushed.
"What about me?" He confused you now.
"I mean...since you are my girlfriend, you sleep in my bed" He grinned.
"Uhm..." You had to swallow and looked at Shachi for help. He grinned, to. That bastard.
"You two are so in love, you squeeze into a tiny bed" He chuckled maliciously and slowly walked out of the room.
"So romantic! I love cuddling. I think" Law was absolutely on board and threw himself into the cushions, his arms open to receive you.
"Uhm...why don't you go to sleep while I work some more?" You said.
"I am hurt and need rest. You said so yourself! I need you to sleep" Law stated like a kid that just outwitted a grown up.
"Fine." You awkwardly settled on the bed, when Law shook his head.
"Your boiler suit is dirty. You don't sleep with that" He indicated some oil stains on your suit.
You never wore more than underwear and a shirt under that thing. It could get hot. But he really needed to sleep, so you pulled down the zipper under Law's lusty gaze. When you finally slipped it from your shoulders, he commented with another "wow" as he stared at you with undeniable adoration.
He opened his arms again and tucked you into his side as soon as you settled on the bed. Immediately you noticed his cold, clammy hands.
"Law, you're so cold, are you hungry? Are you dizzy?" You asked.
"So...sleepy...with...girlfriend..." he rested his head on your shoulder as he pressed against you and seemed to pass out again. You waited until he breathed deeply and evenly and slipped out of his tight grip.
He looked relaxed and content as he slept and you resumed your watch over him.
-----
Yes, I'm pretty sure that head injuries don't work like that, but this is tropetember so Law has the right kind of Amnesia and will be fine xD I hope you enjoyed it
Taglist@yeeeeezly @waitingmydemons @stariski @livwritesfics @violetmatcha
#one piece fanfiction#one piece x you#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar law#trafalgar law x y/n#law x reader#law x y/n#amnesia#tropetember#tropes#amnesia trope
352 notes
·
View notes
Text
T | Children of Satan One-Shot | Day 3: Eucharist for @vamptember WARNING: depictions of torture, religious symbolism, implied sexual conduct
Santino visits Armand in the dungeons.
Impossible to know how much time had passed without even the rise and fall of the moon as a guide but he knew it must’ve been near time for his next victim. The hunger was growing terrible again — not just bodily anymore, it infected his mind. He struggled to distinguish sleep from wakefulness, couldn’t tell if he suffered dreams or memories or some amalgamation of both but the subject was always the same. One moment, he was lying in the dripping dungeon of that terrible Venician brothel, near death with fever, and the next he was in one of the grand Turkish establishments, being fawned over, massaged with oil, stroked and caressed till he was blind with pleasure. Then he woke again in the dirt cell, still feeling the warmth of their hands against his thighs.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, face to the dirt, grasping for the sensation when the chorus of shrill squeals finally registered to him. He rolled over and, sure enough, there was Santino, standing at the edge of the cell, with his hoard of rats like familiars streaking through the bars of the cell and over his bare feet.
“Blood.” His voice was raw with thirst but he knew already that Santino had brought him no victim. He would’ve smelled it.
“A thankless child always asks for more than he knows he deserves. The lowest of vermin know only to take what they are given but you, foulest creature of them all, would demand more,” Santino said. Armand could see he had something in his hands. He tore it, ripping from it a piece no larger than a coin, and cast it at Armand’s feet. The rats swarmed it, crawling over his ankles, tickling his soles with their whiskers so, wincing, he drew his knees to his chest.
They didn’t sicken him outright the way they might’ve a mortal but the sight of the hoard, the writhing mass of wire fur and fleshy tails, still left a terrible gnawing feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it wasn’t the rats so much as how closely he associated them with Santino.
“You dream of whores. You lay awake longing for earthly pleasures. Do you think we have not noticed?” Santino asked. He sounded almost saddened, a priest who had listened to the confession of a grievous sin. The rats parted seamlessly for him as he knelt. “God has transformed your body, taken from you the fleshly pleasure of lust, and yet still you lay in want — always in want — and so I have brought you what you want.”
It fell from Santino’s grip onto Armand’s chest, the thing he had been holding. It was a severed hand, lean with long fingers and trimmed nails, bloodless and white but still malleable, still fresh. Despite all the gore he had seen, had created in his desperation to rid his cell of the rotting bodies, he gasped. He grabbed it to throw it out of the cell, but Santino’s hand fell over his and pinned it there.
“This is what you dreamed of, is it not? The touch of your whores?”
“Get it away from me.”
“Tell me is this not what you asked for?”
“Get it off!”
And, to his surprise, Santino did. He lifted his hand off Armand’s chest and took the severed hand with it.
“She said she would please me, this woman, even looking as I am. The whore would defile herself for a creature such as me,” Santino lifted the hand to his mouth and let a finger, her ring finger, slide into his mouth in a gesture that seemed almost obscene. And then he bit down. Armand could hear the cracking of bone, the tear of her skin, his vampire sense spared him nothing. Santino plucked the finger from his mouth as though it were but an orange rind. “Did you take Holy Communion, child?”
Confused, stammering, Armand nodded, “Yes.”
“Then you know what to do.” He held the finger before Armand’s lips. “Take it.”
His eyes were bulging, wild, trapped between horror, amazement, and mortal confusion.
“Open but do not swallow. Even such a Eucharist would be wasted on you.” And when Armand still did not move, Santino tilted his head. “Would you rather I fit it elsewhere?”
Choking a sob, Armand opened his mouth and Santino, breathing a soft sigh, placed the finger on his tongue. It tasted of nothing, not blood, not sweat, perhaps faintly of the dirt from Santino’s hand, if anything at all, but the revulsion swelled in him all the same.
“Do you see, my son? To hold their flesh in your mouth, to see them devoured by rats, this is how you will take pleasure in whores now. Do you understand?”
Then, as if flicked by an invisible switch, they came, the rats, crawling up his tattered hose and shirt, his chin, his lips, his very gums. Armand choked a cry, tried to reel back, to bite down even and sever their little heads, but Santino held him, squeezing his fingers so viciously into Armand’s cheeks that he couldn’t.
He heard the snapping of their little jaws as they devoured the finger, their fangs scraping down to the bone. Their fleshy tails wiped his face and he felt their little tongues on his cheeks, licking away the blood tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling. It wasn’t just the revulsion — that alone he might’ve managed — but the indignity, the sheer cruelty of the act, he couldn’t bear it!
It seemed an eternity they were there before Santino released his face and the rats fled as if of one mind. Armand rolled to his side, gagging, spitting out the bones, the little hairs, the bits of grit their little paws had tracked into his mouth. He pushed himself up on his elbows and his body convulsed in retches. There was nothing in his stomach to vomit up and yet on he went retching until his body gave beneath him and he fell back to the dirt, panting and exhausted.
“Demon!” He heaved for breath and, once again, with all his might screamed, “Demon!”
“No, child. Nothing of the sort.” Oh, how saddened Santino seemed by this. He shook his head gently and laid his hand on Armand’s thigh. He tried feebly to kick him off but he had exhausted his strength. “You would still believe I take delight in this torture but I do not. Would that I could relieve you of this suffering… But what a disservice I would be doing to you. We learn, all of us, through pain. We grow into the beings that our Lord would us to be. No. For all the begging in the world, I would not deny you this.”
#this is your sign never to delete abandoned WIPs because they just might perfectly fit a vamptember prompt#but anyway idk if this is a character study or a drabble or what but im torturing armand again - enjoy!#vamptember#tvc#my fics#tumblr exclusive#also if you saw me cannibalize lines of this for other fics no you didn't i cant remember
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
we, the psychos
ch. 10
Word count: 2488 Warnings: nsfw A/N: sorry for taking so long, im in the hole again
Vince was almost there when the door of the closet opened. He turned around, thinking Nikki decided to help him – and instead saw Hudson looming in the doorframe.
“Wharton, again?!” He grimaced, pointedly staring at the wall. “Was the doctor not clear enough last time about your passion for fleshy pleasures?”
The orgasm, seconds ago so close, now was unbelievably far. Vince groaned in disappointment, sent Hudson a grim gaze.
“Could you come just a few seconds later?”
“And let you fall back into your corrupted behavior? Yeah, I don’t think so. Pull up your pants. We’re going to the doctor.”
Vince remembered the punishment he got last time he got caught masturbating and shuddered. The traces on his hands didn’t go away for good two weeks afterwards. And he was already pretty battered. Some more, and no one would bear looking at his ravaged flesh.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Slash gestured at the door impatiently. His other hand was lying on the doorknob, and light from the corridor lay in a stripe across his face and hair. Yeah, he was pretty handsome.
Vince made a resigned face, tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants, pulled them up and stepped towards the door. And then grabbed Hudson’s hand on top of the doorknob and forcefully pulled on it. The door closed with a loud bang, and it was dark again.
“What the f-“ Hudson pulled his hand out of Vince’s grip and jumped back, almost colliding with a wall. Vince didn’t try to stop him. He did keep his hand on the doorknob. “-uck?”
“Hey, man, calm down,” Vince began. “Let’s talk.”
“I have nothing to talk to you about.” Hudson stepped to the door, now standing mere inches away from Vince. And not that he was scared… but no one dared to tackle the infamous patient alone. “The doctor will hear about this. And if you don’t let me out right now…”
“Please, omit the threats. I have a suggestion.”
Hudson narrowed his eyes. “I don’t wanna know what it is.”
“Just listen.” Vince made a small step forward. The smallest of steps. Hudson didn’t back off, which was hopeful. “I bet it gets lonely in the nurses’ building.”
He could pull off a better starting line, but he had little time and just one attempt. One wrong word – and it’s over.
“You don’t get to go to town often, I bet,” Vince continued. “And I fucking bet Dr. Duren doesn’t let you invite ladies over.”
He smiled and put his hand on Hudson’s chest. Hudson looked at it like it was an exotic bug – disgusting and dangerous, but somewhat captivating - and didn’t shake it off.
The fish was on the hook.
“I don’t go that way,” he said stiffly.
“Oh, please,” Vince rolled his eyes. “Everyone says this until they spend a couple months in an all-male facility.”
“I’ve been here way more than a couple months,” Hudson reminded him.
“Yeah, and look how high-strung you are. Gotta relieve all that tension once in a while, you know?”
“And you’re offering to help.” Hudson concluded dryly.
“Exactly.” Vince poked him in the chest. “And you won’t tell Dr. Duren what I was doing here.”
Hudson’s face was grim, but Vince could feel his hastened breath, his tense muscles under the nurse coat. He was almost there. Just one little push.
Vince slowly drew his hand down Hudson’s torso and stopped it in the area of his abdomen. Then he shot a quick glance at him through his lashes and smiled as charmingly as he could, hoping that the darkness would obscure the missing left molar.
“Fuck,” Hudson exhaled, turning his head away- in shame, probably. “You better be good at it.”
Vince didn’t need a clearer invitation. He dropped on his knees, unbuttoned Hudson’s pants and pulled them down in one swift, experienced move. He heard interesting things about black men’s lengths. Hudson might be mixed, but maybe that heritage persevered?..
Yeah, no, the white side won. But that was even good. Won’t have to choke.
Hudson quietly gasped when Vince swallowed his whole cock at once. It was only half-hard, so it was not difficult. Vince licked the head, tasting salty precum, and smiled.
“Yeah, I can tell it’s been a while.”
“Shut up,” Hudson exhaled and thrusted his hips forward. Vince didn’t protest. They did have little time. His skills weren’t really required – it was just speed and depth that counted.
And quick and deep it was. Vince moved his head back and forth so quickly his lips went numb and his neck hurt. Hudson got braver and braver throughout the whole process: first he didn’t even dare touch Vince, then put a hand on his head and carefully guided it, and soon finally lost control, grabbed Vince by the hair and began violently thrusting forward, leaving Vince to just close his eyes, suppress his gag reflex (which still existed, no matter what haters said) and finally take care of himself.
Hudson was so occupied he didn’t even notice Vince pulled out his own cock and began stroking it. Hudson at the same time was nearing the end, and Vince helped him with his tongue a bit until he finally groaned, bent forward and came. Hot liquid went down Vince’s throat, but some still leaked in the corners of his mouth. While Hudson stood still, gathering his breath, Vince finished himself, and it was good he was already on his knees because the relief surely would have made them buckle.
Vince tapped on Hudson’s thigh for attention, showed him his sperm-covered hand and slowly licked it.
“You are so fucking sick,” Hudson murmured, ashamedly pulling up his pants and tucking his dick in.
“And you like it,” Vince grinned. Hudson could act all disgusted and untouchable as he wanted – Vince heard him whimper like a bitch just a couple minutes ago, and they both would never forget it.
“Get up,” Hudson tried to speak harshly, but the tremble of a recent orgasm was still hiding in the undertone of his voice. “We’ve wasted too much time already. Ew, not on the robe!”
Vince continued wiping his sperm off his fingers on the hospital robe even more thoroughly, ignoring numerous rags in various stages of decay kept in the closet. Hudson winced and turned away.
When Vince tried to get up, his legs didn’t like the sudden change of position, and he almost fell onto a cabinet full of cracked dishes (why were they even keeping it?) were it not for Hudson who caught him by the sleeve.
“You want the whole asylum to hear?” he hissed, pulling Vince upright.
“Hey, I’d look at you go after kneeling for so long!” Vince protested. His legs felt like they were pierced by a thousand needles, making him grimace. But Hudson didn’t notice – or didn’t care – and dragged him out of the closet and into the hall. Then he made Vince hobble in front of him the whole way to the canteen, occasionally prodding him in the back to speed him up.
Right at the door Vince, ignoring a yet another prod, stopped and turned to Hudson.
“You remember our deal? No one says anything.”
“I do,” Hudson said through his teeth. “Go in already!”
Nikki was there alone, lazily wiping a table. His expression turned from boredom to a poorly concealed gloating, and Vince realised why Hudson came to the closet so untimely.
Oh, Nikki is gonna pay for this.
***
Mick watched Simmons escort Tommy away with a mixed feeling. He knew, of course, that Tommy wasn’t gonna see the doctor. He felt sorry for the guy, so young and clueless and naïve, torn out of his environment and thrown into a completely different one where everyone wanted to eat him and crack open his bones. But also Tommy was rather obnoxious with his “I’m too noble for this” attitude and unwillingness to work. Simmons sure was gonna show him that once you were here, it didn’t matter anymore. Especially considering they had cut Tommy some slack already, his fancy room and all.
While waiting for Nikki Mick crouched behind the bush and began picking up brown leaves off the ground and stringing them on the twigs of the bush, creating a nice little curtain behind which he couldn’t be seen. And there were no leaves on the ground anymore at the end, so he was cleaning, wasn’t he?
Voices of other patients blended in together at the distance, creating a nice little background hum that was as familiar to Mick as the sun rising every day. He always took the position a little bit away from the crowd, observing from the distance. For a while already there were no signs of anything, which was comforting, even if just for a little bit. Routine and stability were a good thing. Change – not so much.
Then he heard a voice he knew too well, and his chest released the tension it was holding. It was Nikki’s voice, which meant he finished his canteen shift without issues. Mick peered from behind the bush and saw Michael point in his direction and Nikki head towards his bush with a springy step, waving the shovel in his hand back and forth. He looked… energized, which Mick hadn’t seen since Wharton dumped him. And it could only mean one thing.
“Don’t tell me you got back with him,” Mick said sharply when Nikki crouched next to him. “Don’t fucking tell me.”
Nikki’s face fell a bit.
“How could you tell?”
“You’re excited for the first time in weeks.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Nikki tried to make an innocent face. It was not very convincing.
“It wouldn’t be if I didn’t know the last time you were that excited was when you were hooking up with Wharton.”
Nikki sighed, looked away. “Why do you even notice these things? Don’t you have other things to do?”
“That’s what I do. Observe,” Mick said. “So. Who initiated it?”
“He did.”
“I fucking knew it.” Mick rubbed his eyes. “You see? He comes back to you when his balls get a little too full. Once they are empty he’ll dump you again.”
“Well,” Nikki suddenly grinned slyly, “I hope I did teach him a lesson that dumping me is a bad idea.”
Mick blinked in confusion, then in horror. “A lesson? God, what did you do?”
“Let’s just say… I showed him how it feels to be used.”
No amount of further questioning could get anything except mysterious smiles out of Nikki. Mick had a very bad feeling about this. Whatever revenge Nikki enacted, Wharton would never let it go unpunished.
Wharton, by the way. Where was he?
Mick had to change his position and hide behind another bush (this one, unfortunately, without a leaf curtain) to see Wharton. He was in the middle of the patient crowd, respectfully given space of about ten feet in a circle around him, scooping leaves from the ground one by one with his shovel and slowly, distractedly pile them up in a heap next to himself. Hudson watched him with an understandably sour face.
The sheer fact that Wharton worked at all was already strange. He would usually leave the peasants to it and set to rest somewhere under a tree, harass a good-looking patient, or, as of late, hide in the bushes with Nikki. The nurses knew better than to force him to work. Yet today he obliged. Was that the effect of Nikki’s revenge?
Oh god, this was gonna be bad. Very bad.
“Whatcha looking at?” Nikki followed him to the bush. “Ogling Vince, huh? I mean, he’s not in his best shape but there’s still a lot to look at-“
“He doesn’t look happy at your reunion,” Mick interrupted him.
“Oh, he’s just pissed at learning my lesson. He’ll get over it when, as you said, his balls fill up.”
Mick rolled his eyes. When Nikki was in this mood, it was impossible to make him treat something seriously, just as during his depressive episodes it was impossible to convince him to take things more lightly. His manic depression completely erased his middle ground; he was only capable of extremes.
Eventually they were shooed away from the bush closer to the patient crowd because McKagan couldn’t keep an eye on them and other patients at the same time. Wharton didn’t try to confront Nikki; he scarcely spared him a look. Before the canteen duty today Mick would rejoice. Now he only grew warier.
And so time passed until lunch, when they were gathered into pairs and ushered to the canteen. Wharton walked in the very back alone, at a sizeable distance from the rest. Mick saw him pull Hudson by the arm and say something to him with a sleazy smile, to which Hudson responded with a shove in the side that didn’t seem to discourage Wharton in any way whatsoever. Hudson must have lost a draw among nurses on who would herd Wharton today, now that he was finally out of the padded cell. Mick felt sorry for him. For Hudson, of course.
Tommy didn’t show up at lunch, which was slightly concerning – Simmons certainly hadn’t arranged a meeting with the doctor for him, but Mick hoped his special status would have helped him get away with it relatively unscathed. But that was not what worried him the most.
And he turned out to be right in his worry. Because just as lunch began, Wharton got up from the table, came up to Nikki and dumped a whole plate of soup over his head. Thankfully, the soup had already gone cold, but Nikki was still unpleasantly surprised. He shook his head, sending carrot and potato pieces flying, and dumped his own plate on Wharton.
Then the two, wet and greasy, began rolling on the floor trying to choke each other. Mick couldn’t break up the fight even if he wanted to because of his back, and while nurses were gathering their wits to intervene Nikki caught one in the eye and Wharton lost some of his hair. Then the nurses dragged them away from each other, and the only thing they had left was sending each other angry gazes.
The nurses took them right to Dr. Duren, and everyone continued eating as if nothing had happened. Under Duren, who harshly punished violence of any kind, fights were rarer but not unheard of. But Nikki and Wharton never fought before, even though their relationship was rather turbulent. Did it mean the end of it? Mick sure hoped so. If a cold plate of soup dumped on him couldn’t bring Nikki back to his senses and make him cut all ties with the bastard, nothing could.
Mick sighed, shook off a carrot that had landed on his sleeve and got down to his soup.
#motley crue#nikki sixx#motley crue fanfiction#tommy lee#vince neil#my writing#mick mars#guns n roses#slash#motley crue fanfic#asylum au#we the psychos#wrote this in between all those damn assignments i have to do#still have a couple to finish but i dedicated today to finishing the chapter because i've really been too slow with it#mick is just tired of everyone's bullshit
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
5 Times E-123 Omega Denied That He Cared + the 1 time he admitted it
3309 words
1.
His two fleshy teammates came stumbling in from their sleeping quarters. Rouge yawned. Shadow rubbed his eyes. Omega registered the lingering limp in his step from the injury he sustained from the prior mission, even if his epidermis had healed.
“BREAKFAST IS READY.”
“Smells good.” Shadow remarked.
“Yeah, got me out of bed! It can’t be just the normal.”
Omega placed the two plates in front of the barstools. They sat down in front of the correct plates. They were evidently awake enough to tell which one belonged to them.
“Is it butter or margarine?” Shadow asked as he looked down to his toast.
“MARGARINE. YOU STATED YOUR PREFERENCE TWO MONTHS AND THIRTEEN DAYS AGO.”
“Thanks.”
“This is lavish!” Rouge cut into her crepe with her fork. “I think we know who he likes more.”
“NEGATIVE. SHADOW HAS EXPRESSED A DISTASTE FOR COMPLEX OR SUGARY BREAKFAST FOODS. YOU, IN CONTRAST, HAVE EXPRESSED A DESIRE FOR STRAWBERRY CREPES TWO PRIOR TIMES I HAVE PRODUCED BREAKFAST FOR YOU.”
“Aww, well it’s sweet that you remembered.”
“Why?” Shadow asked.
“DEFINE.”
“I told you I’m fine. The injury’s already healed.” A lie. “And I told you not to feel guilty about it.”
“NOTE THAT I HAVE SERVED ROUGE A SIMILARLY-CATERED MEAL.”
“I agree with Mr. Broody over here- why bother?”
“WOULD YOU LIKE ORANGE JUICE, SHADOW?”
Shadow stared at him for four and a half seconds, before responding, “yes.”
Omega turned back to the fridge. He retrieved the fresh carton of orange juice from the shelf, bought in anticipation of Shadow’s preference, which he had noted in his memory banks twenty-six days ago. He poured a glass and set it beside the plate.
He turned to Rouge. “WILL YOU BE MAKING YOURSELF TEA?”
“Yeah, after I’m done. But I bet you already guessed that, didn’t you?”
Omega had indeed estimated that preference. That did not explain how she had accurately guessed that he had.
“Is it because you care?” She asked.
“NEGATIVE.”
Shadow gave a snicker.
“IT IS MERELY EASIER TO DEAL WITH YOU MEATBAGS WHEN YOU ARE WELL-FED.” He elaborated.
2.
Omega had retrieved the mail today.
Omega had retrieved the Eggman package from the mailbox today.
He had scanned it for any threats. It contained no explosives, poisons, or tracking devices. He did not rip the package to shreds. He did not incinerate it with his flame throwers. He did not explode it with his missiles. He did not shoot it with his guns. He barely even crinkled the exterior packaging as he carried it back up to the apartment.
He stared at the mustached red logo from across the living room and simulated all the ways he could remove it from existence. After thirty minutes, the door to the apartment opened. Shadow and Rouge entered carrying bags containing clothing. Omega did not spare them a longer look and returned his focus to simulating the impending demise of the package.
“What’s the matter, Omega?” Rouge asked.
Omega would have pointed to the package if he was sure he could avoid engaging his targeting protocols. Instead, he kept his hands down by his sides. “SHADOW. YOU HAVE RECEIVED A PACKAGE.”
Shadow scanned the room, before finding the package on the kitchen countertop. He dropped his clothing bags and ran over to it. Tearing the tape off the packaging, he revealed an aged blue ribbon. Further scanning revealed organic residue on this ribbon- a single strand of blond hair. Shadow cradled the fabric against his chest.
“NOW THAT YOU HAVE RETRIEVED THE OBJECT OF NOTE, GIVE ME THE PACKAGING SO THAT I MAY REMOVE THE WRETCHED LOGO FROM MY SIGHT.”
“I told him not to make it obvious.” Shadow said. “I’m sorry.”
“GIVE ME THE PACKAGING SO I MAY TAKE OUT MY RAGE UPON IT.”
Rouge set down her bags and grabbed the packaging from Shadow. She felt along its edges before holding it out to Omega. Within three tenths of a second he had snatched it from her grasp. In the half a second that followed, he drew his flamethrower, calibrated his aim, and incinerated the brightly-colored plastic, turning it into a melted pulp. He then tore the pulp to approximately 156 tiny shreds before opening the living room window and depositing the refuse outside.
Omega turned around again to see Shadow staring at him. He was clutching the ribbon tightly in his fist.
“YOU ARE VERY FORTUNATE I DID NOT IMMEDIATELY DESTROY YOUR PACKAGE.” Omega stated.
Shadow unclenched his hand. “I suspect that the doctor was counting on it.”
“WILL YOU ENGAGE IN FURTHER CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIM?”
“This will not happen again.”
“GOOD.”
“Why didn’t you destroy it, then? Why would you care?”
“I DO NOT CARE!” Omega slammed his hand on the couch. “I WAS MERELY HUMORING YOU.”
3.
“They’re crocodile tears, big boy. No offense to any crocodiles, of course. I’m crying on purpose to give the look that I,” Rouge sniffed and wiped her face, “that I was wrongly accused.”
“NOTED.”
“Now come o-on, let’s get inside.”
Omega unlocked the apartment and held the door for her. Rouge walked straight to the couch and sat down. She covered her face in her hands.
“Give me a moment to stop this and I’ll be right as rain.”
“SHALL I DEPOSIT THE DIAMOND NECKLACE TO YOUR COLLECTION?” Omega shut the door.
“I don’t ha-have it. GUN gave it back to get me out.”
“I COULD HAVE RETRIEVED YOU FROM YOUR CELL MYSELF.”
“That’s called escape from lawful custody, and that’s a felony.” Rouge smiled as another tear rolled down her face. “I ap-appreciate it though.”
“REGARDLESS: YOU HAVE BEEN FREED. CEASE YOUR STRESS REACTION.”
“I told you, I told you, I’m working on it. Give me a moment.”
Omega walked to the kitchen and stood in his usual place next to the refrigerator. Rouge took breaths that were continually interrupted by her sobs. She wiped her eyes and nose with her glove. Omega scanned for the nearest box of tissues and located one within the bathroom. He moved to retrieve it.
“Omega?”
“RESPONDING.”
“Don’t go?”
Her voice was the most delicate he had ever recorded from her. He turned around and entered the living room, crossing in front of the couch where she sat. She did not say anything more for another three minutes and twenty-two seconds.
“Sorry. Forgot what I was going to say.” She gave a smile that was too wide. “You can go now, stud.”
Omega stepped to the side of the coffee table and relaxed his hip joints, sending him to the ground. She flinched only marginally at the noise.
“Bastard. It’s nothing. Seriously, it’s nothing.”
Omega constructed many humorous or insulting responses in his processor, but deemed that silence would most adequately communicate his doubt.
After one minute and fifteen seconds, she mixed laughter into her sobbing. “O-okay, maybe it’s not nothing.”
“OBVIOUSLY.”
“Don’t tell Shadow.”
“GUN WILL NO DOUBT INFORM SHADOW OF THIS INCIDENT WITH THE INTENT THAT HE WILL, QUOTE, ‘KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW’ IN THE FUTURE.”
“You don’t know that.”
“GUN INFORMED ME OF THIS INCIDENT WITH THE INTENT THAT I WILL, QUOTE, ‘KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW’ IN THE FUTURE.”
“Oh.”
“I DO NOT INTEND TO FULFILL THIS INTENT.”
“Thanks-”
“BUT DO NOT GET CAUGHT AGAIN.”
Rouge curled her fists. “I don’t even know what went wrong this time, though! I’ve done this sort of shit thousands of times- how could I fuck it up this bad?”
“WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO RUN AN ANALYSIS?”
“Yeah, since I’m clearly so incompetent. . .”
Omega paused his recall of the previous mission. He instead ran an analysis on her previous statement. Verbally, she assented, but tonally, it was apparent that she did not actually wish to receive a breakdown of her failure right now.
“YOU ARE NOT INCOMPETENT.”
“If I just botched a simple palming, then yes, I am.” She snapped. "Analyze it again."
“ONE FAILURE DOES NOT MAKE YOU INCOMPETENT.”
“But-”
“I DO NOT WORK WITH INCOMPETENT TEAMMATES.”
Rouge sighed. She stared at her palms. She stayed in this position until no new tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Why’d you stay?” She asked.
An illogical question. “YOU ASKED THAT I NOT LEAVE.”
“Well, sure, but you didn’t have to.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. I DID NOT HAVE TO.”
“. . . thanks, then. For caring.”
“IRRELEVANT.” Omega said. “DO YOU REQUIRE FACIAL TISSUES TO AVOID STAINING YOUR CLOTHES AND OUR FURNITURE?”
“How about a cold rag? So that way Shadow doesn’t have to see me like this.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. RETRIEVING NOW.”
4.
Today was a good day.
Omega’s miniguns were like how meatbags described a symphony; perfect, thunderous, precise. Badniks crumpled beneath his hail of bullets as flashing scarlet light bathed the base. Omega’s targeting protocols coursed the same blood red over the still-moving machines and faded to orange over the ones he destroyed, guiding him from attraction to attraction in a seamless flow.
Today was a glorious day.
Omega’s comm crackled to life. “Status update: the scouting detachment has been destroyed and the Emerald retrieved. I am en route to your location, over.”
“ACKNOWLEDGED, SHADOW.”
Omega whirled around only to find the soft hum of orange former-targets. He took a sixth of a second to capture the image of the charred, shattered metal components and saved it to a folder in his memory banks titled “TO REVIEW ON ‘RAINY DAYS’”.
Scanning showed more targets assembling in the next room. Omega reloaded his weapons, swapped to his missile launchers, and approached the door. The strobing alarms blurred some of his targeting reticles as they formed. The effect was irritating, but well within his ability to compensate. Shadow would arrive, and. . .
He paused.
He switched to his semi-automatic wrist cannons, and shot out the pulsing light. He retraced his steps through the path of destruction he’d carved so far through the facility, identifying the wall panels the alarms were attached to and shattering them beyond repair until he reached the front entrance. He eliminated every strobing light within range on the exterior of the building for good measure.
He then activated his rocket thrusters and charged back in to resume his assault. He switched to his missile launchers and blew the offending door down; beyond, a swarm of spider Badniks clung to the walls. What a fortunate coincidence that three hung next to the irritating alarm!
By the time Shadow rejoined him, he had cleared through the entire base and secured the central hard drive before it could erase itself. Shadow inserted the flash drive, and Rouge, from her remote connection, began extracting the data. After the extraction was complete, he retrieved the drive.
“PERMISSION TO DECIMATE THE LAST OF THE INFERIOR EGGMAN TECHNOLOGY?” Omega flexed his claws.
Shadow smirked. “Go ahead.”
Omega shattered the screen with his fist, and tore through the cabinet until all that remained was a tangled mess of wires. Shadow drifted amongst the rest of the wreckage. He kicked around a loose chunk of metal plating across the floor. He stopped and stared up at the walls.
“You destroyed the alarms.”
“AFFIRMATIVE.”
“. . . thank you.”
“WHY ARE YOU EXPRESSING GRATITUDE?”
“I did not expect you to have such care.”
“THE ACTION WAS FOR EFFICIENCY’S SAKE.”
“Of course.” Shadow looked away. “Let’s go.”
5.
The data cascaded down the screen of the isolated computer system as the intelligence officer worked to crack the encryption. Rouge tapped her hands against her hips. Shadow leaned against the nearby pillar. Omega watched them. He considered startling the information officer for entertainment, but the process was already taking ‘forever’, so he decided against an interruption.
The intelligence officer turned around.
“What’s the deal?” Rouge asked.
“This is information on some sort of weapons initiative Robotnik might be pursuing. The data looks new enough to be relevant.”
“MOVE.”
Omega pushed the intelligence officer aside and searched the top of the file for its metadata. The line was a jumbled mess of words and numbers, but a pattern soon emerged, and Omega was able to correct the corrupted letter that had thrown off the rest of the line. This revealed the date of creation to be two weeks and three days ago.
“Didn’t know you were good with computers.” Shadow said.
Omega turned his head and stared at him. Rouge laughed.
Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind.”
“In that case,” The intelligence officer interrupted, “this information is very bad news.”
“NEGATIVE. THE DATA CONTAINS COORDINATES TO A TOP-SECRET EGGMAN LOCATION AND SUGGESTS THAT HE MAY RESPOND PERSONALLY TO AN ATTACK UPON IT. THIS IS GOOD NEWS.” Omega glanced back to the screen. The officer opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “HOWEVER, THERE WILL BE TOXIC CONTAMINANTS AT THE LOCATION.”
“Toxic contaminants? Don’t tell me Robotnik’s investing in chemical weapons.” Rouge said.
“He’s looking into weaponizing the hazardous waste from his manufacturing processes, from what I can gather.” The intelligence officer said.
“Then we should destroy this location as soon as possible. We can’t let him think he can get away with this.” Shadow stepped forward.
“Why now?” Rouge asked. “There’s a reason he usually doesn’t bother with this sort of weaponry, and that’s because any particularly strong breeze tends to throw it off. It’s useless against people with any sort of respectable top speed.”
“It could be to target civilians.” The intelligence officer said.
“Which is why it’s all the more important that we handle this now. How soon can we be deployed?” Shadow asked.
“I can have the report written by tonight. The commander ought to approve it quickly. A couple of days?”
“ADDITIONAL TIME MAY BE NEEDED TO HAVE ROUGE AND SHADOW FITTED FOR PERSONAL PROTECTIVE EQUIPMENT.”
Rouge gave an awkward smile. “What?”
“PERSONAL PROTECTIVE EQUIPMENT. I.E. RESPIRATORS AND GOGGLES, TO SHIELD YOUR EXTERNAL ORIFICES FROM CONTAMINATION.” Omega pointed at her face.
“That’s very sweet of you to think of it, but it’s not going to be a problem. I can outfly any poison cloud.”
“And I’m the Ultimate Lifeform. I’m immune to poison and disease.” Shadow said.
“YOUR SUSCEPTIBILITY TO ANESTHESIA SUGGESTS OTHERW-”
“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“I URGE YOU TO RECONSIDER.”
“We’ll be okay. We appreciate your concern- it shows that you care.” Rouge winked.
“I AM MERELY INVESTED IN THE OUTCOME OF THIS MISSION.” Omega snapped. “IF EGGMAN IS PRESENT, I WILL NOT BE DISTRACTED!”
“Of course not. He’s all yours, big boy.”
And the 1 time he admitted it:
The only movement in the apartment was from a singular buzzing insect that had trespassed upon the property four hours ago while Omega had held the door open. Now he tracked it with an intensity that caused his targeting to suggest marking it.
What pressed heavier into his awareness, however, was the absence of all other noise. There were no footsteps. Shadow did not pace in his room. There was no music from Rouge’s bookshelf speakers to which her voice did not croon along. The toilet did not flush and the microwave did not hum. The silence was “deafening”; Omega could understand the oft-used expression now.
He stood. He walked down the hall and knocked on the bedroom doors. Shadow opened his first. Rouge’s footsteps approached the door, but she paused for thirty-six seconds before she grabbed the knob.
“TEAM MEETING.” Omega declared.
They followed him, wordlessly, to the living room. He pointed to the couch. They sat down. Backs against the backrest. Both feet on the ground. Hands neatly folded in their laps, still and silent.
“I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT YOU ARE AVOIDING ME.”
“We just figured you’d need some space after. . .” Rouge’s usual smile faded. “After the mission.”
“We needed to recover from the physical effects of the device.” Shadow replied.
“YOUR STATUS?”
“I’ve still got a headache.” Rouge replied. “You?”
“I’m fine.”
Their lips ceased moving and their breathing lost tone. Shadow stared at the floorboards below Omega’s feet. Rouge held eye contact for forty-three seconds before she averted to a wall panel just left of his head.
“CEASE THIS. RETURN TO YOUR USUAL STATES.” Omega said. “WHY ARE YOU ACTING THIS WAY?”
“. . . you aren’t mad at us?” Rouge asked.
“Even after our failure?”
“YOU ARE REFERRING TO YOUR INCAPACITATION BY EGGMAN’S DEVICE.”
“Yes.”
“YOU ARE ORGANIC. THE SUBSTANCE RELEASED WAS TOXIC. YOUR BIOLOGY HAD NO DEFENSE.”
“I’m sorry. We’re sorry.” Rouge said.
“YOU CANNOT HELP YOUR ORGANIC MAKEUP.” Omega leaned forward. “THAT IS WHY YOU ARE TEAMMATES WITH THE ULTIMATE ROBOT.”
“We failed you.” Shadow hissed.
“NEGATIVE.”
“Eggman got away because of us.”
“Don’t remind him. If he wants to forget about it, don’t stop him.” Rouge nudged him with her elbow.
“I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. BELIEVE ME, I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN.”
Rouge and Shadow grew still again.
“I RAGE AT THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THE WRETCHED DOCTOR HAS ONCE MORE ESCAPED MY GRASP.”
“So why didn’t you take the shot?” Shadow asked.
“FURTHER EXPOSURE TO THE POISON WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU BOTH.”
“So?” Shadow stood from his seat. “You could have fulfilled your mission.”
“THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM AND THE ULTIMATE THIEF ARE TOO VALUABLE OF ASSETS TO LOSE.”
“You wouldn’t need us as assets if you had not thrown away your chance!”
“DO NOT MISTAKE MY DECISION FOR A SUDDEN ‘CHANGE OF HEART’. IN OUR NEXT ENCOUNTER, I WILL SLAUGHTER EGGMAN WHERE HE STANDS!”
“And what if the same thing happens again?"
“WOULD YOU PREFER TO BE DECEASED? ADDENDUM: SHADOW, DO NOT ANSWER THAT QUERY. I WILL NOT ENCOURAGE YOUR SUICIDAL IDEATION. ROUGE, PROVIDE A RESPONSE.”
“No. We’re grateful to be alive, of course.” Rouge replied. “But-”
“Quit dodging the question! Why didn’t you take the shot?!” Shadow jabbed his finger into Omega’s chestplate.
Omega stepped back, and paused.
The decision to evacuate Rouge and Shadow from the cloud of poison took three seconds to reconcile. The window of vulnerability created by the Eggmobile’s exposed inner workings lasted twenty seconds beyond that. Targeting it would have taken five seconds. Firing would have taken ten more. A fifteen-second increase in exposure to the poison would have caused Rouge fatal nerve damage and Shadow permanent injury. Firing from within the poison cloud would have ignited the vapor, causing a flashover.
Omega constructed a simulation from the data and cycled it continuously. Even in circumstances with slightly cheated variables- eliminating the three seconds it had taken him to process the decision, for instance -there was simply no other course of action that was physically achievable during the timespan other than the retrieval of his teammates. The shot would have been guaranteed only if Omega had immediately switched to targeting and-
And. . .
He ceased the simulations. He refocused on the two organics in front of him. Shadow was seated again, but his heart rate had increased by twenty beats per minute. Rouge’s was continuing to rise as the seconds passed. Movement had returned to their bodies, but only in that Shadow’s hands shook as he clasped them together and Rouge squirmed against the couch cushions.
“I WOULD PERFORM AN IDENTICAL RESPONSE.” Omega stated.
Shadow’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“I WOULD PERFORM AN IDENTICAL RESPONSE. FIVE MINUTES AND THIRTY-ONE SECONDS AGO, YOU ASKED ‘WHAT IF THE SAME THING HAPPENS AGAIN?’. THAT IS MY ANSWER.”
"I don't understand. You've made it clear in the past that you're willing to leave us behind if it means accomplishing your objective."
"Yeah. Why didn't you?" Rouge asked.
Omega recalled every instance that he had spoken such an assertion. The viewing of these in his memory banks, however, also recalled another recurring phrase.
“Is it because you care?”
“Why would you care?”
“Thanks, then. For caring.”
“I did not expect you to have so much care.”
“It shows that you care.”
And he constructed the only conclusion he could.
“A VARIABLE HAS CHANGED.”
“And what’s that?”
“. . . I CARE.”
#fanfiction#sth#team dark#e-123 omega#e123 omega#rouge the bat#shadow the hedgehog#mentions of sui ideation#Omega-centric!#forgive my overly sentimental soul#but your honor this robot has FOUND HIS FAMILY
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
I love it and I hate it at the same time.
Douma x fem!reader
Third person POV.
Tags/warnings: Doubt, self directed anger, light manipulation?, gore, anxiety, mentions of suggestive themes, mention of religion and cults.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word count: 1,751.
The moon felt like the only comforting thing in the moment. Sitting there, alone, she felt somewhat at peace. Or was she? It’s so easy to put on a façade. To mask what’s hidden under this fleshy body. She’s always found it particularly easy, however, it feels as if she was about to explode. She can feel the rising tide readying itself to overflow and break down her walls. All the while she’ll just sit there and watch as her world crashes and burns. Though, deep down she knows that’s already begun.
She wanted to cast herself away from here. Away from everyone and everything. Especially him. Those mesmerizing colorful eyes, the platinum hair, and his smile. His smile was alluring no matter the intent. He was like an aphrodisiac. She couldn’t get enough of him. Her mind screamed at her every time he drew her in with his words. A double-edged sword they were. Voice dripping like honey but laced with a toxin that deteriorated your mind and body. Until there was nothing left but a pile of blood and bone.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her hand came to rest over the pulse in her neck. The vitality pumped rapidly through her vessels, and yet she claimed to be calm. She chuckled to herself. She’s foolish. She has all the evidence, all the reason before her and she still can't bring herself to hate him. She can almost feel him now. A ghostly touch ran up and down her arm. The pads of his fingers feel every imperfection as her skin turns to gooseflesh. His hot breath in her ear and that damn smile covering his face. His other hand rested on her lower back, nails digging into her skin. Trickles of blood leaking out from the punctures. Those scars are still there.
Despite it all, she doesn’t understand how she didn’t see it before. How the others didn’t see it before, and most still don’t. They walk around believing that they're worshiping a God. Bending to his every need and not knowing they're standing at death’s door. Calling it paradise and the best thing that’s ever happened to them. That he was the best thing that ever happened to them. To think she used to believe those same ideologies, it almost made her laugh. She must still believe to some extent, right? Or else she would’ve left years ago. Something kept her weighed down here and it infuriated her to no end.
She can still remember that night. It’s burned into her brain like hot branding a horse. She was prone to restlessness and that night was one of those times. She roamed the halls hoping to tire herself out, but instead, she heard screaming. The agony of a dying animal. It was too much to bear. She ran towards the woman’s cries, and she wished she never did. To this day she is constantly reminded of her mistake. One that should’ve cost her, her limbs and life. When she reached the source all she saw was red. The dark red substance leaked from the darkness. Sticky and damp. It coated everything in sight, and it took all her willpower not to retch right then and there. She covered her nose and mouth as the girl continued screaming. Their eyes locked for a moment before the girls lost their light. The snapping of bones and tendons sounded, and she watched as he draped parts of her skin over his arm. Picking through and devouring certain parts before finishing off the rest.
Her feet felt like stone even though her mind screamed at her to move. Even as his head turned, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
“I know you’re there and I know who you are.”
Those words were all she needed to hear before the weight magically lifted and she took off down the hall. She remembers slamming her door shut. Throwing herself under her futon covers and then nothing. She didn’t speak of that night to anyone. Not even him and he never said anything to her. She supposed he was waiting. Like a predator stalking its prey. Waiting for her to slip up and spread the word that he was a demon before dragging her into oblivion. She was not about to run her mouth. Not if it meant her life.
After all of that she still never tried to leave. She found herself fascinated with him, no matter how many times she tried to will away those thoughts. She was aware she shouldn’t feel those things, but they were persistent. She was at war with herself.
Sighing, she stared longingly at the tree line. Light snow falling and dusting the ground in white. The door behind her slid open and light footfalls came to a halt behind her.
“My apologizes for intruding,” the woman behind her whispered, bowing. “Lord Douma wishes to see you.”
Her body is still rigid, her expression unwavering. “Thank you, I’ll be there soon.”
She can feel the woman’s eyes boring into the back of her head. “Please make haste,” she leaned closer. “He does not wish to wait.”
She grits her teeth, turning her head slightly to look at her face. The woman looks a little shaken, but she can still see the traces of adoration in her eyes. No doubt from being in his presence. She nods her head to the girl and watches as she retreats. The door shuts with a small click in place.
Maybe it’s finally her time. To feel the bones, break in her body as her screams fill the building. As teeth met flesh and tears. Blood squirting from her exposed veins. Spraying onto the tatami floor and walls. To hear the ripping and crunching of her mortal body as it’s consumed. A smile graces her face, her breath shaky. She can feel the fear flowing throughout her body, and yet excitement mixes in an intoxicating dance. Her heart rate picks up, and she can’t help but love it. Revealing in it no matter how much she resists it. How much she resists him and the firing of her nerves when he looks upon her. She hates it.
The floor creaks under her weight as she stands. Each step through the fusuma door made the clenching in her stomach tighten. The hall only seemed to grow darker the farther she walked. The quiet sounds of the other's sleeping bodies reached her ears as she passed their rooms and arrived at his. The handle felt ice cold as she rested her hand on it, pausing. Her jaw was still slightly clenched. The teeth grinding together as an ache settled into the bone.
She opened the door, immediately turning her back to the darkness as she shut it. The only light emitting from the room was a handful of candles nestled in the corner. The wicks burned low; wax gathered in a heap at the base. It was eerily quiet, but she knew he was there. The ever-present observer, nothing ever got passed him. She faced him, her eyes rising to meet his. A gold metal fan covered the lower half of his face. No doubt a smile was hiding behind it. His eyes were narrowed, legs crossed over each other.
She bowed her head low. The clang of metal sounded throughout the room as he shut his sensu. She flinched at the sound, daring to look up.
“My lord Douma, you have requested to see me?”
“Yes,” he said. His smile was more of a smirk. “Come.” He extended his arm, palm upturned.
She stared at his outstretched hand. His snowy skin was perfection. Not a blemish on him. The pale blue nails were sharp as a needle. She imagined him gripping her waist. Those needles impaling her sensitive skin, and him plunging them between her breasts. Ripping her still-beating heart out.
He tilted his head, eyes tapering even more as he waited expectantly. She took a few steps towards him. Her eyes never left his hand. She gingerly placed her hand on top of his. They were freezing and she tried to jerk it back, but he gripped her hand hard. It hurt and she found herself staring at his eyes.
He jerked her down with inhuman force. Her shoulder throbbed from the action. She fell partially onto the floor and his legs. Her arm was bent as she used his knee to prop herself up. Her head faced down, eyes staring at the floor and his pants. She could feel him staring at her, his grip tightening. She felt like her hand was about to be crushed. Her breath picked up in pace. That fear and excitement flourished once again but tenfold. His nail traced the underside of her jaw and came to rest under her chin. Tilting her head up, he forced their eyes to meet.
“Are you finally going to kill me?” She breathily whispered.
His smile widened; he was amused. “Why would I ever do that?”
She furrowed her brows at this. She didn’t understand. His smile held amusement, but his eyes held malice.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he whispered, leaning closer to her face. “I can see the conflict in those pretty eyes of yours.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
He lightly slapped her face a few times. It stung. “You and I both know what you saw that night, but what fun would it be in consuming you now?” He hummed.
“Besides, you’ve been such a good girl by not opening your mouth.”
His thumb traced her bottom lip. The nail threatened to prick her skin. Her breath caught in her throat at his actions.
“Forgive me, but why did you wish to see me then my lord?”
Her vision flipped and she landed on her back. The plushness of the futon contradicted the tension in the atmosphere. A small puff of air left her mouth as all of it exited her lungs. He hovered over her. One leg resting on the outside of her body and the other between her legs. His hand pinned one of her wrists down. The other splayed across her neck and part of her shoulder. Her breathing was more labored than before as she stared up at him. His face was mere inches from hers as his breath fanned across her lips. The hand on her neck tightened.
“To show my gratitude.”
#kimetsu no yaiba douma#douma x you#douma#kimetsu no yaiba#douma x reader#x reader#demon slayer#demon slayer x reader#douma demon slayer#fanfic#fanfiction#kny x reader#kny x you#doma#doma x reader#doma x you#kny douma#kny doma
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
I told @morganas-pendragons about this idea last night and she begged me to write it so I did.
Been thinking about this since finishing CE. TV Keyes getting assimilated (for want of a better term) into the Flood. Taking some liberties with the story and scene.
Will probably put this on AO3 at some point, but I have a second and third part I may want to add. And, I need to finish @rainintheevening’s fic first. Now that I’m on the other end of the totaled car saga, maybe I can get on that.
xxxxxx
“Captain Keyes—oh, no.”
Before Cortana finished the sentence John was off like a shot.
“Chief, wait!” Vannak called.
“Chief!” Kai lunged forward, but John was already out of her reach.
“Captain,” John panted. His eyes roved over the fleshy mass that had partially consumed Keyes’s body. Maybe there was some way to free him from the Flood’s clutches, maybe there was still enough of him left—
Keyes’s eyes snapped open and his remaining hand grabbed John’s breastplate.
Kai aimed her rifle. Riz and Vannak took John’s arms.
“Hold your fire!” John barked. He held his ground as Riz and Vannak tried to tug him away.
“Miranda,” Keyes gritted.
John wasn’t sure what to say. “Captain—”
Keyes pulled John closer. “Take care…” the captain drew a rattling breath. “Take care…of…Miranda!”
Even as the Halo broke apart around them, John felt as if the universe had come to a standstill. He depolarized his visor to meet Keyes’s gaze.
One last order.
“Yes, sir,” John said solemnly.
The ring shook hard enough to make the Spartans stumble.
“You have to leave him,” Cortana said. “You can’t save him, Chief, I’m so sorry.”
John’s hand went to his pistol. There was no sense letting Keyes suffer.
I have to.
I’ve done it before.
I can’t.
“You three go,” Kai said, her muzzle trained on Keyes’s forehead. “I’ll catch up.”
Even if John had wanted to protest, there was no time. The room shuddered again and debris started falling from the ceiling. He polarized his visor and took off running toward the Warthog with Riz and Vannak.
Stay on mission. Stay on mission.
I’m sorry, Captain. I’m sorry.
He heard a bang and a few seconds later Kai had caught up. “Don’t look back,” she said curtly.
John activated a private comm channel. “Kai—”
“So you wouldn’t have to,” Kai answered the unasked question.
John jumped into the Warthog and fumbled at the controls. He couldn’t see. How was he supposed to drive if he couldn’t see?
“Chief,” Cortana spoke up. “You’re crying.”
No shit, John blinked in a desperate effort to clear the haze from his vision. He couldn’t afford this right now.
He’s not the first person I couldn’t save. Stay on mission.
Stay. On. Mission!
John felt Cortana start the warthog and take the steering wheel from his hands. “Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll drive.”
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ghost Towns: Chapter 20 (Together Again)
After taking on Calamity Ganon, Link and Zelda reunite.
AO3 Link
After sneaking his way through the castle, Link ultimately made his way to the throne room. He took a careful look around and his eyes landed on a massive, bulging mound attached to the ceiling. It pulsed as though it had a heartbeat, and a shiver ran down Link’s spine.
Before he could think about what to do, Zelda’s voice entered his head once more.
“Link…” she said weakly, “I’m sorry, but my power isn’t strong enough…I can’t hold him.”
She hadn’t even finished her sentence; a laser was already slicing through the fleshy cocoon, firing aimlessly around the room.
Link held his arms above his head to shield himself from the flying debris.
He watched as steam escaped the mass in the ceiling, before a hulking body fell from its clutches, smashing into the ground. The floor had already been sliced into pieces from the laser, so it was no wonder it came tumbling down after the heavy body crashed into it. Both Link and Ganon toppled through the floor, into a cavern below.
Quickly, Link pulled out his glider, saving himself from the enormous fall that awaited him.
As he gently sailed down, the monstrous beast rose to its feet. It had a wretched spider-like body, with a mishmash of guardian parts embedded in its malice-coated flesh. As Link landed, he quickly folded his glider and stowed it in one swift motion, facing Ganon in a battle-ready stance.
The creature slowly turned to face him, and he drew the Master Sword, which was gleaming with sacred power.
Ganon reared back on its hind legs and let out a bellowing roar.
That was when a massive blast came funneling through the ceiling. It scorched Ganon where it stood, forcing loud screeches of pain from its throat.
It must have been the divine beasts, Link decided. Nothing else could have had that kind of power.
The monster shakily stood up, blood dripping down its sides. It seemed hurt, but it still had plenty of strength left.
Ganon aimed a laser at him, similar to a guardian, and Link held up his shield. Right when the laser would have hit him, he parried, sending it right back at the malicious beast. It let out a cry, before it dropped to the ground, stunned.
Quickly, Link ran up to it and began tearing into it with his sword. The creature didn’t stay down for long, so he rapidly backed up out of its melee range, just in time to avoid an attack.
He began firing bomb arrows at the beast, trying to do as much damage as he could. Slowly, but surely, he seemed to be whittling away its health.
It tried aiming a laser at him again, and he repeated his earlier tactic, managing to stun it again and get in a few more hits.
When Ganon rose again, it was enraged. A red, fiery aura encompassed its body and it let out a roar. Link remained on guard, anticipating its next set of attacks. Unfortunately, the creature had the same powers as the Blights, which put him on the defensive for a bit.
He dodged small tornadoes and fireballs, waiting for an opportunity to attack.
Eventually, he got his chance. The beast had yet to learn its lesson, and aimed a laser once more. Link used the opportunity to parry the blast, and laid into it with his sword, again and again.
Ganon stumbled back with a loud screech, malice shooting from its body like fountains.
Link stood on guard, waiting to see if it would fall, but instead, it transformed into wisps of smoke, shooting into the ceiling to escape.
Link took a few steps forward, trying to figure out how to follow it, when a golden light began twinkling from his chest. Within moments, he was teleported elsewhere.
The light dropped him in Hyrule Field, right next to where he’d left his horse.
The smoky malice had coalesced into a boar-like beast. Magenta flames arced down its back and its bright beady eyes glared at Link.
Zelda’s voice entered his head once more, explaining that Ganon had taken on its pure, enraged form; so desperate for revenge that it was willing to risk its reincarnation. She entrusted him a bow, which was emanating with sacred light. Hopping on Lilac, Link quickly grabbed the bow as he dashed towards the giant boar.
Zelda directed him to attack the weak spots on Ganon’s body, and he did so, avoiding the beast’s massive blasts as he rode around it.
After a while, its true weak spot appeared; a grotesque eyeball bulging from the center of its forehead. Riding the updrafts of the flames, Link rose to the sky, and with a determined shout, fired an arrow directly in the eye.
As the beast writhed in pain, a golden light shot out from its body.
Zelda.
The creature seemed to look at her in fear as she descended to the ground before him.
She held her hands together in prayer, gazing at Ganon with determination.
It collapsed to the ground, staring at her wide eyed. As her light intensified, it let out a groaning sound, seemingly crying out in terror. It tried to flee, returning to its smoky form, but Zelda kept her eyes on it the whole way.
Calmly, she held out her hand, an enormous blast of light expanding from where she stood. It completely surrounded Ganon, swallowing its darkness whole.
Just as soon as it had appeared, the ball of light vanished, leaving nothing in its wake.
Link stood there in awe, unsure how to react.
Slowly, the ominous red clouds that had surrounded them began to dissipate, leaving behind a clear, blue sky.
Not facing him, Zelda spoke. “I always thought – no, I always believed that you would find a way to defeat Ganon. I never lost faith in you over these many years.”
She turned to him then, holding her hands to her chest delicately and gazing at him warmly. “Thank you, Link…the hero of Hyrule.”
He stood there silently, not knowing what to say.
“May I ask…Do you really remember me?” She had a hopeful smile on her face, which utterly crushed him.
Link bit his lip and glanced to the side. He’d only gathered a handful of memories…He may have developed an understanding of the struggles she’d endured, but he didn’t know her. Not truly.
Sadly, he met her gaze and shook his head.
Her face immediately fell. “Oh…” she said softly. “I see…”
She was clearly trying to keep up a strong image, but it didn’t last long. Her lip wobbled and tears began streaming down her cheeks. She covered her face, turning around so he wouldn’t see her, but he could still hear her crying.
He wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. So instead, he just stood there awkwardly.
Link had spent so long seeing her in memories, thinking he knew her, but in reality, she still felt like a stranger to him.
Eventually, her tears stopped and she quickly wiped her face. Link searched through the Sheikah Slate, pulling out a blanket, and gently laid it across her shoulders. She flinched upon feeling his touch, but soon relaxed. Sniffling, she uttered a quiet, “Thank you,” and tugged the blanket tighter.
Once he was sure she was looking at him, he signed, ‘We should go.’
Staring ahead blankly, Zelda nodded, following along silently.
Link figured Kakariko would be the best place for her to heal. Impa would be able to help her, and would be thrilled to see her friend again.
Slowly, they made their way east.
-----
The pair stopped walking after a few hours.
‘It’s getting dark,’ Link signed. ‘We’ll camp here.’
Slowly, Zelda nodded, pulling her blanket tighter.
She had been watching him ever since they left the castle, and though he outwardly seemed just like the knight she remembered, it was clear that he had changed.
He told her to wait while he set up camp, so she just stood there stiffly, unsure what to do.
Link worked efficiently, putting out the bedrolls and getting a campfire ready with ease.
Eventually, he waved her over, telling her it was ready.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He just nodded, not meeting her gaze.
Tentatively, she sat down on her bedroll, smoothing out her dirty dress. Right now, she really wanted to change more than anything…she’d been wearing this filthy robe for a century, after all. But she figured it would have to wait until they got to Kakariko.
Link began cooking a meal for them, his focus directed on the cooking pot.
Zelda desperately wanted to break the silence, but she wasn’t sure where to start. She settled for, “What are you making?”
‘Pumpkin stew. Is that okay?’
“Oh, yes. That sounds lovely. Thank you.”
She fiddled with her hands as she waited. Why couldn’t she say anything more substantial?
A little while later, he wordlessly handed her a bowl of stew, which she thanked him for. They both ate in silence, neither knowing how to break the awkward tension between them.
After she’d finished her bowl, her eyes landed on the Sheikah Slate. She’d entrusted it to Link to help him on his journey, but it still felt strange seeing it in his possession.
“Um…” she said tentatively, “If it’s not too much trouble, may I see the slate?”
He looked up quickly, then glanced down at his hip. He rapidly unhooked it and handed it to her.
Curiously, she began scrolling through its functions, eager to see what had he had deemed important. There were several sets of armor and weapons in its storage, which made sense. But there were also a few trinkets that he’d seemingly collected along the way.
She pivoted to the camera function and began swiping through the images. There were a few landscape and nature shots, which she admired. Link really had an eye for photography. After a few images, she came upon a picture of Link posing with a red zora.
He seemed familiar…She focused on the image for a while before recognition hit her. Was that little Sidon? He’d grown so big!
She smiled, staring at the picture for a bit longer. Link seemed so happy in this one. She’d never seen the knight smile before. Interested, she began scrolling again, expecting more shots of nature, but instead, she found another picture of Sidon. And another. And another.
Eventually, the camera began showing other subjects, but every so often, shots of the prince were sprinkled in.
She raised her hand to her mouth. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear Link had feelings for Sidon.
Hesitantly, she chanced a glance at Link. He was staring out at the wilderness, his hands fiddling together anxiously.
Well, she wasn’t going to bother him about it. Scooting closer, she handed back the slate. “Here you are. Thank you for indulging me.”
He looked at her in mild confusion. ‘It’s yours, right?’
She paused at that. “I mean, it was originally, but I think it’s yours now.”
He didn’t seem to know what to say in response, so he just bowed his head as he took it back.
“How is Prince Sidon?” she asked after a bit. “It has been so long since I’ve seen him. It looks like he’s all grown up now.”
Link flinched slightly before looking in her direction. ‘He’s…very boisterous. Has a lot of energy.’
Zelda smiled in amusement. “Are we talking about the same person? He was so shy before…”
A chuckle escaped him. ‘It’s true. I’ve never met anyone quite like him.’
A warm smile graced his lips and he seemed to be gazing off in the direction of Zora’s Domain. Her suspicions intensified.
“I’m glad you were able to make a friend like him,” she said.
He looked at his lap before responding, ‘Me, too.’
A few moments of silence passed between them before Zelda spoke again.
“Link…I know things must seem…odd between us. Neither of us truly knows the other, but…I think we actually have a lot in common.”
He tilted his head, his expression questioning.
“We’ve both been displaced from our original time. We both carry wounds from the Calamity, and…even though we’re basically strangers right now, I think we can be friends. We’re the only people in Hyrule who have this shared experience, after all.”
He frowned, looking downward for a moment. ‘You aren’t mad at me?’
“Mad?” she asked in confusion. “Why would I be mad?”
‘I failed you. Back then. And I took so long to save you.’
“Oh, Link….” she said sadly. “No, you didn’t fail me. Nor anyone else.”
His lower lip trembled and he looked away.
Gently, she laid her hand on his forearm. “You’ve worked harder than anyone. You’re only human. If anyone failed, it was me.”
His head whipped toward her, his mouth open as though he were going to speak.
“But…” she added, “I’ve done a lot of thinking the last hundred years, and…I’m done feeling like a failure. There isn’t much point dwelling on what could have happened. The past is the past and we have to accept it. All we can do is move forward…”
Tears pricked his eyes and he looked at his lap.
She looked at him softly, and said, “Come here.”
Link looked at her in uncertainty, before he ultimately leaned toward her, arms outstretched. She pulled him into an embrace, holding him tightly.
It was the first time they had truly hugged, and she cherished every moment of it.
Her feelings may not be reciprocated, but it didn’t matter. She still cared for him greatly. And despite everything, they were both alive and well, together once more.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
details for helmsman
so, some people have told me that they'd like to see detail posts for my pieces. zooms on some of the details, and a description of why i drew what i drew. so here we go, starting with this one.
every one of my pieces has a name that i refer to it by internally. the name of this piece is 'helmsman'. care to guess why?
the idea behind this one is a sort of AU where the game never happened, and dirk and roxy remained trapped as the last two people on earth. dirk eventually manages to kill enough of condy's drones to fashion a sort of spaceship from the scrap parts for him and roxy to try and find life elsewhere, anywhere.
however, since the ship is made of troll technology, it requires a helmsman.
hal, with his two uranium powered power supplies, and his already existing ports, is the only being that they can possibly use to power it.
i debated for a while if it was going to be a willing sacrifice (more for roxy's good than dirks, probably) or if it would be an unwilling sacrifice - dirk forcing hal in and wiring him up without his consent.
but in the end, i decided it didn't matter. it's up to viewer interpretation.
there's two main wires plugged into his lower power supply, and the two wires invading his mouth are internally plugged into the upper power supply. the power supplies are burning out, providing the power required. there's too much power flowing through him and he was not made to withstand this. he's not leaving this alive.
i tried to convey that with the overwhelming bright, toxic red color. the color of skin around an infected wound. so much more bright and saturated that it should be, it's obvious that there's something wrong.
the neat shibari bondage of wires is absolutely not needed - but i liked the imagery of it. being bound and suspended, almost as if he's something that should be looked at and admired while he's in such distress.
this piece was mainly drawn because i love the idea of a helmsman - the inherent body horror, the forced sacrifice and use. but the wire-y fleshy part... wasn't really my thing. so i adapted it a little bit. also i'm obsessed with hal, so the subject is obvious.
the themes of this piece are sacrifice, (obviously) being used - possibly to a bad end, (just because they hook hal up doesn't mean it's going to work) and a sort of helplessness. it's painful and it's awful for hal, but there's nothing he can do other than endure the pain and hope it was worth something in the end. but he'll never know, if it was fruitful or not. he'll never know if his sacrifice meant anything or if it was pointless.
anyways that's why this piece is labeled as a 'vent' piece in my mind. lots of negative feelings of being used by the people you love and wondering if it will all be worth it. being used and hoping that it will be worth it.
most of my pieces have music that goes with them, and the song for this piece is:
drones - grandson
8 notes
·
View notes