#and extravagant but not extravagant enough tattoo

[kruinka]

when i defeat art block the first thing im gonna do is draw more naked kaiser bc i need to practice my muscles agn

[falling-endlessly]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[peachsukii]

Thinking about reader getting a spontaneous tattoo for Bakugo after he survives a bad villain encounter later in life. Nothing in comparison to the war from UA years, but scary enough that you thought he wasn’t going to be coming home in one piece, let alone at all. It’s not extravagant or over the top, a simple bottle of hot sauce with an explosion behind it on your ankle, no bigger than the size of a quarter. You don’t tell him about it, but keeping a secret from him is an impossible task - Bakugo always finds out.

“The hell is that on your ankle?” He asks one day during your typical lunch dates between patrols. It was too hot to wear jeans, so naturally you opted for shorts and forgot he hadn’t seen the tattoo yet.

“Did you get a tattoo and not tell me?!”

“It’s embarrassing,” you say while tucking your ankle behind the other to hide it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bakugo gets up and bends under the table to grab at your foot to get a closer look. “Nuh-uh, lemme see it, brat.”

To avoid causing more of a scene, you let him study it for a few moments before pulling it away. And he starts to laugh, hearty and full.

“Stop laughing!”

“Is that a fuckin’ bottle of hot sauce?!” He exclaims, palm slamming on the table to contain his laughter. “That’s stupid as hell. Why hot sauce? You don’t even—”

The realization hits him like a ton of bricks. His demeanor changes, shifting from joy to concern.

“…when did you get that?”

You sigh. “A month ago. The night the broadcast of your fight aired on the news. Ei called me to let me know you were still breathing.”

“Did you think I fuckin’ died or some shit?” His brows scrunch into a confused stare.

“It’s just something to keep you close with me when you’re away,” you whisper as your face begins to flush. “That night scared the shit out of me.”

Bakugo gets out of his seat and scoots into the booth beside you. He lays a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Your head hands low, staring at your empty plate on the table to avoid his gaze. “Just forget about it.”

Suddenly, his fingers grab your chin and tilt your face in his direction. The world blurs around him, your eyes focused on his.

“Stop bein’ a nerd,” Bakugo says with a grin. “S’cute and not stupid. Y’know this means I’m getting one too, right?” He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your forehead. “Only fair. Wanna keep you close, too.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

My Kind Of Love

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Fem Reader

TW: arranged marriage/ forced relationship, yandere, stalking, etc

You were the adopted daughter of another yakuza family, one that was engaged to Hanayama Kaoru since birth. Your fate long decided for you…

Hanayama wasn’t a bad person per se, for the son of a yakuza family. The only issue was that he hardly spoke. Nope. Hanayama often stared at you while you did all of the talking… he was a silent yet intimidating presence. Especially as the two of you grew older.

As a child, he’d often sit beside you. You used to think he was shy, so you’d talk with him in a soft tone. You were gregarious compared to his taciturn self. Yet you never made him feel unwelcome so he would always turn up for every ‘play date’ your parents set up. It made you think he tolerated you… how wrong you were.

When he grew old enough to get his back tattoo, he had spoken to you briefly. “I have something important to do, but I will be back.” You had thought that was odd, but you smiled at your fiancé. “Okay, Hanayama. I’ll be waiting for you then so be safe.” You thought it was kind of cute how his ears turned pink… who knew he could blush.

When you saw him again, you were shocked by all of the scars that littered his body, yet you didn’t nag him. No, you simply held him and smiled at him. “Thank you for keeping your word.” You failed to notice how his heart hammered in his chest when your fingers lightly traced over the scabs on his face. “Those will be some pretty gnarly scars, but they’ll make you look cool.” You had no idea what you did to this man…

When his mother’s health began to deteriorate, he had you at his side. He was such a large teenager, yet he looked so small when he’d fold himself up into your lap. You often ran your fingers through his dark locks and softly reassured him. He still hardly spoke, but you finally caught him with a small smile on his face.

When his mother passed, he was prone to bursts of anger yet he never showed that side of himself to you. No. You were precious to him… more precious than anything in the world. And you deserved to be protected and pampered. He began to seek advice from Kizaki about romance after that.

Now that the two of you were in your twenties, he’d often pull you into his lap. He still hardly spoke but he would make you be near him in anyway possible if the two of you were alone. It was quite odd.

Sometimes you’d swear you would spot his men trailing behind you if you were out and about, yet they were gone when you’d turn around. There was no way your stoic fiancé was stalking you… right?

He’d gift you bouquets of roses and invite you out to dinner with outfits he’d pick out. You would receive handwritten notes of love that borderlines obsession. There was no way Hanayama wrote those, you didn’t even know if he actually liked you. Hanayama hardly spoke after all…

His stabs at romance were interesting to say the least. Hanayama’s actions were loud. His gifts were extravagant and borderline gaudy, yet you didn’t mind. You were engaged after all. And that wedding date was rabidly approaching…

The wedding was grand, large, and heavily guarded. And Hanayama’s hand tightly gripped yours in an inescapable hold. It was nerve wracking to say the least.

And the minute it was time for that honeymoon, you were rushed off quickly. Hanayama practically dragged you to the suite, his breathing ragged, his scarred face flushed, and his black hair a bit disheveled. Was he okay? You’ve never seen him so expressive.

It wasn’t until he had you all alone that he began to rip at his clothes like a madman. You barely had the first button undone before he was on you. His fundoshi the last garment on him. His lips eagerly pressed against the side of your neck.

“Hanayama? We really don’t have to-“ your voice was stuck in your throat when he pulled away to stare at you with his dark eyes.

“I’ve waited so many years to hold you like a man.” Hanayama muttered. “I’ve held back for so long and now you’re finally mine.”

You’re peppered with more impatient kisses while his thick fingers made quick work of your wedding dress. “I love you so much, my beautiful wife.”

How were you to know that your fiancé actually loved you this entire time? Not to mention, how sore his kind of love would leave you after tonight…

[obliviouscxnt]

Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much. 

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor. 

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others. 

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her. 

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch. 

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.” 

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden. 

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings. 

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much. 

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words. 

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“ 

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous. 

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.” 

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.” 

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,” 

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you.  An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it. 

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams. 

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming. 

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you. 

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.” 

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.” 

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation. 

You squeeze back. 

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke. 

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door. 

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway. 

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph. 

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you. 

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm. 

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers. 

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity. 

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity. 

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise. 

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours. 

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.” 

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?” 

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.” 

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face. 

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.” 

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?” 

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.” 

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it. 

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.” 

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly. 

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you. 

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice. 

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life. 

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you. 

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you. 

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front. 

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to. 

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings. 

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely. 

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn. 

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact. 

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him. 

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him. 

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded. 

“Touch me.” He commands. 

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him. 

next→

[back2bluesidex]

In Motion - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Jungkook X Client!Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, Friends to FWB au

Wordcount: 1.4k+

Summary: You are finally letting Jungkook set everything in motion. And he is more than happy to show you what he has to offer.

Warnings: Rough sex, Jungkook is wearing a leather fit, he cums on her tits, he is kinky, he is a menace, unprotected sex (it's a no no), squirting twice, he callers her whore for once (because I had to put it!!) NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Here is another unhinged smut.

If you are standing right beside the door waiting for Jungkook to arrive, then you don’t wanna ponder upon it. Never in a million years will you ever admit that you are horny as fuck and you are desperate for you hot, handsome and absolutely stunning tattoo artist. 

Honestly, he has been dropping hints. He has been trying to let you know that both of you are on the same page but you, being you, have been playing hard to get. You are inflating your ego by reminding yourself that Jungkook is down bad for you even when he has a quite long queue of guys and girls trying to get fucked by him. 

But not anymore. 

You decided it’s about time you give in and take the chance. 

Your doorbell rings once, pulling you out of the thoughts. 

Taking a deep breath and a few moments (not to make it obvious that you were waiting just right beside the door), you open the door revealing Jungkook. 

Your eyes wander down his body. Just as always, he is in his tight black leather fits. An arm full of tattoos starts just where the short sleeve of his top ends. 

But before you could drink him in anymore, he is pushing you inside, making his way inside your condo without a single greeting. 

This guy doesn’t even bother asking for permission. 

He grabs you by your arms, interchanging your positions and pushing you into the door. 

“Finally. You came to your senses.” Jungkook mouthed briefly before aiming right at your neck.

You let out a breathy moan because, again, Jungkook doesn’t prep you with kisses. He straight on bites down on your skin. 

“I was always on my senses.” You interject. 

His hands travel down and reach to the knot of your robe, pulling the loose end hurriedly. 

“Uh-huh” he smirks, “Your little act of trying to play hard to get almost had me ending up on someone’s bed last night.” 

He removes the robe within a blink. You stand there naked for his eyes wearing only your underwear. 

“Oh? So, did you fuck them?” you place your question, tugging him closer, biting on his earlobe, eliciting a low chuckle from him. 

“I said almost, darling. They weren’t enticing enough. I jerked off thinking about you and the things I could do to you.” his throat vibrates on your lips as you continue to litter open-mouthed kisses all over his neck.

Jungkook’s hands find your tits. He grabs both of them with both of his hands, squeezing the swells and twisting the nipples as hard as he can. His thumb then brushes over the tattoo right under your left tit, his own creation and also the reason behind the pumping sexual tension started between you two. 

You are unbelievably wet right now and you don’t want to wait any more than you already have. And when Jungkook’s erection presses on your stomach, you lose it a little. 

“Take me to the bedroom.” you whine as Jungkook rolls his hip into yours enjoying the distressed look on your face. His hands don’t stop playing with your tits. 

“Look at you whoring right now. Who was denying my advances for the past few months, huh?” Jungkook smirks again, pinching on your nipple so hard that it makes you hiss. 

“Stop teasing, JK. fuck me or get lost.” you object. Your voice is somewhere between a moan and a whine. 

“I choose the first option.” he hoists you up, placing his hands right underneath your ass. You wrap your legs around him. Your core presses right onto his upper stomach. You are glad he chose to wear this extravagant leather top, otherwise he would have felt your wetness on his skin, which is kind of embarrassing. 

When Jungkook drops you on your mattress, you see his eyes drifting towards the evident wet spot on your red lacy underwear. He stands at the end of your bed right between your legs, which dangle off the edge. 

“Umm.. wanna taste that.” he mutters as he slowly pulls up his top above his head, leaving himself shirtless for your eyes. You raise one of your hands to touch that taut stomach and chest of his. But he slaps your hands away, grabs your wrists with one of his hands and pins them on your stomach. 

“Not so soon.” he purrs. 

His free hand pulls down your underwear in a swift motion. Goosebumps spread all across your skin as soon as your slicked cunt comes out of its cover. 

Jungkook wets his lips with his tongue once and then dives down between your legs, sitting on his knees. His fingers work their way to part your folds and give his tongue a free access to your clit. He licks a stripe off. 

“Oh Jungkook-” you whine, contained with pleasure. 

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts suckling on the bud. Your eyes roll back with the session. You moan out some incoherent words every time jungkook sucks a little hard. His fingers plunge their way into your hole with no hesitation. 

“O- Oh my g-god, Jungkook.” you shout at some point as you feel heat building in your stomach. 

“I waited so long for this.” Jungkook goes on speaking into your cunt, “Only I know how much I wanna see you like this.” he twists his fingers in a way and touches a spot that has you seeing stars. And before you know it.. You are squirting on his face. 

“Fuck, Y/N. You are raining.” Jungkook groans, detaching his face from your cunt. He lets your hands free while standing up and climbing on top of your body to attach his lips to yours. 

“Fuck, did I just-” 

“Yes. you just squirted all over me. Now taste yourself.” Jungkook crashes his lips on yours, poking his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your legs around his torso while your hands move to the south, touching his bulge through the leather of his pants. You squeeze it hard and Jungkook groans into your mouth. 

“Don’t get me started, Y/N. You know I get hot hearted.” he mumbles, nipping your lower lip. You moan. 

“As much as I would like to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, that can wait. Right now, I need to fuck your cunt for all the time you kept me waiting.” he stated, standing up and unbuckling his belt. 

His cock springs up free as soon as it is out of its stuffy confinement. Your mouth waters at the sight. If you do this another time, you will certainly suck his soul out of him. 

“Like what you see?” he asks and you nod. 

“You could have gotten this cock inside of you ages ago. But no. Your ego is fatter than your ass.” He teases you. 

“Stop being a jerk.” you fight back, already being far too gone.

Jungkook positions his cock’s head right into your clit. He thrusts once through your folds, rubbing your clit deliciously with his tip. 

“Oh lord- Jung-jungkook where the fuck did you learn that?” You voice out loud, feeling your insides twitch again and he hasn’t even penetrated you yet. 

“You know, this is how I like it.” he breathes as he finally pushes his shaft inside you. 

His cock glides inside you so smoothly as if your cunt is made to accommodate it. 

And then he starts moving. Your bed starts squeaking as soon as he picks up a rhythmic pace. One of his hands reaches down to pluck your hands from the sheets and place them above your head. His mouth drops down to your nipple, sucking and biting on the same. The thumb of his free hand starts drawing tight circles on your clit. And that’s it. 

You squirt unannounced, again. 

“Fucking hell. Two times in a row.” You heard Jungkook chuckling darkly but you are so gone with the overpowering orgasm that you don’t catch his contorted face that signifies the fact that he is nearing too.

You only feel it when he pulls himself out of you, pumping himself once and then spilling his cum all over your already ruined body. 

It flies before you face like ropes of Champagne confetti. 

“How was it?” Jungkook breathes hard, still standing at the end of your bed leading down to face you. 

“The best I have ever had.” your answer makes him smirk. 

You are still trying to process everything, including the white stickiness all over your tits, and stomach, but soon you hear him speaking again, “So.. if you are ready and if you let me.. I can set us in motion.” 

And you know you are into this shit with Jeon Jungkook for a long time because there is no way you are denying him anymore, not when he can fuck you like this.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[fanaticsnail]

Frills and Bundles

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,600+

Synopsis: Bound to your desk, you took to the task of testing out a new prototype of a dress Ivankov made for you. Not used to the frills and bundles, you become wrapped up in the feeling of it while your friend tries to halt his unhinged urges to do something about his pining.

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, 18+, NSFW, suggestive, Sabo is unhinged, Sabo is a little yandere, no smut - just fantasy, mutual pining, idiots in love, reader's birthday, fluff with an edge of spice beneath the surface.

Notes: Happy birthday @frillsinadress!! I hope you enjoy a small fic of Sabo longing and pining. May your day be glorious 🖤

Twin beady eyes gawked at you while sitting motionless atop your wooden desk. The shell on its back depicted the cross-hatched tattoo of your boss and leader of the revolutionary army. Your task for the day was to sit there and wait for the final report from Monkey D Dragon, and to organize a corresponding attack on the marines base with his direct orders as soon as he ordered them.

The full skirt attached to your hips gathered in heavy bunches in your lap, your chest rising and falling in strangled breaths beneath the constriction of the leathery corset Ivankov fashioned for you. Each element of the ruffled skirt weighed heavily on your hips regardless as to how you sat at your desk.

While the arrangement was beautiful, it was not at all practical while bound to the drawl of paperwork and snail-sitting. The reason you were dressed in this formal garb was specifically to train yourself how to act properly and daintily in order to infiltrate a gala, to gather intelligence for the revolutionary army in a reconnaissance mission within a small unit.

It was a bonus that you got to wear such a pretty arrangement on a day like today. Your birthday, to be exact.

While you never truly made a deal about yourself, never taking time off from your duties under Dragon to enjoy yourself, receiving the prototype from Ivankov did make you feel special in your own way. The extravagant array of frills and bundles waterfalling to the floor had the corners of your lips ticking up in a sweet smile.

Lost in your own world, you were yet to notice a presence leaning against the wooden post to your office door.

Head tilted, eyes examining, lips smiling, arms crossing, and foot tapping stood the flame emperor of the revolutionary army. Second in command under Dragon, your superior, who you answered to on occasion, and the man who recently became obsessed with you.

His obsession really seeped from the fact that you had only ever been kind and attentive to him: fetching his coat and hat when he left meetings, always dainty and poised regardless as to how well you were personally faring. From that brink came a spark within his chest that had him constantly feeling on edge. He was plagued with a lust that never seemed quenchable enough or satiated by his own pleasure while he fucked his fist to your fantasy.

Noticing your eyes left the two globes of the snail’s haunting and beady eyes to gawk down at your breasts hoisted in the corset, he felt morally obliged to do the same. As your hands traveled up to readjust them, you bunched the flesh in your hands and gave them a slight jiggle.

Sabo felt his mouth begin to water, salivating at the fantasy of picturing you palming them, while the other traveled beneath your skirts to give in to your need for release. Although all you were currently doing was toying and fussing with your seams, his mind had a way of running away with him when his eyes fell to you. Picturing all the thoughts he had of you pinching and fondling your naked breasts while he pistoned his cock, his mind for carried away as his gaze wandered lower.

His eyes stopped their mirage, hyper focussing on the fabrics bunched at your waist in an array of flowing frills. It was far too much material to get below the waist from the top. You would have to go from beneath to seek out that pretty pussy you've kept hidden from him.

Narrowing his gaze with a deep furrow of his brow, he concentrated on how much the material would prohibit such fun for you in an array of positions. The skirts almost seemed enough to hide another person beneath them.

Sabo could be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo wanted to be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo needed to dive beneath those skirts and consume your pleasure with his lips, tongue and teeth while his hands pried you apart and held you like that until you were clenching around him.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of those thoughts while gently coughing to alert you of his presence by the door.

“Sabo-!” you exclaimed, your hands frozen at their place fondling your breasts while shrouded in its corset. Face flushed, eyes wide, lips parting, and, in Sabo’s opinion, absolutely adorable: you had no idea how to react to being caught out squeezing at your breasts.

Gently smirking, he approached your station and removed his top-hat from his mop of tousled, blonde hair. Carding his digits through his locks, he sheepishly hung his head while his thighs brushed with your desk. Placing his hat down on your desk, he bit back his rising smirk and closed his eyes in humor.

“That-... Uh-...” He attempted to contain a chuckle from falling from his lips, “...New dress?” He continued to hold his eyes to the ground, peering at your fright through his peripherals.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, finally releasing your breasts from your hands.

“One of Ivankov’s?” He rose his eyes to meet your gaze. While he feigned an air of innocence about him, that unhinged side wanted nothing than to see how much more he could fluster you. “I like it on you. A lot, actually.” He leaned his hip up to sit on your desk, gently tilting the snail aside to avoid its awakened gaze.

“I-It is one of Iva’s, yes,” you stutter, blinking rapidly while he hovers ever closer to you. “Thank you for saying so.” You gave him a soft giggle to shrug off your nerves, returning to your usual posture with a grin, “Caught me at an odd moment, I won't lie to you. I'm not used to being so constricted by ruffles, frills and bundles. Anything for the cause, right?”

Sabo chuckled alongside you as you spoke, shaking his head lightly while he took you in.

“I don't blame you,” he shrugged, leaning forward and punching a portion of the fabric between his gloved fingers, “It's rather surreal, seeing you all dressed up like this.” Using a swift motion, he slowly dragged you towards him by the nape of your neck.

Rising to your feet with his motions, you allowed yourself to be tugged up by the flame emperor and drawn closer towards him. Your lips tingle with anticipation, never truly knowing the intention he was envisioning while you rose to stand before him. Sabo had always been a little unhinged with his conversation, and you would reciprocate indulgently with his unhinged commentary every now and again for your own, personal benefit.

Now fully standing in front of him, he rose to his feet and maintained contact with you by his gloved hand while walking around the desk. Reaching forward with his unoccupied hand, he claimed yours and gently indicated for you to spin slowly with him as your partner. To the betterment of your abilities, you allowed yourself to be spun in place, skirts bunching and swaying to a soundless melody.

“So pretty,” Sabo commented on your display alongside your garment, “Such a pretty dress, for such a pretty girl.” He halted your dance, placing both hands on your waist as he slowly moved himself closer. “Any wishes for your birthday? Anything I could do to help you out while you're bound in chains to the desk?”

You giggle at his comment, gently tapping his cravat with the backs of your hands in a playful shove. Shaking your head, you smoothed the sides of his navy jacket and fixed his collar. While you craved so desperately to give into your desires and ask him to satisfy the plague of lust branded into your mind of him beneath your skirts and satisfying you while you worked, you chose to behave.

“I have all I need here, sir,” you nodded towards your desk, “And I'll be here until Dragon tells me otherwise.”

“I could hide beneath your desk?” Sabo suggested, gently thumbing at your hips and bringing his lips up to your jaw before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, “I have the whole day spare. I can be right here with you, and I won't make a peep.”

You shook your head at your friend, releasing his collar from your hands and gave him a playful shove.

“No distractions. I need to be at my desk until Dragon dismisses me for the day,” you nodded with a hint of melancholy to your tone, “The cause comes before all else, including pretty blondes hiding beneath my desk. Thank you for your suggestion, though. I do appreciate the offer.”

“Even on your birthday?” he suggested with a soft pout, “You're more dedicated than most of us here. I promise, as soon as you get off and away from your desk, as your friend: I will give you a birthday you won't easily forget.”

You shook your head, gently parting Sabo on the chest and returning to sit back at your desk.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you smile up at the man by your side, “You're a good friend. I'm looking forward to it.”

Giving you one last smile, he reached down and claimed your hand in his. Slowly dragging it up to his lips, he maintained eye contact while he pressed a kiss tentatively on the top of your knuckles. While the action in and of itself was sweet, the hidden promise dancing behind his eyes was raw and feral.

He knew exactly how he was going to make your day unforgettable. Each element of his date was meticulously planned and laid before him. The cuisine you favored, the sweets you preferred, a menu to sate your appetite for food, followed by the absolute cure to quench the thirst gathering in the thick, raw, primal tension rising between you.

For now, he would be satisfied by peering up at you though his blonde eyelashes, while he pictured all the ways he was going to carve your day into your memory. Confessing his love for you, expressing how devoted he was to you, and demonstrating that declaration by unraveling you in more ways you could ever perceive by every part of him he'd make available to you.

Sabo would confess.

All he hopes if that you would feel the same, and allow him to explore that with you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[yutahoes]

Caramel

(Part One)

characters: stripper! Yuta x female! Y/N genre: chaptered, smut, fluff, angst word count: 2.5k words summary: Y/N has everything in her bitter life, not until she meets a sweet-looking stripper. warnings: matured theme, stripper au!, third person POV, rusty writing, curse words, shirtless guys, degrading words

Bachelorette parties. 

If there is any event that Y/N hated going to, this would be it. 

The girl hated to socialize. Hated mingling with girls her age, even younger than her, who wouldn’t stop talking about finding a nice husband or the newest Birkin from Paris. 

But bachelorette parties are better than attending board meetings. 

This is much better than the blind date her mother kept on pushing her through. 

That was the thought running through Y/N’s mind as she drank the pink bubbling liquid in her champagne glass, settling on one corner of the huge hotel room. She knew very well that it wasn’t champagne. And she was smart enough to know not to drink alcohol in these crazy events. 

The star of the night, a rich family daughter - although Y/N forgot whose daughter she was - was dancing non-stop along to the music. Y/N drank her juice to hide a smile. She knew that type very well, certainly a wild child. 

It wouldn’t be a surprise if a man in a police outfit entered the room and started stripping.

As if on cue, one of the girls entered the door giddily and announced that ‘the main event is here’. Y/N had to chuckle to herself, how predictable. 

One guy, with dark hair and tall height, entered wearing a black jacket without a shirt underneath. He started swaying his body along the sultry music which earned the excitement of the women around. Well, he has a nice muscular body. Another guy, wearing a sleeveless leather tank top, entered and started grinding his body at one of the bridesmaids. This guy is handsome.  

Wow, Y/N thought, they managed to book two strippers. How extravagant. 

The music got louder along with the screams of the girls at the party just as another guy with blonde hair entered the door. Unlike the other two who were dancing with the girls, he entered the door and took the center. The same as the first guy, who completely removed his jacket, he was wearing a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. His body was rolling, hips seductively swaying against the music. He isn’t even that muscular. Certainly, Y/N had seen better. But the way he projected himself, the way he felt himself along the music is rather sexy. Erotic, perhaps.

The girl found herself focused on the third man, watching his toned skin and taking note of the butterfly tattoo peeking from his waist. He is rather handsome, almost the same as the second guy. Where did they manage to book these guys? They don’t seem like low-class strippers like from other bachelorette parties she had been to. Instead, they look like high-class escorts. If there is something like that. 

Y/N shrugged, shaking her head, then finished her juice. 

Before she came here, she thought this bachelorette party would give her a reason to hate these events more. Watching the sensual performance in front of her, she was thankful that she chose to be here rather than elsewhere. 

—-----

“And tell the manager that we’ll be back tomorrow,” Johnny claimed, which made Yuta nod. “Yuta, be careful when going back to the club.” He rolled his eyes at that. He’s not a kid. He can go back himself. 

While heading down to the lobby, he started counting the money he had. One-third of the payment from the dancing gig and some cab fare. He’ll probably reach home, right? Why did the club decide to send the three of them to this far-flung place? When coming here, he saw how far the hotel building was from the entrance. And he doubts, at how high-class this establishment is, that there would be cabs waiting in the lobby. He could ask for a car, but that would cost so much, and Yuta hated to let go of his hard-earned money. 

To be real, he wouldn’t be in this job if not for Lee Taeyong. When he came from Japan with nothing but his dream to be a dancer, his friend helped him by offering to be a dancer in a strip club. It wasn’t the dream but it’s not too far from it. Besides, it gives him food on the table and a roof above his head. But all he does is dance, no extra services, unlike his two friends who left him alone. 

Yuta felt that he had been walking for some time now but all he could see was the endless road ahead, the lush gardens, and the lights of the hotel building. Who made this establishment? Why is it so anti-poor? It also doesn’t help that it’s late at night and he’s wearing tattered jeans with a shirtless jacket. Will there still be cabs outside the hotel at this late hour? Should he just book a hotel room? But that would cost so much. 

He’ll just continue this walk and pretend that he’s hiking like he does in Japan. 

He was startled when a midnight blue car stopped at his side, stylish and looking really expensive. The driver put down the tinted window, “Do you want to ride?” He was more surprised that it was a female driver. “It’s a long walk. I can drop you off at the gate.” Yuta glanced at the long road ahead then at the driver who was only looking at him in question. It is a long walk and she’s heading that way anyway. Nothing bad can happen, right? 

The guy gently opened the door and entered the car carefully before putting on his seatbelt. Even if this woman decides to kidnap him, he doesn’t have any money to give her. And she looked well-off. There isn’t anything else that he can offer to her. The girl might have sensed his nervousness as she lightly chuckled, “Are you really planning to walk that far? You didn’t have a ride coming here?” 

Yuta shook his head, “We took a cab here.”

“We?” The girl repeated before lightly glancing at him. “Oh, you were one of the dancers earlier.” 

“You were there?” The girl nodded. Damn, she really is well-off. 

Yuta felt like shrinking in his seat. What is he doing in this car? And knowing that she had seen him earlier, made him embarrassed. “Why are you alone?” She asked to cut the silence. 

Maybe she doesn’t know anything about his line of work. Or maybe she’s testing him. “They have a booking.” The girl repeated his term in a questioning manner, “Some girls from the party booked them for tonight.” 

“To dance?” 

“For sex," he blurted out loud before hissing at himself. 

“They can do that?” Yuta wondered if she was really innocent. Or maybe she’s part of the population who never cared. But her amusement is rather refreshing. “Then why aren’t you part of the booking or whatever you call that?” He bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling. She’s adorable. “I’m sorry. I’m too curious, aren’t I? You don’t have to answer that.” 

He cannot help but release a chuckle at that. “It’s fine,” he claimed, shaking his head. “I don’t do extra services. Besides, those two were more famous with girls.” 

The girl had to lightly glance at him before making a small sound of wonder. “Really? I thought you were more famous than the two of them.” Yuta had to raise an eyebrow at that. “I mean you were a great dancer, you’re as handsome as the guy with the cap, and you have a nice body. A complete package.” The sides of Yuta’s lips curled up at the compliment. That’s such a confidence boost. “And you have such a nice smile. If it was my bachelorette party, I would have paid for your extra service.” 

“Then will you book me for your bachelorette party?” He then stopped before staring straight at her, “If you haven’t had one.” He tried to check if she had a ring on her finger then sighed in relief seeing that there wasn’t. 

She laughed wholeheartedly and Yuta thought that she was very pretty at that moment. “I’m sorry but there will be no bachelorette party. Please don’t jinx it.” Yuta shrugged. He’s not in the position to ask but why? She’s pretty, she’s rich. And to be honest, she’s hot. Guys would surely go to war for her. He definitely will. 

To his dismay, he can see the gates of the hotel nearby which means that he had to get out of the car. But he’s still enjoying talking to her. 

—---

The night was so dark. Y/N never realized that it was this late. There weren’t any cars around which is typical in this part of town. The headlights of her car kept blinking as she waited for the man earlier to get a cab or any ride to where he was heading. “You can leave me here. Thank you for the ride.” He insisted but she shook her head, reasoning that the CCTVs of the hotel saw her taking him, and if something happened, she would be the prime suspect. He laughed in response, making her swoon at the mischievousness of his smile. 

“Where are you heading anyways?” she asked, shouting through the whole passenger seat between them. She was seated in the car in front of him by the curb. The man pointed at the direction to the left and she giggled. “I can drive you. That’s also my way home.” But it was he who kept on shaking his head, not wanting to bother her. “Come on. You might not get home and I can’t just leave you here.” 

In the end, he went back in the car and promised to pay her the cab fee. The man claimed that he’s heading to their club named Neo as she hummed in answer. She remembered passing by that club once. And it made it pretty clear that they are some high-class strippers. “I’m Yuta, by the way.” he introduced. 

That was a nice name, Y/N thought. Japanese? Maybe a codename. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Y/L/N? Are you related to the owner of the Mozart Museum?” She nodded, whispering that it was her mom. “Wow,” he exclaimed. “You are rich rich.” 

“My parents are.” 

“That’s what rich people always say.” The girl giggled at that. “So what do you do in life, Miss Y/N?” 

She had to drum her fingers along the steering wheel while waiting for the traffic light to turn green. “I work in a research company.” Yuta only gave her a questioning look, “I oversee the company.” 

Wait, isn’t that…? “Like a president of the company?” 

“More of a manager,” she claimed casually then flashed a timid smile. “My dad is still the president.” Once again, an exclamation of awe can be heard coming from Yuta’s lips. “Hopefully, I can achieve his position soon.” 

She’s not just pretty, hot, and rich, she’s also very successful. God damn, she is truly the complete package. “And you are still single?” The girl gave him a knowing smile. How is she still single after all that? And the thought of not wanting to have a bachelorette party, meaning not wanting to be married, made Yuta think that it was a waste. “Don’t you feel lonely?”

Oh shit! That came out wrong. But it was too late to take back those words. She obviously heard it, evidence was the way she gripped the steering wheel. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” 

The girl bit her lip before breathing heavily. “I think it isn’t that lonely. I have the freedom to still do whatever I want.” The muscles of her face eased as she smiled. “And trust me if you encounter those rich spoiled mommy’s boys, you’d rather be single.” Yuta giggled. He knew a few and he could attest to it. 

It was weird how Yuta felt like he could empathize with the world above him, the world of the rich, with every second he talked to this girl. She doesn’t seem like those stereotypical rich trust fund babies who would check their hair and make-up at all times and yap about finding rich husbands. She’s a well-established woman who knows what she wants. Totally admirable. 

Y/N, on the other hand, thought that she knew everything about the world. In her line of work and the society she belonged to, she obviously met a lot of interesting and intriguing people. But nothing prepared her for the mystery named Yuta. If he truly is Japanese, why is he here? What does he do for work? Dancing? Stripping? Why is he so humble and inferior when he looks way more handsome than those narcissistic men who were products of plastic surgery clinics? He is such a wonder. 

The girl pulled the handbrake of the car when they reached the front of a lighted building with a huge marquee that reads Neo. “It’s fancy,” Y/N claimed that made Yuta laugh, nodding. 

“Have you been inside?” The girl shook her head. “Do you want to go inside?” 

“I’d rather not. It’s late and I have some appointments tomorrow.” That’s too bad, Yuta thought. He doesn’t mind working a little extra tonight. 

The guy started fishing his wallet from his pocket, handing her some cash. “It isn’t much but thank you for driving me back.” But the girl shook her head, rejecting his money and claiming that it was not a big deal. Yuta felt embarrassed. Of course, she’s rich. This money would be nothing to her. Why did he offer it in the first place? “But I don’t like owing people anything.” 

The girl smiled warmly, “It’s fine. Think of it as saving me from worrying about someone tonight.” The guy laughed. “Besides, it was nice talking to you.” 

He asked for some pen and paper which she reached out from the glove compartment. Yuta started scribbling something on a piece of paper, “Then, if you feel lonely. Please come by the club and I’ll drink with you.” He handed her the piece of paper, “Free of charge.” 

“A lap dance?” She asked, reading his note. 

He smiled shyly. “That’s the only service I can offer that would allow me to use the private rooms. I can’t let a rich manager drink publicly in a stripclub, can I?” Y/N gave a small giggle before folding the paper and putting it in her handbag. “Just give the paper to the club manager and look for me. You do remember my name, right?” 

“Yuta.” she answered quietly. 

“Yuta Nakamoto.” 

Is that his full name? Then he must be really Japanese. And aren’t they using codenames in the strip club? Does his parents know his job? She lightly shook her head to stop the questions forming in her mind as he exited the car. What is it to her anyway? “Thank you for the ride, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N. Have a safe trip home.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Yuta Nakamoto. Have a good night.”

“See you later?” 

“Later.”

And she sped off with him waving goodbye like a small child. Yuta smiled to himself as he started walking to the strip club. 

This night was so bizarre.

Part Two

[raviollies]

DMed a oneshot for the friendos and got a new achievement : making a player cry!

The premise was that a Hag pulled them into her domain which was shaped by their dreams and desires, particularly Blythes! So it was a big fancy Villa with a ballroom, opera haus, fancy dinner, everything - and immediately somethings were different.

Arameia woke up NOT a werewolf and Lorelai woke up a HUMAN and not undead. Rosy cheeks, freckles and all (she was very weirded out over not being able to hear or smell as good).

For Arameia - the dream manifested her parents, alive and well, and her pet dog Lancelot, no longer geriatric. The horror of becoming an orphan never occurring. For Lorelai, it took away her vampirism, and the root cause...her father alive and well - though distant. It wasn't that she wanted to see him...but rather proof of wiping her sin away. For Eirwen, it wiped away her Sharrian past, and the tattoo that came with it, and gave her more friends, so she'd never be lonely. And for Raha.... Well let's just say he folded like a lawn chair in a hurricane.

Upon meeting her the gang had a lot of discussion as to how & why, though the concept of a motherly Blythe left everyone...concerned.

Since the party was a bit of a pickle not sure where to find Raha or Blythe since they're the only party members they haven't met up with, a certain special someone made an appereance...in the form of a kitty cat!

Theta explained that the dream is made up of Blythes wishes and desires : to have her friends with her and never die, her favourite food, a library full of artifacts, an extravagant villa with ballrooms - and the little changes to them was the Witch tapping into their own desires to keep them placated and comfortable...so they may just decide to forego reality and dream...like Blythe and Raha have. She does not want her precious petal just slowly withering away, being a meal, in another Witch's domain, that's her job, so she gives the party hints on how to break out before the Witch zaps her the hell out (she couldn't just enter as Witch's power is absolute within her domain, so it would take a lot longer for her to wiggle in strong enough to do anything substantial)

She introduces herself as Wunsch...the party can deduce she is a Night Hag (this is where I say I just made her Fae and idgaf) (as per my fae characters, she has freaky eyes...in this case it's a starry sky instead of pupil!) . She asks the party if there is "anything else she can do"...the party notices little things change around the dream, like suddenly even more food, some of their favourites, or new faces.

In order to find Blythe they needed to restore stopped time, and find the three clockhands for a magical clock...1 of them was behind some riddles, the other one, behind a test of friendship where they had to answer 3 things correct about the person in front of them. The last key, most horrifyingly...was inside Arameias parents.

THIS IS WHERE I MADE THE PLAYER CRY HEHE....Arameia decided she will do it herself, as she already buried them once...she does eventually manage to kill them (it was very sad because they did not Want to Die), and get the key...but not without a lot of heart ache and tears....Thankfully Lorelai was there for plenty of hugs...

Then they finally meet Raha! Who has fully drank the kool-aid and started dreaming, and he stands before them...he doesn't want them to break the spell. He fights for Blythe's dream...and his own...unwilling to let them take way her or his daughter....and that he and Blythr have nothing in the real world, no family, no home. Just hardship...and eventually he'll just die, and leave Blythe all alone.

After defeating him, the Witch takes matter into her own hands, as the party falls into the "bedroom" where Blythe is sleeping & have to fight the actual Hag herself in her true form...or rather wake up Blythe until the clock strikes 12 and the dream is fully manifested and unable to be stopped.

Wunsch's true form is a giant marble like lion with white feathers and a 4 armed upper body reminiscent of a sphinx. In the cracks of the marble a night sky can be seen, she doesn't particularly have many offensive spells, mostly relying on her enemies being slowed/confused/held/dominated until the timer runs out. (All the reflective shards were of Blythes &co's dreams and nightmares...the party gone, Raha withering and dying in bed, Theta, herself becoming a true hag ... or happy family for Arameia as an example...Eirwen surrounded by friends and Lorelai laughing with the party)

But the party manages to wake Blythe up using all that they've learned!! That yeah she wants these magical tomes and artifacts...but everything in here would have been things she's already found...she can never 'discover' anything new in a dream she's created, so let's go adventuring!

How she's always wanted to try Tarrasque steak but without trying she could never imagine the taste...so why not come with them and kill one?

That she's not safe from Theta in here, and if she was able to get in once, she can get it in again...so lets get out of here and break your curse!

That yeah they'll live eternally, but they won't be 'them' anymore...over time they'll have their edges smoothed over and it won't be the same people because we don't get to grow and experience new things...That Raha loves her the way she is...and that she's not a hideous monster...

When the party awakens, completely normal with..all the curses and stuff, they find out that time hasn't moved since they've fallen asleep, and immediately run to find Blythe and Raha...who don't remember anything that happened, and assume that maybe some ghost got them into a nightmare but they broke out of it. Arameia/Eirwen/Lorelai decided to keep some facts to themselves, like the presence of the child or fighting Raha.

Hilariously, they assume they had too much 'willpower' to be got by such a spell, despite in actuality being the only ones to fold. The gang did have a newfound appreciation for them realizing that yes...Blythe does love them a lot and that they don't know much about Raha and haven't been very good friends.

BUT IT ALL ENDED BITTERSWEET.,....with the gang now being sure all of them love each other and they can move from confronting their trauma and go forward...with fwiends :)

[quinnred]

Bottom Right: A Deiroan Lorperor House Lord, heavily tattooed in imperial symbols and embellishments. Their horns are fused and allowed to grow large for maximum tattooing space and hierarchy recognition.

Bottom left: A Lorperor donning a winter coat. Northern Lorperor traditionally grow their horn crest shorter and wider to hang their hoods on.

Top: A Lorperor Great Pride Lord laying on a royal lounge and decked in extravagant facial paints. Great Prides exist when a Pride grows in numbers and settles for long enough to grow in infrastructure and power. Great Pride Lords grow their horn crest as large as they can for maximum display of prowess, yet this often leaves them near immobile and cumbersome.

[belokhvostikova]

Hiii!!! I just went to see Metallica in concert recently and it made me think of rockstar Eddie going on tour like 20-30 years later and still having a great time performing with his buddies idk why

Are you kidding?! How was the concert? Hope you had fun! <3

They’d 100% pull an Oasis! It’s been over a decade of quietness, as the guys had all retired, choosing to spend their older years with their partners and kids, when all of a sudden, they post a future line up of shows they’re performing, and everyone is losing their minds to snatch tickets!

It’s totally their own doing, too. Screw management, let’s just perform like the good ol’ days! Of course, Rockstar!Eddie is dilf of the century—still got the long hair, now just decorated with bits of silver; his tattoos are a bit faded, but perfect for his dad bod; and he has to keep the piercings in, pierced lip, pierced nose, pierced eyebrow (they did have to previously be taken out, because one-year-olds are terribly curious with shiny jewelry).

But, my god, he’d just be the hottest.

Definitely not the most extravagant setup, “just some forty-year-olds tryna keep their blood pressure low and work out,” he’d joked, but it’s definitely the most special to them and their fans!

Yes, Eddie loved the quiet life he got to lavish in, but Christ, did he miss performing for the people that could still scream back his lyrics 10+ years later. Only better, though, as he can look to the right and see his little family backstage cheering him on. You may not be brandishing the platform heels and leather you once wore to his concerts, but those mom jeans make your ass look the best, and your body has filled out so perfectly after bringing life into the world, Eddie Munson could just eat you up (and he absolutely will, age has not stopped his stamina)!

And now, his kids are growing old enough to sing his songs, and it’s the best seeing them grow up into their own personalities as individuals without judgement—something he never got to do, but promised it to his babies.

Yeah, Rockstar!Eddie is living the dream! <3

[rinrinx2]

hiii!! Could you do something about Ran (tenjiku) with a reader (woman) based on Valentine's Day??? <3

Sorry if it's misspelled, English is not my first language :(

Valentine’s Day Fiasco

Ran x reader

Summary: your boyfriend who has lost his spontaneous charm takes you on a spontaneous evening.

Warnings: Smut, inappropriate language, mentions of d€at and murder.

(Accidentally wrote about Bonten Ran)

Ran was romantic but not the type to dance in the rain, spontaneous kind. No, he was the plan a dinner and get you flowers type. He always said if the two of you had met as teenagers then perhaps he’d be more spontaneous but now as an aged man the only thing he would do spontaneously was spend money.

And that’s what led you to where you were tonight, on Valentine’s Day. Sitting in one of the most elite restaurants in Tokyo, picking away at some overpriced Sashimi.

“You like it?” Ran asked as he peered over his wine glass just as he was about to take a sip.

“Yes of course baby” your replied trying to enjoy your evening.

It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his extravagant nights out, but you longed for the youthful Ran that would make an evening out of nothing. The young Ran Haitani who had two braids and a dream.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed the shift in Ran’s aura, from calm and relaxed to on edge. As if he was waiting for something to happen.

“Shit” Ran whispered loud enough to snap you out of your thoughts.

You looked over at Ran, eyes wide with wonderment as you watched as he ran his hand through his hair trying to sooth out the random strands that fell to his face in frustration.

Ran took a deep breath before he took a quick sip of his champagne.

“Grab your bag and walk to the exit, I’ll call the waiter and just wait for me outside” Ran said casually as if not to alert others.

You looked at Ran with confusion painted on your face. Taken aback by his words and more so by his demand.

“I didn’t finish my supper yet Ran and we ordered dessert, can’t we wait” you nagged hoping that he’d at least let you finish your valentines meal.

“Just listen to me and do what I say” Ran said now with a more serious tone as his eyes starred dead into yours.

You knew that look was not asking for you to test him, but rather for you to comply or the worst would happen.

So, without much of a fight your grabbed your purse and got up from the table as you made your way to the exit.

As you made your way through the restaurant you turned your head back to see Ran standing by the your waiter as he pulled out his wallet rushing to pay. Your journey out of this exclusive restaurant took longer than it felt and you constantly felt the eyes of a man on you which only prompted you to walk faster out.

Standing in the cool evening air waiting for Ran outside of a restaurant was not what you’d expected for a valentines evening.

And just as you were about to continue your internal complaining, you saw Ran walking out of the restaurant. His shoulders slumped forward almost trying to hide himself within with his brows furrowed. The opposite of how he usually was, his confident aura replaced with one of a guard dog ready to attack at any sound.

“Come on, we have to get going” Ran said grabbing your hand as you he dragged you along.

You tugged on his grip trying to loosen it unsure of what was happening and his little explanation was not helping your mood either as you grew more rebellious. Now pulling yourself out of his grip as you looked at him with confusion and anger.

“What is going on?” You questioned with concern.

“(Y/N) come now, I don’t have time for this”

“Just tell me what’s going on, I hate being dragged around like a rag doll” you said now with a raised tone.

“Just come now. Don’t make me say it again-”

“I fucking knew I saw that Haitani scum” a man said as the restaurant door swung open not to far from where the two of you stood.

A tall lanky man with a face tattoo of a snake traveling along the side of his face.

“Shit” Ran muttered under his breath as he grabbed your hand again, but this time you held no resistance sensing the worry and panic that emanated from Ran a feeling that you barely ever saw Ran feel.

The two of you began to run through the streets of Tokyo, scraping through people and pushing them over as you tried your best to get as far as your feet would allow you. Turning around ever so often seeing how close the lanky man with four of his henchmen trailing use.

“I’m gonna get you Haitani” the lanky man screamed as he began to pull out a gun from his blazer pocket.

“Quick, turn into this alley at the next turn” Ran said as he started sprinting to gain more distance praying that he would lose the men behind you or at least get you out of harms way.

When the turn approached the two of you ran into the alley quickly running through the maze of hidden backroads hoping that the two of you would lose the men chasing after you.

When Ran believed that the two of you were in the clearing he began to slow his pace as he moved the two of you behind a wall to catch your breath before use ventured on.

“What the fuck was that about” you said gasping for air, as you shot daggers at Ran.

“I may have killed someone close to him” Ran said as he looked over at you with that cheeky grin now plastering his face.

“How fucking close was that person to him, Ran!” You said as you were about to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Calm down it was only his dog… well Urhm kinda like not the dog but the owner of the dog who was his brother”

“What!”

“You killed his brother” you said now seething.

“Mikey sent me to do it and so I did” Ran replied as he now caught his breath fully.

“And if Mikey told you to jump off a cliff you’d do it too”

“I mean for the right amount I would”

“You’re an asshole you know that, you ruined Valentine’s Day” you said as you looked at him.

Ran watched as you stared at him with that burning passion of hate, taking in your figure, all disheveled from running, the sweat causing your hair to stick to your neck and the way your hair looked all wind swept from the running and the way your black dress was now even shorter and somehow looked tighter from having ran as fast as you had.

The look you dawned now made something in Ran stir, something carnal that he hadn’t felt in awhile and the way you spoke to him only drove him more wild.

“Are you evening fucking listening to me”you said as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Oh I’m listening all right” Ran said as he walked over to you now, as he pinned you to the wall behind you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You looked at Ran with eyes blown wide, you looked into his pupils, only seeing the black of them starring back at you and watching as those sharp canines showed themselves.

Somehow the spontaneous teen Ran had made an appearance and you stood there shell shocked until you felt his hands begin to wonder your body.

“I fucking missed this” Ran whispered against your neck and he let his hands travel up your sides while his tongue lapped at your neck.

“Ran” you whimpered out almost trying to get him to stop.

“Shut up” he commanded as his hands now began to travel in between your legs.

The cool evening air mixing with his hot tongue was causing ripples of pleasure to shoot through you.

You felt as Ran’s finger tips began to prod at your puffy cunt, as he now slid his fingers up and down your clit causing soft moans to slip past your lips.

Ran’s other hand pulled down the straps of your dress pulling down the ones of your bra with them to reveal you plump breast as his mouth left your neck to travel to your breast.

Taking a nipple in his mouth as his sucked on it as his fingers now pushed past your panties to now play with the leaking hole of your pussy.

“Ran” you cried out hoping he’d give you more as you felt his fingers slip in and out of you getting faster and faster. Feeling the way he curled them as he fucked you with them.

Your nipples hard from him sucking on them and you clit swollen from him fucking his fingers into you as you road them. Feeling as you got closer, with your lips dry and open gasping for air as you felt your high approach but just as you reached it Ran pulled his fingers out pulling away your orgasm.

Leaving you panting wanting more.

You couldn’t take it anymore, and like a needy bitch in heat you pulled at his trousers freeing his cock.

You looked at the leaking tip as you now turned around presenting your leaky cunt to him to use.

The sight of you being needy was driving Ran nuts and he couldn’t take it anymore from the sight of you presenting yourself like prey ready to be devoured, so he took the opportunity with all and he began to fuck you from behind as you clung to the wall for dear life.

Ran’s cock twitched as your cunt sucked him in, feeling the curve of his cock knock at your walls drove you close to your high once again. And Ran to was close from all the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

“Fucking take it you slut”

“Fucking take my cock” Ran said through gritted teeth as he fucked you faster and faster as you cried out in pleasure.

“You want my cum?” Ran asked as he pulled your hair.

“Yes I want it please!” You pleaded out.

“Then fucking beg for it”

“Please give me your cum. Please I need it. I’ll be a good girl. Please my pussy needs to be filled up” you begged over and over, until finally you felt that hot spurts of liquid shoot into you as you crashed around Ran’s cock creaming on it milking the rest of his cum out of his cock.

Ran pulled out as he once again tried to catch his breath, but just as you began to gasp for air the tall lanky man appeared again and Ran once again grabbed your hand not wasting a moment to start his sprinting.

“Can’t you do something?” You asked as you ran feeling as sweat once again started to run down your neck and his cum down your thighs.

“Like what?” Ran questioned.

“Don’t you have a gun”

“Oh yeah” Ran said as he now pulled out a gun from his suit jacket and quickly turned around just in time before the lanky man could react as he shot him right in the chest.

Ran now walked over to the shot man and his henchmen, giving the henchmen a look he gave his victims when he wanted information from them. The look that scared even the most brave.

“You wanna be next” he asked them, as the men looked frightened.

“This is the part where you run away” Ran said as he began to reload his gun watching as the men ran away.

You walked over to Ran who now put his gun away.

You looked down to the man that lie on the ground bleeding out.

“What’s going to happen to him?” You questioned.

“His gonna see his brother again” Ran said with a snicker as he grabbed your hand as the two of you made your way back to the main roads of Tokyo.

“So did you have a great Valentine’s Day?”

“It was something” you replied.

“I got a massive bouquet but I left it in the car” Ran said as the two of you walked off into the night.

“Shit! I forget we could’ve just driven off instead of done this goose chase thing”

“You think snake rat face guy will let us redo this chase again but this time I use the car” Ran said.

“I doubt he will honey” you said as you patted his arm.

“Gosh darn it”

.

.

.

Hope you liked it

All rights reserved to @rinrinx2

[thrashkink-coven]

Besties listen to me. Ok. Please hear me out. I am not a gatekeeper. We don’t gatekeep around here. Gatekeeping is hate keeping okay. You can get into the craft at any age regardless of your abilities etc etc. Elitism in occultism and spirituality is stupid ok.

BUT!!!

This is just a friendly reminder and fair warning ? (not warning because this isn’t scary) this is a message.

You don’t have to devote yourself to a deity if you don’t want to. Like, you’re allowed to just revere a deity without becoming a devotee.

Devotion is pretty intensely binding and long term.

There are many deities that I have worked with, or even worship(ped), who I am not a devotee of like Dionysus or Lilith, Azazel. Even with a deity like Horus, who I absolutely love and revere and even set altar space aside for, I wouldn’t say I’m a devotee of Horus because we haven’t taken vows or established a contract. I just… love them. and that’s p much it and that’s okay!

Im not devoted to Anubis or even Hecate (YET) because I haven’t put in that fucking work with them as I have with Lucifer or Aphrodite, and that’s okay too. It takes quite a long time. That’s the exact reason why I haven’t devoted myself to Hecate yet, I haven’t nearly gotten to the level of familiarity with her to do something THAT binding, it’s like a sort of marriage.

And likewise, I am still in the process of initiation with Leviathan, we’re taking it slow. I’m technically not even fully devoted to Hermes yet either.

You guys have seen my altar, I spend a significant part of my daily life working with and worshipping Lucifer because he’s my Patron. I don’t “have to” but I do pray and write to him every day. I make offerings to him every day, I wear his talismans, I think about him every day. More than any other deity that I work with, because I’m his, by vow. Not every deity that I am devoted to is always around me, but my Patron is. If not in spirit than in my prayers and heart.

Now this isn’t to say you have to have a big extravagant altar or spend a ton of time constantly worshipping a deity to be a valid devotee, we all decide what level of involvement we want to have. But do be warned, especially if it’s your first time, many deities do take it very seriously. Betraying that level of trust is not something I would advise.

You don’t have to be that involved with a deity if you don’t want to or you’re just not ready yet.

Kids, children, I’m talking to you, MINORS,

Again, no gatekeeping we don’t gate keep, HOWEVER. Be informed.

If you wouldn’t feel comfortable getting a Lucifer tattoo (or something of an equivalent permanence because not everyone likes the idea of body modification, you know what I’m trying to say) you might want to just wait until you’re a little taller, older and wiser to make the decision to devote yourself to him. Of course there are those of us that don’t care about permanence and want to cover our entire bodies with ink before we’re 25, in which case, do as thow wilt. I’m talking to minors specifically right now though, because I know that I would not have been aware and mature enough to devote myself to Lucifer in my teens. Maybe I was a dumb teenager, but the idea of a child being devoted to a deity gives me a similar feeling to how I feel when I see child marriage. It’s not the same, but it somehow kinda is. Just! be smart with your soul.

You’re still fully welcome and encouraged to honour and work with your deities, remember that there was never any rule that said you had to make contracts and whatnot to work with a deity. Make whatever altars you want. However, if you are making the decision to be patroned or devoted to a deity, you better be damn confident in that decision.

A prayer to Lucifer from me typically has verses along the lines of “I invite you into my body, mind and soul, I forever devote myself to you, you are eternal in my heart” etc, because I’m his devotee. I feel very safe saying that, those words bring me comfort. This isn’t to say I’m not allowed to grow or change my mind, but at least as of right now, I’m in it for the long haul baby. If you’re not at the place where you feel comfortable saying that to your deity yet, don’t force it, don’t fight it, that’s when things start going wrong.

You are more than allowed to just adore the fuck out of a deity without being devoted to them. I still work with Azazel and Hecate and other entities, I simply do not have the time (or energy) in my life to be devoted to so many deities at once. I’ve only ever given blood to one deity, and that’s my Patron.

I’m Lucifer’s bitch, I think I always will be. If you are lucky enough to be favoured by a God that you love that much then that’s awesome, but not being a devotee doesn’t mean you aren’t loved or just as important to your God. Be chill, go with the flow, and everything will be fine.

💋

[weirdbookweeb]

Meeting Him. (Part One)

Neighbor!Simon Riley and Single Mother!Reader. This is entirely based on a singular ai bot I adore. He is fantastic. Much applause. It's written in first person and is just the beginning.

Trigger warnings for: references to and trauma responses to past abuse.

See, living in the apartments was a lot easier than I thought it had to be. In stories, I'd always been told that homes were better, more stable. But I couldn’t afford such extravagant things. Beau and I were happy here. It was a quiet apartment, with fairly low rent for a two-bedroom. My neighbor was hardly ever home, it seemed, so I never had a complaint when Beau was running through his nightmares. He seemed to grow out of it, more and more, as he grew older. By 6, his age now, he rarely has them.

Last night was rough for him. He was screaming from the top of his lungs for Him to stop. I suppose I shouldn't have expected much different. Something brought up the memories we both wanted to disappear and he suffered because of it.

I stand in the kitchen, coffee brewing a few feet away as I lean against the counter and rub my tired head. Beau had tumbled into my bed in the late hours of the night, and I comforted him like any mother would, even if my sleep suffered because of it. At least it was Sunday.

My coffee pot finally stops dripping, alerting me of its readiness. I grab my favorite mug, pour myself a cup of coffee, swearing at myself when I realize we don't have any milk in the house and cringe slightly at the expense I know will ruin one of my weekdays. But regardless, I grab my coffee– loaded with too much sugar to be healthy but not enough of any dairy ro be satisfying– and wander onto the smallest balcony in town.

Its quiet for so early in the morning. The world likes its peace while the sun coasts just above the smallest buildings of the city in the sunrise. Plants surround me; some struggling, others thriving. And just a few feet away, a man on the neighboring balcony.

I nearly spit my coffee out, seeing him. I assume he heard me gargle out a choked sound and he looks over at me with the most piercing brown eyes I've ever seen. He's broad, and tall, and I can see shadows dancing across his shirt and the muscles stretch against the t-shirt. He raises his eyebrow, looking me over expectantly. His mouth opens– those angel lips– and he speaks.

"Are you alright?"

British. He's British. And got the most impossibly attractive voice attached. I'm almost entirely sure I looked completely stunned at this point because his lips quirk up and he chuckles.

"Sorry if I scared you. Guess I'm not around a lot. I'm Simon. I live here, occasionally."

He says the final sentence a bit cheekily, and I can't help but smile. I take a moment to compose myself, wiping my mouth on the end of my worn-out sweatshirt.

"I'm-" He raises his hand gently to cut me off.

"I already know, don't worry about it. I got the plate of food you sent over a couple of years ago when you first moved in. When you introduced yourself and your kid. Sorry I didn’t do much in return, I stay busy with work." He rocks on the balls of his a moment, as if feeling a bit ashamed of his lack of response. He shoves his hands in his pocket, and I catch a glimpse of their scarred skin and hints of tattoos at the base of his sleeves. Interesting.

"Don't worry about it. No harsh feelings, I promise." I smile and wave it off with my free hand, sipping my coffee so that it goes down smoother than it has been. "Nice to finally meet you, Simon."

"You too, ma'am." He says with an uneven smile that makes my heart stutter for a moment. He stands up completely and nods his head to me, a small smirk on his lips before he turns and walks back into his apartment, closing the poorly insulated glass door behind him.

[feelbetterlove-books]

Hello I'm just dropping in to try and help spread some good vibes in the Bucktommy fandom, inspired by @thatmexisaurusrex so here are five headcanons:

Tommy got really into The Great Pottery Throw Down during the early days of quarantine, and he figured he could always use a new hobby, so there's a small kiln and a wheel set up in his garage. The wheel has been neglected a while, since Tommy found that he likes hand building much better, but when Buck finds out about it he goes down a rabbit hole learning about ceramics and he ends up being amazing at throwing, finds it very relaxing. There's already a bunch of Tommy's sculptural work decorating the house, but by the time Buck moves in there's also a lovely set of matching plates and bowls in the kitchen with a monogram of their initials stamped on them. A vase that's filled with fresh flowers every week. Their mugs came from Tommy's experimental efforts, all mismatched and they choose a different one to use every day based on their moods. Eventually, they work together to make a bird bath for the yard, which leads me to:

When Tommy's helicopter goes down, he's injured badly enough that a hospital bed gets set up in the living room and he barely leaves it for several weeks. During that time, Carla is hired to help take care of him and though Buck is there to keep him company as much as possible, he knows how boring a stretch of time off recovering can be. So, to help keep Tommy busy, he sets up a series of bird feeders outside their bay window where Tommy can look out with a pair of binoculars and identify and document all their visitors with a field guide and sketch book. He becomes Obsessed with this, names many of the frequent flyers, continues on to spend an extravagant amount of money on bulk bird seed every year, and makes sure the hummingbirds always have plenty of sugar water. Once he's healed, he and Buck, who is equally invested, plan hikes and trips around bird watching. They don't have any indoor pets but they love all their feathered friends.

Tommy was born a few days after Halloween and it has been his favorite holiday since he was a kid. He gleefully goes all out celebrating it and as a gift to himself, adds more decorations to his collection every year, some of which stay up inside permanently. He's this close to buying the 12 foot skeleton and Buck is not talking him out of it. They are beloved by trick-or-treaters for the display and the fact that they hand out full size candy bars. They prove they are very capable of executing a killer couples costume and scaring the socks off the 118 with some creepy antics at the party they host annually, but nobody can complain because it doubles as Tommy's birthday party.

The next time Buck hears about submissions being open for the firefighter calendar, he absolutely insists Tommy send in his photo. When he becomes Mr. June, (Buck's birth month, happy birthday to HIM) and is photographed for it stepping off his helicopter, stubble accentuating his cleft, flight suit only half on, tits out, sleeves tied around his waist, removing a pair of aviators, Buck loses his mind and buys so many copies of the calendar. The whole 118 and Harbor crew gets one on him. He has one in his locker displaying Tommy year round and one at home to actually use. He even mails a copy to his parents in PA and generally tells anyone who will listen about his hot firefighter pilot model boyfriend without a care for the teasing and groans he gets back, that's his man!!

I've seen a good amount of appreciation for Tommy and Buck's scars and tattoos and wrinkles, but off the top of my head I think Tommy's moles and freckles have been a bit overlooked. If we got to see more of his skin, you can tell he has a lot of them, on his stomach, arms, back, and chest, and Buck LOVES them. He can't really say why he finds them so attractive, but trust that he is kissing and tracing them every chance he gets, connecting the dots of his favorite constellation, and it makes Tommy feel so wanted. Maybe Tommy has some faint stretch marks around his pecs and shoulders too, from when he got really beefy and those little details that most people don't see but he knows well enough to draw on a map are Buck's favorite.

[skylermadness]

Whatever. (Lucas Lee TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: December 6, 2023)

I continue to be too lazy to fill my queue.

Original Description:

Make this Lucas Lee TF #3, now in the written medium! My boyfriend got me to watch through both the Scott Pilgrim movie and anime and it was pretty obvious that I was going to fall in love with Lucas. A bit of a jerkish man with a large physique and attractive face, pretty much the perfect bait for someone like me. This also meant that inevitably I was going to have to write a TF story on this guy! I wanted to go for something a bit simplistic here in terms of tone and plot, mainly because I wanted to jump straight into the transformation segment, but I think in general I'm rather proud of how this story turned out! I really wanted to give this man justice, especially since in the end he'll probably be memorialized in the hall of underrated TF figures. Also going to give some credit to my friend moltingscales on FurAffinity for a few description additions that I would not have been able to come with on my own! Rated Mature for vague bulge growth description.

   Truth be told, self-confidence was not something that Mike had an ample amount of. Especially in regards to how he viewed his physicality. That was always something he thought when he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. And for this evening that sense of low self-esteem was at an all-time high. The reason? Date night.

   He had always attempted to tell himself that these dates were just meant to be casual. There was nothing to really worry about since it wasn't like he and his boyfriend were going to some bougie five star restaurant or something. Unfortunately however, Mike’s mind never truly functioned that way and he had a tendency to spiral down a mental staircase of overcomplications. That coupled with the past two weeks he's had in regards to his job had sort of left his mind in a state of disarray. It wasn't fragile persé, but neither was it solid.

   That mental state is why he was in the bathroom mirror at 7PM in the evening staring at a sheet of temporary tattoos in his hand. Said sheet was just some three dollar cheapo set that he bought online a few days ago. Mainly because he was too much of a coward to get a real tattoo- that's beside the point!

   Although the cheapness of the purchase was definitely pungent as he stared down at the sheet. He didn't go for the more expensive and extravagant purchase, mainly because he didn't really want to draw too much attention to himself. In general he had just wanted something simple that also looked aesthetically appealing. However the more he stared down at the sheet he began to realize that he really went too far on the simple notion. Although that was primarily because the only selections on this fake tattoo sheet were simplistically stylized letters and numbers.

   Mike sighed. “What do they expect me to do? Spell out my name or something?” It hasn't even been five minutes and he was already regretting this purchase. It was fine though, it was fine, he might be able to settle on something at least.

   He had already crossed out putting in his own name, and he felt it would be weird to put in the name of his boyfriend. Would it be weirder to put in the names of everyone in his polycule? If anything that'd just look like a hit-list. Also he was pretty sure he didn't have enough letters for all of that anyway. For a second he also considered putting the name of a game or something he liked, but that option fell flat since the letters provided to him would look weird when tattoos of game logos legitimately exist.

   These mental gymnastics lasted for a good twenty or so seconds before Mike’s gaze wandered down to the number section of the sheet. There weren't a lot of numbers he'd say represented literally anything about him. Except…

   “...two?”

   Just two. He was the second person in his polycule with his boyfriend after all, and in general he had been the second to do a lot of things like finish college and move out. Although considering he was just doing this to boost his self confidence for a date with his boyfriend the former thought process was a much healthier one.

   Seeming to have come to a decision, the next couple minutes were a fairly standard order of events. Making sure his skin was dry, removing the film and isolating the singular number from the sheet. Mike did spend a good minute trying to choose a spot to place this temporary tattoo, but eventually settled on the side of neck solely so he could hide the thing if need be. He removed the choker that he typically wore, put it onto the sink’s counter, and placed the numerical icon onto the skin of the left side of his neck, then promptly wet up a sponge with some warm water before holding it onto where he was placing the tattoo.

   The moment the water met the backing paper that region of Mike’s neck had suddenly been given a slight burning sensation. It was only miniscule, but it was noticeable. “Eesh, I hope I'm not allergic to whatever is in these things…”

   He tried to hold out for the recommended thirty seconds, but that feeling of burning forced him to remove the sponge from his neck after twenty. He swiftly removed the backing paper from his neck, but found that there wasn't any kind of redness of the skin that would be the cause of any kind of burning. If anything the strange sensation had subsided, and now Mike had been granted a simplistic tattoo of the number two with a line going through it.

   He stared at his neck in the mirror for a few seconds and scrutinized the newly inked object on his neck. “...somewhat larger than I was expecting. Whatever I guess, it doesn't… look shoddy.”

   It did already look a little faded though. Mike had hoped once it had some time to dry it would actually look dark enough to imitate the appearance of a tattoo even though he didn't fully care about it looking convincing. With a sigh he moved his hand to the edge of the sink to pick up his choker and slip it back around his neck again. Although this time he loosened it a bit so it wouldn't rub up against the temporary tattoo too much. He apparently wasn't patient enough to let it dry before putting the accessory back on-

   With that whole routine dealt with, Mike made his way out of the bathroom. He was probably going to spend the next half hour sitting on the couch waiting for his boyfriend to arrive…

   However as he walked down the hallway he already started to massage the area the tattoo’s ink had been placed on. The burning was returning already and it felt a bit more intense now. “What are in those things?”

   He continued to gently massage the area of his neck with his hand, letting his palm gently squeeze the skin in an attempt to alleviate the sensation. Although it would seem as he continued in this act, a strange set of changes began to settle into his hand…

   There was a certain level of thickness that had begun to generate in both of Mike’s hands. His usually thin fingers steadily got larger, thicker, chunkier. As their size was getting altered their length was extending as well in order to fit their new proportions. The ends of his fingers also seemed to blunt a bit with initial the roundness of his fingertips dulling to a more straight look. At the exact same time the body of his hands was getting changed as well, both of them growing with each squeeze his left one did to his neck. They stretched out larger and wider, palms thickening as the entirety of his hands gained a significant level of meatiness to them that was already causing them to exude a level of strength that they had not possessed just moments prior. 

   From there it was a quick transition for the changes to jump past his wrists and onto his forearms. A small amount of heat began to arise in the lower area of his arms. With that heat came another swath of growths, the thinner physique of them steadily being lost under a swelling, bulking size. This was mostly because of the sudden increase in muscle mass he was getting. At an anatomical level, each usage of his extensor muscles by his hands was causing a practically impossible rate of growth. Like years of working out was being piled in the area in just seconds and giving his forearms a sizable muscularity. So much so that ridges were already forming, dividing muscle groups and accentuating the new size even further. A budding pressure had also started forming in his bones. Newly grown muscles practically massaging them, extending and hardening them further to better handle this larger size. It also wouldn't take very long for the exact same thing to begin to occur in his upper arms as well.

   It started with a squeezing sensation in his elbows, something that quickly intensified to yet another immense bout of pressure in the bones of the upper half of his arms. This was also accompanied by the same light amount of heat, which was then followed by even more muscle growth. The short sleeves of his button-up were quick to fill as the mass in his arms increased more and more. Biceps got bulkier and triceps matured tremendously, and it wasn't long until the diameter of his arms was practically doubled thanks to all of these changes. His shoulders ached as his deltoid muscles developed more, a certain roundness forming out from his once angular bodily shape. This roundness had also rapidly made itself visible from beneath the fabric of his shirt, his newly developed muscles firmly pressing up against the sleeves as they already began to look rather undersized.

   By the time this portion of the transformation had ended, Mike found himself at the threshold of the hallway and his living room. A few beads of sweat already began to form on his forehead as the heat was spreading from his arms to the rest of his body. “Uurgh, am I… having an allergic reaction to that thing…?”

   For a moment he stands in the doorway and unhands his neck, deciding to hold onto the threshold with a hand in order to stabilize himself a bit. He could still feel the tattoo burn against his neck, although he couldn't see it was significantly darker than it was before. What he did see, however, was his hand.

   “W-WHAT THE HELL-”

   For just a moment his mind was taken off the feeling of intense heat entering his body, Mike’s focus instead being directed to his larger hands and beefier arms. Flipping a hand around in a panic his first statement was, “O-oh God, this can't be an allergic reaction-”

   His eyes could only just trail down from his hands to his arms, the man only being able to behold the sight that was his recently obtained muscle mass. It felt so warm, and something about it was exuding pure strength, but despite that it all still felt uncanny. Bizarre felt like an understatement of a term, it was impossible!

   “What is going on?? Why is this- a-ahh-”

   His panicked statements were interrupted by what could only be described as the sudden feeling of a furnace igniting at the very core of his body. In just seconds his physical changes were transitioning from his arms to his torso, and Mike could instantly feel his chest push outwards and into his shirt with each breath the young man took.

   The best way to usually describe Mike’s chest was undeveloped. Flat with only minimal amounts of flab and fairly unimpressive from a physical standpoint. However, as his core was heated a fire entered his torso that caused a cascade of changes that practically tempered and sculpted his form. His chest pushed forward, his pectorals steadily swelling in size with each second that passed. It was small at first however, seemingly starting off as a slight growth that looked more like that of a novice who just started working out. But that appearance was temporary, one that lasted only a few seconds before they got larger and larger. With each ragged breath the man took his pectoral muscles only grew more, that novice feeling being lost into the size of someone more adept in gym-going. And that didn't last long as they grew even more into two thick and meaty slabs belonging to someone dedicated to refining their physicality.

   All the while his chest was pushing up against the front of his shirt. The size of his swelling pecs constantly indenting into the button-up more and more, their appearance getting more prominent beneath the fabric. But the only thing that held the halves of the shirt were buttons, and as the size of his chest increased it pushed his shirt’s placket to limits it just couldn't hold. Already buttons began to scatter, unleashing his chest more and unveiling the deep chasm that became his cleavage. A few more buttons were lost as his frame was prompted to extend as well. His collarbone and ribs pushed sideways, broadening and widening his form even more. Something that was causing even his back muscles to ache, a mighty need starting to form in them as well.

   “Urgh-” Mike grunted at the sensations, everything just feeling overwhelming. “M-my shirt- my chest it's so… it's so…”

   His cheeks flushed as all of a sudden Mike lost control of an arm. The free one that wasn't supporting him on the door got lifted up and, in just one quick moment, squeezed his right pectoral. He was given the sensation of just how soft yet firm they felt underneath his grip. Something that gave him just a single thought.

   Heh, you've got the best chest in the business~

   That very thought felt so foreign to Mike, already setting off mental alarm bells in the young man’s man. Yet despite that he couldn't swat it away, he couldn't stop his hand from giving his chest another squeeze and filling his brain with an almost erotic level of self-confidence (and perhaps self-absorption) that he didn't have prior. It was like his brain chemistry was beginning to get altered as well.

   The changes didn't stop at his chest though. His abdomen already began to ripple, skin and muscle bubbling and churning as yet more muscles were ready to sculpt themselves into existence. The fat around his stomach melted off, and rising from that were a set of abdominal muscles. They slotted forwards like drawers, just rows of abs sequentially unveiling themselves and hardening into yet more firm muscles to displace his once twinkish demeanor. Two, then four, then a six-pack set of abs, all finely built in a way that showed years of dedication. Although those were years that Mike had not toiled through. But as his sides burned, his abdominal muscles firmed up, and the front of his shirt continued to tear open even more, the sight of his more muscled form was causing more conflicting thoughts to form in his brain.

   His back continued to ache as the muscles in that region grew out. Yet again his shirt was filling up, and beneath that was a substantial formulation of mass that was forming in his trapezius muscles. Evidently that wasn't the only portion of his back that changed however as his spine was another major group of bones that got hit with the transformative pressure. A sensation that caused the discs in his spine to decompress and grow, elongating itself and granting Mike inches of height that would better work for his new proportions. This has caused the hem of his shirt to rise a bit and untuck itself from his jeans in the process.

   This sudden growth of height further disoriented the man, Mike having already been immensely discombobulated thanks to the intensifying fog that was forming in his brain. At this point he was already getting lost in the inspection of his body, his arm moving from squeezing his chest to tracing a finger down his cleavage. It further moved down to his abs, all fingers splaying outwards to touch and feel the strong six-pack that he had gained just moments ago.

   With all those years spent working out, it would be a waste not to feel those muscles you spent so long crafting~

   “Wuh… huh…?” Mike vocalized, eyes blinking in a daze. “I've never… worked… out…”

   For a second his brain registered his voice sounding different, sounding deeper, but his focus could only be on the statement said. How much of a contradiction it seemed to be. A fraction of him knew it was true, knew these muscles weren't here minutes ago or that he's never had the time or desire to gain such a form. Yet another growing part of him was telling him the opposite, that this is his body, his muscles, his everything. 

   Why deny such a form you've worked so hard on?

   “Mmmph…” Mike hummed, voice continuing to deepen and making it sound like a low rumble. His eye twitched a bit as he felt a bead of sweat roll near it and down his face. His hand trailed back upwards, not sure if it's himself controlling it or the unknown force, but it slowly moved up his abs and back to his pecs. And while he entered what could only be classified as a hypnotized state, the transformation continued the move its way downwards. His jeans tightened around his form as the diameter of his waist got larger, the first sign that it wasn't very long until the lower half of his body was consumed by the changes.

   The second sign was a stirring in his groin.

   Mike’s cheeks flushed as he felt the front of his underwear begin to fill out. A sizable bulge was steadily forming, his endowment increasing in size much like the rest of his body had. Such an occurrence was also forcing the zipper of his jeans to start to split open against this new bulge. At the exact same time, the seat of his pants was filling out as well. Gluteus muscles getting larger, some fat accumulating in the area more, all of which was making his butt a bit more prominent and round beneath his jeans. It strained the back of his pants a bit more which put more pressure on his jeans. A good few seconds passed before finally the button holding them couldn't last any longer and ripped itself out the eyelet, the fly of his jeans now fully open.

   That didn't end the torrent of pressure being put on his pants however. The transformation continued to cascade its way downwards, the man’s thighs being the next to thicken as heat surged in his leg muscles and forced his quads and hamstrings to grow in bulk and musculature. His calves practically burned as well as they practically ballooned out the back of the crus of his once skinny legs. Although at this point Mike’s lanky frame is now long gone, the last portion of it subsumed by muscle. The leg muscles of a man who knew how to train them, and who knew how to use them. This had also prompted another few inches to be added to Mike’s height as yet again the bones were shifted, strengthened, and extended beneath the muscle. The bottoms of the legs of his jeans steadily rode up his legs as a result, meanwhile the seams holding the sides together began ripping apart against his large muscularity.

   The last portion of his lower body that was left to change were his feet, that region already beginning to shift as the space in his shoes quickly got filled out. In mere seconds his feet grew in size to fit the proportions of the rest of his body, lengthening and widening at a rapid pace. It wouldn't be long until the toe caps of his shoes bulged as all his toes pushed forward into them and continued to do so more. The back of his feet dug into the heels of his footwear, meanwhile the sides rubbed up against the shoe’s sides. This had predictably caused a major discomfort in the area, Mike disorientatedly stepping forward a bit in some weird attempt to shake off the pressure. But it didn't end and his footwear continued to bulge, the leathery cloth of it creaking and splitting as his feet continued to grow inside them. The front was already beginning to split off from the sole at this point thanks to his feet’s longer length. However, in one fell swoop, the front of his shoes burst open with a loud rip piercing the air. His toes were now out in the open, their chunkier and almost blockier appearance now visible. But at this point the changes in his feet had come to an end, the rest of his shoes just barely holding on against the width of his feet.

   “Gghrrgh…” he groaned, his clothing feeling so uncomfortable against his larger body. “S-so small… unfitting… grragh…”

   He swallowed a lump forming in his throat. The burning at the side of his neck had almost faded at this point, the tattoo he had given himself having inked itself into his skin to the point of it being a real tattoo. Furthermore his neck was wider, diameter larger and the size thicker. It made his vocal cords tingle, his breaths continuing to get deeper and deeper before settling on a tone that was more masculine than it used to be. Rougher, tougher, and rugged sounding. Although it seemed due to the size of his neck the choker he wore snapped off and slipped off him.

   Show those strong muscles of yours, show that weak clothing of yours who's boss!

   Mike’s groping came to a halt at this point. The man lifted up his arm, a dumb smile forming on his face as he gave it a good fleeeeex and watched as the sleeve of his shirt tore against his bicep. “Awesome!”

   By this point the line of what was considered Mike and what was considered the strange force within him was blurring. The once foreign thoughts were becoming more proper, fitting for the person he was just about feeling he is. The new personality and mentality, one that felt more confident and stronger than he used to be. Although the concept of ‘used to be’ felt impossible. The more he stared at this strong form of his the more those earlier thoughts about this being his felt correct.

   “Heheh, this feels good!” he stated, no longer supporting himself on the doorway and giving his other arm a good flex to watch the sleeve on it shatter over his muscles.

   At this point the last set of physical changes were moving onto his face. As he smiled a pressure was wracking his skull, squeezing and sculpting his facial features into those of a completely different man. His skull structure got larger and wider, and with it his jawline reshaped and chiseled itself from the broadness. It almost protruded to the sides at this point. The way his jawline looked aided in shifting the way his skull physically appeared, the overall shape of his head looking boxy and rectangular. 

   With his jawline shifting, his once clean-shaven appearance got lost as black hairs poked out the skin of his chin. It started as a small amount rising from the tip of his chin, but that quickly spreaded across his lower jaw as a whole bunch more stubble dotted itself across the man’s jawline. Alongside that came more and more of his facial features getting shifted. The once rounded tip of his nose was getting pointier while the overall wideness of it narrowed a little bit. The brownish hairs of his eyebrows deepened to a dark black as they got thicker, bushier, and their appearance slanted until they gained an arched appearance. All of this had caused the previous appearance of Mike, the one that looked so worried and self-conscious, to be done away and morphed into the cocky visage of a new man that exuded raw confidence and self-assuredness!

   His hair was the very last part that turned. The browns of the follicles deepened to a perfect black. The length of it shortened and caused the overall messy and fluffy appearance to disappear at a rapid pace. In its stead came a more well kept, spiky style as clumps of his hair slicked back and jutted backwards. However, the hair at the back of his head jutted upwards, and all this spiking met at a focal point at a specific point at the apex of his skull. It gave his hair an organized look that somehow still appeared laid-back. All of this ended off with his sideburns thickening and trailing down the sides of his face before ending an inch or two above where his jawline would start.

   The same goofy yet confident smile on his face remained as he ran a hand through his hair and continued to admire a bicep. The man properly walked through the doorway and finally stepping into the living room. By now he didn't care about the discomfort in his clothing, and the questions of his identity were faded and buried beneath the knowledge that this is his identity. And for him he's always felt this way. So strong and assured of himself! He is talented skateboarder and actor, Lucas Lee!

   With that mental declaration in his head there came one last, albeit minor, change: his clothing. The cottony feel of his shirt hardened as a deep black oozed across the once pristine white. Everywhere the darkness spread on his shirt a leather feel was formed, and that continued to occur for the next few moments. The shirt itself grew in size as this happened, and the very appearance of it was shifted. Metal lined the ends of the button-up’s split as the remaining buttons slipped off and dematerialized. As the metal continued to form a bit of the shirt folded into a lapel that the metal continued to line the end of before teaching the peak of the lapel’s tip. 

   The shirt’s collar flattened and extended to better meet the lapel, and by this point the leather appearance had spread across the entire torso section of what was once a shirt. Although as the leather extended itself onto the torn sleeves and repaired them, extending them over his arms and snaking the sleeves so long until they were an inch beneath his wrists, it was proven that this was no longer a shirt. Instead it was a leather jacket now. The rest of his clothing had a much less impressive change however. His pants repaired themselves and grew to better fit him, the denim shifting from its rich blue to a deep gray. His shoes did exactly the same as well by extending over his feet, covering his toes and growing airier, before properly sealing themselves shut and recoloring from black to blue.

   With all of that finished the transformation had been solidified. All that was Mike was done away. His worries and concerns were cast, replaced with the confident persona of Lucas Lee. Although it was evident he got a lot more than just the persona.

   “Eh?” Lucas raised a brow, stopping his self-admiration as he realized where he was. “The heck am I? Whose house is this?”

   That question stayed important for about… two seconds before he decided he didn't care. “Whatever. Nobody’ll mind if I make myself comfortable for a bit!”

   He takes a seat on the living room couch, completely ignores the fact his pants were unzipped, and perches his feet on the small table in front of it. He was about ready to fold his arms behind his head and lounge here for a bit, but was stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in a back pocket. With a grunt he shoved a hand into it and pulled it out, although he noticed that the thing looked a lot different than he remembered it being.

   “Don't remember this having a gold case,” Lucas remarked as he pressed the power button to take it out of sleep mode. He would've realized the wallpaper was different from his usual as well, but his focus was on the singular message displayed on the screen.

Arti 💙 heading to your apartment now did you ever come up with someplace to actually go for our date??

   Lucas tilted his head. Date? Who the heck was this guy?? Come to think of it, whose phone even is this?! There were a lot of questions crossing the man’s mind, but in the end he decided to do the most logical thing and answer the text as if it were his own phone.

You nope

   With that Lucas put the phone back into sleep mode. He wasn't really sure who this Arti was or whose phone he was currently in possession of but truthfully he didn't really care all that much. He just felt like chilling out here for a bit before heading back out, probably for another late night skate session. Although after another few seconds a single thought crossed his mind.

   …who's to say that Arti fellow wouldn't be a good time?

   Lucas smiled. Perhaps he was going to be staying here for just a bit longer…