#and strong enough to do a fair bit of heavy lifting

[unexpectedbrickattack]

How strong is Gus compared to Peppino exactly I did saw some concept where Gus grabs peppino with a giant hand and shakes him around

(Had to check the sprite wiki bc i was SO sure i saw something similar to this; its a scrapped animation of Gus punching Peppino if Peppino failed to deliver a pizza (also a scrapped concept))

Gus is VERY strong and almost on par w Peppino. I have no reason for this; i just like the idea of both of them being very small and also deceptively strong heehee The best way I can compare the two is that Gustavo can Wrestle w Brick (basically a fucking Bear) and win; Peppino can just body check Brick and knock him out completely (and win, lmao)

You didnt ask for this, but Gus (ignoring important gameplay mechanics that prove otherwise) is NOT very fast at all. He can do a pretty decent sprint but he tires out very fast; Brick is the majority of his speed and he has no shame in relying on him. He does find it a LITTLE offputting knowing that even at Bricks full speed, Peppino can EASILY outpace them, blazing past the two of them looking absolutely deranged and redfaced. He can keep that speed up for an incredible amount of time too but the second he hits something or is forced to come to a stop, he just crashes right there 😭

[xoxo-sarah]

The Fair

↝a/n: well this was heart wrenching. ☹️ Why did I decide to write this? I hurt my own feelings with this one, guys.

↝pairing:Daryl Dixon x reader

↝warning: angst, death, season 9 events, Alpha + whispers, the spikes, Daryl never getting his happy ending, it's a bit gruesome ngl, crying, fighting, torture, getting shot, stabbing, self-loathing (Daryl ☹️), more death, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 6.24.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

The early morning sun shone across the town of Alexandria, although not doing much for how the fall chill nipped at any skin showing.

Daryl glanced up from his spot on the porch, after hearing the door open. You stepped out, face scrunching when the smell of nicotine hit your nose. Daryl simply took in your appearance. Freshly showered, clean clothes, and wet hair knotted into a different style than usual. He took a final puff of the cigarette, before flicking it somewhere off the porch.

As you stepped forward, his hand motioned to your hair, "I tried a different braid. I think it's called a fishtail, I'm not sure though. Needed to practice so I could do something different for the fair." You shrugged, moving to take a seat beside him on the rickety porch steps. His hand raised, feeling the bumps of the braid.

He knew you were excited for the fair, wanting to get out of the walls of Alexandria, and not to do a supply run. You need this; time with friends who feel more like family every day.

Daryl dropped your hair, looking around at the other houses. They were quiet, due to everyone still being asleep. If Daryl hadn't stayed the night, you would probably still be in bed. But you woke up to Daryl, who hadn't slept a wink, due to his stress levels. The whole whisperer thing had him on edge, and it only got worse when Lydia came into the picture. Daryl had been just fine only caring for the people he kept close to him, people who he had known for years. But then came Lydia, who was just a kid. He had needed out; out of Hilltop where Lydia and Henry were. You were his safe space, somewhere he knew he could always go to.

Feeling weight being added to his shoulder, he turned, listening as you whispered into the crisp morning air, almost like talking normally would wake everyone, or disturb the peaceful space of the porch. "She's a good kid. She just doesn't know any better. Alpha, her own mother only taught her survival. It's not Lydia's fault, you know that. Give her time."

"Might not have time." He couldn't help but grumble. He knew you were right, Lydia is a kid. She only knows survival. To an extent, Daryl could relate to her. You lifted your head, looking over his face,

"Maybe, but I have a strong hunch that you have enough time to go wash the stench off of you." Your nose scrunched again, more animated than before.

Daryl rolled his eyes before standing. You watched him as he walked to the door, flipping you off before the door shut behind him. A heavy sigh exited your lips when you knew he was gone.

It had been a little over two days since you last saw Daryl. It's not like you were worried. He could hold his own. Atleast, he could before people who wore the dead's faces were among everyone.

That might have you on edge. Or it might be the fact that he had the thing that Alpha wanted, making him become an even bigger target.

Your fingers divided your hair, twisting it into the same braid from before. Your mind was elsewhere, hands moving without a second thought.

The house that you occupied in Alexandria was quiet. Too quiet. You had grown comfortable with the usual silence, since Daryl had left in search of Rick.

The house you once shared turned into yours, with Daryl only visiting. He never stayed for long. Maybe it was the memories, or something that you had no knowledge of. Either way, you weren't going to push him.

Men like Daryl, once they're pushed too far, they leave. It's like their fight or flight goes off. You weren't one to push.

When Daryl and the little gorup found Lydia, Daryl had to escape for the night, going straight to the familiar house. He had told you everything about the Whisperers and Lydia, how They had killed Jesus. Although her group had killed someone who you could rely on, you pitied Lydia. The moment between you two was short-lived when morning came. After he had taken a shower, he was on his way back. Your time together wasn't much, but it was something. Given the circumstances, it was enough for both of you.

A knock at your door had your trailing thoughts stop, along with your hands. You were quick to tie the braid up, before moving to the door. Daryl stood, shoulders sunk in, along with the bags under his eyes, blood coating his hands. Your eyes met, relief, from seeing him mixed with the concern from seeing the dried blood, ran through your back.

Daryl stood against the kitchen sink, scrubbing his hands together, watching as the water turned red before flowing down the drain. "Henry's hurt." Was the first thing he had uttered since you opened the door, letting him in.

You perked up from where you were perched against the counter, having been watching his movements. "How bad?" He shook his head, letting you know it wasn't life or death, without saying a word.

"Here was closer to get him stitched up. Lydia's with us."

Your eyes traveled over his face, looking for any sign of how he felt about that, and maybe even a hint of how much shit you were all in.

"She's a kid." He sighed, turning the water off as he used your same words from before.

You nodded, hoping he knew that he didn't have to explain himself to you. You trusted him and his instinct.

Now night time, you walked with Daryl and his little group as they got ready to leave. Aaron insisted on walking with you, staying with Daryl as you were in step with Henry and Lydia.

You tried to ask questions that were easy for her to answer, questions that didn't revolve around how she had grown up. Questions that made her feel human, not just a piece in the game of survival.

As your conversation drew to an end, you listened in to Aaron and Daryl, " 'Member way back when I told you, you'd make a great father?" Your eyes traveled to the gravel under you. "You got to skip the exploding diapers part, but I was right."

Henry and Lydia tried to contain their own little conversations, hiding their smiles and blushing from the other. Just two teenagers acting as normal as two teenagers could in the broken world.

Daryl grumbled, "A lot has changed." You felt eyes boring into your back but didn't look. You smiled as you felt Dog rub against your legs, begging for attention. Would you and Daryl be able to be happy in a world like this?

"I stand before you today at the start of a new tomorrow. A tomorrow made possible by the sacrifices of many over the years." After a long ride to the kingdom, you stood amongst the crowd, watching as Ezekiel stood on the balcony, giving one of his infamous speeches.

"Among them, a man whose mission was to build community and strengthen the bonds between us. A man who had to destroy the very thing that connected us in order to save us. It took far too long to fulfill the promise of what Rick Grimes and his son, Carl, envisioned, the same promise Paul Rovia, better known to most as "Jesus", believed in when he brought us all together those many years ago. We always will be. We fought our way back to each other. We have grown. The crossing over the river may be gone, but we have rebuilt a bridge, nonetheless. Today is proof we can unite, not against a common enemy, but for the common good. So eat, drink, and be merry...'cause we got a lotta lost time to make up for."

Jerry stepped forward, a hug grin on his face, "Let the First Annual Inter-Community Reunification Fair begin!"

"Jerry!"

Jerry swung around, looking up at the King.

"We changed that."

"For reals? F. A. I. R. Fair?"

Ezekiel sighed, leaning over the railing to stare down, "It's too many-nevermind. Let the Fair of New Beginnings begin!"

Applause broke out through the crowd, doves being released into the air.

Tara, who stood beside you, nudged your shoulder, directing your attention to the gate of the Kingdom. The gates opened, revealing Michonne- who was set on not coming to the fair- with Judith, Daryl, Connie, Henry, and Lydia in tow.

Your feet moved before you even thought about it, and you were in front of Daryl before you knew it. He opened his arms, welcoming the warmth of your arms around him.

Sure, you had seen him not that long ago, but being apart from him became even scarier over the week. Daryl swayed from side to side, before you pulled away slightly.

Carol came over when you two had fully broken apart, bringing her best friend into her arms.

You smiled, watching the two. After she teased him, she watched as you moved back under his arm, laughing when your lips collided with his cheek, watching Daryl grow shy, his ears turning a pink hue.

"C'mon, I heard there's a fair or something happening." You winked at Ezekiel, as he joined in on watching the two of you, throwing his arm around Carol.

It only took about 15 minutes before the fun was cut short.

"You just got here." you sighed, utterly frustrated. You couldn't have one day that was slightly normal. Somebody always had to be a threat. It just happens to be Alpha's group.

"Hilltop's in danger."

"I know,” You huffed, kicking the asphalt under your feet, stopping when Daryl halted, reaching down to pet Dog's head. "I just think you deserve to have fun too. Or at least let me go with you."

He instantly shook his head, standing at his full height. His eyes slightly squinted as he looked at you, "'T's too dangerous, you know that."

"Exactly. You need more people and you know i'm a good shot." You cracked a smile, trying to ease the tension. Daryl looked away, hiding his slight amusement. "At Least be safe." Your voice was serious, almost threatening. Unwinding your arms, letting them fall to your sides, as he finally looked back. "I mean it, Dixon." He puffed air out, before bringing you into a side hug. You two stood by the gate, not caring as people walked past, trying to get ready to leave with Daryl.

The hug was warm- comforting, too bad you don't get the luxury often. "You too." His gruff voice was muffled in your hair, followed by a dry kiss on your forehead. "Can you take care of Dog for me?" He pulled back, already knowing your answer.

You only got a single nod in before Carol walked over, an apologetic smile on her face about the whole thing; having to interrupt to hint that it was time to go and having to cut your time together short.

Saddiq grunted as Michonne rushed over to his pitiful body. His tired eyes reluctantly raised to look at the people following behind her. As he saw Daryl, the pain felt fresh, like all the wounds were pulled open and dirt was shoved into them. He shook his head, trying to get the picture of your last moment out of his head. Your screams of agony rang in his head. What you made him promise rang even louder. He could only cough when the makeshift gag was ripped from his mouth, waiting as Michonne cut his hands free. "What happened?" Michonne asked.

Saddiq could only point, words dying on his tongue. "I-I..."He stumbled with his feet as much as his words. Michonne held most of his body weight as he tried leading them to the hill.

Michonne's face dropped in horror, as they walked closer, close enough to realize exactly what was in front of them, close enough to identify the heads on the spikes.

All it took was for the wind to pick up, causing the braid to sway in the wind, for Daryl to feel the world stop on its axis. He could only watch as your mouth moved, biting and nipping at the air like a feral animal.

Something that would haunt him forever, the hunger for human flesh taking over the one person he couldn't live without. As you began to let out a growl, he had to turn his head, looking anywhere. He couldn't take the sight, feeling his stomach churn.

You were just in his arms, smiling at him, joking around, wanting to spend the time at the fair with him.

His eyes caught a head of blond hair, his body moving before he could think twice. "No! No!" His hands attached themselves to Carol's shoulders, frantically trying to conceal the gruesome picture before them that would surely give him nightmares, if he was even able to sleep. "Just look at me." His voice broke, but continued to repeat himself.

He watched as her lips pursed, before they began trembling, feeling his own emotions breaking through the comfort-others-before-yourself facade.

His body slowly collapsed with hers, his hold on her not faltering. If he held her tight enough, he might be able to feel the warmth you always radiated in his arms.

Maybe it was selfish to try to find comfort of his own while he was comforting her, but he couldn't help himself. Who was going to comfort him? You?

Daryl wasn't one to cry much, but he felt his eyes begin to burn. Before either of them knew it, their tears mixed together on Daryl's clothes as his grip tightened even more.

"I was there. I was taken with the others. And I saw...I was supposed to die with them. I was ready to." Saddiq stood on the podium, looking out at the crowd of mixed communities, all of which had lost someone dear to them. "Then, Alpha whispered in my ear, "Tell them." Something hit me and everything went black. ANd when I woke up, I was alone." The image of you, tears and blood dried on your face as you laid lifeless. "What happened was evil."

Daryl stood in the very back of the crowd, arms crossed. His own thoughts ran wild, so many 'what if's. What if he had stayed? What if he had let you go with him? What if, what if, what if... Daryl tuned out the rest of the speech, only zoning back in when he felt a shaky hand on his shoulder.

"Y/n..." Saddiq did everything in his power to not let his voice shake, but it was useless. He forced himself to keep eye contact, feeling like he at least owed that, even if his eyes were glossy and his nerves were shot. Daryl had to know. He had to know Saddiq was honest and kept his word for you. "She fought. Hard." The shaky man shook his head.

-flashback-

Siddiq looked around, at the old barn, at the people who stood around wearing the dead’s faces, at his friends and family kneeled down, gagged and tied up.

You stared at the people standing, a fire behind your eyes, that Saddiq had never seen before. He couldn’t recall you even blinking.

As Saddiq watched for you to blink at least once, your eyes shifted from the person you were staring down, to behind them.

It was only a split second before the person you had been staring at was hit in the back of the head.

Ozzy, Alek, and DJ yelled as they swung at each and every masked person. You weren’t sure who untied you, but you didn't have time to see. You were on your feet, punching the closest whisperer to you, picking up the knife that had fallen out of their hands.

Everything turned into a massacre.

You stabbed and swung and stabbed some more. Hearing a yell, you swung around on your feet, grabbing the person holding Enid down, before you grabbed by the back of their shirt, your hands moving fast and with force as the knife punctured the chest repeatedly.

Blinded by rage, you moved on adrenaline.

Large hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you off of the dead body. You could only watch as a new group of Whispers amerged, and charged at what was left of your group.

Alpha stood in front of you, inspecting you. She moved her hand to your hair, her grin making your blood boil. “Beautiful hair. Shame I have to keep it on your head.” The image of her flashed in your head. The blonde hair, of which you now knew wasn’t real, or wasn’t her actual hair. The thought of her cutting it off of someone made you sick.

She tsked, turning when she saw one of her own push someone into the dirt, their knife raised to strike.

“Stop.” All eyes, including your own, were watching the scene play out. Alpha’s eyes scanned the small barn, bodies littering the ground. “They’re the last two.”

The hands tightened on your arms, but you weren't about to show weakness, not over a few bruises being made. One hand moved to hold you still, as another brought a blade to your neck.

Your nostrils flared, watching as Alpha dragged Saddiq right in front of you, although it didn’t take much force with how his body ached, before she held a knife to his throat too.

“What do you think; should we let them decide on who should die?” Alpha’s words were directed to the man behind you.

Your eyes caught sight of Tara, who laid limp on the ground, blood dripping from her mouth. Clenching your jaw, you looked past Saddiq, straight into Alpha’s soul, or lack thereof, anyway. “Now," Alpha pointed at you, “You’re Daryl’s. I Watched you this morning.” You felt the grip on you tighten even more at the mention of Daryl’s name. “You’re loved by everyone- is he?”

She shifted her crazed eyes to the back of Saddiq’s head. When she didn’t get an answer, she put pressure on the knife, drawing blood.

“Fine!” you croaked, “Fine, kill me. Please, he-he’s important. More than me. Please.”

You turned your attention to the man holding you, “Daryl, he said he beat your ass. Told me all about it. You want to hurt him back, right?” You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but you just hoped they would take it out on you, not Daryl or Saddiq.

Beta growled, his breath becoming erratic, as he looked at Alpha for any signal. He could make one quick move and break your neck, but you knew Alpha wanted you to suffer. She wouldn’t let him have all the fun.

It had to be you. Saddiq had a baby on the way. Rosita had told you, and made you promise to keep it on the down low.

There was a long moment of silence, only the angry hot breath fanning over your head, before you were thrown to the ground, hands tied behind your back again. Alpha made everyone leave, dragging Beta out as he shook in anger, ready to pounce.

When the two were out of earshot, you stared Saddiq down. He began shaking his head, “You can’t-”

“Yes. Yes, I can, Saddiq. Rosita needs you.” The baby needs you, especially in this world. “You have to tell Daryl that none of this was his fault. I know him, he’s going to blame himself and pull away.”

You licked your lips, feeling the dryness and small cracks in the skin. Maybe it was selfish to ask that of him, but it was the only thing you could think of in the moment. You didn’t want your last moments to be thinking of how Daryl will pull away, like he always did when he lost someone. He wouldn’t have you to help him out of it. “Tell him I wouldn't blame him for anything that happened tonight. Please, Saddiq. Please promise me. Just…make sure he’s not so hard on himself. Please-”

A gunshot rang out, followed by your screams. You fell onto your side, blood oozing from the wound on your shoulder. Saddiq’s head swung to where the bullet had come from, Alpha walking back in, handing the gun to Beta as he followed her. Whatever conversation they had had outside left Alpha fuming.

Another scream ripped through your throat when Alpha brought her foot up, putting weight on your open wound. “Why are you so willing to die for him?” She seethed.

“‘Cause that’s what you do for family, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Angry tears welled in your eyes as you stared up at her from the weird angle.

Your next words were directed to Saddiq, as if you knew what was going to happen next. “ Tell Daryl I love him.”

It all happened so quick. Alpha leaned down, her other hand holding a knife as it dragged across the soft skin of your neck. Your hands fought to move to the blood flowing out of your neck, but were bound behind you. Your mouth moved like a fish out of water, until blood coated the inside of your mouth, painting your teeth red.

Saddiq watched the life drain from your eyes, his brain blank. He felt numb. Alpha walked back over to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Before he knew it, everything went black.

“-She wanted you to know that she loved you. I could tell she did. I’m sorry it's not her standing in front of you.” Daryl didn’t reply, much like how he hadn’t uttered a word since Saddiq began talking about you, about your last moment. He walked away, leaving a teary-eyed Saddiq.

The wind was chilly as Daryl and Lydia walked up the hill to where Daryl felt the word stop. The spikes still stood, a reminder that that was Alpha’s territory now.

Darl looked away from Lydia as she kneeled in front of the spike, where Henry’s head had been. He let her have a moment.

“She’s just a kid.” Your voice rang out in his head, a reminder that she was a kid, dealing with the loss of someone who she cared for and who cared for her. Sounds familiar.

His eyes caught sight of the familiar spike, glaring at it with all the hatred in his heart. Blood had soaked in and dried to the wood. Your blood.

He hated the world even more. He hated Alpha, Beta, the fucking whisperers, and the wanted to hate you for being so selfless, but he couldnt get himself to. Most of all, he hated himself for going against your last wish. The guilt would eat him from the inside out and he would let it.

He felt like he deserved it.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

People who wanted to be tagged: @vaniniweenie @sassysebastian20

[loverslantern]

Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

  I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed. 

  It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it. 

  It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

  Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down. 

  And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true. 

  I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

  The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in. 

  “Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

  “Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

  He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

  His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

  “You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.” 

  He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them. 

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

  His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

  My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

  He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm. 

  I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

  He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely. 

  I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

  Jesus. 

  Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

  His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

  I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

  He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

  Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

  “You ar—“

  “Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.” 

  One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

  He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

  “Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low. 

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going. 

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

  My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?” 

  I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

  His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

  “What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach. 

  His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.   

  He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it. 

  “Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

  His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

[yourstrulyrika]

hey guys did u miss me :3 i am most likely back !!! i feel like i owe everyone an actual explanation what happened that i disappeared for a moment;

first, i was really sick and couldn’t really do a thing, and if i had the energy, i had no motivation, then i got 100$ stollen from me so i basically had a really low episode. sorry for the inactivity, i was sick for almost three weeks & had to go to doctors multiple times. there was more, but i don’t want to dump it all here, since it’s literally a fic post and those things are private so um!! yk.

either way, here comes the actual post, and then i’ll actually get to my rqs so no worries, i’m not missing anyone out! i might be just a biiiiit rusty. just a bit. i lowkey hate this i think

leon x fem!reader, of course it’s a smut, soft soft soft, soft dom!leon, lovelovelovelove, leon letting you try to ride him basically

the last thing Leon likes is being vulnerable. well, one of the last things. he hates being seen as weak, emotional. he’s the strong person of the relationship, he can’t show his emotions right? he’s so deep into that headspace that it was almost impossible to pull him out. he always found an excuse to not let you take care of him.

you would try and suggest taking control in bed, and he always found a way to make you stop thinking about it. it’s not that Leon doesn’t trust you. he trusts his darling more than anyone else, even himself sometimes, but letting someone take control over him just.. sounds weird. to him. he’s also nervous about lying back down and letting you do the job. what if you won’t like it or something? he doesn’t want to mess up. it’s just that Leon doesn’t know what to do when he’s not taking care of someone or when he’s not being ordered around.

when he finally agreed though, he still kept his hands on your hips. not bruising, but it’s still there, large hands holding onto your hips, controlling the pace. he’s not ready to let go fully, he has to hold onto even the slightest bit of control. it brings him a peace of mind in its own way.

but you also bring a peace of mind to him, and he finds himself letting go, even if a little. the feeling of your walls surrounding his length is enough to make him go stupid. Leon has always been quick to grow pussydrunk on you. every time you squeeze around him, he thinks he might bust a nut right there at this moment. the fact you’re so beautiful doesn’t help either; he finds himself losing in the sight of you all the time, his eyes blown out, that stormy blue of his almost nonexistent with his pupils wide.

“Goddamn, your grip on me isn’t fair…” he half whines half grunts it out — it’s true, though. you don’t even have to do anything and he’s already on his knees if you need him to. only for you though — there’s no way anyone else would ever have this type of grip on him. you’re squeezing him so damn hard, he’s losing his mind. he can’t help himself — he agreed to you taking control but he finds himself thrusting his hips up, taking over the pace because your pussy just feels too good.

when you stop moving your hips, he whines. he was feeling so good, but you took it away! looking at you with blown out eyes, he pouts his lips, only for you to remind him he’s supposed to let go. he knows you want him to relax and let you take control— but he just can’t, not fully. still, he tries.

his hands hold onto the fat of your hips, lifting your hips up and down, making you bounce on him, his heavy balls slapping against your ass and making loud clapping noises echoing through the room.

“Fuckkk, your pussy’s so damn good.. can’t hold back when you’re gripping me so fucking hard, feels ‘s warm,” your slick leaks down onto his pelvis, both of your juices mixing into a mess, your sweat mingling with his. one of his hand trails up, pulling you down to wrap his lips around your breast, suckling on it as if you were about to start leaking milk. you tug on his hair, clenching around his fat cock which causes him to groan around your nipple, resulting in you arching your back. he pulls away just a bit to attach his lips to your neck, a faint grin forming on his lips every time you react to his touch. he got you too dumb on his cock for you to keep reminding him that it’s his turn to be lying down and just taking it, just as pussydrunk he is on you, and he’s planning to use it. he still keeps you on top of him but he’s thrusting in and out of you so fast you can’t quite catch up, his pillowy lips all over you making you feel dizzy. you can feel his cock starting to throb and him getting just a tiny bit bigger. he’s relentlessly hitting your sweet spot which has you mewling for him, just the way he loves. it doesn’t take long before you cream all over his thick length, your toes curling and walls pulsing with every heartbeat of yours. soon enough, Leon follows suit, thick cum bursting out into deep your guts.

when both of you cool off from the peak, you grumble about how it was supposed to be him being the submissive one for once, but he just laughs it off with a kiss on your nose before speaking with that grin of his,

“Maybe one day, sweetheart. Gotta work up for it.”

[mayapapaya33]

Caduceus is going to be doing so much of the Pro Gods heavy lifting in the animated CR universe it is unreal. He does a lot in the Campaign anyway, but with the way the story is trimmed down and distilled, most of the small npc interactions that add breadth and depth are not going to exist. It's really all on him and Pike, and Pike is busy right now having a crisis lol. They are going to be able to get so much exposition and philosophy into the story through him it is wild. He is radically different from every other character ever played at the table and I hope they preserve just how weird and lovely he is. I'm really looking forward to seeing him in all of his animated glory.

Especially considering how much of Pike's relationship with the Everlight has been cut/ changed/ shuffled around. All the temple building/ restoration she did hasn't happened in the animated universe yet. They haven't really explained the Everlight's diminished following, though they have a good set up for doing that with the Zerxus/ Asmodeus bit they've got going, so I think they might be getting more into that in season 4 hopefully. (Hopefully we see Pop Pop Wilhand again and we get some revised family lore about why the Trickfoots started worshipping The Everlight! I love what happened in the campaign but it's pretty obvious we don't have time for any of that and they made a new thing up. I hope we still get to see JB).

I think it's cool that Pike is getting a crisis of faith arc because Ashley wasn't able to be at the table often enough to have that kind of character arc for Pike, and I'm sure her relationship with the Everlight will come out even stronger in the end (they wouldn't make THAT gigantic a character change, that would be stupid lol. C3 Pike is still running around out there as a faithful cleric of the Everlight, so unless they're RADICALLY shifting into an alternate universe that storyline will be resolved at some point), but for the Mighty Nein animated series, it will be interesting to see how they approach Caduceus and his philosophy and his steadier faith. Because he is the stable anchor at the heart of the group so very often.

His doubts tended to be small and quiet moments mostly focused inward rather than outward from what I remember. Like when he was worried about his family, he was more doubtful of his own strength and clarity of purpose rather than of anything to do with the Wildmother. When the Ship stealing piracy shenanigans happened and Caduceus had his no good very bad first experience with the ocean, he was worried that he had misinterpreted the Wildmother's will and made the wrong choice going with the M9, his faith in the Wildmother herself was still strong.

They'll obviously get to the Everlight stuff at some point in tlovm considering they are literally going to go to her house and meet her face to face, along with the Knowing Mistress and The Dawnfather. But it's still a completely different vibe in C1 and C2 in the party between: "People who don't worship the gods but think some of them are great + Pike" vs gaining the firsthand philosophy in action from one of their followers in Caduceus and everyone slowly learning life lessons from him, including one conversion in the form of Fjord. (And Yasha's stuff with the Stormlord, and I guess Jester counts too lol). Pike's awesome, but just purely in the animated show, right now she's not the best ambassador for the Everlight or the tenents of that faith lol. Although to be fair to Pike, in the campaign, Vax did almost become a follower of the Everlight before his faith was rather abruptly claimed elsewhere. Also Scanlan converted for the (first) wedding apparently.

[ellabsprincess]

I’d love to see your take on domestic!abby… all the little ways she uses her strength around the house, how she shows you little bits of affection like wrapping an arm around your waist while you’re cooking, kissing you on the forehead when she brings you a drink whilst you’re working… just soft, fluffy, buff wife…..

<3-🐚

this is literally so cute!! i know this isn't much but here's some domestic abby headcanons!!

domestic!abby headcanons (abbyxreader)

warnings: lowercase intended, literally none this is pure fluff

tags: @m-3-ijiworld @seraqhites @uraesthete @hehatesmati @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @elliespookie @dropsofs4turn @millersaurora @jjmaybankslittleslut

wanna join my tag list? click here

she uses her strength to her advantage around the house. she works hard for her muscles and her physique, so she puts it to work when you need anything done around the house. she's always lifting heavy items for you, moving the furniture when you ask her to, just being your perfect muscle wife.

she loves having an arm around you. you're cooking a nice dinner? you can count on her making her way to stand behind you and look over your shoulder, her arms snaking around your waist to keep you company.

sometimes you have to shove her away because you don't want to burn her or hurt her accidentally with whatever task you're doing, and she leaves sulking, her bottom lip jutting out and pouting dramatically.

let's say you work from home, or you're just taking a project home, she is taking care of you every chance she gets. she won't bother you too much, she knows how much you care about your job and your projects, but she'll still finds subtle ways to show her affection. forehead kisses when bringing you a snack or drink, or just quick shoulder massages when you take a break, she just wants to touch her pretty wife.

speaking of massages, she LOVES to use her strong arms to rub away all your aches and pains. she'll have you lay on the couch, or on your shared bed. she'll put on some soothing, quiet music on in the background, the air being filled with the smell of a nice candle as she rubs her rough hands up and down you body, making all of your pain disappear.

abby loves to pick you up! it doesn't matter your size, the woman can hold you, and she will make sure you know it. too lazy to walk to the bedroom? she will scoop you up in her arms and carry you there herself. in public and your feet are hurting from your shoes? she will carry you bridal style to the car. she doesn't care if people stare, she just wants to make her pretty girl feel better.

she takes such good care of any pets you have. they are literally her children, and she will get up at the crack of dawn to go on walks with your dogs, or pet your cats because they decided to jump on the bed before you were ready to wake up.

she definitely has a thing for you being her housewife, and loves to see you doing menial tasks like cooking and cleaning up the house, but she will always contribute to her fair share of the chores. you're too tired to cook? she's leaping to her feet to make your favorite dinner. didn't have time to clean? it's okay, she'll let you take a well needed nap while she tidies up the house.

she also just loves calling you her wife. she makes a point to mention it in literally every conversation, rarely calling by your name, preferring to call you her wife because she's still in disbelief that she gets to wake up next to you every morning.

CUDDLES!! cuddling with abby is literally heaven. her strong arms surround your body, and the soft beat of her heart is the most soothing sound as you fall asleep on her chest. she definitely rubs up and down your back and kisses your forehead as she feels you drifting off, so happy you trust her enough to relax into her arms and sleep so soundly.

hope you guys enjoyed!! if you want more headcanons for abby or other dynamics let me know because this was fun!!

kisses mwah mwah

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 4

ch1 ch2 ch3

Kon and Peter: clown to clown communication commences.

New York had some massive craft stores. Peter had to direct Kon to one, which was fair but nerve wracking since he didn't actually know for sure it existed here. 

Luckily it did. 

Kon’s stepdad must have been loaded, or maybe Kon didn’t understand finances the same way that Peter did. He loaded up a cart with everything that Peter pointed out. He got two pairs of sewing scissors, which was a wild decision Peter could barely wrap his mind around. Was Kon planning to cut with both hands at one time, or for buddy crafting sessions? Those things were like fifty dollars a pop!

Some consultation with the staff helped them get metal decorative bits and three different sturdy mesh fabrics, one of which had glitter on it. They were all black. Peter eyed Kon for that, kinda impressed by the commitment to an aesthetic. Kon was like a little kid in the store, rolling down aisles on the back of the cart and tossing everything in without even checking prices. Peter found himself caught up in the euphoria and talking waaaay too much shit about projects he wanted to do, despite knowing he definitely couldn’t afford it. He really shouldn’t have. But Kon actually seemed interested when Peter talked about his design for a spidersuit- in a subtle way! And Kon just wheeled back to the big section and started trying to talk him around on the merits of red and blue tinted leather instead of athletic fabric.

It was funny, so he went along with it. And then Kon tipped the entire rolls into the cart and went in search of thread to match.

Peter stared at the back of his head for a long moment processing. Was he for real?

“Hey, I didn’t mean today,” Peter said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and trying to sound casual. “I don’t have any cash with me. I mean, I’ve got some, but not like that much-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Kon interrupted. His voice was a little weird. Almost short. Like he really didn’t want to talk about money. “I have that covered. Luther pays for whatever I want as long as I keep in contact.”

“...Okay, thank you,” Peter said, because that seemed like a great minefield to stay out of. He mentally reclassified Luther to an estranged and possibly financially abusive Dad, not a Stepdad. “Hey, if we’re sewing leather, I don’t think we can do that by hand. You want to look at the machines?”

Two industrial sewing machines and a serger later, Peter desperately and unsucessfully tried to talk Kon down from buying his very own bedazzler. He slouched behind Kon in the checkout line, wondering if this was just the kind of mistake a man had to make for himself. No way was he actually going to get enough use to make it worthwhile, right? Right?

The total made Peter feel kind of green. Kon paid for it all with a swipe and not so much as a blink. Then he bundled up all the bags and hefted them with no apparent effort. 

“Hey, let me help,” Peter protested, strategically snagging a couple. They had two sewing machines for jiminy cricket’s sake, that had to be heavy for a normal guy. 

A moment too late, he realized that Kon was a big strong guy who lifted a lot of weights. He’d probably deliberately taken the heavy bags because he had good reason to think he was stronger than Peter. Aw, fiddlesticks. Should he pretend this was heavy? Had he just given too much away? Kon seemed like a nice guy but Peter really didn’t know-

Kon just let the bags go with a bemused smile and a, “Thanks, dude.” He appeared to have not a single thought about the situation as he started walking to the door. 

Good. He didn’t know that these were like, heavy. It must be nice to be a big strong guy.

Ah, well. Peter trotted after him.

His day had gone off the rails. The library was open now for sure. He had planned to be there by now, refreshing his website design skills. Maybe he’d gotten an email back about a possible job. He really should check-

But it was only one day at the absolute most, Peter justified to himself. And it was really really nice to feel normal again and do something impulsive but harmless with another teenager.

They wound up in an unsettlingly clean, empty apartment. Kon carelessly threw their loot on a pure white rug and walked in without kicking his shoes off. He pulled off his leather jacket and threw it at the couch without looking in a show of coordination that Peter could respect.

Peter shucked his tennis shoes carefully and lined them up against the wall before he ventured in. Kon was already opening up the fridge and pulling out cans. He threw one to Peter. 

Peter caught it without a thought and then blinked at it. Carbonated juice? Weird, but probably good. He said, “Thanks, man,” as he cracked it open. He took a sip and made a face. It was good, but very weird. He looked at it again and noticed that it was also somehow a yogurt drink. Fruit carbonated yogurt was a concept that he had not encountered before. 

‘Don’t be a dork. It’s probably a rich person thing.’

Kon perked up like a dog hearing a car approach. “I have to-” He gave Peter a distracted smile. “I’ll be right back. I have to do something. Could you uh, entertain yourself? Maybe set up our stuff?” He was already edging to the door.

Peter shrugged, confused at the sudden turnaround but amiable. “Okay, I’ll wait,” he agreed easily. 

Kon was gone so fast that Peter almost thought there was something supernatural about it. He shut the door, bemused.

And he did what he said. He cut off tags and threw away packaging. He plugged in the machines and set them up, one on the desk and one on the table. He mused that the apartment was furnished like a fancy hotel room. He sat down on the sofa to wait. 

It took a while. He couldn’t track the time without turning on the evil janitor phone, but Peter was pretty sure that at least like, ten minutes passed. He shifted uncomfortably. Was this weird? 

Kon was awfully casual about leaving someone he’d just met in his space. Peter didn’t mind, exactly. He knew that Kon wasn’t dangerous to him because his spider sense hadn’t gone off at all. But Kon didn’t know that! Didn’t he, like, know about stranger danger? Objectively, Peter could be a pretty dangerous person. Not by temperament, but still…

He sat there for a while and worried about Kon’s self preservation skills. After that, he ended up just getting started on his spidersuit.

Frankly, the leather idea was… Well. He had to rethink some of his concepts, that was for sure. It was easy to make a spandex suit. The hardest part of that was dealing with the endless teasing from Mr. Stark. But leather didn’t have the same stretchiness to it. So he sketched out a few ideas, tossing out numbers and proportions and trying to figure out how much he needed around each joint to accommodate his spidery range of motion. 

And then he remembered that he uh, was doing this with another person present. 

The jumpsuit thing? It made sense when he was wearing Stark tech. There was a big benefit to having no seams. But there was a reason that his first ever suit had actually been in two pieces: that was how normal people dressed. 

‘I can’t exactly tell Kon that I’m a misplaced superhero.’ Peter choked down a laugh and borrowed the leather jacket off of the couch. It would work as a pattern.

He traced the main pieces onto the scrap material they’d gotten. It was a real pain in the ass to do without cutting the clothes apart, but he had a pretty good understanding of how a 3 dimensional object was made from a bent 2 dimensional object and figured out something that he was mostly confident was accurate enough.

Peter put his hands on his hips and looked at his tracing victoriously. Then he frowned. He looked at the jacket again.

Aww, man. He sadly started drawing another line, a couple inches inside the first one.

Kon was big, okay? Kon was a big strong jacked guy! Peter was pretty jacked for his size, too, shoulders way bigger than his waist. But he was uh, just built smaller. The shape would work for Peter, but the size was going to be way off if he just replicated the pattern. He bit his lip as he worked.

“What are you doing?”

Peter jumped four feet straight up in the air and flipped onto the couch. He landed in a spidery crouch on the balls of his feet with both hands splayed down for balance. 

He stared at Kon with wide eyes. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh fuck.

Kon laughed. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He draped himself over the couch backwards, head pointing towards the floor and knees over the backrest. The smell of smoke wafted over.

…smoke? What had he been doing?

“Yeah, sorry,” Peter said slowly. 

‘Did he- he didn’t notice that wasn’t normal? Or maybe that’s something normal humans can do here. I mean, Kon can fly!’

Holy shit, he was in the clear.

“I was going to cut myself a jacket pattern,” Peter explained. He got back off his crouch on the sofa cushion. He tried to be as normal as possible about it. Wow, he was killing this. “I used yours to make a pattern, hope that’s okay. I didn’t mark it up or anything.”

“It’s cool,” Kon assured. He tilted his jaw upwards so that he was watching Peter upside down. “Sorry about how long I was gone. I got caught up helping my neighbor’s cat.”

“...With a fire?” Peter asked before he’d thought about it.

Kon frowned at him. 

“I mean, you smell a little smoky,” Peter demurred. 

The other guy laughed nervously. “Yeah, my neighbor is a bad cook.”

Peter nodded and accepted that. He knew all about bad cooks. “Do you cook?” he wondered. “I’m not great, honestly, but I can do a few things.”

Kon perked up again- and wow, this guy was like the world’s largest, most handsome golden retriever sometimes. “Cooking? I ordered everything in- can you show me?” His eyes sparkled like he had never before considered that he could cook for himself. 

Wow. Peter smiled, but he silently judged Kon’s parents. Why didn’t he have any practical life skills? “Yeah, of course. What do you have for groceries? Your parents won’t mind if we cook?” He started cutting out his pattern pieces in the test fabric. He had 5 main ones- two sleeves, a back panel, and two front pieces. Shit, he’d need to get a zipper, wouldn’t he?

Kon snorted and let his head fall back and hit the bottom of the sofa. “I live alone,” he said. “No one is going to even notice.”

“...How old are you?” Peter asked.

“Two,” Kon lied blithely. 

Peter made an aahhhh of comprehension. Fair enough. “I would have guessed like, 17,” he said.

“Is that how old you are?” 

“...Yes,” Peter lied, remembering that’s what his ID said now. He finished cutting out the back panel and put it aside.

Kon flipped himself up and back onto his feet. “Cool. I’m like, 16,” he said. “Basically.”

…That was a weird thing to say, but Peter noted it. Maybe he meant he was 15 going on 16. That would actually make them the same age.

“Are you from here?” Peter decided to move the conversation into more neutral territory. “I am, I’m from Queens.”

“Baller,” Kon said. “Nah, I’m from Hawaii. I recently moved to the mainland. I still have a place back there, but I have some things to do over here and they’re always kinda last minute, you know?” He scrunched up his face. “Flying over everytime someone has an errand gets kinda tedious.”

“That’s true,” Peter agreed. 

Kon seemed to brighten. “Plus, my friends are here.”

“That makes a big difference.” Peter smiled at him, genuinely happy for the dude. Maybe he had a shit time at his high school in Hawaii. Maybe he got bullied for being too big and handsome and friendly. “Hey, did you think about how you want to add the mesh to your jacket? It is this jacket you wanna alter, right?”

“I want to replace the back panel,” Kon said instantly. “Like, the seams and structure are the leather, and then the back is see through. Wouldn’t that look so fucking cool?”

“It would look cool,” Peter had to admit. It was the kind of look he wouldn’t go for, personally, but he might if he had traps like Kon. Still, he had to check. “You don’t use this for protection, right?”

Kon stared at him blankly.

“Like, for riding a motorcycle or something?” Peter prodded. Wow, he felt awkward. This was dumb. Kon wasn’t actually a 2 year old with no life experience. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“No, but why would that matter?” Kon asked slowly.

Peter felt his shoulders ride up, like he could turtle away from the conversation “Uhhh, well the mesh isn’t going to be as strong as the leather. Obviously. So if you fell, you might get more scratched up. That’s all.” 

God, why did he talk? Why did he ever talk?

“Ohh,” Kon said. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Nah, that’s not an issue for me. I’m tougher than that. Also, I don’t ride a bike.”

“You don’t do anything dangerous, then,” Peter confirmed with some relief. “Cool. So, I was thinking that we should leave a bit of the leather to attach the mesh to. Gimme? Thanks.” He took the jacket. He barely noticed that Kon was giving him a really weird look. “So, if it was my project, I would cut out a rectangle…. Well, it curves by the neck, but still. I would cut out the leather, leaving like an inch beside each seam. What do you think?”

“Sounds good.” Kon took the jacket back and picked up one of the sets of scissors. He played with the scissors for a moment, opening and closing them at high speed. “Vroom vroom, let’s go.” He flung himself onto the floor, back pressed to the sofa, and started cutting.

…Peter took a moment to hope that he hadn’t given advice that would ruin Kon’s jacket. He went back to his project until Kon said, “I’m done. What’s next?”

“Which mesh do you want?” Peter asked. Then he sucked in a break. “Ah, fuck.” 

“What?” Kon was standing so fast that Peter didn’t actually see him move. He looked tense and ready for action.

Peter didn’t notice. He was pressing his thumb and forefinger on either side of his nose and wondering why he was such a dummy all the time. “We need to wash the fabric first,” he said apologetically. “Obviously not the leather. But the mesh needs to be washed. Where’s your washer?”

He gathered up the fabric and followed Kon’s instructions. Kon trailed behind, obviously curious. “Why do we need to wash it?” he asked.

“Uh, it’s never been washed before, right?” Peter explained. He shoved the fabric inside and started looking for detergent. “Usually fabric shrinks when you wash it for the first time. So if you cut it first, sew it in place, and then eventually wash it, it’ll shrink and like, warp, and ruin your stuff.” He grimaced at the memory. Kon had bought the supplies like the cost was nothing, but Peter remembered vividly the crushing disappointment and pain of accidentally ruining something he’d made. Fabric wasn’t expensive, but it was expensive when you didn’t have money.

‘I just lucked into this,’ Peter thought, and felt guilty. ‘I’m going to be able to have a spidersuit just because I happened to meet Kon and he was nice enough to spend money on me. Am I taking advantage of him?’

He put the detergent into the load and started the washer. Man… He needed to make sure he was a really good friend to Kon. Because that’s what this actually was, wasn’t it? Kon had immediately started hanging out with him and bought him things because he was lonely. He was trying to get a friend. It was kinda like Mr. Stark, except less pathetic, because Kon wasn’t a super rich superhero with awesome super friends who could just tell them he needed help. Kon was a teenager who lived on his own and had an estranged Dad and maybe like, no one else in his life. Did he even go to school? Was whatever was going on with him even legal?

“...Do you want to get started on lunch?” Peter suggested. He was hungry, but that wasn’t why he asked. They had time to kill and he wasn’t going to make Kon watch him work on the spidersuit. 

“Yeah! What do you want to make?” Kon followed him back to the kitchen and watched with a sort of pleasant curiosity as Peter checked the fridge and cupboards. Literally the only things sitting out on his countertop were a bottle of dish soap and a sponge. That was it.

The fridge had canned drinks and take out leftovers in it. The cupboards had two cups, one of which was storage for a fork, spoon, knife, and pair of chopsticks. 

Peter gave Kon a strained smile and bent to check the lower cupboards.

They were empty and eerily clean. There weren’t even any cleaners in there, so that was wild. “Kon,” he started, and then didn’t know where to go with it. “Do you own a pot or pan?”

“No, why?” Kon cocked his head at him. He honestly seemed just curious and not a bit embarrassed. “Should I?”

“...We need one to cook in,” Peter said. And a few other things. Did– did Kon not own any plates, either? 

‘I guess he wouldn’t need one if he gets take out and uses the containers all the time,’ Peter rationalized. ‘But who lives like that? Why didn’t someone teach him how to live like a person?’

And who was cleaning this place? It hadn’t seemed so weird when he entered. But now that he knew Kon lived alone, this was just bizarre. If Kon wasn’t living with a neatfreak parent and he didn’t own anything but dish soap, how was his apartment so clean? Did he have a maid service or something?

Kon was way weirder than Mr. Stark. Peter gave his new friend a queasy smile when he realized that. Man, this guy needed help. “So, if we don’t wanna do takeout, we need to go shopping,” Peter said. That was an understatement. “A pan, a couple of plates, and groceries.”

Kon pulled the wallet out of his back pocket and waved it around. “That’s fine. Lexy has it covered.”

‘Lexy? Not Luther? Is Lexy his stepmom or something? Or is that a nickname?’

Normally, Peter would feel bad about spending someone else’s money. But this time he felt a kind of vicious satisfaction in the idea of running up this dude’s credit cards. Wherever Kon’s Dad was, he was a dick and he owed his kid some vegetables and a frying pan. “Yeah, okay. Do you have reusable bags we should grab on our way out?”

“I don’t think so. What are those?” Kon asked.

“...We’ll buy some,” Peter decided. “They’re usually made of canvas or something. It’s so that you don’t have to buy the one use plastic bags all the time. Let’s go.”

“Cool.”

Kon in the group chat: guys I have made a CIVILIAN FRIEND. 

Bart: neato im happy for u!

Cassie: big if true

Tim: What’s his ssn i just wanna check something

Kon: I don’t think he knows I'm a superhero. It’s nice, but is that weird?

Cassie: probably because you’re not famous enough yet sorry

Tim: get gud

Bart: get good

Kon: fuck u guys. I’m undercover. I’m being so normal.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Bonus Chapter

Tommy Miller x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, graphic depictions of violence, being turned on by violence, pregnancy, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also referred to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please reread warnings, as they have been updated. Also for this fic specifically, heavy on the self victim blame. I'll have a a note at the end about it.

Additionally for this chapter, dub-con for Tommy, bordering on non-con. He is not into it. If that angle of this srt of thing disturbs you, don't real this chapter. I'ts not neccecary for the plot, but I had people asking.

*************************

“You can never tell anyone, or we are both dead.” Tommy tells you before instructing you to lay on the bed and take off your pants, and you did as you were told, nervously exposing yourself to him, but you keep your legs closed. “You’re gonna haveta open up if we’re doing this, I ain’t pry’n your legs open.”

You knew Tommy wasn’t a fan of this proposition, but was trying to help you. You wondered how the brothers ended up so different… It was Tommy who tried to stop Joel from fucking your face, trying to stop him from buying you. It was Tommy who convinced Joel not to deflower you last night, Tommy who brought you food and amenities and finally, Tommy who was taking your virginity now for the sake of easing you into whatever Joel had in store for you.

You open your legs, and Tommy placed his hands on your hips. “Take deep breaths, I’m going to do my best to make this easier on you.”

“Okay” you whisper, trusting him for no other reason other than he was kind to you.

Tommy tried to touch you between your legs, and although it felt a little good, you pushed his hands away. “Just do it.”

You weren’t looking at him.

“C’mon, let me make this easier, warm you up.” Tommy spoke softly, trying to calm you. His voice was soothing, that was for sure. It wasn’t like you trusted him completely, you still felt that if you made the wrong move Tommy would hurt you, especially if it was under Joel’s orders, but you felt fairly confident that with this at least, he would take it easy. Joel wouldn’t show mercy.

You shook your head, still facing the wall. “Joel won’t make it easier, I shouldn’t get used to it.”

Tommy sighs. “He might. But either way, it’s going to hurt less if you are relaxed. Or, I guess more relaxed.” You still refuse his touch. “Okay, can I start?”

You nod, and Tommy carefully slips a finger inside you, and you whimper, wishing you could swallow your pride and let him make you feel good, but you refuse. You refused to find any pleasure in any of this, you could hold onto at least that bit of pride. 

You were tight already around his one finger, and Tommy realizes you might be more innocent than he thought a 20-year-old would be. “Honey, have you ever touched yourself before?” 

“No” You choke out. You had touched around between your legs, experimented a bit, but never put anything inside, and never brought yourself to an orgasm. You didn’t even know women could until your friend explained it last year.

“Fuck, okay” Tommy wanted to end this, but if anything, this was more reason to do this. Tommy's comfort wasn’t important, and he put his feelings aside. “Another?” With your permission, Tommy puts another finger in.

And to your embarrassment, a small moan slips out of your mouth, making you immediately blush and shut your eyes.

“It’s okay.” Tommy reassures, thick fingers stretching you and fucking you as your grew wetter despite your best efforts. “It’s okay if it feels good, it’s supposed to.”

Shaking your head, you refuse his words. “No.”

“Joel’s got a lot of pride, honey, depending on the day, he might want to make you cum.”

“I won’t. I won’t let him have this.”

Tommy put his free hand on your thigh, and you welcomed the comforting touch, but you wince at the third finger. “You can let me have this, if you want to. It’s natural for your body to react to this, even… even like this…”

The warmth in your stomach was growing harder to hold back, so all you trust yourself to do is shake your head. 

Tommy took his hands out of you, and you couldn’t help feel just a little empty. You look at him, and you can see how hard he’s gotten from touching you, his face and neck slightly red under his dark skin. “We can stop here. Might be better. You didn’t bleed…”

When you looked at him with confusion, he elaborated. “If you bleed with Joel, there won’t be any room for suspicion.” Tommy looked at you more intently. “I need you to understand that if he has any reason to doubt you aren’t a virgin, he will fucking kill you.” Tommy might be dead too, but if he was being honest, Tommy didn’t think Joel would kill him; he spent too long keeping him alive. He’s make him suffer, though.

“Tommy, please…” You beg. You were scared, and Tommy was the only option to prepare you, to keep you from going madly insane.

Tommy did not want to do this, but if this was something that could help you, he would.

“Okay, but you have to promise to tell me if you want to stop.”

You wanted to stop now. You never wanted to start, but this is where you were at, and this was the best option for you. “Okay”

Tommy took off his jeans, placing them under you to prevent the dead give away of the blood on the mattress. When he took off his boxers, you were still intimidated by his sheer size; he wasn’t as big as Joel, but bigger than the three fingers that were previously inside you. He lined up at your entrance, and slowly pushed in, holding back a moan as your warmth enveloped him. Tommy couldn’t lie; you felt good. When their raiding groups went somewhere that didn’t have established relationship with and, as the name implies, raided, Tommy wuldn’t participate in the rapes that the other men did. Joel didn’t either, which Tommy couldn’t understand. Sex was paid for, in which consent was dubious at best, but not like the brutal gang rapes of the other men. Joel wouldn’t stop them, however. Tommy wouldn’t have sex with someone he didn’t feel was willing, leaving him with a dry period. There was someone he was seeing, but this was under Joel's nose, leaving him with little contact. Oh fuck, what was she ging to think abut this? That was Tommy’s burden to bear, not yours. 

When he was fully seated inside you, Tommy couldn’t help but groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he stilled, waiting for you to adjust to him. “I’m going to start moving, okay?”

“Okay” you whisper. When Tommy began moving, it hurt, the initial pain dulling into a ache all around your lower body, you kept finding yourself holding your breath and being unable to get enough air in; your chest was tight. Even as your panic began to shoot up, the slight burn began to subside just a bit, replaced with something good. There was discomfort still, however, a feeling you couldn’t tell if it was good or not, and definitely pain. 

“I need you to relax, honey. Deep breaths.”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what.” You choked out, tensing up even more as breathing felt like it all but stopped.

“It’ll hurt less if you don’t fight it, I promise.” 

Tommy was talking about Joel, you knew… he gently rubbed your arms, massaging up your shoulders, whispering to you breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, until you regained your ability to breath. When you found you could again, you realize the pain was all but gone, leaving you with th bubbling warmth again, and the general discomfort of such a foreign feelings inside you. 

“There you go, good job, you’re doing good.” Tommy praises as he continues thrusting, having talked you down from panic. “I can make you come, if you’ll let me.”

You almost said yes, you felt close again but who comes under these circumstances? You would feel even more dirty, more wrong, more used than you already did. “Please don’t” you said with a small cry.

“Okay, I won’t” Tommy wished you’d let him, let him ease at least a little of the guilt he felt, but he couldn’t really argue with you. You did, however, allow yourself to revel in this just a bit. It was the first time you had been touched in kindness in a long time, save for a few hugs from your friend and even rarer from your brother. At the very least, Tommy was gentle, he was soft, and he tried to make this as easy as possible. You were just happy to feel kindness. When he came, Tommy pulled out and spilled onto his pants, and you almost wanted him back. You were so lonely, even this connection felt like something. 

Tommy, however, was glad it was over, ready to get the fuck out of this room and scrub this day off him, and hopefully be somewhere else when Joel comes back so he didn’t have to hear what Joel would do to you. He pulls the blanket over your exposed bottom; you were too shaken to dress yourself.

You sit up, pulling the blanket over your chest even though you were still wearing Tommy’s shit he gave you last night. You still felt exposed. “Thank y-”

“Don’t” He couldn’t look at you, scrambling to get his clothes on. Tommy Miller wasn’t an asshole, he didn’t just fuck girls and leave them, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being in this room and around you any longer. He felt guilty, he felt perverted for being with someone so young, even if you had practically begged. He needed to get out of there; he felt sick. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I just- I have to go, I need to go”

You watch in silence as he pulls on the pants with your blood, and you can see the guilt on his face. “I’m sorry, Tommy”

Tommy avoided looking at you and left without a word.

*************

Despite what Little One is saying, being turned on and cumming from assault or rape happens more than you'd think. It happened to me and that doesn't make it any less rape. I don't want to take this fic super seriously bc if we're applying real life morals to it then I shouldn't be humanizing Joel at all, but it will be romantic later on. But I do want to say at the end of all this that this is fiction, all this is wrong and bad.

I also feel bad for Tommy, as I was writing it I'm like.... damn if consent is only given enthusiastically and freely, Tommy isn't really consenting either is he?

Anyway, any guesses as to how Joel finds out, or what joel does when he learns?

real fast self promo, if you like Triple Frontier and dream about getting fucked by all of the boys, HERE YOU GO

Thank you so much for your comments! They absolutely keep me writing, it's good to know your writing makes an impact. Also thank you for the support after those nasty anons, and thank you for being so anxious for more! That being said, just know that finals are coming for me. I have a 12 page paper due next week, and a 5 page paper due a few days later, and my oral final for Spanish. I am..... stressed. But this chapter was mostly done so i decided to finish it today and give it to you bc ill be honest, chapter 3 probs won't be out for a few weeks. If you are anxious for a new chapter, i love hearing it! but please dont ask when, only bc i dont know ahaha!

Wish me luck! just found out ill be taking 12 credits this summer oh god.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

some of the tags just don work! lmk if theres a way i can fix this, but if theres nothing to be done, you can sign up for notifications when this blog posts! It dont post very much here so you wont get all kinds of notifications

[yoshi1517]

CHAPTER 3: THE FAMILY

"[...] Michele arrived at work with his father, as he did most mornings. The cold winter air nipped at his face as they walked from the car to the building. Inside, he quickly ducked into his father’s office to change into his work clothes. The routine was familiar, comforting even, pulling on the heavy boots, worn jeans, and a company-logo jacket that had been his uniform ever since he joined the family business.

After finishing school, Michele had decided to forgo university, opting instead to work alongside his father at the company. He’d started at the bottom, handling menial tasks and learning the trade from the ground up. Over the years, his hard work paid off. His father, impressed with his growth and leadership, promoted him to team leader. Though the transition had been awkward at first, leading men who had once been his peers, the team soon came to see Michele as a fair and capable boss.

Today was like most others: the team gathered early to go over the day’s tasks before dispersing to their stations. Michele enjoyed the camaraderie among the workers; they were a rough-around-the-edges group but reliable and good-natured.

Still, there were moments during the day when Michele couldn’t help but notice things he hadn’t paid attention to before.

One of the workers bent low, lifting a heavy wooden beam, his toned backside flexing against his jeans. Michele’s eyes lingered for just a moment too long, and he felt a flush rise to his cheeks. Another worker rolled up his sleeves despite the biting cold, revealing strong, dust-covered forearms and thick muscles that made Michele suddenly very aware of how warm the heating was in the workshop.

For the first time, Michele felt out of place, surrounded by rugged, handsome men who seemed effortlessly confident in their movements. It wasn’t just their physicality; it was the ease with which they carried themselves, the teasing laughter, and the way they patted each other on the back after a good job. He found himself distracted, heart beating a little faster whenever he was close enough to catch a faint whiff of sweat or saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off a stubbled jawline.

Lunchtime brought an unexpected climax to his already flustered state. Michele joined the crew on the ground floor, sitting cross-legged among his colleagues as they unwrapped their meals. The chatter was lively, stories from the weekend, light-hearted jokes, and the sound of biting into sandwiches.

Across the circle, Michele’s gaze locked onto one particular worker. He knew the man well. Michele knew he was gay because he had hit on him once and from that moment on he had teased him a bit without ever saying anything to anyone.

Today, though, Michele saw the worker differently. For the first time, he noticed the finer details, the charming way his mustache framed his smile, the way the dust clinging to his uniform gave him an earthy, rugged appeal. His strong, calloused hands moved deftly as he unwrapped his food, and the lines of his jaw shifted as he chewed, sending a jolt of heat through Michele’s chest.

Before he realized what he was doing, Michele stood, brushing off his pants. “Hey you” he said, trying to sound casual, “could you come with me for a moment? I need your opinion on something.”

The worker raised an eyebrow but nodded, rising to his feet. “Sure. What’s up?”

“This way,” Michele said, gesturing toward the storage room where the wooden planks were kept.

Matteo followed without question, and the two entered the dimly lit room. The air smelled of sawdust and varnish, and the faint hum of machinery from the workshop outside filled the silence. Stacks of wooden planks were piled high on shelves, organized by type and size. [...]"

"Guys, here is a part of the third and final chapter of this introductory part. Want to keep reading? Subscribe to unlock the full chapter and more!

let me know your thoughts in the comments! soon some exciting updates for Christmas!"

[tumble-tv]

I was looking through your page after finding a post of yours on my explore page. I saw that you suffer from chronic pain and are working as an EMT. That's really cool! But I'm curious, how does that work for you? I imagine an EMT has to move a fair bit.

(I want to clarify that I am in no way saying you can't do it, I am just curious how it works for you. I think it's awesome that you are able to do something like that. I am disabled myself, physically and mentally, so hearing about someone with chronic pain doing a job like that gives me hope for myself)

It's hard, but I do it!

I wear heavy-duty joint braces on my knees and ankles to help with the pain, but I also know what's safe for me to do and what's not. We do move around a lot on scene, but in between calls, I spend my time recovering and preparing for the next one. Of course there's times where we have 5 back to back calls and I don't have that privilege to relax for a few moments, but that just means that u can do it at home later.

I'm a small guy and most of my coworkers are larger than me, so I can leave most of the heavy lifting to them to keep myself safe. I of course help with transferring patients to and from the stretcher, unloading and loading the stretcher into the ambulance, carrying bags and monitors, all of that, but there are also times where all I can do is carry one bag and hold a patients hand depending on the situation.

My hips, knees, shoulders, and ankles like to dislocate on scene, which is an inconvenience, but I just put them back in place and continue with whatever I was doing.

I almost quit a few months ago. My pain has gotten worse and I'm scared of hurting a patient by dropping them, but I'm counteracting that fear by lifting weights and making sure I'm strong enough to reduce the chance of that by a lot.

It's a lot of knowing my limits and taking care of myself. Myself and my crew come before the patient, as awful as that sounds, but that's how it is. I can't take care of my patient if I can't take care of myself.

[teratron]

The Sovereign

I talked about this guy already in my review of the first arc of Tom King's run but since I plan on going into depth on other WW villains, I figured I get him out of the way first since he's the new hotness at the minute.

Wonder Woman's rogues gallery is often regarded as one of the weaker, or worst, ones by a lot folks. I disagree obviously, but I can see why would one get that idea. They typically aren't represented well outside of WW's book and pretty much every new author when they come on to WW bring in their own new villain to hype up only to be quickly forgotten once they leave.

This brings us to the Sovereign, the latest in this long line of hyped up new villains but he's had a bit more attention as he's the creation of Tom King. The best kinds of villains for superheroes reflect some aspect about the hero or stand-in for a certain problem unique to the hero they face. This goes true for Wonder Woman villains, so what does Sovereign stand in for?

There's a lot one could say just going off the image provided and his whole status as the latest in a long line of "secret Kings of America". To me however, I find the more interesting interpretation of the Sovereign as a stand-in for well...certain types of superhero fans.

If you're a WW fan you're probably familiar with the type. The fan who doesn't actually read WW and yet has very strong opinions on her and her place in the DC universe. The type of fan to say Wonder Woman has no good stories and then admit in the same breath they've read maybe less than 5 issues of WW's adventures in their life. The fan who likes her being on the Justice League but doesn't want her to do anything that could outshine her male counterparts. Can't be strong as Superman, can't be too fast because that would impede the Flash, can't be smart because that's Batman territory. She can fight well they'll say but then they'll bring up every rando in the DC Universe they claim is a better fighter if Diana didn't have powers, so even that has an asterisks. The type of fan who cheers when Superman lifts planets with his pinkie or when Batman defeats capital-G God "with prep time" but if Wonder Woman lifts so much as a heavy rock than she's a Character I Don't Like. And definitely don't want Diana espousing any feminist talking points that might make them uncomfortable.

That's the Sovereign.

There's been criticism so far that lot of Sovereign's plots in each issue can be summed up as "Sovereign thinks this will be what breaks Diana but she triumphs in the end". And that's fair honestly but looking at it through this interpretation of Sovereign than of course that's what he'd do. Of course Sovereign would think sending in the U.S. Army would be enough to defeat her; she's not Superman, she's not Batman, she's not the Flash, she's just Wonder Woman. Of course he'd lose his temper when Wonder Woman not only triumphs but exceeds his expectations. Sovereign, like these fans, doesn't truly appreciate Diana as her own person/character outside of the role they've arbitrarily assigned her. Wonder Woman fans know this stuff isn't a threat to her, but Sovereign doesn't and he fails as a result.

It's only when Sovereign begins recruiting Wonder Woman villains from her long derided rogues gallery is when he starts seeing some results. 20,000 U.S. soldiers couldn't do it but a witch, a psycho, a giantess, a swan, a thief, and a goddess dominatrix could.

And it's also when he goes recruiting her villains it shows what he thinks of Wonder Woman. Unlike the others where he sends his lackey, Sargent Steel, to do the recruiting. He goes to meet Grail in person. Why? Well he says it's because as a goddess she's afforded certain respect but it's interesting he doesn't seem to consider that towards Wonder Woman, who for all intents and purposes is a goddess as well. What makes Grail different?

Grail's an empowered women but doesn't seem interested in going about changing the world to make a better place like Diana (at least not anymore). Notice how his dialogue notes he only respects her because of her Darkseid lineage, a patriarchal figure whereas Diana draws strength traditionally from the female Olympian goddesses, her mother, and her Amazon sisters' training. He shows reverence to Grail because of her father and ultimately, she doesn't fundamentally threaten the status quo like Diana's very existence does. In essense, she's the "acceptable" version of Wonder Woman to the Sovereign and what he represents. A strong sexy woman but one who isn't here to upstage any of their favorites or challenge any of their beliefs.

And as see from the dialogue throughout King's issues, it was all for naught as Sovereign finds himself imprisoned on a small island ultimately defeated regaling his tale to Lizzie Prince. If only he hadn't underestimated Wonder Woman...

As I said, this is only my interpretation but taken into account the 10 issues so far I've read of this run, it's the one I've best come to and how I think Sovereign can fit into Diana's rogues gallery going forward.

[tf2-oneshots]

So I know this isn't one of the ships on the request rules( which if I may suggest, you could pin that? So that it shows up at the top when someone goes to this page or refreshes) but uh Engiescout where Engie is heavily flirting, either pre-relationship or during it, because he enjoys watching the blush take over Scout's face, even if Scout doesn't (which is a lie, Scout enjoys it quite a bit)

The ships limit is pinned for me? It could be a tumblr glitch though! I’ve had it happen quite a few times lol

Onto our oneshot!

Warning: none!

Rating: general

“Scout, I need some help in the shop today.” Scout knows exactly what those words entail, but he threw himself off the couch in a heartbeat. It broke the empty bowl of chips sitting in his lap, but that’s besides the point. The shattered pieces were thrown in the trash, and Scout followed Engineer like a puppy.

Once in the shop, Scout saw a machine far too complicated for him to understand. It almost looked like a toaster was crossed with a radio. Maybe it would play music depending on how dark the bread was. Would be awesome to hear Tom Jones when the bread is nice and golden.

“Alright, I need you to hold the flashlight while I adjust the wires.” Engineer holds out a flashlight with a set of fresh batteries to make it burn bright. Scout could do that in his sleep! He takes the device, positioning it right where the Texan needs it. Metal tools Scout can’t remember the names of carefully descend into the device.

“Looking good, Scout. Them muscles look nice and big today.” Engineer keeps his eyes on the latest sapper model. He doesn’t need to look to know that Scout is flushing at his compliment. For a man that likes to brag, he’s quick to lose his cool the moment someone offers a genuine praise.

“Oh, uh, well, you know, I work out all the time with Heavy.” A half truth. Scout actually watches the man workout off to the side. The equipment the giant uses ten times what Scout can lift despite his statements saying otherwise. He saves himself the embarrassment of using a 10lbs dumbbell next to Heavy deadlifting Scout’s weight on an easy day.

“That I can tell, son. Them legs of yours are nice and strong too.” Scout squeaks, and Engineer wishes he had been recording the whole time. There’s a faint smile on his face, still not looking up at the man. He focuses on the screws and bolts inside the sapper while Scout struggles to hide himself.

“U-Uh, I run a lot! Cause-Cause I’m the Scout, and—“

“Easy there, partner. I can’t see when you move around like that.” So caught up in his words, Scout realized he had been jostling the flashlight. He goes rigid, face still ablaze while muttering an apology. Damn Engie for his experience with romance. Its not fair that he’s got over a decade of this stuff compared to Scout!

Engineer then loops around, going right behind his helper to dig through a toolbox. He’s achingly close to Scout; a mere two inches from being pressed to his back. Despite this, the Texan continues his search with ease.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Anyone ever tell you what a nice caboose you got?” Could Scout’s face get any redder? He sets the flashlight down and hides away in the palms of his hands while Engineer laughs. Don’t get Scout wrong, he absolutely adores it when his lover flirts, but he’s too good at it!

“Engie! Gosh, you’re gonna make me pass out at this rate. At least gimme a chance to flirt back.” Scout uncovers his still blushing face. He turns around to face the man, thinking of ways to get him embarrassed. He’s just too steady of a man. Simple compliments won’t be enough.

“Tell you what, I’ll give that pretty little head of yours all afternoon to think. How’s that sound, sugar?” And there he goes! Right as Scout gets the wheels in his brain turning, he completely crumbles once again. He groans, sinking to the floor. Ma always said he looked good in red, but this isn’t what she meant!

This was fun to write! -H

[idrawprettyboys]

Inhabited Enemy

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes, slowly, groggily. My sight was blurry. I could feel my cheek pressed against something hard, cold, and wet. It took a moment before I could feel my body or move my limbs. I noticed raindrops dripping onto my face. I could hear murmurs. There was a crowd around me. I could make out multiple pairs of feet in my narrow field of vision. Slowly, I tried moving an arm to push myself off of the cold ground. A searing pain ripped through my chest when I tried this. I might’ve made a shout of pain, but I’m not sure. I fell back onto the concrete.

“He’s alive!” I could hardly make out the words of one of the people around me. The sound felt far away, or like I was underwater. Perhaps the rain had flooded my ears. There was more chatter, and then sirens. An ambulance arrived. Red and blue lights harshly invaded my vision. People rushed to me and knelt beside me. I felt pressure on my chest and more pain. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing, but I assumed it was some sort of first aid and didn’t have the strength to fight them off if I had wanted to.

A couple men picked me up and put me on a stretcher. On the way to the hospital, I felt my consciousness returning, but something still felt off. I looked down at my body. I lifted up a hand, despite how painful it was, and I looked at it. I moved it. I was alive, that was certain. But something, something wasn’t right. This hand felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to me.

We arrived at the hospital, and I was placed in a bed. I felt weak, but I was aware of my surroundings now. They undressed me, which was a bit painful. One nurse hooked me up to some machines to take my vitals. Another asked me some questions.

“What’s your name?”

I thought for a second. My brain was blank. “I,” my voice felt like a frog croaking in my throat. It felt painful, sounded painful. Sounded strange. I cleared my throat. “I don’t know.” I confessed. A sudden fear fell down onto my shoulders like a heavy weight.

“Do you remember where you’re from?” the nurse asked.

“No,” I admitted. Again, my voice felt weird. Raspy, rough, unusual. “Where are we?”

He told me the name of the hospital and that we were in Toronto. “Do you know if you’re from around here?”

“Toronto,” I echoed, “that sounds familiar. It’s possible.”

“Do you know what year you were born?”

“No,” I said. My lips smacked in harsh certainty.

“Do you know what year this is?”

“No.”

The doctor stood on the other side of the curtain and the nurse recited my symptoms to him. I heard him identify me. “Caucasian male, approximately mid to late 40’s,” he said.

Huh, I thought to myself. I’d been alive for over four decades, and I don’t remember a second of it.

The doctor opened the curtains and stepped into my cubicle. He was handsome, beautiful even. He was tall, with fair skin and stark black hair that was pushed back, with some of it falling over one of his eyes. I wondered if he looked especially beautiful to me after my near-death experience.

“Hey,” the doctor said in a kind, relaxed tone, which made me feel like maybe I wasn’t as close to death as I seemed. “I’m Dr. Allen McLachlan. I’ll be helping you for a while.” He held a hand out. I shook it. His hand was sturdy and strong, unlike mine. “The nurses told me what happened. You don’t remember anything at all?” His voice was deep, with a rumble beneath it, yet it had an unmistakable softness, a gentleness that made me feel comforted.

“That’s right,” I replied. I pursed my lips and looked down at my body. My arms were lean and sinewy. I could see the veins protrude subtly through my slightly tanned skin. The tendons in my hands were noticeable. My knuckles bulged out in a way that made me feel insecure, like I didn’t have enough meat on my bones.

“This must be very hard for you,” the doctor said. “The good news is, amnesia cases like this are usually temporary.”

“Usually?” My voice cracked.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it being permanent,” the doctor informed me. “It looks like your injury was to your chest, not your head. Permanent amnesia comes from brain damage, and your brain should be okay. We’re going to run some tests to make sure. But from what I’m seeing, I suspect the memory loss is from the mental and emotional trauma of the incident.”

“My chest,” I began to speak. I paused to look down at ample bandaging on my chest that the wound was bleeding through. “How bad is my injury? It seemed like I bled a lot.”

“You did,” the doctor said, “but thankfully, not too much. You’re hooked up to our machines. We’re giving you a blood transfusion.”

I hadn’t even noticed the IV in my arm.

“You’re doing surprisingly well,” he said, as he stepped closer and pointed at the screen to my side. “Your heart rate is healthy, especially considering the stress and confusion you’re experiencing. Your blood pressure is great as well. We’re going to do some more tests to make sure you’re stable. But first, I’m going to stitch you up.”

“Oh,” I said, as he removed the bandage that the paramedics had applied. I grimaced when I looked directly at the wound.

He took out his tools and started sewing my chest. I watched his beautiful, masculine hands work. It was like he was doing some form of art.

“You don’t have to watch, you know,” he said, with a smile in his voice.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said. “I like seeing how you do it.” There was something warm and comforting about seeing his hands so close to my chest. His fingers grazed my skin a few times, and it tickled slightly and made me smile.

“Nice to see my patients smile,” Dr. McLachlan said sweetly. “This doesn’t hurt?”

“Not much,” I said. “I can feel it, but compared to the constant throb of the wound, the stitches are nothing. It hurt like heck when I tried getting up, before I went into the ambulance. It’s just a dull pain now.”

“Did the nurses give you anything?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head.

“You’re very strong,” he complimented. “You’re very lucky you survived whatever this incident was.”

“Thank you,” I said. I looked up into his eyes. They held mine for a moment. The pupils were such a bright brown that they looked red.

He put a hand on my bare shoulder. “I gotta check on some other patients,” he said. “The nurses will run some tests on you. They’ll do a CT scan to make sure everything is working okay. I’m prescribing meds for you, to numb the pain, if you need it.” He ended the last part with a smirk. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

“Thank you,” I repeated.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled warmly and disappeared behind the curtain.

Once he was gone, I realized how flushed I was. I touched my cheeks to see if they were hot, which they were, along with being surprisingly gaunt. I played with my protruding cheekbones a bit, while thinking of how warm that Dr. McLachlan made me feel. I felt my jawline. It was nice and square. My nose felt pointed, my eyelids heavy, my lips thin. My brow protruded a little bit. I was touching my thigh when a nurse walked in. I hope she didn’t think I was doing anything indecent. My body felt completely new to me. I had to learn about myself, and tactile sensation seemed like a good way to trigger some memories. I decided to save that for later, when I had some privacy.

After some interaction with the nurse, and some tests, Dr. McLachlan came back to check on me. “How are you doing?”

“I feel okay, physically,” I said. “But I have no clue where to go from here. I don’t have a name or address to go home to.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. McLachlan said. “You can stay with us for as long as you need.”

“I don’t even know if I have money or insurance to pay for this,” I said, fearfully.

“Not a problem,” the doctor said. “The hospital is prepared for events like this. Once you’re healed, you can work out a payment plan with us.”

“Thanks,” I replied. I watched him standing there. My eyes must have looked like they were pleading, because he looked concerned. “Could I help you with anything?”

“Could you sit with me for a bit?” I asked, awkwardly.

He glanced through the curtain to make sure no one needed him. “Sure, I don’t see why not.” He was about to sit on the chair, but I stopped him.

“Wait,” I said, “can you sit on the bed? I know it’s a weird request, but…”

“Not a problem,” he said. “I’ll just be careful not to do anything to agitate your wound.” He sat down beside me. I might have imagined feeling warmth radiating from him. “You must feel very alone.”

“Yeah,” I swallowed.

“It’s likely that someone will come looking for you,” the doctor said, hopefully. “They’ll probably help us identify you, and then things will start to come together from there. Seeing a familiar face and returning to your home should help you regain memories.”

I looked at his big, beautiful hand, laying on his lap. I wanted to touch it. Hold it. Feel its warmth, as proof that I’m alive, that I’m real. I was just mustering up the courage to ask him if he’d oblige me, when the hospital phone rang.

“Allen, it’s for you,” a nurse said, through the curtain.

“Coming,” he said, in a strong, deep voice. He turned to me and said “I have to answer that. I’ll be back.”

I nodded. I felt embarrassed, a grown man asking another man to hold his hand, but he understood my loneliness. He’d had patients like me before. Once again, I watched him disappear behind the curtain.

He returned a few minutes later. “I’m sorry, sir,” Dr. McLachlan said, “I have to go pick up my daughter from school. Your condition is stable, and the nurses will be looking after you. They’re going to move you into a more comfortable, permanent room to stay in during your time here. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

“Alright,” I said, hoping that I hid the disappointment in my voice. “Thank you for everything, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and left.

[queenofcats17]

The Ink Demonth 27

Today is Pit.

============================================

Joey still couldn't believe he was doing this. This was going to kill him again. Going into the Pit was going to destroy him.

But he had to do this for Audrey.

He stood just outside the door to the Pit, his heart pounding in his ears. Henry stood nearby, hand on the switch to open the door.

"Are you ready?" He asked, looking at Joey.

Joey nodded, opening and closing his hands a few times. He could do this. He had to do this. For Audrey. For his daughter.

Henry pressed the switch. Alarms began to blare as the shutter began to slowly lift. Joey could hear the voices of the Keepers coming from the speaker system, yelling about unauthorized entry.

"I'll handle them," Henry said. "You just focus on getting the Reel."

"Right." Joey nodded again. He took a deep breath, staring into the blackness of the Pit.

Then, he stepped inside.

The room that held the Reel felt... strange. He could feel the power of the Reel all around him. The golden particles that floated by him thrummed with power, making him acutely aware of his own body. Normally, Joey's connection to his body felt... loose. While he was technically a being of ink now, his connection to the ink wasn't as strong as some of the other ink creatures. He was less of a physical being and more of a soul shard that inhabited a loosely bound blob of ink.

However, he was feeling a good deal more... physical now. The moment he stepped foot inside the room it felt as though something had reached inside and grabbed his heart, making him stumble a bit at the pressure. He could remember being alive to a certain extent, but he'd gotten pretty used to being loosely connected to a body that was only held together by his mental image of himself. So suddenly being in a very solid, very physical body was... a weird sensation.

"Mmm... Do not like that," he muttered. He couldn't let a bit of discomfort stop him, though.

Despite the sudden heaviness of his body, he kept moving forward toward the pedestal where the Reel rested. The golden sparkling visions of the past played out around him, but he tried to ignore them. If he stopped to watch, he'd probably never be able to leave. He'd heard stories about what this place did to ink creatures.

Once he reached the pedestal, it was easy enough to remove the Reel. The Keepers hadn't put any other safety measures in place, perhaps correctly assuming that the natural properties of the room would deter most from attempting to steal the Reel. The Reel was... lighter than he'd thought it would be. He didn't know why, but he'd assumed it would be heavier, as though the weight of its power would manifest in how it felt in his hands. And while he could feel the strange buzzing power of it... Its weight wasn't any different than an ordinary film reel.

Joey tucked the Reel under his arm, turning back to the doorway. He could vaguely make out the form of Henry fighting off the Keepers with his ax. The ferocity with which he swung the ax was... honestly kind of scary. It did make sense, though. All those loops... Of course Henry would have developed a terrifying combat ability. Joey's heart ached at the thought of all those loops, but he tried to push that aside, quickening his pace. He could feel bad about what his living counterpart had done later.

By the time Joey managed to exit the Pit, Henry had finished dispatching the Keepers that had responded to the alarm. He was breathing heavily, his face and chest spattered with inky blood and what might have been oil. Joey tried to ignore the way his cheeks were beginning to feel warm.

"You got it?" Henry asked, turning to Joey.

"Oh, uh, yes!" Joey held up the Reel. "I got it!"

"And you're alright?"

"Well, as alright as a ghost inhabiting a body made of ink can be." Joey forced a weak laugh.

Henry couldn't help but laugh as well. "Fair enough. Come on." He took Joey's hand. "Let's get going."

"Ah...Right." Joey nodded, moving the Reel back under his arm as he allowed Henry to pull him out of the room.

Now they just needed to get the Reel to Audrey.

...He really hoped she was alright.

[unfriendlyamazon]

fanfic: space outlaw (spicy edition)

feel like I've been posting a lot lately... but what's one more

title: Sensitivity

ratings: E

warnings: Ultimate Hand Stuff, Cybernetic Limbs, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering

pairings: Seto Kaiba/Joey Wheeler

summary:

Seto Kaiba makes adjustments to his cybernetic arm, and Joey decides to help him.

More playing around in the space outlaw au, y’all know I had to write some KaiJou in it, so here’s some saucy cyborg action.

Seto grimaced at the inner workings of his mechanical arm as he fiddled with the wires. Despite best efforts, he hadn't figured out what was causing the digits to stick. It might involve taking the whole thing apart, but he wasn't doing that on an aged cot in a storage room in Kame Station. He finished reaffirming the connections with a pair of tweezers and picked up the black metal cover with a sigh.

A scuffling sound and footsteps alerted him to someone's presence, and he fixed his best scowl for the person coming around the corner. It was his luck it was Joey Wheeler, who stopped when he saw him and seemed to jump back. That was alright. If he was going to be in his space, he at least had the decency to be nervous about it.

"Sorry," he said, just bright enough to be aware Seto might’ve hidden himself away for privacy. "Have you seen Gramps?"

"I haven't seen anyone," Seto said and slotted the cover back onto his arm.

To his annoyance, Joey didn't leave. He stood at the corner of a long shelf of boxed supplies and peered in at him. Curiosity got the better of everyone eventually. Seto doubted he'd been around any prosthetic with this level of advancement. Or maybe it was the fact that Seto was alone. The last few times they'd sought each other out in the darkened back rooms of the station or in the ship, they'd been exceedingly physical.

"Tristan said your arm was giving you trouble," Joey said. Seto was momentarily disappointed that his interest was in the first option.

"It should be better now." He tested the flex of his fingers. Running smoothly now. Maybe a loose wire, or a bit of dirt. Taylor would be able to help him clean it. "I just need to run some calibration tests."

Joey seemed emboldened that Seto hadn't told him to fuck off. He stepped into the small space, eying the arm with interest. "How do you do that?"

"A number of sensitivity tests." He rotated the wrist. His flex was good. Each digit curled. "Make sure I'm getting appropriate feedback."

"You can feel with it?"

"Not 100%," Seto said. "Neural implants do the heavy lifting, but it is, at the end of the day, metal."

Joey stepped closer and extended a hand. "Would you be able to feel me?"

Seto eyed him. Anyone else, he'd reject outright for attempting to touch his arm. He'd had plenty of requests for it, usually too ooh and awe over, but Joey's question was different. Besides, he'd touched him enough in other places that it seemed silly to get self-conscious now. He held out his left hand to Joey, who took it carefully. Seto wasn't sure what he expected him to do, but Joey still managed to surprise him. He pressed his knuckles to Seto's palm and glided his hand up to the wrist. He watched Seto as he made long, soft strokes up and down his arm.

“How’s that?” he asked.

Seto only nodded, finding himself fascinated by the action. 

“What sort of sensitivity tests do you do?” Joey asked, hand still moving. He bent his arm up and pressed his cheek against the palm.

“Grip strength is most important,” Seto said automatically. “I’d hate to reach for something like a soda and end up crushing it.”

“It’s strong?”

“It can be.” A jolt shout through him as he saw--no, felt--Joey press his warm lips to his palm. “I can’t lift cars with it.”

“Bummer.” Joey curled his hand around Seto’s and curled down his fingers, except for two. His brown eyes flashed to Seto. “You wouldn’t tear me in half or anything.”

“Well I can’t be sure,” Seto said. “Not without testing.”

“Fair enough.” He kissed his two fingertips. “Did you feel that?”

God, yes. Combined with the knowledge of what Joey’s mouth felt like, the heat and wetness of his lips, he might as well have done it to his right hand. Joey only smiled at him, and Seto nodded mutely. Without another word, he slipped the two digits into his mouth. Every nerve ending was on fire as Joey’s tongue lathed across the joints, taking care to explore every inch of the metallic skin. He sucked gently, too gently Seto thought, but warmth pooled in his groin anyway. It helped that Joey’s brown eyes stayed on him, watching Seto closely. He released the fingers and hitched his knee onto the edge of the cot to join Seto.

“I haven’t done this with this hand,” Seto warned. “It doesn’t have full feeling. I don’t want to go too hard on you.”

Joey laughed. “First time I think you’ve said that.”

Seto rolled his eyes, even as heat continued to course through his body. Joey kissed down the length of his arm.

“How’s it feel so far?” he asked, lips against the metal skin.

“Good,” Seto said, voice tight.

“Good.” He straddled Seto’s hip and pushed him down onto the old mattress. “Do you want to take this thing for a test drive?”

Seto grabbed his shirt to drag him into a kiss, and Joey immediately worked his mouth open with his tongue. Seto moaned against him. He’d started to crave Joey’s rough hands every time they were out of sight from the others, whether they were in private quarters or merely some darkened corridor. No one had ever effect him like this before, made him desperate to taste his lips or feel his warmth, and it was equally thrilling to effect him back. He sucked his tongue into his mouth and rolled his hips to match Joey’s eager kissing. If he could leave him quivering and coming and begging for more, it’d be a victory. And Seto loved to win.

He fumbled with Joey’s pants and managed to loosen them. His left hand played with the white band of his underwear, and he could feel the skin flex beneath his touch. Joey groaned into Seto’s mouth before lifting off of him. He parted his legs further to give Seto an easy angle. His mechanical hand pushed down, feeling the dark hair that led to wet cunt. Seto closed his eyes and focused on the slick sensation that warmed his fingers. Fuck, it was hot to know he’d gotten this wet from just a little fooling around. Seto worked two fingers into the folds of his warm flesh. His eyes fluttered open, and the view from beneath Joey was, in no small words, the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Blond hair curled across his pleasure stained face as he hung his head, pink lips parted and panting, eyes squeezed shut. His loosened pants and pushed up shirt made him tantalizingly disheveled. Experimentally, Seto crooked his finger, and the sound was a symphony.

His own dick twitched with excitement to see Joey so overwhelmed with the sensation. Seto massaged the hard flesh of his clit and watched his expression shift with each inch of pressure. He rocked against Seto’s hand, and so Seto pushed into him deeper.

“Keep going,” Joey gasped. He kissed Seto again, and gripped a hand in his hair. Seto arched into his touch but didn’t allow himself to lose focus. “Fuck, that feels good. You’re fucking good.”

The praise spurred him on. He dipped his hand deeper into Joey’s cunt, feeling his tight muscles loosen beneath his touch. Joey was quickly becoming unraveled, mouth pressed to Seto’s skin as he gasped and groaned, and he pulled tighter on his dark hair. Seto’s eyes fluttered at the sensation, and normally he’d demand more attention from his partner, but fucking Joey with the robotic digits was too good of an experiment to taint with his own needs. He pressed into him as far as his fingers could go and rubbed his thumb along his clit. The twin feeling sent Joey spiraling, and he bucked against the heated metal, a chorus of swears singing from his lips. Seto lifted up to capture his mouth properly. It didn’t take long at all for Joey to shudder with his impending release, and Seto could feel the warm flood come against his fingers. He didn’t let up quite yet, spending an extra moment to luxuriate inside him. He felt a little silly saying he was proud to make Joey come, but he took his victory lap anyway.

Joey didn’t seem interested in being done yet either. He kissed Seto thoroughly as he rolled against Seto’s hips. Seto’s erection pushed up against his pants, desperate for any attention. Joey gripped the robotic wrist and pulled his hand free.

“You ever jack off with this thing?” he asked.

“A few times,” he admitted.

Joey only grinned and helped him wriggle his pants down. He guided Seto’s hand to take his own dick. The come slickened sensation sent a shudder through Seto. They sat together, Joey still straddling him, but with enough room for his own hand to wrap around Seto’s, guiding him up and down the length of his erection. Seto closed his eyes again as he pressed his forehead to Joey’s. Previously, the robotic hand had offered a novel sensation in the normal act of masturbation, but the lessened sensitivity left the whole action less exciting than he’d hoped. Now, with Joey’s digits curled with his, the two jacking him off in tandem, come covered and heated from his fingering, Seto was overwhelmed. The two of them were temple to temple and hip to hip, panting at the same rhythm, breathing in each other’s excitement. Seto bit down on his lip to keep from moaning as his pleasure built up inside of him. His precome mixed with his already slickened fingers, and his friction built faster. Joey sensed he was reaching his peak and worked him faster and faster until he was coming into their joined hands.

Seto breathed slowly as he came down from the sensation. His head was crooked in Joey’s shoulder, and he held him a few minutes longer before gently laying him down on the cot. There was barely enough room for the both of them side by side, but neither was eager to move. Seto held up his left hand. He’d have to clean it before rejoining polite society. The fluids wouldn’t be good for the joints either, but hopefully Taylor wouldn’t ask too many questions when he asked him for help later.

“I’m gonna guess that’s not how you usually test it,” Joey said, looking up at the hand as well.

“No,” Seto said. “I wouldn’t say that’s standard.”

He laughed as he sat up and zipped up his pants. Seto similarly readjusted but didn’t follow after. Better not to anyway, unless they wanted to clue everyone in on what they were doing.

“If you ever need to test it again,” Joey said. “You can grab me anytime.”

“We’ll see,” Seto drawled. He waited for Joey to abscond before he laid back in the old cot. There were definitely some experiments in his future. 

[21-chemical-dragons]

Bleeding Rockbird

I'm writing a story and I want people to read it. It's self insert and I've been writing it for like 7 years cause I really want to read it. So, here's the beginning :)

Ch. 1: Trapped

There’s a stillness in the air, as there always is in ancient places. Dust is suspended, a dim place full of hushed noises. If it was full of life once, it’s long gone. Save for the creatures taking cover from the hot sun over the desert. A few beetles, maybe a lizard, a dragon. Chest rising and falling in near sleep, eye flicking open as she scours the passageway to the scarce sanctuary.

Have you ever been so bored that you can’t even sleep?

Because I have. Currently am, actually. A beetle scurries across the floor, a waft of hot air from me makes it scatter.

Ah, don’t be so mean Kirow.

There’s not much else to do! What should I do then? Lie here, wait for the end, get bored. I suppose it’s been long enough to journey to another temple, I wouldn’t mind a change of pace. How long have I been here anyway? A few weeks, could have been a few months. Last I checked it was around early fall.

I sit up. By the Saints I’m stiff. Fair, seeing as I haven’t moved in… too many days. Small clouds of rusty sand cascade down from my wings. The color match is impeccable, it could be the feather dust coming off of me during molt. The sky-blue underside has, unfortunately, taken on some of the rustiness, despite having been folded.

Agh, uh hahaha it’s seizing! Went a bit too hard on that stretch, a Charlie horse has me in a death grip. Saint’s praise it’s calming down. Trying again, the pains bearable; it hurts so good, you know? Wing’s opening-ah, ah, crap it seized, ow, ow, ow, I retract my wings and start over slower. Ok, that’s better. Let’s see about getting up. Ah, more popping. Rusty rock-like scales click and scratch against the stone floor. They match the floor. They match the temple. They match the damn landscape surrounding this place. A reminder of where I belong, I suppose. Belong is such a strong word, it feels too grounding. This place feels too grounding, too far away from anything. Ugh, I’ve been here too long!

I grumble, “Yeah, I’m calling it. I’m out.”

Hibernating was fun and all, but I need to talk to someone or I’m gonna go crazy. There’s something else amidst the smell of dust and stale air… I uh… Lifting up my arm, yeah, yeah, I could do with a bath. I smell like stale sulfur pools. I run my tongue over my teeth and nearly cut it on the large, sharpened canines. I should really shift down before I do that. Ugh, that reminds me; I haven’t eaten in a week. There’s a bit of cold slag and metal sitting in the kiln that I could burn. But I don’t feel like starting the kiln right now. I need some real food, not just rock and metal.

One of the lizards is looking slower than the rest. Hmm. Going still, just have to crouch. It looks my way. I shear some of the metal in my stomach, and… spit!

The metal rockets from my mouth square into the lizard’s face, stunning it. Rushing over, I grab it. I twist its neck quickly, killing it instantly.

“Thank you,” I say to it.

It’s not much, maybe it doesn’t mean anything, but… it feels better than saying nothing. Opening my mouth wide, I just gulp it down. Cooking it would be a pain, and I don’t feel like chewing. Better than nothing I suppose. I grab the metal shot I spat out and swallow it again, right back to the kiln. I… I should start the kiln.

Radiating heat escapes from my chest, somewhat comforting in the cool chamber. Shifting up to full dragon, what human skin remains hardens into red rock scales. The sulfurous smells of the chamber reaching six times the intensity, gah! My eyes twitch uncomfortably as I try and get them to focus. The heavy chest plating is at least balanced by my white feather tipped tail. Balance is key-balance is key! I tip back, going into a solid wide stance to get into equilibrium. Right, I catch myself and go over to the small shrine this chamber was made for.

“I’m leaving,” I say politely to the pictures of various relatives, my eye catching on my parents for a moment. It doesn’t last as long as it used to…

*cough* right, getting out.

I could go out the front. My kiln’s suggesting the secret backway though… guess that’s what I’m going with. It hasn’t let me down yet! Hooking a bar above the shrine with the large claws on the wrists of my wings, I use my actual arms to climb the rest of the way. That *huff* was harder *huff* than it should have been. *huff* I really need to get back into travel mode sooner.

A hacking cough is escaping me, ending in an abrupt sneeze. Didn’t know this place could get dustier, shit, even the prints I left are getting covered. I haven’t come this way since I was fifteen. The cycle’s crazy like that… I suppose.

“Bye,” I say to the room, “thank you as always. I’ll be back sometime, promise.”

My chest tightens again. The thoughts are creeping back into my mind as I make my way through the darkened rafter corridor. They love the darkness. Nope, nope, none of that. I love traveling, I do, it’s fine. Just wait, I’ll be seeing other people soon. Just enjoy the silence. It’s hard to come by.

Commotion in front of me snaps me from the thoughts, good. Wait, why is someone out here?

Wait.

Wait?!