#but even taking a RAW practice test of a few tests ago test...

[roseband]

the LSAT questions going viral on twitter and everyone getting them WRONG explains why i can't talk to ppl online. the whole internet is "piss on the poor"

those were just slightly more difficult SHSAT/SAT reading comprehension questions =_=

"har har har it's so easy" /gets it wrong/

[hd-junglebook]

My Sunshine

Part 1 - rewrite of the original

Warnings - pregnancy, flirting, verbal abuse, gaslighting, slight mention of prostitution, unwanted pregnancy, abortion, crying, banana muffins

a:n I'm so in love with the way that this came out, I could literally faint. I want to this man. ferally. In the most respectful way that I can put it. Had me giggling like a SLUT. Like look at that face, come on..

Masterlist Link

GIF by jonasiegenthaler

Summary: Y/N reminisces about her past, the faint memory of her hateful mother as reality starts to really sink in. Along comes jack and his giddy smile, eager to get to know our dear sunshine.

Word Count ~ 4k

1 month later

10:00am

The doctor's voice cuts through the heavy silence, their tone professional yet laced with a hint of warmth. "While we wait for the results, can you tell me the date of your last menstrual period and any potential dates of conception?"

Y/N takes a deep, steadying breath, her mind instantly transported back to the haunting echoes of her mother's cruel words. The memories feel so visceral, as if the scenes are playing out before her eyes once more.

"I wish one day, you could see why I raised you the way I did. You're so weak, gullible, and always so goddamn sensitive. It's pathetic, really." Her mother's voice drips with disdain, the familiar sting of her judgement cutting deep.

Y/N can practically feel the weight of her mother's disapproving stare, the contempt burning in her eyes. "Just like your useless father, y/n. You've never been and will never be good enough, not like me."

"You will need me one day, when you have a baby, you're gonna wish I was the one there helping you, holding your hand. But I won't be, because you've always been a disappointment, a burden I never wanted." The thought of facing motherhood without the unwavering support she so desperately craves fills Y/N with dread.

"I hate you, y/n, and I wish I would've gotten rid of you when I had the chance. I never regretted anything more than letting your useless father talk me into keeping you. I lost my whole life raising you - I slaved and sold myself to put food on the table, all for you ungrateful little shits." The bitterness in her mother's voice is palpable, a raw wound that has never fully healed.

Forcing the memories to the back of her mind, Y/N provides the doctor with the requested information to the best of her recollection.

A knot forms in her stomach as the details flow from her lips, a painful reminder of the intimate moments with Jason - moments that had once filled her with such joy and hope, but now only serve to heighten her anxiety.

The doctor nods, jotting down the notes on their clipboard. They continue the conversation, their tone gentle and understanding, offering Y/N a sense of comfort in the midst of the emotional turmoil.

After what feels like an eternity, they excuse themselves to check on the test results. The room falls silent, save for the ticking of the clock – each second a countdown to the life-changing news that awaits Y/N.

When the doctor returns, they have a file in hand. Taking a seat beside Y/N, they meet her gaze, their expression softening with a warmth that puts her at ease, even as her heart races in anticipation.

"Y/N," they begin gently, their voice filled with empathy, "the urine test came back positive for hCG. Congratulations, you're pregnant." The doctor pauses, studying Y/N's face for a moment before continuing. "I understand this may be an overwhelming time, but I want you to know that we're here to support you every step of the way."

Y/N feels her breath catch in her throat, the news hitting her like a physical blow.

Part of her had hoped, prayed, that the results would be negative, that the at home test she took a few weeks ago were wrong, that she wouldn't have to face the daunting prospect of motherhood, especially without Jason's support.

But now, as the reality of her situation sinks in, she can't help but feel utterly alone, trapped in the shadow of her mother's cruelty. Following down the same path she did when she was 18 but only she was 23, grown, and by herself.

"What am I going to do?" she whispers, tears falling to the ground.

A sudden movement in front of her face snapped Y/N out of her trance, her body jolting in response. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes.

The doctor slid back onto his stool, a warm smile on his face as he handed her a stack of pamphlets. "I’m very happy for you," he said, mistaking her tears for joy. "Here are some resources for young mothers. I know this must be an exciting, but overwhelming time. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or concerns."

Y/N stared at the man, momentarily confused, until the reality of the situation came crashing back.

…

11:30am

Y/N stood in line at 'The Brew' coffee shop, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping her like a comforting embrace, soft Russian music playing over the stereo. The rich scent of roasted beans mingled with the subtle sweetness of vanilla and caramel, instantly lifting her spirits.

As she waited patiently, her eyes wandered to the man next to her, who seemed lost in thought. He was engrossed in a conversation on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, creating a series of deep lines that etched themselves into his forehead.

He shuffled his feet nervously, the movement causing the light to catch on the polished leather of his shoes. His gaze flickered to the menu before him, a brief moment of indecision flashing across his face, and Y/N found herself wondering what could be troubling him.

Unable to resist the urge to learn more, she stole a glance at him, admiring the way the soft, golden light of the café danced across his features. The angles of his jawline were sharp and defined, a stark contrast to the soft, inviting curve of his lips that seemed to beckon her closer.

As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned, and their eyes met. In that instant, the world seemed to slow down, the bustling noise of the café fading into the background as Y/N was enveloped in a moment of pure connection. His eyes, a mesmerizing blue, held her captive, sparkling with a hint of mischief that ignited a spark within her.

A confident smile spread across his face, and he leaned away slightly, speaking into the phone. “Alright Lukey, I gotta go.”

"Hey, you're my neighbor, right?" he asked, the recognition evident in his tone. "You live on Baker Street?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden acknowledgment. "Yes, I do."

Yet, as she spoke, Y/N felt her shyness begin to melt away, like frost under the warmth of his unwavering gaze. There was a magnetic pull to this stranger, an allure that she found herself inexplicably drawn to.

"I'm Jack," he said, extending his hand towards her. His movements were fluid and graceful, his arm cutting through the space between them with a sense of purpose.

As he reached out, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his fingers flexed, the tendons in his hand shifting beneath his skin like the strings of a finely tuned instrument.

Hesitating for only a moment, Y/N slipped her hand into his, relishing the gentle firmness of his grip. "It's nice to meet you, Jack," she replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she held his gaze, unwilling to be the first to break the connection.

He leaned against the counter, his gaze locked on Y/N, as if she was the only person in the crowded coffee shop. "I've been wondering when I'd get the chance to officially introduce myself."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat, suddenly keenly aware of his undivided attention. "I, um, I'm not usually one for small talk," she admitted, her words coming out in a flustered jumble.

Jack chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Lucky for you, I more than make up for that." He flashed her a dazzling smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm quite the chatterbox, as I'm sure you're about to find out."

Caught off guard by his confidence, Y/N found herself relaxing, drawn in by his easy charm. As the line moved forward, she fell into step beside him, her shoulders brushing against his as they approached the counter.

"So, what's your order of choice?" Jack asked, his gaze sweeping over the menu. "I'm a bit of a coffee connoisseur myself."

Y/N blinked, momentarily flustered by his proximity. "Um, usually anything caramel flavored, I think," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m leaning towards tea today though.”

Jack's lips curved into a grin. "Excellent choice. A classic, just like you."

"Can I have a banana muffin? And whatever she's getting, we're together." Jack said, flashing the barista a charming smile.

The barista nodded, punching in the order as Y/N stood there, momentarily stunned by Jack's gesture. She managed to give a small smile, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.

"After you," Jack said, gesturing towards the pickup counter. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch, her nerves alight. As they waited for their order, Jack turned to her, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “Just a green tea please. And a banana muffin too.” She added, meeting jack’s eyes for a second.

"Such a gentleman," y/n teased. Jack laughed, flashing her a wink. He turned towards the seating area, gesturing for Y/N to follow. "Come on, let's find a cozy spot."

Y/N felt herself being drawn along by his infectious energy, her feet moving almost of their own accord as she trailed behind him. He led them to a small table by the window, pulling out a chair for her before taking a seat across from her.

She didn’t know what to do with herself as she took the seat he offered, settling in across from him. The way he was looking at her, with such open curiosity and intrigue, made her heart race.

"So, Y/N, tell me - what brings you to this fine establishment on this lovely day?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with a playful smile.

Y/N felt herself relax slightly under his warm gaze. "Just my usual coffee run, nothing too exciting," she admitted shyly.

"Ah, but any day that starts with a chance encounter like this is anything but ordinary," Jack countered, his eyes twinkling. "You've got nowhere else to be, right? No urgent errands or appointments calling your name?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, nothing pressing that I can think of."

"Excellent." Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "Then you won't mind if I take the opportunity to learn more about the mysterious neighbor from Baker Street?"

…

Jack's eyes crinkled with delight as the barista arrived with their order, setting down a steaming latte in front of Y/N and a banana muffin alongside it.

"Ah, perfect timing," he said, flashing the barista a grateful smile. The scent of the baked treat mingled with the rich aroma of coffee, creating a tantalizing combination that did little to calm her already frazzled nerves.

Glancing down at her phone, she quickly typed out a message to her friend Heather, her fingers trembling slightly. 'You're never going to believe this, but this unbelievably gorgeous guy just bought me a coffee and we're sitting at a table together! I'm honestly freaking out right now - I have no idea what to do.'

She hit send, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed the phone back on the table, unsure of what to do next.

Y/N couldn't help but sneak a peek at Jack, who was leaning back in his chair, a warm smile playing on his lips as he took a contemplative sip of his own coffee. The way the morning light danced across his striking features only served to heighten his already captivating presence.

 "So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?" he asked, his gaze warm and curious. "I have a feeling there's more to you than just your 'usual coffee run'." His gaze latched back onto hers, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks at his words, both flattered and flustered by his obvious interest. "Well, I, uh, I sometimes write for a sports magazine," she stammered, her heart fluttering erratically. "And I'm also working on a couple of novels in my spare time."

Jack's face lit up with delight, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "A writer, huh? That's incredibly impressive. What kind of sports do you cover?"

"A little bit of everything, really," Y/N replied, slowly beginning to relax under the warmth of his gaze. "But I do have a particular fondness for hockey as of recently. There's just something about the intensity of the game that I find absolutely captivating. The fighting, the crowd, just a mix of all of it."

"Hockey, you say?" Jack's eyes gleamed with unbridled enthusiasm. "Well, as it happens, I'm a bit of a hockey player myself. I actually play for the Jersey Devils as a defenseman."

Y/N's eyes widened in genuine surprise, her earlier nerves temporarily forgotten. "What! Well, tell me about it. Do you enjoy it?"

Jack chuckled, the rich sound sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. "Well, then I'd be more than happy to regale you with tales of my hockey exploits." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But only if you promise to share some of your own stories in return."

She extended her pinky, a silent invitation, waiting for him to entwine his with hers, sealing their promise in a tender gesture.

Jack gently raised his hand to the table, his eyes fixed on hers, as he tenderly entwined his larger pinky with hers, sealing their promise with a heartfelt gesture.

The two fell into an easy conversation, trading stories and sharing their passions. Y/N found herself captivated by Jack's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm, and before long, the lunch rush began to fill the coffee shop.

"Maybe I should let you get back to your day," Y/N said reluctantly, glancing around at the growing crowd, a twinge of disappointment tugging at her heart.

But Jack's eyes held a glimmer of pleading, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers in a gesture that sent electricity coursing through her veins.

"Or you could stay a little longer?" he suggested, his voice low and hopeful. "I'm quite enjoying our chat, and I'd hate for it to end so soon."

Y/N hesitated, her heart palpitating in its cage. This was all so unexpected, but there was something about Jack that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

Taking a deep breath, she offered him a shy smile, her nerves and excitement mingling in equal measure. "You know, I think I'd like that. And maybe, if you're free sometime, we could, um, grab dinner?"

Jack's face lit up with a dazzling smile. "I'd love nothing more," he said, quickly pulling out his phone. "Here, let me give you my number. I can't wait to take you out."

As Jack typed away, Y/N felt a surge of giddiness. This was all so new and exciting, and she couldn't help but wonder where this chance encounter might lead. One thing was certain, though – she was more than ready to find out.

Jack made her feel - seen, heard, and utterly captivated.

…

14:00 pm

I debated including this, but I felt so giddy and in love with writing I couldn’t help it. I’m just a sucker for some pure love.

***A gentle breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of springtime The world around her seemed to burst with vibrant color - the lush, verdant hues of the trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

The myriad shades of pink and purple adorning the blooming flowers that lined the sidewalk, and the vast, azure sky overhead, dotted with wispy clouds that danced languidly across the heavens.

It was as if the entire city had been painted with a master's brush, each detail a testament to nature's radiant beauty.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her camera, her fingers trembling with excitement as she began to weave through the bustling streets.

In the nearby park, she captured the laughter of happy families, their faces aglow with pure, unadulterated joy as they swung gleefully on the playground or tossed a Frisbee back and forth, their movements fluid and carefree.

Further down the path, a lonely man sat on a bench, tossing a well-worn tennis ball to his faithful canine companion. As the dog bounded after it, his tail wagging furiously, a warm smile spread across the man's face, his eyes crinkling with a contentment that seemed to radiate outwards, touching all who witnessed the tender exchange.

Y/N couldn't resist the urge to capture these fleeting moments, her camera shutter clicking rapidly as she sought to preserve the beauty that surrounded her.

Every step she took seemed to reveal another breathtaking sight - a young couple sharing a picnic lunch on the lush, verdant grass, their bodies intertwined as they leaned into one another's embrace, and a group of elderly friends chatting animatedly on a park bench, their laughter carrying on the gentle breeze.

Each snapshot felt like a love letter to the world, Y/N's heart swelled with a sense of wonder, her steps light and airy as she continued her walk home.

With each snapshot she captured, she couldn't help but see the reflection of Jack in the scenes that unfolded before her.

The joyful laughter of the families in the park reminded her of the way Jack's eyes had crinkled with delight during their conversation. The lonely man's smile as he played with his dog mirrored the warmth and kindness that Jack had exuded so effortlessly.

And the tender embrace of the picnicking couple evoked the gentle way Jack's fingers had brushed against her own, sending electricity coursing through her veins.

It was as if the entire world had conspired to remind her of the captivating man she had just met, weaving his essence into the very fabric of her surroundings.

Y/N found herself wondering what she and Jack must have looked like, huddled together in the cozy coffee shop, their heads bent close as they shared stories and laughter like old friends.

The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness at the realization that this chance encounter had the potential to blossom into something truly special. Jack's colors had painted the world around her, and she couldn't wait to see what other hues he might bring into her life.***

…

14:30 pm

Y/N closed the door behind her, the solid wood frame pressing against her back as she leaned into it, letting out a deep, contented breath.

A smile slowly crept across her face, unbidden and unwilling, as she buried her face in her hands, momentarily overcome by the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Slowly, almost reverently, her hands drifted down to her stomach, fingertips gently caressing the barely-there swell that held the promise of new life.

"Maybe this can be good for us," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real.

Suddenly, a flash of self-consciousness washed over her, and Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. Had she really just been giddily daydreaming like some lovestruck schoolgirl?

The moment of levity was short-lived, however, as a familiar voice broke the silence, cutting through the haze of her thoughts.

"You just gonna stand there and be weird, or are you gonna come sit down?" Heather said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Y/N's head snapped up, a sheepish look crossing her features as she nodded and made her way to the couch, her steps tentative and uncertain. "Sorry, I, uh, I was just..." Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to even begin explaining the maelstrom of emotions that had overtaken her.

Heather watched her fondly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're being strange today," she observed, her tone laced with affection. "But I can't say I'm surprised, considering what you told me earlier."

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she settled onto the cushions, her movements almost cautious, as if she were trying to contain the giddiness that threatened to spill out.

Unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face, she shook her head in a half-hearted attempt to downplay her excitement. "I know, I know," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it’s exciting, you know?"

Heather chuckled, reaching out to give Y/N's hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes crinkling with warmth and understanding. "I can see that.”

…

19:47 pm

Later that night, Y/N ran her fingers lovingly over the smooth surface of her stomach, the gesture almost reverent as she finished her nightly cleansing routine.

Just as she set down her phone, the familiar chime of a new message caught her attention, and a giddy smile instantly blossomed on her face as she saw Jack's name on the screen.

Sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, Y/N eagerly opened the message, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"Hey there, beautiful," Jack's text read, the words sending a flutter through Y/N's chest. "I was just thinking about you and that lovely smile of yours. How about we make it a date tomorrow night? I know this amazing little Italian place that I think you're going to love."

Y/N's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to type a response, but a twinge of hesitation gripped her. The news of her pregnancy weighed heavily on her mind, a secret that both excited and frightened her in equal measure.

She knew she should tell him, but doubt crept in, insidious and persistent. After all, she and Jack weren't even officially dating yet. Their relationship, while promising, was still new and undefined.

The thought of burdening him with this life-altering news so early on felt unfair, potentially derailing the tender connection they had begun to forge. What if the prospect of fatherhood sent him running?

Shaking off her doubts, Y/N decided to throw caution to the wind. "A date, huh? Well, you certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she typed, adding a flirtatious wink emoji for good measure before hitting send.

Almost immediately, her phone chimed with Jack's response, and Y/N could practically hear the warmth and charm in his voice. "Only the best for my favorite writer," he replied, followed by a string of heart-eyed emojis. "I'll pick you up at 7 sharp. Dress to impress, beautiful."

Y/N couldn't help but grin, a giddiness bubbling up inside her. "It's a date," she replied, adding a playful wink emoji for good measure.

As she set her phone aside, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her.

Just hours ago, she had been a bundle of nerves, unsure of how to navigate this newfound connection. But now, with Jack's invitation in hand, she felt a renewed sense of excitement and possibility.

Sure, the news of her pregnancy was daunting, but she couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, this could be the start of something truly special.

After all, Jack had already shown himself to be a charming, attentive, and genuinely interested companion. Perhaps, with a little bit of courage, she could find the right moment to share this life-changing news with him.

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691 @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3

@snailss, @dasiysthings, @shawnshoney

[verus-veritas]

Taking Down the Jocks

Reworked Interactive Story from CYOC

Part 1: The Set-Up

You were kicking a stone along the footpath, walking after it, and kicking it again when you reached it. It was Thursday afternoon and you were walking back to the dorms after some classes. You, being the relatively unpopular, unassuming, and unattractive nobody. Not that you were actively disliked, just that nobody really paid attention to you, apart from the football jocks at the campus. They loved to make fun of anybody that wasn't in their group, and that was often directed at you. Even though you often tried to avoid them and disliked them for being a clique, you secretly thought most of them were hot.

You kicked the rock again and it bounced off the footpath into a muddy patch that was a consequence of all the recent rain your town had been having. As you passed the mud, you looked down at the rock and noticed a spot of brightness in the brown, a speck of gold. Leaning down to see if it was anything interesting, or just a candy wrapper, you saw it was a small band of gold that was half buried under the dirt. Pulling it out of the mud, you found it was a gold ring, adorned with a circle of a green raw cut gem, or crystal. Rubbing off the mud, you put it on to see if it would fit, and it surprisingly slipped onto your finger with ease. 

A gust of wind blew through the leaves on the trees around you, and the world went dark, the footpath, trees and road all disappearing from your sight. You were about to shit your pants in fear when you heard a voice whisper behind you.

"At the dawn of the universe, 5 gods emerged from the light of the galaxy's formation, and they ruled over the Earth for millions of years, each using their individual and unique powers for the betterment of the Earth."

You turned around in the darkness, but nobody was there. You reached a hand out and grasped at only air. The voice continued, now coming from directly in front of you.

"But 3000 years ago they gradually lost their powers, withering away. Before they eventually died, they all agreed to put the last of their life energy and powers into a stone, and laid the magical stone into a ring. The ring has been found and worn by many hands, but none survived longer than 13 days after they found the ring, betrayed by their own greed.”

And now you have the ring. The possessor of the ring has the ability to harness the powers of the Ancient Gods, and are able to bend reality to their will.

With that last sentence left to linger in the cold air, the light returned and the light and warmth of the sun touched your skin again. The Ancient Gods? That couldn't be true. But what other reason could explain the sudden darkness and cold that passed over you, and the voice with no physical body?

You decided the only way to test it was to try and use the ring's powers. You wished to be back at your college dorm with every ounce in your body, and you were suddenly looking into the dorm’s bedroom mirror. You jumped back in surprise though, as the face staring back at you was that of your jock roommate. You soon smiled. He was obnoxious, he was messy, and he left condoms everywhere, but at least he was hot...

Still, slightly shocked at the fact the ring's power worked, you turned around, and attempted to close your roommate’s bedroom door with a flick of your finger. It took a few tries but it slammed shut with much more vigor than you were expecting on the fourth try. Thinking of what else you could do, you tried to float off the ground. After 5 minutes you figured out the trick was to jump with no intention of falling back to the ground.

After practicing a few other tricks while wearing the ring, you decided it was time to explore. You floated over to his bed, layed down and reached into your roommate’s mind with your powers, giving your borrowed body the best orgasm it had ever had, as you squirted your roommate’s seed all over his room. You swiped some of it off your chest and gave it a taste, clearly enjoying the musky and salty flavor of it. With a couple flicks of your hand, the sperm was cleaned off the walls, and you began to jerk him off all over again.

You woke up in the morning with the sun streaming in through your open blinds, and you rolled over to see your unconscious roommate lying on the floor, completely spent and drenched in his own white seed. You got ready for the day, making sure the ring was firmly planted on your finger, and made your way out the front door. You made sure to leave it slightly open so that someone might find your roommate in that humiliating state. 

You realized you needed more practice using the ring’s powers before you could attempt to change anything major, and the long walk through the campus was a great place to mess with people. Apart from there being nobody in sight at the moment. You used your powers to break a few tree branches, and you started to get the hang of it. It was less like having a giant invisible hand like you expected, and more like using your mind and hands to move the air around the branches.

You were already breaking your twentieth branch when you saw a couple of jocks harassing a bunch of nerds next to a dumpster, and you decided to help the nerds out… by giving them all the jocks’ muscles! You concentrated on their muscles, and the strength within them, and slowly transferred it all from the jocks to the nerds. The two groups quickly noticed and looked startled and confused, as the nerds' clothes ripped apart while the jocks screamed in frail horror. You decided the best thing to do was to walk by pretending you didn't notice anything, as you heard the screams of someone being thrown into the dumpster behind you.

You continued forward, looking at the floor, and when you looked back up you saw you were almost there. You couldn't be bothered to walk so with a quick look around to confirm nobody could see you, you teleported in front of the gates, and walked in. On your way to your lecture hall you saw all the obnoxious jocks goofing around and throwing stuff at others, and you couldn't help but take a second look at their muscular bodies and beautiful faces. Arriving at the lecture hall, you thought about what to do next. You still had some time until your first class, and the ring was pulsating with excitement to be used.

You looked around at the crowds and groups that were all standing in the open campus area. Everyone was either conversing with friends, or studying for their first lessons. You looked around and caught sight of the two people who you've had a huge crush on ever since you enrolled here:

Your eyes glanced over at Jack, who was busy rallying a group of jocks into harassing some studying girls. The heartthrob, the narcissist, and of course the leader of the biggest fraternity of jocks. Anything he said goes, and if you fucked with him you’d be left royally screwed. Not only was his family filthy rich, but they also owned half of the college buildings. Which meant he could get away with literally anything, like the time he almost beat to death a guy behind the bleachers or left a cheerleader pregnant. No one ever heard from those people again…

Still, there was no doubt in your mind that he was one fine specimen. Blue eyes, hot face, amazing jawline, and a fucking amazing plump and firm ass. Although he was slightly shorter than most of the other jocks and clearly wasn’t as talented on the fields, he made up for it with his dashing looks and charisma. He also spent most mornings at the gym, and it showed with his broad shoulders, slim waist, extremely defined muscles, great thighs, and great posture. Looks, money, privilege, he had it all… even if he didn’t truly deserve it.

On the other side of the hallway you caught sight of Shawn, followed by an entourage of admiring football jocks and worshiping cheerleaders. He was the so-called “Starchild”, who made miracle plays every game and had a whole career already planned out in the future. Star quarterback, the pride of the college, and childhood friend of Jack, no one ever dared to mess with him. Although he always carried himself with respect and never specifically bullied anyone, he always looked down on anyone weak, worthless, and not worth his attention. Which was basically anyone not part of his group of jock friends. Those deep glaring eyes and imposing aura of his made that very clear.

As for his appearance, Shawn was a complete adonis, as if sculpted by god himself. An incredibly tall and handsome jock with short brown hair and stubble, who stood at 6’3 feet tall and was made of pure solid muscles. Biggest, strongest, and fastest, his body would glisten and shine with pure sweat as he ran across the football fields. With his amazingly broad shoulders, broad hips, great thighs and calves, and stunning biceps, it wasn’t a surprise then that he apparently had the biggest penis on campus, measuring at around 8 inches. The so-called “Star Piercer”.

The bell rang and you made your way through the halls to your courses. You sat and thought about your powers instead of doing the work set for you, and when the professor called on you, you weren't prepared with an answer, and asked to go to the bathroom instead. When you got to the bathroom you closed and locked the door, and looked in the mirror, deeply considering what you could do with your crushes. Your penis was getting excited at the thought of having full control over those sexy jocks, and you took one final look in the mirror as you realized what you truly wanted: 

To BE one of them.

Part 2: Taking down the Star Quarterback

Your thoughts went back to Shawn for a few minutes, thinking of the big muscular jock as he strutted his body through the hallway. His physique alone had caused the rest of the hallway to part when he carried himself by. Between him and Jack, they commanded a sort of subconscious presence, a dominance that caused everyone around them to both notice them, fall into awe of them, and then either get out of their way or do their bidding. Everyone either respected them or were terrified of them. Whereas Jack was the complete asshole and the leader of the jock clique, Shawn was the pride and star of the town, a confident but quiet man who just told people what to do and they listened.

You envied that seeming feel of authority, of dominance. Shawn didn't even realize that he had it, he just worked to be a great athlete, but with his body and with his talent, he had created a much bigger presence at the college than even he realized.

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror, you thought for a moment about possessing Jack, after all, that jock had humiliated you time and time again simply for being a non-jock, an outsider to his clique. While Shawn had never directly bullied you, he was just so damn intimidating that you had never wanted to cross him. But that lust for his presence was making you want to take him. 

"If only I could be him and live his life, just to feel what it's like to be such a dominant and successful jock," you told yourself.

The ring started to warm up on your finger. Looking down at it, you realized that you could use it to will this very wish into being.

"But how?" you asked yourself.

The ring seemed to understand your desire because right as you asked the question the bathroom door opened and Shawn stepped in. You turned your head and your jaw nearly dropped. Shawn turned his broad shoulders toward you and looked back. At first a glance, and then again with annoyance. "What do you want, shithead?" he asked, before stepping into the bathroom and toward a urinal. He walked with his usual, confident swagger toward the urinals, still 10 feet from them, he unzipped his jeans and pushed his hand into his crotch, already feeling to pull his dick out well before he reached the urinal. As he stepped into it, you could tell that he pulled out his monster cock and aimed toward the urinal. A strong splash of piss hit the ceramic.

Shawn shut his eyes, completely ignoring you, and meditated for a moment. You wanted to listen to his thoughts, so you ordered the ring to help you read his mind. Just as you had suspected, he had already forgotten that you were even in the room, he was thinking about his conditioning after school today, and the fact that he wanted to get to benching 300.

You chuckled to yourself for a moment. Of all the things for anyone to think about, all this jock cared about was getting more swole and showing off to the rest of the team.

You looked back down at the ring on your hand. This single artifact, this one find that you had discovered, it was able to give you whatever you wanted. And you were ready to make your first life-changing wish. To become the incredible jock standing a few feet away from you.

The thought of being Shawn was making you excited, so much so that you could feel your dick starting to push hard against your leg and jeans.

"Yes, I made up my mind. I will possess him completely and live his perfect life!" you told through thoughts to the ring, and as you did so, you noticed your hand started to fade and became more ethereal. You started to become more transparent, like a ghost! But no, it was more than that, you were turning into smoke! "Ahh," you told yourself as you directed the smoke of your hand, causing it to flow towards Shawn. "I can just force my way right into his body!"

The urinal flushed. The distraction caused you to form back into your human body once more.

Shawn walked over to the sink next to yours and started to wash his hands. You turned your head again toward him, then down his stocky arms and toward his hands as they scrubbed the soap between them. He carried a hefty amount of thick, brown hair on them. You figured that he was probably a pretty hairy guy underneath his clothes.

"What are you looking at, Fag?!" Shawn retorted to you. Then he took his left hand and shoved you backward. "I asked you a question, you piece of shit!" he shouted before stepping toward you again.

You smirked, Shawn had no idea what he was getting himself into.

When he went to push you once more, you grabbed his left forearm with your left hand. The powers of the ring allowed you to hold his thick physique in your grasp despite the fact that he was so much bigger than you. "What did you call me?" you asked him.

For the first time Shawn started to get worried. His eyes widened as he realized that he wasn't able to free his arm of your grasp, but also that you were able to hold him in place.

With your right hand you reached out and grabbed his cheeks, puckering up his lips. "What the fuck?" he said as he realized that you had him completely in your grasp. You pulled his face toward yours until he was only a couple of inches away. Despite being over 50 pounds bigger than you, he could barely move away from your grip.

"I can’t believe soon I’ll be Shawn, the Starchild." you tell him through a form of thought-speak. His eyes widened in horror. "In a few minutes, you'll be nothing but a husk, and I'll have complete control over your incredible body."

Thinking for a moment, you figured you would try something you had never done before, to give the jock a taste of you before you took over his life. You leaned your lips toward his and gave him a long, deep kiss, massaging your lips against his for a few moments.

Shawn was disgusted with the act but more terrified that you were continuing to hold him into a grip that you were. "Your body and life is mine now, Shawn. Thank you and goodbye, forever." you said.

It was then that you ordered the ring to give you the power to possess him completely and wholly, and as soon as you released your lips, you felt your body turn into the ethereal, smoke-like form once more. Not just your hand this time, but your entire body. You felt the weight of your physical clothes fall to the floor and you could feel yourself in your new form as a type of weightless, flyable cloud, an amorphous cloud of vapor.

You directed yourself into Shawn, covering his rugged face and feeling yourself pulled in as Shawn took a terrified breath.

As you did you felt yourself quickly get swept into the jock's muscular body. You distilled yourself throughout him, feeling yourself flow into his lungs, then his blood, taking over him from the cellular level outward. After he took the first breath you quickly gained control over his lungs and subsequently pulled yourself into him, further and further integrating yourself into his physical body until your entire being became completely integrated into him. You then continued further, deeper, until you found his inner core, his soul. It was warm and pulsating with life, and you quickly decided to envelop it, absorbing it into yourself.

All of your senses quickly fell into line. You took over his vision, hearing, sense of smell and taste, and you could feel his body become your own as his own blood circulated you throughout him. When you finally nestled yourself into his mind you felt yourself adapt to his entire memories, his personality. You became Shawn, the cocky, confident football jock. "Exactly what I always wanted!" you told yourself as you felt his body and mind become your own. Your sense and feeling of strength was amplified tenfold. The body you now held was a tank of power, of endurance, and you could feel the jock's body as one of pure athleticism.

But it was now your own. Truly and completely.

You took one final deep breath as you opened your new eyes. "Ahh! Fuck yea!" you whispered to yourself. Looking back at the mirror, you noticed the jock still looked the same as only a few moments before. "Only this is me now," you told yourself, smirking.

Looking down at the pile of clothes next to you, what were your old clothes, you took out your old student ID and wallet and picked up the pile and threw them into the trash can. You had no need of them anymore. Looking down at your left finger, you realized that the ring automatically moved with you onto Shawn's body. No, your body. You continued to have possession of and own its powers.

You strutted yourself back to the mirror and pulled back Shawn's t-shirt, revealing a massive bicep. Flexing for a few moments, you pulled up the front of the shirt and admired your new six pack, crunching them and rolling your finger between the brown hairs and valleys on the jock's abs. Relishing into the body that you now owned, you pondered what to do next.

"ARGH!" You shout as you give yourself a big stretch. Every pulsing nerve in Shawn's body felt like so much more life than your old body had. The sheer weight of muscle that encapsulated Shawn's body felt like one pulsing piece of pleasure after another. You smiled again, a wide, cocky, arrogant, proud smile as you looked back in the mirror. You bit your lower lip as your glistening white teeth showed through, cracking another smile and admiring the jock's beautiful and handsome face, deep brown eyes, and intensely masculine muscle on this body, now your body that you held.

You knew everything about Shawn, his history, his personality, his skills. You were in control, in complete possession. After all, Shawn's brain along with his talents now belonged to you, so it wasn’t weird for you to be able to perform as him perfectly.

"First thing's first," you told yourself as you lifted up your arms so your biceps were parallel to the floor. Flexing upward, you watched your muscle bulge against the t-shirt, stretching the fibers as they gave outward. Crossing your arms you flexed again, admiring your new forearms with wisps of brown hair covering them. Your chunky, thick hands had fingers of steel, well cut fingernails and thick, calloused palms.

You couldn't help yourself, you had to see what was underneath. Who the fuck cared if someone walked in. You quickly pulled the t-shirt off as you stepped out of your tennis shoes. Dropping the t-shirt your smile widened as you saw your new, broad shoulders and thick pecs. You traced your hand down your abs, rolling the tips of your fingers over the valleys of muscle as you reached your belly button. There, a thick puff of hair concentrated down to your waist underneath your underwear band. You turned to admire your backside where your lats rippled down your back and your thick shoulders were apparent up against your thick neck.

"This is too fuckin much!" you whispered. Checking yourself out, you couldn't help but notice that your dick was hardening with every second.

You had to see it.

You unbuckled your belt and unzipped your jeans before shoving both the jeans and gray boxer briefs down to your ankles. The breeze of air hitting your loins caused your dick to jump. You looked down and chuckled as your newly-acquired dick hardened to full mast. The stock of meat was massive, a pulsing eight inch hard monster. Your balls were equally huge and despite being pulled up into your body they were like huge eggs waiting, begging to be touched.

You quickly stepped out of your pants as you turned back to the mirror, moving between a full frontal and a profile angle, admiring the massive football bubble butt and bulked quads that Shawn's body owned. As you looked at your ass, you slid your hands down your abs once more and cupped your balls, shuddering as a new wave of orgasmic pleasure rippled through you. "Ugh," you whispered. Shawn's balls were churned full and ready to explode. You weren't sure if it was caused by the ring or if Shawn was always like this.

Sitting nearby the radiator in the bathroom laid a couple of freestanding cinder blocks. You lifted each with one hand and practiced curls and then presses with your arms, staring at the mirror and admiring the fine contours of muscle bulge and twist with each move.

Your dick started to leak pre with each press, and you knew you had to give it the attention it deserved. You sat the blocks down and traced your fingers across your dick and balls, feeling them carefully as they cocked into your body and ready to release your new seed.

One hand around your dick and another cupping your balls, you began to pump, each successive thrust brewing a greater and greater orgasmic ripple, a greater wave of pleasure, a greater feeling not only of masculine sex but one of extreme satisfaction, you were now Shawn, you were now the star quarterback, you were now everything you had wanted to be and you would live the most successful life ever.

But that wasn't all, as you held what you thought was the most powerful ring of eternity, something that could allow you to literally manifest anything and everything you could imagine. What else would you do with it? Who else would you change, who else would you control and influence and seduce. "Umm," you whispered as all these thoughts swirled in your head, you could feel yourself brewing closer and closer, each pump a greater feeling of pleasure than you had ever felt before.

It was time, you knew it was here. Ready to release, you aimed your dick at the mirror in front of you, "ARAGH!" you shouted, a deep guttural moan of pleasure as your dick cocked and exploded. The first shot hit out with such ferocity that it slapped the largest splash of cum you had ever seen, shooting all the way to the mirror in front of you.

Your body rocked in pleasure as a wave of goosebumps and a spasm of pure delight rocked your body, warm cum rolling out of your dick and like a waterfall spilling a puddle in front of you.

"Ummm, fuck yeah!" you groaned as you continued to pump, More and more and more until, finally, it slowed.

You shook your hand to fling off the spooge that had caught onto your hand. Deep, controlled breaths as you reflected on what was the most powerful orgasm of your new life.

"I can do fuckin' anything!" you realized again, smiling at yourself in the mirror. You stretched and turned again to see your dick fading back to its flaccid but extremely impressive state. “But first, let’s find Jack…”

Part 3: Taking down the Top Jock

You entered the locker room and were immediately hit with the stench of pungent jock musk, a smell both foreign yet familiar to you. A sense of familiarity washed over you as you stood within the metal lockers and cold floor tiles, as if you belonged here, as if it was your second home.

A group of rowdy football jocks stood on the other side of the room, obnoxiously laughing and playing around with the equipment. One of them was kicking the ball against a brick wall with their muscular thighs and calves. You had always fantasized about fucking them, and now you had the power of the Fallen Gods on you finger to do so. Fuck it, you thought, you could literally do whatever you wanted now and nobody could stop you.

You walked over to the locker labeled with your name “Shawn”, and subconsciously entered the code for the lock without any effort. Some old worn sports clothes and a jockstrap laid inside, which you couldn’t help yourself but grab and push it close to your face, giving it a deep long inhale. It smelled just like you, and that was euphoric.

You weren’t sure what to do next though, and it was hard to focus with all the loud jocks yelling and screwing around. If only everyone could stay quiet and calm down, you thought as the ring on your finger began to heat up. Sure enough, the ring heard your request and slowly everyone began to slow down until they completely stopped, as if frozen in time. Even the football floated in midair, halfway through its journey towards the brick wall. You had stopped time for everyone else in the locker room except yourself and now had all the time in the world.

Deciding to inspect the scene in front of you, you walked over to the jocks and smiled. Some of them were halfway through a step, others were bending over in awkward positions, and one of them was slightly suspended in the air with his leg raised into a kick. You got closer to him and were able to see his giant thighs on full display. With a devious smirk on your handsome face, you reached out and touched them, the softness and warmth of the supple skin still there. You continued tracing your hands up his meaty legs until you reached into his shorts and felt his underwear, which contained his sizable bulge. Suddenly you caught sight of your true goal; Jack, standing there by his locker completely undressed.

Jack was the top jock on the campus, with his cocky and arrogant attitude, and lack of care for anything or anyone. With an unlimited resource of money, privileges, and the worst personality ever, it wasn’t hard to understand why everyone was terrified of him. Yet, you couldn’t help but salivate from your mouth as you went over and began exploring every inch of his frozen immaculate body.

He had a classic jock body, with broad shoulders that lead down into a smaller waist, creating a perfect V-shape. His biceps were giant and he had meaty pecs that jutted out from his chest. He had some powerful calves right underneath his firm thighs and plump ass, all dusted with light colored hair. You couldn’t resist putting your hand on his ass, and moved it all over his smooth body, fully feeling every inch of his muscles. You left it to rest on his left pec, and looked over his head. He had such striking features on his face, smooth with perfect complexion, almost innocent-looking had it not been for his privileged background and horrible personality.

That gave you the perfect idea, after you’ve had your fun that is…

You stepped back from Jack and looked at the group of frozen jocks horsing around with the football.

"Holy shit," you tell yourself. You willed this. Every one of these jocks who you had lusted after for years are now completely at your, and only at your, disposal.

A smile crept across your handsome face. You looked around the hall and realized just what had become of you. You were no longer beholden to the rules of mortals. A feeling of superiority washed over your mind as you realized just what the ring has enabled you to become. A fucking god!

As you turned your attention to the ring, you noticed the powers that were embedded within it, and that it was completely attached to your will and want. Its powers simply waiting for your mind to command it to give you whatever you desire, at any time or place. You allowed time to restart as you stepped back towards your own locker, smirking at your newfound abilities. You had spent years jerking off to the thought of these buck naked men, not to mention a lust to touch them. Now you had not only touched two of them, but had one such body of your own!

Your attention turned back to Jack. He had gotten away with so much bad shit ever since his father literally bought the school. Whether it was hooking up with every girl in his sight or bribing the professors into passing him, the success had gotten to his head. He was also known for bullying the smaller guys on campus on multiple occasions. You remembered one time last year when you were sitting outside working on your math homework, only to have Jack's goons hold you down while he stuffed his used jockstrap into your mouth. His crotch musk filled your nose as they laughed at you, not realizing that they had satisfied one of your deepest lusts. Despite your humiliation, you remember exactly what the jock smelled like. And you wanted to capture it again.

"But this time," you told yourself, "it's not me who is going to be humiliated." You had lusted after Jack for the last few years, hoping they would introduce you to his jockstrap once more. Now it's you who would be in control.

The bell rang and the gang of jocks began to split up. "Hey bro, don't forget about the party at Mason’s tonight," another jock shouted to Jack as they bumped fists. "I heard Brie’s sister is gonna be there."

"Damn, really? Guess I’ll be fucking both sisters.” Jack responded, "Just imagine the drama… They gonna be so fuckin' mad! Crazy bitches!"

Jack turned around quickly, too fast for you to dart your eyes away from his own. He gave you a somewhat respectful nod, but briefly frowned before stepping away.

"Did he seriously get bigger since last time, the fucks wrong with him? Asswipe. Probably thinks he can look down on me just because he’s better at throwing a stupid ball…" You could read Jack's mind thinking to himself, as his feelings of jealousy and rage washed over you. You had no idea their relationship was this strained, even though they used to be childhood friends.

"Still, thanks for the compliments…" you thought to yourself as you looked down and flexed your beefy biceps. You loved how much power and potential this body had.

You dove into Jack's mind for a moment while he walked out to his Tesla to unload his sports bag. Quickly, you flipped through his whole life like a book. The jock's talents, abundant fortune, shallow friends, heavy partying and reckless sex life. He lost his virginity years ago and was currently active with four girls that went to the same classes as him. He was currently lusting after a cheerleader named Brie, hoping they could get together tonight at his parent's house since apparently they were out of town. Although now he was debating if maybe he should go for the younger sister first.

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell more on the disgusting things he was planning on doing.

"Now, how do I get this guy alone?" you asked yourself.

The bell rang again, a sign that some classes and seminarss were starting soon. The hallway and locker room began to empty out. A devious idea quickly came into your mind.

"You have time, Jack, don't you need to take a piss?"

Jack grabbed some of his books before feeling the need to use the restroom. He turned and quickly started walking toward the nearest bathroom.

"Don't go there, Jack, you should use the locker room," you commanded telepathically.

Looking back into Jack's mind, you could tell that Jack was confused as to why he felt compelled to go to the football team locker room. Never before had he needed to go to the locker room before just to take a piss. But he obeyed his mind and continued down the hall, through the gym, into the athletic center, and into the men's football locker room.

Jack didn't pay any mind to the fact that you were still standing there inside, being too focused on emptying his own bladder. Before the door shut to the restroom area, you slipped in behind him. Using your new powers, you surveyed that the locker room before and the stalls were all empty, with the football coach in a morning meeting upstairs.

Jack quickly set his stuff to the side and proceeded to a long row of undivided urinals. You imagined yourself now being among that row of football jocks, taking pisses and sizing each other up buck naked. With you no doubt having the largest and girthiest equipment of them all. The very thought made you painfully hard.

Jack unzipped and began to pee. "That's better," he whispered.

You took a step, just loud enough to draw up his attention. Jack turned and saw you staring at him with a slight smile across your face. The first time you've ever been able to be smug to a jock like Jack.

“The fuck?!” Jack jumped a bit, surprised there was someone else in there with him. The interrupted stream of piss resumed once he saw who you were. “Oh, it’s just you. What do you want?”

You decided to take a few more steps towards him, hoping to make him more uncomfortable. He turned again, giving you a long thoughtful glare before a smirk emerged on his devilish handsome face. It seemed Jack wasn’t about to be intimidated by you. “I knew something was wrong with you the way you were staring at me earlier…”

“You’re a fag, aren’t you?” he asked demeaningly with a malicious grin on his face, making sure to put extra emphasis on the "fag". Not that it mattered to you. Not anymore.

Jack tugged his dick then turned to flash it openly to you before zipping it back into his jeans. "Just wait till Coach and the other boys hear of this! The team is only for real men, not for homos like you. You’re done, finished. Hah!"

"Oh Jack," you responded with an amused tone. "I don’t think they’re actually going to care, not that you’ll want to tell them anyway."

Jack tightened his right fist. "Yeah, and why wouldn’t I tell them?" He asked, as he slowly took steps toward you and stared you up. "Now get out of my way or I'm gonna lay one on your eye, and knock you out till the New Year. I’m not afraid of you just because you’re bigger, you motherfucker!"

You smiled as you ordered his legs to stop. Jack's expression turned from aggression and anger to surprise. "Woah!" he said, catching his balance, trying to stop himself from falling over.

"Time for a little payback, Jackie Boy," you said, as you ordered his hands up to his hoodie. Jack involuntarily pulled it off, revealing the jock's tanned arms with a thin but noticeable layer of blond hair over them. They were sculpted up to his biceps, thick, meaty arms that he had spent years on in the campus gym.

Jack threw the hoodie to the side. "Oh what was that?" He asked, his breathing intensifying out of his surprise and fear of what his body was doing without his control. "I didn't do that just now, did I?"

He turned to you with a look of pleading. "W-what's going on?" he asked, finally with a look of fear in his eyes.

"You're under my control," you told him, with your smile widening. "I can do whatever the fuck I want now, and what I want is for you to get out of those clothes."

"Huh?!" Jack said, his demeanor quickly turning to a submissive, confused and vulnerable man. "Wait, what is going on?" He kept repeating.

"Kick off those shoes," you commanded, and ordered Jack to cross his feet and kick off his tennis shoes.

"Holy shit," Jack whispered, continuing to pull his socks off. It was the first time in his life that he felt truly without control.

"And the pants, jock boy," you commanded again, Jack quickly unbuttoning as he watched his hands in horror.

He shoved down the sweatpants to his ankles, revealing his dark gray boxer briefs. Sitting squarely between his legs, his six inch, fat, uncircumcised dick resting in front his fat testicles. Your smile widened. You had never seen the top jock this close before, and he was now finally yours.

Jack stepped away from his undergarments, his face still one of complete shock. "Wait wait wait wait, what are you doing, Bro? What the fuck is going on?" his voice was getting louder and more fearful.

"Don't worry," you reassured him. "Just having a little fun before I seal the deal..."

You dropped your backpack behind you and started walking toward Jack. As you did, you willed your clothing off of your body, peering down as your t-shirt, jeans, shoes and socks incinerated off of your jock body. You were left only in your musky jockstrap, that you had decided to wear earlier from the locker. You walked up to Jack and, ordering him to lift his arms, you slid your hands up his chiseled abs, rested them on his pecs for a moment, and then pulled the shirt off of him. "No, no, no" Jack whispered desperately.

"Come on, big man, why don't you just give it a try? You've never lusted after a dude before?" you whispered close to his ear. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it…” you ordered him, as the ring on your finger warmed up.

You reached your hands to his package and stroked his underwear, feeling his engorged rod as it began to stiffen. You stroked it at just the right rhythm to turn the arrogant jock on, pushing right where his sensitive points were. "Ugh," he responded, and somehow started to feel more and more lust for the situation despite being straight all his life. "Umm," he groaned again, his hardening dick approaching the band of his underwear.

"You like that?" you asked, arching your neck down to kiss his neck and cheeks, giving him little taps of kisses as you started to head toward his mouth. Jack had now shut his eyes, completely lost in the most orgasmic build up of his life.

You pushed your hands around to the sides of the jock's toned ass and rolled his underwear down, feeling the peachfuzz of blond hair across the sides of his asscheeks as you did so. You let the band snap over his dick as it bounced to attention, finally free from the underwear. Jack stepped forward to facilitate pushing his underwear down to the floor, and he stepped out of them.

Jack opened his eyes, "don't do it, bro" he pleaded. "Don't do it."

"Do it" you ordered, and with that Jack shoved down your underwear and began to massage your dick.

You began to grapple with Jack and felt his body up as he did to yours, too. You then ordered him to reach his hands to your dick and begin stroking it. He looked down at your incomparably larger dick as tears began to well up in his face. "Why?" he whispered.

"Bend over," You responded, as you shoved the jock back before pushing his head down onto the urinal in front of you. He held on as he bent over. You dragged your rugged hands up his legs to his rear and positioned yourself perfectly.

"No! Don’t you dare-" Jack threatened, but you simply grinned as you thrust your dick into his hole, pushing with as much force as you could muster.

"OH FUCK YEAH!" You groaned as Jack whimpered. As you began pumping, you realized you are fueled just as much by your want to humiliate the school’s most arrogant jock, as much as your want for him to notice and love you.

"You're mine, little man!" You shouted. "Every last inch of your being, you're now under my control, let this act be the mark of my dominance. OH FUCK!" You could feel your hefty balls ready themselves before churning, pumping your thick starchild seed, volley after volley into the spasming jock.

You wished for your body to produce more, to keep going, as you had a second, then a third full on orgasm, each better than the one before. Your seed began to leak out and dribbled down the jock’s athletic legs as he began to cry. "Stop it please, stop it!" he said between sobs.

You kicked his legs and shoved the naked jock onto the floor of the locker room as you stepped back. Your still hard cock bounced up and down as you admired and flexed your own sweaty body. "Oh fuck that felt amazing!" you roared. "I’m Shawn, and I can fuckin do anything now!"

Jack tried to crawl away on the floor for a moment before stopping from exhaustion. You turned back to him. "Hey Jack!" You shouted. “It’s time!"

Jack turned his head from where he sat nude on the floor towards you, fear in his eyes, all traces of the cocky confident jock from ten minutes ago gone. You stepped towards him, reaching out your arm, until you were close enough to rest your hand on his shoulder. You rubbed his shoulder and knelt down until you were at eye level with him.

"Jack, I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do to you so I can witness your reaction before it happens. I'm going to use the same powers I just tested on you to make you fall deeply, and passionately in love with me. In fact, we’ve been together ever since our childhood days, a love between us so strong and persevering through time itself. A true love story of sorts, so secret no one knows but us."

Jack's face turned from showing an expression of fear to one of horror, his mouth and nose contorting to show his obvious disgust at your plan. You leaned in closer and added more things in a low husky voice.

"And you’re going to be a much better person. Kind, compassionate, and supportive of others no matter your differences, but still confident and proud of who you are. You’ll spend more time on your studies to make your parents proud, but also keep going to the gym to stay in perfect athletic shape, for me. You’re going to use your prestige and family’s trust funds to help those in need, while keeping just enough to give us a lavish lifestyle. Such as taking me to your family’s private beach house every weekend so I can fuck that plump ass of yours."

He looked into your eyes, his face still reading disgust, and in a last-ditch effort he spat into your open mouth, and catching you by surprise he launched upwards, grabbing your upper arms with his hands and pushing you to the floor so that he was above you, looking down into your eyes. Your dick sprung upwards at the sight of him above you, excited by the closeness and feeling of his naked thighs on yours.

"You're not doing anything to me you deranged faggot, I'm going to fucking snap your neck and you'll never speak to me again!" he said, recoiling one of his arms in preparation for a punch to your face. You used the opportunity to quickly break free from his grasp, which required barely any effort given your enormous strength, and in one quick move wrestled him stomach-first down onto the cold hard floor. He laid flat against the tile floor as you held your knee on top of him, using your entire weight to keep him from moving anywhere.

“Stay still. This will be over before you know it.” You felt the ring on your finger slowly heat up, and subconsciously tell you it required direct contact to rewrite a subject’s whole life and reality. The heavy wheezing and thrashing underneath you made it apparent that Jack was beginning to panic.

“W-wait! Fuck!! You’re basically turning me into a pussy! A loser! No, no, no!! Please, stop! I-I’ll work under you, I’ll give you all my money, I’ll even make sure no one threatens your career! Just, please anything but that! I can’t possibly live like that! I don’t deserve-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence before you brought your enormous hand against his plump ass and gave it a loud and hard slap. The ring burned hot on your finger as the red imprint of your palm slowly emerged on Jack’s right butt cheek.

The slap was so loud and so hard, it seemed to have completely paralyzed Jack, leaving him slack-jawed and staring forward in utter shock. He remained in that same frozen position for a minute or so, until a tingle seemed to pass through his body. Immediately his shoulders slumped, his whole body relaxed, and facial expression changed - to one of pure lust and ecstasy.

“Oh, sorry. What were we talking about again, babe?” Jack asked, as he turned around with a smirk on his handsome face. His tone of voice seemed softer and more gentle, and his entire demeanor seemed to have changed. “That slap just felt sooo good!”

Seeing the change in his nature, you released him and helped him up, noticing immediately his engorged member poking against your thigh. “Oops, guess I got a bit too carried away…” 

You felt him lean in closer, moving his hands onto your thick and strong back, as his gentle hands rubbed it sensually. You opened your mouth to allow the tongue that was trying to open your lips in, moving your tongue into his breathing hot mouth.

Jack moved his hands down your back, grabbing your asscheeks and squeezing them lightly. You looked into each other's eyes and through what seemed like telepathy, which it easily could've been, you both got into position. You spreading your legs wider and him getting on his knees, with his lips almost but not quite touching the tip of your throbbing dick. You looked down on Jack’s flustered face before pushing your head onto his gaping warm mouth. He expertly wrapped his soft lips around your massive stick and began moving his mouth up and down it, causing you to moan in ecstasy and sending you straight to blowjob heaven.

You sped up, lost in the frenzy, before you finally climaxed down his throat. He kept sucking copious amounts of your salty man seed down into his stomach, as if he hadn’t had a single drop of water all day.

Then, before you even had time to recover Jack suddenly stood up and pushed you back into the locker room, grinning widely as he did. Pushing you down onto one of the benches with a loud thud, he quickly climbed on top of you and aligned his scorching hot hole against your still pulsating monster. “Now stay still, big boy. I’ve been yearning for your “Star Piercer” all day, and I only have half an hour left before my next class. You’re gonna let me milk you dry before then…”

You could only howl and moan in pure pleasure as Jack sat himself down, forcing you deeper and harder into him than you could ever imagine. You never would’ve thought of him as a power bottom, but you’re so glad for it…

An undefined time passed before the locker room door opened and you both peered outside, making sure no one was in sight. You and Jack quickly walked out, acting as if nothing had happened. He suddenly pulled your neck down and gave you a sloppy kiss on the lips, before whispering deeply into your ear. “I love you, my big boy. You know I can’t wait for the weekend.” Jack beamed with joy, as he turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You were still reeling from the afterglow of the entire encounter. You never expected that you would experience six orgasms within half an hour, and yet that was the reality. A reality given to you thanks to a small ring sitting on your finger. Just a few hours ago you were a nobody, always fantasizing and lusting after the jocks within your life. Now, you were Shawn, the star quarterback, destined to a life of success, with a rich and influential boyfriend to boot. A new body, a new identity, a new life, and a new love. The very thought made you chub up all over again, leaving you walking down the hallway while constantly adjusting your enormous crotch…

Epilogue

A few months had passed since the day you became Shawn and claimed Jack as yours. You were truly living the perfect jock life, with a successful career and loving boyfriend. Everyday you’d still find yourself amazed over the athletic prowess and sports experience your new body had. The feeling of blazing across the football field was exhilarating, and every goal you landed made you feel more and more proud over who you were and what you would become. You were Shawn, the Starchild, and you were planning on staying that way forever.

You and Jack were still deeply in love. There wasn’t a single day when you didn’t long to plow that plump athletic ass of his, and he desperately yearned for your creamy “Star Seed”. It also didn’t take long for you two to finally decide to come out. Though the other jocks were shocked initially, surprisingly many were very accepting of your new sexuality. Not that they had much of a choice anyways. It was either accept it, suddenly turn gay the day after… or be completely replaced. One prime example being Shawn’s dad, a former college jock turned body-builder, who refused to accept his son’s newfound sexuality. Everyone was surprised when the middle-aged man suddenly started talking and acting like one of the college’s openly-gay twink, who had suddenly disappeared the day before…

In the end, you had completely rebuilt the dynamics of the college and town. You had united the different groups of jocks, made your town one of the most gay-friendly neighborhoods, and had Jack and his powerful family spread their influence all over the world. Although you weren’t interested in world domination, with the ring on your finger nothing was impossible.

For now, you were living the life you had always dreamed of, and you were loving every single second of it. You truly believed it would never end.

That is, until a few months later when the old coach finally decided to retire. A younger, more experienced, and quite famous football coach was to replace him. You wouldn’t think much of it then, but you had no idea about the vendetta he carried against the former Shawn, nor that he had a special ring of his own…

For the next few months, the perfect life you had built up would be completely turned upside down...

To Be Continued...

Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! Hope you enjoyed this present I prepared to end this year with! For those that wonder, I'm doing well health-wise and I just recently got a new job. The future is still somewhat uncertain, so we'll see how much time and energy I'll actually have for writing. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to another year of great TF stories! /Verus

[carb0n-m0n0xid3]

The Forest's Safekeeping

Hey yall, I wrote a story :3

dunno if ive posted it here before cuz of my stupid autistic goldfish memory, but here it is

I ALSO DONT LIKE THE NAME PLEASE GIVE IDEAS PLEASE PLEAES

anywho, here ya go! ejniy :3

It was an ordinary day for the centaur, locked up in his cell with thick, cold chains rubbing his skin raw. He had grown used to such troubles though, as he had others far worse to deal with in this harsh facility. He had long forgotten his old life, practically raised by these cruel conditions since being abducted nearly two decades ago.

“Subject 70424!” called Dr. Shridener, a scientist, hitting his cell door with her clipboard to wake him. She had done so successfully, watching his fright with an annoyed expression.

He awoke startled, stretching up from the old dirty mat he had called a bed, dusting off his medical robe. He had wished so dearly to wake with the rising sun rather than by someone inhumane screaming orders at him. But as of now that was just a silly dream, perhaps once a distant, fading memory.

“Yes, ma’am” he anxiously muttered, hesitantly approaching the cell’s door. He held his lanky arms out to her through the bars, guessing she'd want to see the progress of his healing skin grafts.

“Ahh” Dr. Shridener said with some hope, snatching the centaur’s arm in a tightening grip, causing a few light winces to escape him. She hummed whilst observing the old scarring, though her smile faded with disappointment. It was unfortunate for her to see the start of an infection along the site of the grafted skin that his own had rejected.

“Another failure, I see..” she hissed, releasing his arm from her grasp. The centaur retreated back with a flinch, watching her scribble some notes on her clipboard. He sighed, knowing this meant more tests and procedures. Why were they even doing this, seeing what skins are compatible with his own? He had no clue, but surely he would find out in the future.. right?

He was then transported by Dr. Shridener towards the medical bay, though already knew the way by heart from the amount of times he had gone. Down the hall and take a right, down that long hall… then past the dreaded “extermination chambers”. He never dared to think of what was done there, fearing for his life each time he was near that section of the facility. It was occasional to hear the wails of innocent creatures from within, though he tried to ignore such terrorizing sounds of annihilation.

Once in the bay, the centaur was guided to a room, knowing what would happen within. Eventually another scientist came in to conduct the procedures on him, one whose name tag read “Dr. Favela”. 

He entered without a greeting, a rather stern, plain look on his face. He adjusted his gloves and brought out a kit, one all too familiar to the centaur. From within the kit, he drew out some appliances, preparing anesthesia to momentarily sedate him. The poor creature had grimaced, still uneasy at the sight of needles despite how often he had seen them.

He inhaled sharply as the needle penetrated him, slowly numbing his frail skin with its liquids within. His eyes began to grow heavy, faltering and shutting once succumbing to the substance.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

A few weeks had passed since the operation, the centaur’s arm currently bandaged with gauze, cleaned daily with painful antibiotics. He could barely sleep with the agony, though whenever he managed to, it never completely satisfied his fatigued state. He dreamt daily of the wilderness, clips and blurs of his past memories blended together. He was tired of these same cold gray walls, the thick bars containing him, and heavy chains that prohibited freedom, or even slight movement.

“Subject 70424!” yelled Dr. Shridener, once again slamming her clipboard on the cell door. The centaur awoke with a shudder, already forgetting the sweet serenity of his fantastical dreams. He approached, the chains clanking along the floor as he trotted a short distance to her, rolling up the grimy sleeves of his robe to reveal his bandaged arm. She unwrapped the gauze with one gloved hand, the other holding his arm tightly. 

He watched her with a growing sense of anxiety, as Dr. Shridener was never one to smile, even less one as wide as this. He glanced down to his arm, seeing the patch of grafted skin beginning to heal with his own. It.. worked? After all this time, it finally worked?

“Dr. Favela will be thrilled when he sees this..” she said, releasing his arm and grabbing her clipboard to write down the information, unable to wipe the grin from her face. 

The centaur sighed shakily, not really knowing how to feel about this. The graft worked, but now what? What were they going to do with this? With him? As of now he was just led back towards the medical bay, taking the mundane route towards the room. He followed Dr. Shridener down the hall and to the right, watching her strides. He was led forward and past the extermination chambers, feeling that same uneasy feeling in his gut.

She was the first to enter the room, glancing around with the same smile.

“Dr. Favela~ Oh doc-”

“I am busy.” he snapped, turning in his chair from his computer. His expression was the  same as always, dull and tiresome. After glancing between the two he sighed and rolled his eyes, turning back to his computer.

“The grafts worked” Dr. Shridener said, pulling the centaur in and revealing his arm to the scientist.

At this Dr. Favela finally perked up, leaving his chair to observe the arm. The centaur couldn't understand what the whole deal was with his skin grafts. Sure, it was different and interesting, but why did they need this information? What would they do to him? Being lost in thought he missed their conversation, but knew he was going to go somewhere different. 

This time he was led through the facility by Dr. Favela, following the man closely. The path taken had trailed throughout the building, finally ending at two towering doors. The centaur shuddered at the sight, entering the cold room. There were several machines, ones he did not recognize, and have never seen before. 

“Come” said Dr. Favela, motioning for him to approach one of the benumbed machines.

“They are just larger, modified CAT scans and X-rays” he said in a monotone voice, seemingly annoyed at the centaur’s fear.

“But I suppose you know nothing about machines, due to your lack of knowledge.”

The centaur approached with dreadful submission, shaking with fear at what might go wrong. The scientist was right, he didn't know what these machines were, or what they even did. But he listened to the instructions, finding out that getting these “scans” as Dr. Favela says, was a pretty easy, harmless task.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After nearly two months of scans and blood work, the centaur was finally deemed “ready” for a plan.. one he still wasn't informed of. All he knew was that it was a surgical procedure, but that only terrified him further.

“Oh Subject 70242” Dr. Shridener called, this time waking him without the whacking of her clipboard on the cell door. It was abnormal for the centaur to see her in such a positive state, but he stood and approached still, heart racing in a fretful manner. 

She had gathered him and led him to another new area, going straight down the hall from his cell. The walls seemed to fade from a bland gray to a soft blue, bringing a sense of serenity to the centaur, though he was still troubled at this uncertainty.

They had finally approached a pre-op room, about four other staff within the area. Dr. Shridener gave orders to the nurses before leaving, the four now glancing over to the centaur. They began to approach, some holding needles and others disinfectants. He failed to back away, bumping into the wall while nervously clutching his medical robe’s sleeves.

“What's going on?” the centaur finally sputtered, feeling an uneasiness deep within himself.

“SPOS? Surgical Process of Separation? Did they not tell you?” One nurse said, rolling her eyes as she paused. Another had begun to approach the centaur, raising the needle in his hand closer to the shaking creature.

They were going to separate his.. what? He could barely think straight when informed of this operation. How would he be after? They are posing a major risk to his life, just to see what might happen? Just to make him “normal”? He froze in his spot, clutching his chest as the four came closer. This was it. His life could all end here if he did nothing. Was there anything he could even do? 

The centaur glanced about the room, searching his surroundings for anything useful. He had seen a medkit on the counter beside him, throwing it at the nurses as a quick distraction before bolting out of the room. His hoofbeats echoed throughout the halls, nearly matching with the speed of his racing heart. He could only try to focus on escaping, fleeing from this inhumane facility as horrid questions flooded his head. Why would anyone propose such an idea? Is that why they needed the scans? The successful grafts? What if he gets captured? Would they return him for the surgery, or worse, extermination?

Alarms began to blare throughout the building, red lights flashing as a voice came upon the speakers:

“SUBJECT 70242 ATTEMPTING AN ESCAPE, HEADING TOWARDS SOUTH-EAST LOBBY.”

The centaur could already hear the sounds of security approaching, their footsteps growing louder as he rounded the corner, seeing the emergency exit just ahead. Closer and closer he got, heart pumping at speeds he never knew were safe, spreading fear and terror throughout his frail body.

“STOP RIGHT THERE” He heard guards yell, running towards with guns aimed at him. But he continued on, disregarding their threats. His breath grew quick as he raced down the hall, finally bursting through the emergency door with gunshots echoing behind him, some just skimming the hems of his robe.

The night's cool air refreshed the centaur for a brief moment, something he hadn't felt in forever. He threw off the robe while darting throughout the lot, seeing a dense forest just ahead. His throat burned and his lungs ached, but he persisted, hearing the shouts of others fade behind him. The thoughts of being captured continued to fill his mind, fueling his terrorizing dread and perseverance to keep on racing through the forest.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After hours and hours of treading, the centaur finally slowed, his body giving out from fleeing such a great distance. He grew exhausted and lied to the forest floor, joyfully weeping at his deliverance. Grasping the wet grass with tight fists he laughed, feeling as if in one of those dreams he had whilst in captivity. It all felt so unreal, the newness of the woods overwhelming him with glee and tranquility.

He took a shaking breath, watching the sun slowly rise with its glory. A widening smile began to grow on the centaur’s face, the first genuine smile he had experienced in a very long time.

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 18

[Read on AO3]

A few months ago he would have dug in his heels. Would have really put these fancy boots to the test struggling against both Kiki and Sir’s attempts to strong arm him into this ballroom, and left a good bit of sole streaked along the stone for his troubles. Obi might not have the muscle Mister does, but but what he lacks in raw strength he makes up for with sheer cussedness. A hard thing for the Big Guy to handle, historically. Not so much for Lady Seiran.

But that was when he was just Master’s messenger, a failed assassin up-jumped to knighthood. When the only thing that kept him orbiting in the court’s highest circles was a royal decree; a flimsy bit of paper and an unbreakable chunk of crystal his only assurance between respectability and the gutter he’d been born into. And tonight—

Tonight he’s Miss’s husband. So he lets Miss Kiki lay her hand over his fine sleeve, and tries to forget that a few years ago, he would have jumped straight off this balcony. Folded himself as thin as foolscap to slip in among the shrubbery, biting his lip bloody to keep the giggles in when the guards tromped past. He’s half-tempted to try it still— he might be bigger now, better fed, but he could still give those rookies a run for their money when it came to a rousing game of cat-and-mouse— but he catches one glimpse of dress blacks through the balustrade, followed by another two or three and, well, it’s clear His Majesty already took cold feet into consideration, even after the papers were signed.

“You can’t possibly think he would let you slip through his fingers now,” Kiki murmurs, all smiles as they stride through the doors. There’s a few curious eyes that fall on them, and an even greater number that linger on the hand Sir’s got clamped to his shoulder, all friendly on the outside, but all steel hidden beneath the skin. “Not when he needs to give these people a show.”

Fair enough. The man’s not one to leave good behavior up to chance. Not his, at least. “Yeah, it’ll be a real production all right. How come no one told me there was going to be public speaking involved in this whole marriage thing?”

“Oh my,” she drawls, one corner of her mouth lifting. That’s practically a guffaw in Kiki-speak. “You didn’t think all this fêting came for free, did you?”

“Considering how I didn’t have a say in any of it” — hell, he barely consented to more than a signature on paper and a wife in name— “yeah, kinda.”

Kiki’s too dignified for a snort— at least in this dress— but the air huffs right out of her still, like this whole disaster is a real laugh riot. “You’ve never had a problem singing for your supper before. Most of the time, we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Well, sure, but that’s different.” On the business end of her ladyship’s arched brow, Obi’s tongue nearly trips over itself to blurt out, “I have to actually mean what I say this time.”

That brow hikes higher, if it’s even possible. Curves itself so much it nearly comes to a point— one Kiki would be happy to hold to his throat, if her glare had its druthers.

“I mean,” he wheedles, “that I have to be earnest.”

“Oh, come on now, Obi.” Sir chuckles, giving that lantern jaw of his a good workout. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

For Miss, sure. Master, at least once or twice. He’d even summoned up some liquid courage and managed it with Kiki and Sir.  But— “Not in front of people who would eat me alive.”

“There are times I’d like to eat you alive,” Kiki informs him, helpful as always. “If only to get you to stop talking.”

“Kiki.”

“I don’t see why you’re taking that chiding tone with me.” Now it’s the Big Guy under the weight of that oppressive brow, made all the more ominous by the lack of expression beneath it. “It’s true.”

“Well, yes,” Sir allows, red creeping up from his collar. “But you don’t have to say it.”

“I, for one, would be happy to be devoured by you, my lady.” Obi gives her his most charming smile, hand pressed to the place Miss tells him his heart would be— at least according to anatomical models, she would say, too thoughtful. Which only depict the most likely shapes and places of organs. Some people even have hearts on the right side of their chest, if you can believe it. “So long as it would keep me from having to make this toast.”

“You can’t be that hard pressed to say something nice.” Obi’s used to bearing up under Lady Kiki’s glares and scowls, to soldiering through her glowers and leers, but none of those are as devastating as the concern she turns on him now. “It’s Shirayuki, after all.”

It’d be harder to find fault with her, that’s what her stare implies, and that’s— that’s the problem. If they asked him to go up there and wax poetic about the blue of Master— Zen’s eyes, or the breadth of Mister’s shoulders, or the keenness of Kiki’s blade, he could raise enough praise to get them past the heaven’s gates. But to ask him to talk about Miss, to even touch the angles of what she means to him and think to come away unbloodied—

“Maybe…” Big Guy coughs, kindly keeping his eyes elsewhere as he suggests, “…you could just talk about how grateful you are.”

“What?” It’s Obi’s turn to lift a brow now, mouth ratcheting to its wryest angle. “For getting strong armed into a wedding?”

“I meant…” Sir grunts, an agitated flush working its way up from his collar. “For the opportunity to celebrate. Not everyone talks about their” — feelings, that’s what he’s trying so hard not to say— “the bride. Or groom! But their, er…gratitude for their guests—”

“That I didn’t invite.”

“—Or your host,” he adds, more than a bit strangled. “For honoring you. Even your wife for—”

“Putting up with you.” Kiki’s teeth glint like a knife’s edge between her lips. “She deserves the credit.”

“What about you, Mister?” Obi asks, ignoring her ladyship’s all-too knowing smirk. “You did one of these, didn’t you?”

“Well, er…” There’s red blooming right at the tips of his ears, almost painful to look at. “Not, ah…really, no.”

“What?” He stares at him, wide-eyed, before letting it drop the foot to fix on Kiki. “How come he gets out of it, but I don’t?”

“Precedence,” she says, all simple, like he should be able to figure out from there. “As host, it fell to my father to toast the assembled party—”

“I would have though you’d remember.” Sir’s got his brow all furrowed, like Obi should have written this all down in his diary or something. “You had, er, comments after he was done.”

“Notes,” Kiki offers with a twitch of her lips. “They were extensive.”

“Sir.” Obi pressed a scandalized hand to his chest. “Do you think I’d do you the disservice— no, dishonor, even— of being sober enough at your wedding to remember it?”

“Obi…”

Kiki raises a hand, laying it against Sir’s arm. “No, he has a point.”

Mister stares down at her. “Really?”

“But if the host’s suppose to be the one doing all the toasting, how come it’s my head on the block tonight?” Obi gives the silk swags and effusive floral arrangements a pointed glance. “I’m certainly not the one footing this bill.”

There it is, another twitch of her ladyship’s mouth. Oh, what a laugh riot she’s having tonight. “Members of the royal family are exempt from the rule.”

“What?” He doesn’t so much speak as squawk, drawing every noble eye within shouting distance. Lower, he adds, “But they’re the ones raised to talk in front of people.”

“Yes, but— what is it you’re so fond of saying to Zen?” Her teeth flash again, and he’s half convinced he can feel the points pricking at his throat. “They suffer us to live at their leisure.”

“That is definitely not what I say.” Though he’s thought it often enough. “It’s ‘I live at your pleasure.’”

It’s awful how elegant all that breeding can make a shrug. “Same difference.”

“If Shirayuki’s father were here, it would be his job to make the toast,” Sir explains, more than a little harried. Marriage might have given him a fancy title, but politics still make the man break out in a cold sweat. “But since that’s not…er…possible, it’s yours.”

“Didn’t the Marquis stand in for him out there?” Begrudgingly, on both sides, but still legally binding. “A proxy, or whatever? Shouldn’t he be the one putting together some flowery speech about duty and lying back and thinking of Clarines—”

Kiki snorts. “Do you really want Haruka lecturing the court on your worthiness as a husband?”

“All right,” he relents, steps dragging the closer they come to the banquet hall. “Good point.”

*

It’s not that Obi expects Kiki and Sir to hold his hand through the rest of the reception— at some point they’ll expect him to play lord to Miss’s lady, after all, and he assumes that will involve some ritual   hand fondling and meaningful eye contact. Much as he’d like someone to feed him his lines in this little skit, three’s a crowd, and four makes for the sort of gossip it’d take more than a marquis’s glare to clean.

It’s just— he thought they might at least see him over the threshold.

Instead, their little party hits a halt right when parquet changes its pattern, the vise grip at his shoulder easing just as Kiki’s talons retract from his sleeve, leaving him to stand there, dumb, as Miss settles in his sights. Her dress is less impressive behind a table, but the gold still shimmers as she sighs, her own eyes searching the room until she finds—

Ah, him. It’s him she’s looking for. At least, that’s what her smile says when she does, so bright and pleased he has half a mind to run right back out this door and—

And only one breath deep in that idea, the Lord and Lady Seiran slap his back hard enough to stumble him across the finish line.

“Good luck,” Sir murmurs, stepping out from his side.

Kiki slips around him, taking her husband’s arm. “You’ll need it.”

Hah. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Still, he’ll give it to them— getting over the threshold makes it easier to stroll it, even with the Marquis glaring a hole through his back. Obi’s got half a mind to saunter over there and ask about payment for a job well done— maybe it took him a couple years, but their red haired guest wouldn’t be marrying any princes anytime soon.

But it’s Miss’s eyes that draw him back, that keep his feet angled along the straight and narrow. A lady’s supposed to maintain her composure, to play coy when the object of her attention draws near, never letting a soul know her true desires— but Miss squirms with his every step, so giddy she might burst at the seams before he get to her, and it’s—

It’s infectious. Obi’s not one for butterflies in his stomach— and for all that he may joke, he’s not the kind of man with gentle flutterings of the heart either— but he’s buoyant when he bounds toward her, lighter on his feet than he’s ever been. Unsinkable, that’s how he feels as he takes his seat beside her, smirk outstretched to a smile.

“Miss.” He flips his hand on his lap palm-up; an invitation, if she cares to take it.

“Obi.” A corner of her mouth curls, mischief bright in her eyes. “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.”

My name. Even now he can remember color of her eyes, so dark he thought he might get lost in them. I’d like you to say it. Just one more time.

He can taste it on his tongue, feel the shape of it filling his mouth, and ah, if they asked him to do that stupid toast right now, he’d sing so many of her praises he’d make minstrels wish they had half as must poetry in them. “My lady.”

A laugh huffs out of her, sweeter than any wine His Majesty could serve them. “That’s not what I meant.”

He’s tempted to tease, to try and draw another please from her before he lets her have her way, but the ornate chairs beside their own sober him better than a judge. “We should talk.”

The shine disappears from her eyes, smile dimming to the realm of mere mortals. “Of course. We haven’t had the chance since…”

Say it. Obi, please…

She flushes, right from her tasteful décolletage to her hairline. It’s terrible how much he’d like to feel its heat against his lips. “You probably have a lot you’d like to ask.”

He hadn’t— just this toast business, and only then to concoct a speech they could both live through, with minimal mortification— but now that she’s mentioned he should—

“Excuse me.” A hand claps him on the shoulder, familiar in its weight— and how hard it grips him, like a mother cat biting its kitten’s scruff. “I think you’re in my seat.”

He blinks, adding up that soft, pale skin and the calluses across the palm at the same time Shirayuki gasps, “Oh, Zen!”

Her hand doesn’t slip from his, but Obi does from hers, turning to grin up at this lost prince. “Well, hello there, Highness. You take a wrong turn at the punch bowl?”

“I’m afraid not.” His smile is strained at the corners, like hide stretched across a rack. “This is my seat, and yours is to my sister’s other side.”

Obi stares down the table, stymied. “That’s three seats away.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t seem it when he shrugs, adding, “Precedence. You understand, don’t you?”

Miss frowns, a little furrow digging in between her brows. “But—?”

“Of course, Master.” It’s with numb legs that Obi gets to his feet, smiled stretched thin. “That’s the one thing you can always count on me for— I know my place.”

*

Obi might have been in the practice of dodging Wirant’s late night soirées, begging off invitations with reasons that ranged from the mundane— already scheduled to be on shift that night, and he’d walk the length of the wall between Lyrias and Wirant twice over before it was done— to the absurd— another greenhouse apprentice had managed to mix up the two different shigure, and Yuzuri had requested all hands to rescue the plants in the lower beds— but he’d gone to enough to know that the worst part of the night wasn’t all the ambitious mamas, looking for a likely knight to foist their foolish daughters on. Nor was it the dancing, though the ceaseless circles bored him— and Miss’s attempts at copying them usually resulted in a new set of boots for him— or the conversation, which even Miss called tedious, and he called mind-numbing.

Oh no, the worst part would be waiting for the titles to stop talking and eat. Those kitchens would be filled with some of the best chefs in the country making their most delicious dishes, and still theses lords and ladies would let it grow cold as they milled about the dinning room, more eager to fill their bellies with gossip than food.

But tonight, Obi hardly notices the foot-dragging; no, his attention is bent down the table, watching as Master leans into Miss, whispering in her all-too eager ear. Must be funny, whatever he says; Miss lifts her hand, hiding her giggles behind it.

Three seats away. Obi snorts. Even marrying her kept her closer to Zen.

A hand folds over his, gently urging his palm flat. “You’re going to tear the linens.”

It’s not in him to startle, but he does glance up, right into Her Majesty awaiting smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think of it.” Her eyes slip from his to drift over the feast hall, never lingering more than a moment on a face before floating to the next. “This will all be over soon.”

“Soon?” It’s three years by his count. Too long and too short, in turns.

“Of course.” One elegant hand lifts, gesturing toward the tables. “Soon, our guests will be seated, toasted and fed, and once our stomachs have settled, you will open the floor with your lady wife. Not so long at all, if you are to think of it like that.”

Obi blinks, running the numbers, but still— he’s got no idea what Her Majesty’s on about. “Not so long until what?”

He’s getting sloppy, letting a mistake like that leave his mouth. It’s barely tripped off his tongue before she’s fixed him with something so like her husband’s smirk it makes his skin itch. “Until we send you away, of course.”

“Send us away?” If only he did remember more of Sir’s wedding, he might know why his mouth’s gone all dry. “Where?”

Her Majesty is too refined for glares and sarcasm, but the looks she sends him is rather flat. “To your rooms. Where you will retired for the night.” A corner of her mouth curls, and when her mouth does part, her smile is all teeth. “It wouldn’t do for the happy couple to dance all night. Not when you both have much more pressing duty to attend.”

It’s a good thing they haven’t started the first course, since Obi does a fine enough job choking on his own spit. “Duties—?”

Silver chimes against crystal, and the steady din of conversation in the hall comes to an utter standstill. Oh, Zen’s accused his tongue of being honeyed and silvered and honed to an edge, but the second he looks out on this crowd, it sits dull and leaden in his mouth. Obi’s palms prickle with perspiration and he presses them to the table, knowing there’s no more time to complain, no more time to bargain, he just has to stand up and—

And sit back down again, since it’s Lata who’s on his feet now, glass in hand. Lata who is glaring down the table at where another man stands, knife still poised beside the glass, glowering back.

“Oh my,” Her Majesty sighs, sounding more amused than taken aback. “Marquis Haruka and Lata Forzeno. The majordomo must be falling to pieces.”

It’s more of that precedence again, that same jostling of elbows between a well-titled lord and an heir apparent to a better one that had them both squeezing their shoulders down the aisle. Obi can’t say he’s the biggest fan, but he’ll give it this: watching these two duke it out over who has the right to say the nicest stuff about him is the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. Better than him trying to choke through it on his own, at least.

But there’s one man here who trumps both of them in position and prestige, and it’s him who gets to his feet, glass upraised.

“My lords, if you would allow me,” Zen says, each word enunciated with such crystal clarity it brokers no protest. “I would like to say a few words.”

There’s little and less that either of them can do in the face a prince, and it’s with great reluctance— from the Marquis— and begrudging respect— from Lata— that they both lower to their seats cede the floor to him.

“First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to see my good friends wed.” Zen casts him a long look down the table before turning back to his audience. “I have known both bride and groom for a long while, and I must say, many of us never thought this day would come.”

Because it was never supposed to, that’s what His Highness won’t say, though the strain of his smile does well enough. Because it was supposed to be me here.

“If I had been told only a few years ago that I would be seeing them married”—Master shakes his head, and the court laughs with him— “Suffice to say, they could not have been less suited for each other. But there’s few hearts Shirayuki can’t turn, and even fewer troubles Obi can’t talk his way out of, and somehow, they have both become some of my closest companions. My most loyal retainers.”

Master peers down at Miss, and Miss looks up at him, and for a moment, Obi sees how it should have been. The two of them together, husband and wife, hands tangled together beneath the table as Zen stood to speak. Oh, how Miss’s eyes would shine as his love of her was finally put on display, put into words so pretty there’s be songs about it, played in every tavern from here to Lyrias. The both of them side-by-side, taking the first step into their future together, always facing forward—

And him, somewhere near the back of the room, clad in his dress blacks, just happy he pulled the right shift. Because that’s what mutts like him deserve: a chance to guard the door.

“After their years together at Lyrias, I’m certain of two things. First, that together, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. And second” — Zen fixes him with a pointed look— “that Obi knows how to do his duty.”

There’s a smattering of applause as he takes his drink— one that continues longer than it might, were it anyone else who spoke. But a prince deserves his due, and they’re still clapping even and Obi takes his own mouthful of drink, barely tasting more than bubbles as he swallows it down.

And it’s in that moment that Miss stands, her own untouched glass clenched in her hand. That she looks down the table and fixes him with a look that shines.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says, jaw set like she doesn’t care either way. “I have something I would like to say too.”

[morocosmos]

Febuwhump Day 5 - "That’s Gonna Scar”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Relationships: Warrior of Light, Tataru Taru Content/trigger warnings: None

Continues from here

“Come in,” he wanted to say, but Tataru’s eyes were wide as she stared at him in horror. “Moro’a – what in the Twelves’ names happened to your hands?” she asked.

Gods be damned – he’d hoped it would be too dark for her to notice. “My hands will be fine,” he answered. “Come in and I’ll explain,” he answered, opening the door wider to let her in.

“You can sit on the bed, I don’t mind,” he added, locking the door once more before making his way over to where Tataru had seated herself. “Thank you for taking the time, Moro’a. I truly mean it,” she said softly.

Moro’a nodded, then gestured at his wrists. “About these – the Crystal Braves…had me restrained in the sultana’s chambers after Teledji revealed his hand, before bringing me over to the banquet to frame the Scions,” he began. The scholar did his best to speak neutrally as he told Tataru everything he could remember about what happened to the rest of their friends; practical, like explaining the details of an inspection gone awry to a senior assessor. It made things easier for him as well, putting distance between himself and the events.

“Twins preserve,” Tataru whispered when he’d finished. Her pearlescent eyes shone, and she paused to rub them with her arm before taking a deep breath. “...’Tis worse than I thought then…but even so, thank you for telling me.” Her morose expression suddenly became a slight frown as she looked at Moro’a’s hands. “Oh heavens, weren’t you going to do something about those? No more explaining, not until you’ve tended to them,” she asserted, surprising Moro’a with her insistence.

The Keeper complied, reaching for his folded robes. For a small blessing, the Braves had failed to discover the hidden pocket situated on the inner left side, padded and thus further concealed by the thick material. Drawing it open, he removed a folded square of thin parchment and a tiny quill and ink set.

“Oh,” Tataru exclaimed softly. “The pocket you asked me to make all those moons ago…”

“Which I must thank you for again now,” Moro’a replied, surprising himself with a small, if weary smile. Even so, there was little parchment to go around, and even less ink; he would have to use both sparingly. Uncapping the ink bottle, he carefully dipped the nib into liquid and drew a small glyph, keeping it simple to minimise the amount used.

He could feel Tataru watching him intently. “That’s the arcane geometry for Physick, is it not?” she inquired. “It’s so small…”

“It’ll be enough to keep my wrists from getting worse.” Cupping the glyph with his hands and drawing the necessary amount of aether, Moro’a activated the spell with quick mutter and channelled it towards the burns, sighing as the restorative aether washed over the raw skin. Once it was done, he inspected his wrists – the burns had darkened, and felt far less tender as he tested a few of them with his forefinger. “There. They’ll have completely healed in a few days,” he said.

But Tataru had not stopped frowning. “The marks will still scar for sure,” she commented, surprising the scholar with her accuracy. “Is that…will you be alright with that?”

Her question gave Moro’a pause. He’d not thought to consider whether the scarring would even matter – surely it wouldn’t, he thought. He almost always wore gloves together with his robes, and given they were to bunker down in Coerthas for the next…however long, he was guaranteed to wear similar clothing for the foreseeable future.

Still, to bear a visible reminder of the banquet, and all that had transpired…

“I will be,” Moro’a half-lied. Like as not, he would much rather be prepared for potential dangers ahead, and there was no telling when he might next be able to acquire additional materials.

[prestigecons]

TOP 6 TRENDS IN MODERN HOME RENOVATIONS FOR 2025

The world of home renovation is quite dynamic, with trends rapidly changing over time.

What was popular just a few years ago can quickly become outdated, while once-forgotten styles or concepts are now making a strong comeback.

This shift is also influenced by modern practices, including a greater focus on sustainability, multi-functionality, and technology-driven innovations. Homeowners are increasingly adopting creative approaches to modernize their spaces.

So, what does 2025 have in store for home renovation?

Let’s have a look at the top home renovation trends that will be shaping living spaces this year (and how we can help you integrate these trends into your abode as well).

Sustainable Designs to Gain More Traction

The past few years have witnessed the rise of sustainable designs and for the right reason.

Inspired by environmental awareness and consumer demand, sustainable designs are all about being thoughtful in their use of space. It is all about using construction materials with low environmental impact.

Natural stone is an important element of sustainable design, both indoors and outdoors.

Replacing concrete steps with natural stone steps or swapping concrete patios for natural stone can make a big difference in your home’s exterior.

Using natural stone for interlock patios and driveways is also a great way to reduce your environmental footprint, as these materials are durable, long-lasting, and low maintenance.

Inside your home, natural stone countertops or flooring are both attractive and eco-friendly. To further improve sustainability, consider adding energy-efficient features like better insulation, energy-saving window coverings, or solar panels in both indoor and outdoor spaces.

Sustainable design is about creating spaces that are good for both the environment and the people who live in them.

Whether updating your outdoor areas or renovating indoors, using sustainable materials and energy-efficient features will make your home more eco-friendly and increase its long-term value.

By this point, you must be looking to make your living spaces more sustainable. If so, we are here to help you with our comprehensive renovation services to bring your vision to life.

The Echo of Brassy Hardware

The brass tone is going to gain momentum in upcoming years as speculated by several industry pros. In fact, there will be a switch from matte black which has been dominating in recent years—to brass coming with a natural and raw finish. 

Reason?

Matte black, while stylish, can be less durable and prone to wear and tear, especially on frequently touched surfaces like plumbing fixtures and hardware. It’s better suited for items like lighting fixtures that aren’t handled as often.

Brass, on the other hand, has a classic, vintage appeal that can elevate any space. It’s a versatile material that complements a wide range of interior design styles, from traditional to modern. Its rich, golden tones can create a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

Best part?  It is a durable material that can resist the test of time. Apart from your living rooms and bedrooms, it’s an excellent choice for long-lasting bathroom and kitchen renovations.

Our plumbing team takes pride in expertly installing brassy hardware, enhancing both the aesthetics and functionality of these spaces.

Smart Home Technology Continues to Dominate

If there is one practical trend to talk about in 2025, it should be smart home technology and it is easy to see why.  

With devices like smart thermostats, lights, locks, and cameras, people can control their homes from their smartphones, even when they are far away. This gives them peace of mind, knowing they can monitor their home security and make adjustments to things like temperature and lighting at any time.

Besides convenience, smart home technology can improve the security of a property.

For example, smart security cameras and doorbell cameras help homeowners keep an eye on visitors or intruders, even if they are not at home. Motion sensors and smart locks also make it easier to protect homes from break-ins.

Homes equipped with advanced technology like automation systems are seen as more modern and appealing to buyers. This means that investing in smart technology can be a good decision for those looking to sell their homes in the future.

Say Hi to Biophilic!

Biophilic design is a growing trend that brings the beauty of nature indoors.

Humans have spent most of their history living in the natural world. So, we have a natural tendency to feel that connection to Mother Nature. And this is why biophilic designs are gaining traction in the world of home renovation.

These designs aim to create a healthy environment for people living in modern buildings, landscapes, and communities. To achieve this, certain conditions must be met.

Adding a modern kitchen with natural wood cabinetry and white-vein countertops can help bring nature into your home. This style not only looks great but also provides space to add plants and greenery.

Opening up walls to add new windows will let in more natural light, further enhancing the connection with nature. Painting your home with colours that reflect light can also help attract more natural light, brightening up your space.

In addition to these changes, features like roof lights are an excellent way to bring in more natural daylight, improving the mood and well-being of everyone in the home.

The good thing is you don’t have to seek these services separately—we offer everything under one roof. Plus, we’ll guide you on what works best and how to enhance both the aesthetics and functionality of your living spaces.

As we increasingly recognize the importance of connecting with nature, biophilic design is poised to become even more popular in the years to come.

The Rise of Multifunctional and Adaptive Spaces

With remote work becoming the norm, multifunctional spaces are essential.

Compact, flexible furniture like fold-down desks and modular dividers are perfect for maximizing small spaces. These versatile elements, such as Murphy beds and built-in storage, can transform a single room into a home office, gym, or relaxation area.

When planning a home renovation, consider incorporating multipurpose features like a home office guest room combo or a kitchen island-breakfast bar. Our comprehensive renovation services specialize in seamlessly integrating these versatile elements into your home.

This way, you can design a home that’s both functional and stylish.

Outdoor Living Stages Take Center Stage

Outdoor living spaces are no longer just an add-on.

They have become an essential element of modern homes.

Adding features like decks, outdoor kitchens, patios and fire pits can improve your home’s value. Besides, you get an additional space for dining, relaxation and entertainment.

Homeowners are investing in drought-resistant landscaping, permeable pavers, and eco-friendly outdoor kitchens powered by renewable energy sources.

Whether it’s a serene dining area or a cozy firepit zone, the focus is on creating durable and year-round functional outdoor spaces. If you are looking to create or renovate an exciting outdoor space, we have got you covered with our extensive services like luxury pool and interlocking, fence and deck installation, driveway and patio interlocking and property maintenance.

Over to You…

There are several trends to follow while choosing the right colours, and design features for your home.

By incorporating some of these trends into your home renovation, you are on the way to creating a space that is more contemporary, functional and enduring.

At Prestige Construction and Landscaping, we specialize in bringing these home renovation trends to life. We tailor each project to suit your style and needs. Let us help you create a home that reflects your vision and stands the test of time. Get in touch now!

[tladb]

Prompting I Ching & El Greco with Midjourney Prompt Generator (V6)

Custom GPTs in ChatGPT are were made available for subscribers a few weeks ago. These GPTs are focused on specific tasks with some extra programming.

This is an experiment using Midjourney Prompt Generator (v6) with the I Ching for Series 45 and the art style of El Greco.

 Midjourney Prompt Generator (V6) by featuredgpts.com

Midjourney Prompt Generator (V6) takes a simple prompt and generates 5 detailed prompts with additional subject details and style details.

My Text : For the offering, the king uses the ancestral temple  painting by EL Greco

MjPGv6 Prompt 5 : A vivid, El Greco-inspired painting that captures the solemnity of a king using the ancestral temple for an offering. The king's elongated silhouette is at the forefront, embodying a mix of earthly power and divine aspiration, set against the backdrop of the temple's mystic architecture. The painting is imbued with a sense of transcendence, as streaks of light penetrate the scene, highlighting the spiritual significance of the offering and the deep connection to ancestral traditions. Created Using: elongated figure style, dynamic chiaroscuro, spiritual ambiance, rich and emotive color palette, detailed portrayal of ceremonial practices, architectural elegance, symbolic depth

As above but with --style raw :

Different but along the same appearance as the previous images.

Using another prompt created by Midjourney Prompt Generator (V6)

MjPGv6 Prompt 4 : An ancestral temple scene, where a king, depicted in El Greco's unique manner with elongated form and emotive detail, engages in a spiritual offering. The painting is alive with otherworldly energy, as divine light bathes the king and the sacred interior in an ethereal glow, symbolizing the sanctity of the moment. The temple architecture, rendered with historical accuracy yet infused with spiritual symbolism, frames the solemn ritual, creating a portrayal full of mystical allure and deep, complex color schemes. Created Using: oil painting technique, dramatic and mystical atmosphere, intense light and shadow play, spiritual resonance, vibrant and complex color schemes, detailed depiction of ancient rites

These images neither captured the EL Greco style or created a usable Midjourney derived style. EL Greco's style was cleaner with the elements more distinct. The colour was smooth, solid with some shading not flecked with a myriad of colours and paint daubs.

The next test was to use a original simple prompt in Midjourney :

For the offering, the king uses the ancestral temple  painting by EL Greco

More distinct but still not El Greco. The robes are much too ornate for one reason. Aa an ew Midjourney style these mages was unsatidicatory .

The next example is using Prompt 5 with Midjourney Prompt Generator (v6) and the artist Caravaggio from the previous series :

A Caravaggio-inspired oil painting depicting a king making a solemn offering in the ancestral temple. The scene is dramatically lit, with a beam of light illuminating the king and the sacred altar, casting deep shadows around. The king's intense expression and the detailed rendering of the temple's interior reflect Caravaggio's focus on realism and emotional depth. The contrast between light and shadow emphasizes the spiritual significance of the moment. Created Using: dramatic chiaroscuro lighting, realistic textures, vivid colors, deep emotional expression, historical accuracy in costume and setting, attention to detail in facial expressions and body language --ar 4:3 --v 6.0

These images are more usable for the project even if they are not particularly Caravaggio though they do try from those beams of light.

It could be the art style of El Greco throwing off the process for Midjourney. From up the El Greco with a reference image.

A vivid, El Greco-inspired painting that captures the solemnity of a king using the ancestral temple for an offering. The king's elongated silhouette is at the forefront, embodying a mix of earthly power and divine aspiration, set against the backdrop of the temple's mystic architecture. The painting is imbued with a sense of transcendence, as streaks of light penetrate the scene, highlighting the spiritual significance of the offering and the deep connection to ancestral traditions. Created Using: elongated figure style, dynamic chiaroscuro, spiritual ambiance, rich and emotive color palette, detailed portrayal of ceremonial practices, architectural elegance, symbolic depth --sref https://s.mj.run/MgHLK7WdRdY --sw 50

The colours and painting style is more EL Greco but the subjects are are mess.

With a simple prompt and a reference image :

For the offering, the king uses the ancestral temple painting by EL Greco --sref https://s.mj.run/MgHLK7WdRdY --sw 50 --v 6.0 --ar 3:2

A simple prompt with a reference image are needed to force a somewhat El Greco image from Midjourney. The focus for the future though is not just to duplicate the style but to develop a new style from the AI text and image creation thatI like. An exploration of what the A.I. 'thinks'.

[simplykaren]

Fuming about a client for the first time in a long while, and they're a "cat breeder." I now understand why a lot of general practice vets refuse to do breeder work. A lot of people who have a litter of puppies or kittens are perfectly fine and respectable.

Then there's people like this.

They flat out stated kitty was pregnant when scheduling her for an allergy consult. They also stated they're a breeder. Kitty's too early to really confirm, so we took their word for it. Kitty had miliary dermatitis and was scratching herself raw. We scrounged through products looking for something safe to use on pregnant kitty and found precious little. (You really shouldn't breed a cat with allergies this bad; that should have been a huge red flag.) Sent a safe flea preventive (Breeder swore up and down they've never had fleas but took it) and meds.

Breeder seemed convinced kitty had a food allergy. Given the presentation and how the flare only started when a bunch of our seasonal allergic pets were flaring, we were skeptical but gave her a script for hydrolyzed food anyway (not ideal for a pregnant cat, but the owner was insistent).

This all happened a while ago.

Fast forward to now (around kitty's due date) and Breeder called back in to schedule kitty for a spay, saying she ended up not being pregnant after all. Breeder also wanted quotes for a bunch of kitten work for another queen who had a large litter a few days ago. Breeder nitpicked everything despite the already there discount for a litter v. individual pets, which I explained multiple times. She ended up scheduling the spay.

The day of the spay arrives and Breeder comes in with allergic kitty and demands a refund for her previous visit and meds (which were used) because kitty turned out to not be pregnant, and she's still itchy. Breeder never came back for a follow-up visit or even let us know that kitty was still having issues. She claims she went somewhere for a second opinion after seeing us (who said the cat wasn't pregnant) and a dermatologist who did allergy testing. Apparently the cat is allergic to chicken according to Breeder. The hydrolyzed food we scripted out would cover that, but feeding trials take time and dedicated use. Based on the state of kitty, proper feeding trial protocol was not followed.

I'm extremely suspicious Breeder is lying about something here to get the discount I wouldn't give her over the phone for several reasons, but the chiefest among them? Veterinary dermatologists in our area have wait times in the 3 month range for new clients/patients. (I know this from doing derm referral paperwork for other clients.) Breeder is either lying about when she went (if before seeing us, then why didn't she say anything about it??? That's kinda important when you're in for an allergy consult--and why come to us for an allergy consult if already a patient at a dermatologist???) or she had the appointment pending from way before she came to see us (which again, is fairly relivent for an allergy consult and should have been mentioned) or she didn't go to a dermatologist at all. Or that suspiciously timed litter is actually kitty's and not another queen's, and this entire argument is a lie. At this point I don't know or care.

The manager is dealing with Breeder.

I understand now. Next time I get a call from a "cat breeder", I'll be extremely tempted to send them elsewhere. So not worth all the nitpicking and getting yelled at.

Addition from my coworker who knows cars: Breeder drove up today in a freaking sports car.

[ichxraaa]

WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

featuring best friend getō suguru & corruption

good friends help each other and suguru has always been such a good friend.

warnings; fem!reader, chubby!reader, corruption, dumbification, fingering [fem receiving], fellation, dirty talk, squirting, getō calls you pretty.

MDNI!

It starts when you’re 15 and he teaches you how to kiss. It doesn’t feel like much back then, you’re just nervous about what to do in case your date tries to do something and Getō is kind enough to help you ease the nerves. If he is being honest it doesn’t mean too much to him back then either. He thinks it’s cute you’re so nervous about it and he doesn’t see the problem in giving you some pointers.

He’s such a nice friend.

Later that day when you tell him that you didn’t freeze when your crush went for a kiss at the end of the date he offers you a high five, followed by a small smile. He is happy for you and he thinks it’s funny how just a few hours ago you were so nervous about it.

The second time you shyly ask for some pointers on how to go down on someone. It’s been years after that first kiss you shared and you’re by no means teens anymore and he can’t hide his surprise at your request.

“What? Have you really never done it before?”

He is not judging you, you can tell by his tone that he is genuinely curious, after all you’ve had a couple boyfriends even if they didn’t last for too long.

You sputter in an embarrassed confession that a guy you were seeing made an unfortunate comment about your technique and Getō has to suppress the need to hunt him down and bury him in a hole in favor of comforting you.

“Want me to help you practice?”

You can feel your face heat up at his implication, especially when he seems so nonchalant about it. “I didn't mean it like that!”

Your friend reaches for your cheek and squeezes, amused smirk heating up your face and forcing you to take your eyes apart from his face.

Sometimes it’s too dangerous to be best friends with him. Sometimes you can’t tell if he is joking or not, and that’s not good for you heart.

“I just wanted to know if there’s something that most guys like or something…”

That’s when it starts to go downwards, cause Getō doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the way your pretty eyes stare at him as you drool around his cock. it’s unnatural the way his cock throbs as you kneel in front of him, thick thighs splaying on the carpet as you settle between his legs.

His breath chokes on his throat when your hesitant hands reach for his waistband and your eyes widen as he helps you to take out his cock from the black cotton of his briefs. It’s cute, you’re cute and when your hand wraps around him it has him exhaling through his nose.

Something possesses him that day. He isn’t sure exactly what it is but it has something to do with the raw vulnerability you exhibit in front of him, and when your lashes end up getting wet cause he lost control at the end of the lesson but you don’t seem to mind… He feels something stirring inside him. And it drives him insane.

He starts to notice you in a way he’s never seen you before. The way you move, the way you articulate, the way your lips get glossy when you’re sucking on a lollipop and he can’t believe how long he’s gone without noticing how utterly kissable you are.

The swell of your ass as you parade in a dangerously short skirt before going out with your friends has his eyes glued to the fullness of the expanse of your legs, dimples and softness so close to reach yet so far to touch.

There are a couple of accidental brushes as he passes you by. Testing and enjoying the way your eyes get shy even if you don’t like it. He likes how you shiver when his arms sneak around your soft waist. He says he’s only doing it because the street is too crowded and you don’t have any reason to not believe him, he is such a caring friend after all.

And then one day his hand reaches for the waistband of your shorts as you’re watching a movie at his place, thumb dancing around the lower part of your stomach and your breath hitches when he places his mouth near your ear.

“Keep watching the movie”.

“Do guys know how to properly finger you?”

It’s teasing, the way his fingers hover over the hem of your shorts, and Getō can see your eyes going glossy as you look up at him. He can see your breath choking on your throat, dark eyes going opaque as he watches you gulp, trying to say or do anything about the way his hand has begun to pull down your shorts along with your panties.

He breathes against your neck, slow kisses reaching your lips until you’re gasping into his mouth and his eyes open for a second, and you look so pretty with your lips wet and your eyes closed as your hands have reached for the hem of his shirt.

It’s so exciting how easily you give in and just spread your legs for him. You’re already wet and it just feels right as his index and middle finger dive between the warm embrace of your folds. Your juices coat his fingers and when he reaches for your clit you moan into the kiss in a way that has his cock jumping and uncomfortably pressing into his zipper.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back from this, it’s hypnotic the way your hips rut into his hand as his fingers slide in and out of your twitching hole in a steady pace that has you whinnying. He enjoys you too much like this,

“Do you like it?” His voice reaches your brain from a far away place, smooth and sweet and so intoxicating that has you clenching around his ministrations “This”, his fingers press deeper against your sore spot hooking and applying a come hitting motion. It’s embarrassing and too much and you don’t like how similar this feels ti needing to pee

You ask him to stop, say it’s too much but he doesn’t stop, mouth kissing the top of your head as he feels you clenching around him. He can see it in your eyes, you’re so close and he needs to see you cum, and he knows you can take it, cause your legs are trembling and your mouth is open in an obscene and delicious image, but what’s more is that you are rutting into his touch despite your protest’s.

It’s numbing, you can’t hear or think for a couple of seconds that feel like an hour. Your mouth goes agape in a silent scream as you cum in a way you’ve only heard about in passing.

“This is what squirting feels like”.

“You look really dumb right now, did you know that”. He leans down over you, tongue darting out to reach for your lips and you follow suit instinctively in a desperate need for a kiss that has him reaching to squish your cheeks between his free hands with such devotion that you’re unable to move. Getō’s eyes turn opaque as he engraves this sight of your soft eyes on his mind forever. “And you also look so pretty, you’re too fucking hot”.

He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed and you moan into him as he continues to hit your sweet spot with perfect precision. Your legs kick and tremble and you can’t feel anything that isn’t the way that you’re coming, so strong and violent that a new wave of squirt runs down between your legs in what you can’t help but think of as a pathetic display.

“Suguru…”

Your voice makes his head spin, and he ruts into your ass without an ounce of shame.

“No more lessons, what I’m going to do next I need you to know that I’m doing it because I want to, okay?”

[blissfulparker]

Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

-

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

-

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee. 

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

Please leave feedback! It helps me grow as a writer and lets me know what more you want to see!

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[insufferablelust]

Revelation (Spencer x Reader)

imagine thats Older!Spencer :)

Warnings : Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader, heavy daddy kink, belting, shameless smut, a bit of size kink i suppose, pet names, degradastion by name calling, punishment, squirting, gagging, just a dirty dirty daddy Spencer smut, subspace and huge  fluff! and reader is his goddess. :)

Masterlist Here.

All you could feel was exhaustion, exhaustion that lingered from the very tip of your skin to the rattling of your bones. The soft musk of Spencer’s scent filled the room so nicely, bringing you to an edge of calmness, you are home— with your love, your baby, your daddy.

You smiled as you tug your scarf down , placing it gently above the couch before you call out to the very man that owns your body and soul, “Spence?” the exhaustion was prominent in your voice, even though tried to brush it off.

“In here, kitten! wait a sec.” He yelled, jogging down from the kitchen to where you were sitting at the couch, He smiled tenderly with the kitchen towel perched on his shoulder, he looked so domestic, so much of the boyfriend-ness of him yet the way he holds himself is daddy, your daddy.

He immediately gathered you up on his arm, plopping down next to you and bring you to straddle his waist, “So pretty, so so pretty, i miss you, kitten.” He whispered, pressing a delicate kiss on your lips as his hand rest on your throat- the very side of your pulse.

You giggled a little, nipping his lower lip, pulling back only to whisper a tiny “i miss you..” kiss “daddy.” Heaven is what you are, he thinks. Because here he is, having the knowledge of everything, absolutely everything this word has to possibly offer yet.. nothing, nothing feel as complete as you. as having you perched on his lap, being good.. such a good little girl.

“Look at me.” His voice changed a little, it was deeper, huskier that it caused the sweet nectar flowing down south from the heat of your belly. God, your eyes snapped to his.. your socks covered feet tucked under his knees as he gently, just gently press his palm against your pulse, tightening his grasp— not enough to choke you yet enough to draw a pleasure filled gasp emitting from your sinful lips. “daddy—“

“Shush, been a good girl, haven’t you?” He cooed gently, his other hand slide itself around your waist to gently rub your back with calming warmth. “Uh huh.. The test went well today..” You murmured, eyes still focusing to his as you latched onto his strong arms.

You are 10 years his junior, you practically met when he was holding a lecture on the academy where you trained to be an agent.. an FBI agent just like him. The first gaze you laid upon each other, ignited the fire like no other, the desire and lust and.. gentle itching feeling of blossoming crush embedded deep inside both of your insides, practically screaming at yourselves to just.. get to know each other.

Getting to know each other, you did. It started off as a nervous filled dates, though he was a proper gentleman, bringing you on classic dates to libraries where you would borrow books you both haven’t read or something you just want to read and then reading it together on the window sill. Your first kiss was over a cup of coffee perched on the sill with Anna Karenina on your lap and Russian Literature on his, the kiss was magnificent that you were sure that if soulmates were real, he was— is your soulmate.

The first time you were intimate with each other was a rather cliche experience, cliche and romantic. After the 5th official date where he asked you to be his, you both went to his place which funnily was only a block away from where your apartment building sits. Rounds and rounds, you both savored the moment like you were made for each other; Ares & Aphrodite, Apollo & Calliope, Orpheus & Eurydice. The first one was gentle, desire filled love making against the bed, where he touched your skin like he touched your soul, where he kissed your lips like he kissed your fluttering heart, where he thrusts into you like a mad man, your mad man.

The next round varies, from the one where you were both on the edge of the bed when you accidentally slipped out the word “daddy.” which only made him thrust harder with an impossibly loud groans of “Call me that again—fuck!”. There was one where he choked you, fucking the soul out of you that you both ended up on the floor— not even bothering to stop by then. After the 4th round, you were both spent.. spent and absolutely basked in heavenly reality— reality that will always engulf you both.. Soulmates.

“You’ll nail it, i know you will, daddy knows best doesn’t he?” He chuckled, but his gaze darken, his grip tighten, and his head.. his head tilted in a mocking way, not mocking your ability of course but rather.. ‘Daddy Knows Best, Doesn’the?’ You knew then he found out, found your dirty dirty little secret that you tried to keep hidden (or at least for the most part)

You see, a week ago, Spencer left for a case— a pretty short one though you were desperate every time you separated from each other. You missed him so much, missed spencer but also.. you miss your daddy, your rock, your dominant. You missed his touch, missed his cock, missed his kisses, fuck you missed him so much that you were willing to break one of his most important rule. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s sole permission, and no cumming without his permission too.’

You knew you could’ve asked, could’ve begged for him to make you cum over the phone but you couldn’t.. one part because you knew he was busy, and you had to wait at least until midnight to get him to call you.. but the other part of you, the nasty brat he calls it, was eager to be punished, to be settled back on its place. You craved the way his palm.. those genius palm slapped your ass and cunt raw until they sting so painfully that you knew you wouldnt be able to sit down tomorrow. You craved the way you were on the brink of consciousness as his hand choke your neck like he owns you.. and yeah.. he truly owns you.

So you did the most obvious, you touched yourself, you came without his permission, and you used the new vibrators he specifically asked you to not use it until he comes back. 3 rules broken and you were happy.. giddy about it. But know that he knew, you felt.. almost guilty, lust still covered you, the severe thrill still clouds you but you feel guilty, guilty that you have disappointed your daddy.

“Daddy, I—“

“Shh, Good girls gets to speak, Brats like you gets nothing.” He hissed, demeanor changed 180 as his grip tighten as much as he could and his palm goes from giving you calmness to slap your ass cheeks like you were his punching bag. You mewled and whined, before he hoist you up his arm, to move both of you to the bedroom.

“Gonna show you just what nasty desperate kittens like you get, gonna ruin you like a rag doll.” Thrown you into the bed like a rag doll is exactly what he did, you bounced a little before propping your body with your elbows to watch him sauntered over to the closer. “Was going to make you a nice dinner pet, romantic and shit, but you just had to be a slut.. for daddy huh?” He said from the closet, making you bit your lip in guilt.

“Please daddy, i’m sorry!”

“Told you to stay fucking quiet.” He rasped, pulling a few things from the closet, then making his way back to where you were laid, clothes already off. “But, i was just—“ He cuts you off by pinching your nipples hard as he placed a handcuff, a belt, and a gag— a ring gag to be exact.

“Since you can’t keep your filthy whore mouth shut, i’m going to place this—“ He grabbed the gag, carefully scurrying it around your head, “There you go, looking like a cute slutty brat that you are.” He pats your head, before securing the handcuffs around your wrist up above your head.

“Aw my baby drooling already? You’re practically begging to get your face fucked, princess.” He cooed, god he’s so different in private like this, he knows every one of your weak spots, every word that makes your heart leaps and your pussy clenched, every damn move and touches that have you begging for more, yearning for more, and being so needy over it. A man like Spencer, thrived in the feeling of having control over something for extensive amount of time, he doesn’t mind not being the typical alpha male on the streets, but here in his sheets every night— he’s the predator, and you my darling, is his frail prey.

The only thing you could let out is a pathetic mewl as he slapped the skin of your gorgeous breasts, his gaze hungry as he trailed them down your body, your gorgeous curves, it almost as if he’s worshipping every damn mark and inch of skin— silently thanking whoever made you possible for how your body just as it is.

“beautiful, could be eating you out right now, but you decided to be bad.” He tsk’d, causing you to whimper and buck your hips which he slapped your thigh for, “No buckin’ up on daddy. Be good.”

Be good,

Be good,

Be good, Y/N.

Suddenly, suddenly your eyes droops just a little, you were still so still you held in your breath, your cheeks warmth as you feel yourself entering the very very fuzzy space where the only thing that exists is Y/N and Daddy. Be good, she has to be good for him because she has disappointed him again for being a— your thought were cut short as he cup your cheek, noticing how your body language changes, your daddy always knows after all.

“Shh, you’re good princess. hey are you with me? want me to stop? take the gag off, little one?” He cooed, as you momentarily shake your head with such eager, gesturing for him that no.. no you don’t want him to stop, you did a bad naughty thing and you need to be punished. Spencer has spent all his time studying your behavior, your every little detail— expression, body language, every damn thing to know just what it is you want, you need, you.. crave.

“Alright but if you feel any discomfort you’ll tap daddy with your legs okay? you can even kick him, daddy won’t mind..” He chuckled, which earned a strangled laugh from you— “Oh go and speak now angel, love watching you all messy and drooly.” He laughed, before flipping you so that you were laid face down with your ass up as your hips being propped up by a pillow.

Crack!

So sudden , it was so sudden, the loud impact sound of his belt against your skin echoed on the very walls of your room. Your head thrown back as your saliva steadily running down your chin, your eyes breaming with tears, and you let out a very very adorable strangled cries. “Fuck, thats it, take it, take your punishment and maybe, just maybe daddy’ll be a little lenient towards you tonight.”

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

You didn’t count, you lost track of how many times the harsh leather has hit your skin, now burning with tremendous guilt and burning lustful desire. Your tears soaked the pillow case like a damn river, yet he didn’t relent not until he felt like you’ve learned your lesson.

and honestly.. you wouldn’t ask for anything else.

-

“Pretty girl, so so good for daddy shh, come here.” He wrapped you up in his arms as he remove the gag and handcuffs altogether, you were a panting drooly mess as he presses tiny loving kisses on your forehead— body completely engulfing you in his warmth. “D-daddy.. am i.. am i forgiven?” You hiccups, looking up at him to seek for comfort.. for his forgiveness, his his his.

“Oh sweetheart, i wasn’t mad at you, was just putting you back on your place. You’re so so good for me.” he cooed, gently easing you up his lap, trailing his fingers from your hair down to your arms, your tummy, and heading further south. “I love you daddy... thank you for correcting me.”

Spencer could drown, drown inside your pretty eyes, just get lost in it forever, until he suffocates and die a happy man. He would be the prisoner in your version of heaven no doubt, he was never a religious man, but if there’s a higher power— it’s you, a damn goddess— his true revelation.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Let me take care of you okay?” He whispered, positioning you properly, your back against his chest, your head adorably tucked under his chin, and your thighs spread with his knees below yours. You were a giggling mess, hazy in your space but so so drunk on pleasure, “Please please please!” You whimpered greedily, trying to grind down on his bare cock.

“Patience is virtue, angel. Let’s get you nice and ready hm? know you’re too tight to take all of me.” He whispered, which resulted in you yelling— cutting him off a little way too loudly.

“But i can! i can take it, daddy! please let me show you!” God you didn’t know what you did to him, what your damn gorgeous eyes did to his psyche, to his cock. Begging like that, making him wants to ruin you, making him wants to release the very very hungry beast inside of him— ruin ruin ruin you oh so beautifully.

“Alright, you asked for it. Don’t go blabbing about being too full, you brat.” He smacked your thigh before positioning his hard, thick hard long cock on your entrance, slowly pushing his impossible length up your tummy. “Oh! oh oh! daddy!” You cried, cried and mewled like a kitten.

His length was not even halfway in and yet you were filled so fully that your head spins. “Take it, just a lil more, doing so good.” He rasps, feeling your cunt impossibly tight around his cock, warm and snug. “Please daddy...” You whimpered, not even know what the pleading was for but you pleads for him— with him.

When he finally got all his length stuffed deep inside your weepy cunt, his mouth nip and bite at the skin of your neck, trying to hold back the grunts as he moves slowly, thrusting up to your tight cunt.

“Fuck so damn tight, kitten.” You shuddered as the tip of his cock hit your spot perfectly, he was in so deep that all the sound that dripped from your lip was ‘ah! ah ah! d-‘

“Take it, take it, take it.” Was all he chanted as he settled you so you seated up right on his lap, before bouncing you up and down his length. Spencer was deeper this way, way way deep inside your walls, massaging every pulsing need you’ve held for awhile.

“So big! so— oh! please daddy faster!” You moaned wantonly, bouncing yourself up and down his cock, gasping as he places his palm on your tummy where the imprint his cock nestled deep inside you was so prominent that he cried out loud. “Feel it huh? feel it deep inside your tummy?”

“Yes yes yes oh fuck! S-Spencer!” You knew just how much he loves it when you moaned his name, so even in your fuzzy space, you moaned it, because you love him and he was practically fucking the living soul outta you. “I love you— fuck me i love you, gonna cum hm?” He whispered, moving his hand down, down down down then pressing his thumb on your clit to rub it.

“Daddy no! no i-i’ll make a mess!” Of course he knows this, knows that the burn on your ass constantly slapping against his thigh turns you on like nothing else, knows that his cock was filling you up so good that you could practically feel him inside your throat, knows that the rubbing of his thumb will have you squirting on his cock in no time.

“But daddy— shit, daddy wants you to make a mess, go on little one.. make a big mess.” And so you did, you did hard— squirting on his cock like river was streaming down your cunt, your walls pulses around his cock like a vibrator and the grip was like vice, sending him to absolute bliss himself— cumming inside you shortly after as you shake and writhe above him.

“I love you Y/N fuck— fuck i love you so fucking much.” He fucked you through your and his orgasm like a mad man, burying his face on your neck as his cum was buried inside your cunt. You were panting so hard, body still shaking as he leave trail of kisses on the column of your throat before tilting your head to kiss your lips softly.

“D-Daddy?” You meekly whispered, lips trembling as you spoke after he hummed, “can you stay inside? want to keep you inside please..”

And who’s Spencer Reid to deny his goddess’s wishes

-

xx,d

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 10 - Whipping

Ten: Whipping

A/N: A darker version of this scene from ‘The Crab with the Golden Claws’

It seemed as though the pain would never stop.

“YEOWWW! BLISTERING BARNACLES!!”

Haddock felt his body slump as he gasped for air. He wondered for a brief moment if something in his back had broken. “JELLYFISH!…P-PARASITES!”

The wind was forced out of his lungs, his back spasming in agony. His head fell so far forward that he felt the bristles on his chin brush against his chest. Stinging continued to reverberate down his back, spreading into every square inch of skin. Whatever was left of his sweater hung in tatters down his back; he could feel the trails of blood snaking along the crevices in his skin, the warm sensation a sharp contrast to the chill spreading across the rest of his body. Whatever pain he’d originally experienced from tugging on his bonds had disappeared long ago.

How long had it been? Ten minutes? An hour? He’d lost his watch some time ago, which he now realised was ironic. But time had no meaning when you were being beaten within an inch of your life.

They had started with a thick piece of wood, which hadn’t been so bad at first. 

Even when the splinters had started appearing, it wasn’t as painful as he’d expected.

But then Allan motioned to one of his henchmen, who had left the room to fetch his new weapon of choice.

He’d never used a whip before, let alone been assaulted with one. He’d only ever seen riding crops, and his father had used the paddle on him and his brothers when they were children. Upon first seeing it, he’d assumed Allan had stolen it from a museum, for it looked too old and weather-beaten to be of any use. The cat o’ nine tails that dangled from the handle reminded him of the types of medieval torture he once heard about as a boy, and instantly found himself panicking. 

The first strike landed haphazardly across his shoulders, with the tails wrapping around his chest and smacking into his collarbone. A raw scream erupted from his very soul as it drowned out Allan’s curses at the incompetence of his henchman.

After a few ‘practice tests’, the chosen henchman settled into a pattern very rapidly. They would strike his back three times; the first across his shoulder blades, the second halfway down his spine, and the third at his coccyx. With each strike the knots would fly around to his chest, gradually wearing holes through the front of his sweater. After each round Allan would take a long draw from his cigar, and ask him of Tintin’s whereabouts.

And every time, he simply spat in his face.

The pain was indescribable. It was as though his entire body had been set alight, with the flames of agony rippling down his spine, and every strike only added fuel to the fire. The blood that dripped from his wounds did little to soothe the blaze radiating across his back, with some of his blood pooling in collections as each blow deepened the perforations.

And despite the torment and suffering, he continually found he could only think of one thing: Where the bloody hell is Tintin? 

Even though he’d only known the boy for a few days, he felt as though he’d known him for years. The way he carried himself, and how he displayed maturity that was far beyond his years. The youthful enthusiasm and kindness he displayed in his interactions; it was hard to believe he was so young, and here he was, begging for this teenager to save him. Tintin, lad, please.

Even though his throat was raw from screaming, Haddock couldn’t help but throw out another slew of insults. “BANDITS!! BRUTES!!”

“Yell as loud as you like, Captain,” Allan smirked proudly. Hands clasped behind his back, he puffed on his cigar as he circled his captive. “No one can hear you.”

It took Haddock a moment to find his breath. “…Well I’ll make sure you can!! You ECTOPLASMS! GANGSTERS!! HOOLIGANS!!” 

“That’s enough!” Allan grabbed him by the collar, yanking him upright. He gritted his teeth and bared them at Haddock, a malicious light sparkling in his eyes. “Now why don’t you be sensible?”

Pieces of tobacco fell from Allan’s cigar onto the Captain’s skin, with some nestling themselves in his wounds. Hissing in pain, Haddock cleared his throat. “Fat chance.”

He was surprised he could still feel anything down his back; he thought for sure that they had cut through every layer of skin by now. Yet when they struck him for the fiftieth time, it generated as much pain as the very first strike.

Haddock didn’t trust his voice, so he settled for a glare that he hoped pierced through Alan’s soul.

“I grow tired of asking this, old man. For the last time,” Alan’s voice growled in his ear, as if it were travelling into his very soul, “WHERE is Tintin?!”

“HERE!!”

Although he lacked the strength to raise his head any higher than his shoulders, Haddock’s eyes widened and his body relaxed at the sound of his rescuer. Tintin!

He didn’t remember losing consciousness, but was startled to find his head being lifted upright. Blinking the sweat out of his eyes, he realised Tintin was holding his cheek, his eyes flickering across the injured man. “Oh, merde! Captain, are you with me? Captain?!” 

Haddock’s mouth felt dry, his vocal cords ragged. He fought to stop his eyes from fluttering closed. “…Tin..tin…” Why are you wearing a blue bedsheet, lad?

“It’s me, Captain, it’s Tintin. I’ve come to get you out of here, okay?” Tintin’s voice sounded hazy in his ears. “…ptain?…ain?…”

Why are you getting quieter, lad?…

Oh.

Guess I’m going then.

****** Am I dead?

It took an enormous amount of effort, but he opened his eyes wearily, only to be surprised with a sterile, white room. Did I die? Is this the afterlife?

It took his brain a minute to process what his eyes were seeing; that he was alive, with no missing limbs, and safely tucked up in a hospital bed. Beams of sunlight poured through the curtains, bouncing off of the stethoscope perched on his bedside table. He lifted his hands, observing the thick gauze that was secured around each wrist. Didn’t realise I’d caused that much damage to myself.

A faint snuffling noise caught his attention. Suppressing the urge to fall asleep once more, Haddock stiffly turned his neck, and smiled. Tintin…

The faithful young man had seemingly startled awake, for his eyelids fluttered briefly as he returned to consciousness. He pulled himself off of his chair and pulled himself closer to Haddock’s bed, an exhausted grin stretching across his face. “Captain…”

“…Good to see ya, lad,” Haddock whispered. He extended his arm as far as the intravenous line would allow, clasping Tintin’s hand in his own. “…What-“

“Not now, Captain. You lost a large amount of blood, and probably won’t remember much for a few days,” Tintin interrupted. He inhaled deeply, an uncontrollable shudder rippling through his body. “The amount of stitches they had to put in your back…t-there’s be some scarring, I’m sorry…I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

Haddock shook his head slowly. He squeezed the young man’s hand as he gave him a grateful smile, noticing how heavy the burden of rescuing him was resting on Tintin’s shoulders. “…You saved me…Tintin…” And I’m grateful to be alive. We’ll have to have a drink to celebrate.

“Allan’s been arrested as well. The police…they were right behind me,” Tintin spoke quietly. He stared off next to the Captain, his eyes betraying his demeanour as he was obviously remembering what had happened. He sat silently for a minute before returning his gaze to Haddock, straightening his shoulders. “But, the main thing is that you’re safe, and you’re going to follow all of the doctor’s orders, okay?”

Haddock gave a weak smile, nodding his head gently. He had barely opened his mouth before Tintin interrupted again: “And that means no alcohol!”

[carb0n-m0n0xid3]

Dear God, this took forever to write

Ok so, I made a short story to submit into a writing contest (maybe). I am still deciding whether to put in that story or poems (as that is the choice). But Here it is, I hope you guys enjoy it :3

It was an ordinary day for the centaur, locked up in his cell with thick, cold chains rubbing his skin raw. He had grown used to such troubles though, as he had others far worse to deal with in this harsh facility. He had long forgotten his old life, practically raised in these cruel conditions since being abducted nearly two decades ago.

“Subject 70424!” called Dr. Shridener, a scientist, hitting his cell door with her clipboard to wake him. She had done so successfully, watching his fright with an annoyed expression..

He awoke startled, stretching up from the old dirty mat he had called a bed, dusting off his medical robe. He had wished so dearly to wake with the rising sun rather than by someone inhumane screaming orders at him. But as of now that was just a silly dream, perhaps once a distant, fading memory.

“Yes, ma’am” he anxiously muttered, hesitantly approaching the cell’s door. He held his lanky arms out to her through the bars, guessing she'd want to see the progress of his healing skin grafts.

“Ahh” Dr. Shridener said with some hope, snatching the centaur’s arm in a tightening grip, causing slight winces to escape him. She hummed whilst observing the old scarring, though her smile faded in disappointment. It was unfortunate for her to see the start of an infection along the site of the grafted skin that his own had rejected.

“Another failure, I see..” she hissed, releasing his arm from her grasp. The centaur retreated back with a flinch, watching her scribble some notes on her clipboard. He sighed, knowing this meant more tests. Why were they even doing this, seeing what skins are compatible with his own? He had no clue, but surely he would find out in the future.. right?

He was then transported by Dr. Shridener towards the medical bay, though already knew the way from the amount of times he had gone. Down the hall and take a right, down that long hall… then past the dreaded “extermination chambers”. He never dared to think of what was done there, fearing for his life each time he was near that section of the facility. It was occasional to hear the wails of innocent creatures from within, though he tried to ignore such terrorizing sounds of annihilation.

Once in the bay, the centaur was guided to a room, knowing what would happen within. Eventually came in another scientist to conduct the procedures on him, one whose name tag read “Dr. Favela”. 

He entered without a greeting, a rather stern, plain look on his face. He adjusted his gloves and brought out a kit, one all too familiar to the centaur. From within the kit, he drew out some appliances, preparing anesthesia to momentarily sedate the centaur. The poor creature had grimaced, still uneasy at the sight of needles despite how often he had seen them.

He inhaled sharply as the needle penetrated him, slowly numbing his frail skin with its liquids within. His eyes began to grow heavy, faltering and shutting once succumbing to the substance.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

A few weeks had passed since the operation, the centaur’s arm currently bandaged with gauze, cleaned daily with painful antibiotics. He could barely sleep with the agony, though whenever he could, it never completely satisfied his fatigued state. He dreamt daily of the wilderness, clips and blurs of his past memories blended together. He was tired of these same cold gray walls, the thick bars containing him, and heavy chains that prohibited freedom, or even slight movement.

“Subject 70424!” yelled Dr. Shridener, once again slamming her clipboard on the cell door. The centaur awoke with a shudder, already forgetting the sweet serenity of his fantastical dreams. He approached, the chains clanking along the floor as he trotted a short distance to her, rolling up the grimy sleeves of his robe to reveal his bandaged arm. She unwrapped the gauze with one gloved hand, the other holding his arm tightly. 

He watched her with a growing sense of anxiety, as Dr. Shridener was never one to smile, even less one as wide as this. He glanced down to his arm, seeing the patch of grafted skin beginning to heal with his own. It.. worked? After all this time, it finally worked?

“Dr. Favela will be thrilled when he sees this..” she said, releasing his arm and grabbing her clipboard, unable to wipe the grin from her face. 

The centaur sighed shakily, not really knowing how to feel about this. The graft worked, but now what? What were they going to do with this? With him? As of now he was just led back towards the medical bay, taking the mundane route towards the room. He followed Dr. Shridener down the hall and to the right, watching her strides. He was led forward and past the extermination chambers, feeling that same uneasy feeling in his gut.

She was the first to enter the room, glancing around with the same smile.

“Dr. Favela~ Oh doc-”

“I am busy.” he snapped, turning in his chair from his computer. His expression was the same as always, dull and tiresome. After glancing between the two he sighed and rolled his eyes, turning back to his computer.

“The grafts worked” Dr. Shridener said, pulling the centaur in and revealing his arm to the scientist.

At this Dr. Favela finally perked up, leaving his chair to observe the arm. The centaur couldn't understand what the whole deal was with his skin grafts. Sure, it was different and interesting, but why did they need this information? Being lost in thought he missed their conversation, but knew he was going to go somewhere different. 

This time he was led through the facility by Dr. Favela, following the man closely. The hall trailed throughout the building, finally ending at two towering doors. The centaur shuddered at the sight, entering the cold room. There were several machines, ones he did not recognize, and have never seen before. 

“Come” said Dr. Favela, motioning for him to approach one of the benumbed machines.

“They are just larger, modified CAT scans and X-rays” he said in a monotone voice, seemingly annoyed at the centaur’s fear.

“But I suppose you know nothing about machines, due to your lack of knowledge.”

The centaur approached with dreadful submission, shaking with fear at what might go wrong. The scientist was right, he didn't know what these machines were, or what they even did. But he listened to the instructions, finding out that getting these “scans” as Dr. Favela says, was a pretty harmless task.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After nearly two months of scans and blood work, the centaur was deemed “ready” for a plan.. one he still wasn't informed of. All he knew was that it was a surgical procedure, but that only terrified him further.

“Oh Subject 70242” Dr. Shridener called, this time waking him without the whacking of her clipboard on the cell door. It was abnormal for the centaur to see her in such a positive state. But he stood and approached still, heart racing in a fretful manner. 

She had gathered him and led him to another new area, going straight down the hall from his cell. The walls seemed to fade from a bland gray to a soft blue, bringing a sense of serenity to the centaur, though he was still troubled at this uncertainty.

They had finally approached a pre-op room, about four other staff within the room. Dr. Shridener gave orders to the nurses before leaving, the four now glancing over to the centaur. They began to approach, some holding needles and others disinfectants. He failed to back away, bumping into the wall while nervously clutching the medical robe’s sleeves.

“What's going on?” the centaur finally sputtered, feeling an uneasiness deep within himself, as if passing the extermination chambers.

“SPOS? Surgical Process of Separation? Did they not tell you?” One nurse said, rolling her eyes as she paused. Another had begun to approach the centaur, raising the needle in his hand closer to the shaking creature.

They were going to separate his.. what? He could barely think straight when informed of this operation. How would he be after? They are posing a major risk to his life, just to see what might happen? Just to make him “normal”? He froze in his spot, clutching his chest as the four came closer. This was it. His life could all end here if he did nothing. Was there anything he could even do? 

The centaur snatched the medkit on the counter beside him, throwing it at the nurses as a quick distraction before bolting out of the room. His hoofbeats echoed throughout the halls, nearly matching with the speed of his racing heart. He could only try to focus on escaping, fleeing from this inhumane facility as horrid questions flooded his head. Why would anyone propose such an idea? Is that why they needed the scans? The successful grafts? What if I get captured? Would they return me for the surgery, or worse, extermination?

Alarms began to blare throughout the building, red lights flashing as a voice came upon the speakers:

“SUBJECT 70242 ATTEMPTING AN ESCAPE, HEADING TOWARDS SOUTH-EAST LOBBY.”

The centaur could already hear the sounds of security approaching, their footsteps growing louder as he rounded the corner, seeing the emergency exit just ahead. Closer and closer he got, heart pumping at speeds he never knew were safe, spreading fear and terror throughout his frail body.

“STOP RIGHT THERE” He heard guards yell, running towards with guns aimed at him. But he continued on, disregarding their threats. His breath grew quick as he raced down the hall, finally bursting through the emergency door with gunshots echoing behind him, some just skimming the hems of his robe.

The night's cool air refreshed the centaur for a moment, something he hadn't felt in forever. He threw off the robe while darting throughout the lot, seeing a dense forest just ahead. His throat burned and his lungs ached, but he persisted, hearing the shouts of others fade behind him. The thoughts of being captured continued to fill his mind, fueling his terrorizing dread and perseverance to keep on racing through the forest.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After hours and hours of treading, the centaur finally slowed, his body giving out from fleeing such a great distance. He grew exhausted and lied to the forest floor, joyfully weeping at his deliverance. Grasping the wet grass with tight fists he laughed, feeling as if in one of those dreams he had whilst in captivity. It all felt so unreal, the newness of the woods overwhelming him with glee and tranquility. He took a shaking breath, watching the sun slowly rise with its glory. A widening smile began to grow on the centaur’s face, the first genuine smile he had experienced in a very long time.

[andvys]

You will be my girl

Warnings: alcohol consumption, a bit of a steamy scene towards the end

Pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Reader

You just got done with your shift at the small cafe you were working at. You went into the break room, taking off your apron, laying it on the table, you heard Dina walking in behind you.

Dina was your best friend and your coworker, you’ve known each other since elementary school and you were attached to each other ever since. You even lived together. She was basically your sister at this point, with how you close you are.

“So.... you coming tonight right.?” She asked, looking at you with hope in her eyes.

She was referring to a bar, where a concert was supposed to be tonight. You knew she only wanted to go because of Jesse, he was a regular at your café. Always coming in to get coffee for him and his band. He was nice you liked him and Dina was crushing hard on him. You constantly tried to encourage her to ask him out on a date, knowing that Jesse would agree right away but she was stubborn about it, wanting him to make the first move and he did, inviting her to come see him and his band play at the towns bar tonight and to hang out later with him, playing it cool she agreed to it only to completely flip out once he left the café. You were excited for her, happy about seeing her finally liking someone this way.

“Of course, Dina. Can’t let you go there by yourself. We don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later on.” You winked at her.

Teasing her was your favorite thing to do.

“Ugh you’re the worst (y/n).” She rolled her eyes at you. “Make sure to look hot tonight, maybe you’ll find yourself a hot lady friend.” Now she was the one teasing you. “I’m not the one going on a “date” tonight.” You replied.

“Whatever.” She said before walking back out to the counter.

Putting your jacket on, you grabbed your stuff and went over to the counter asking Dina to make you a coffee before leaving. You would surely need it, knowing you’d be at the bar till late in the night. You talked to Dina for a while longer before leaving to go home, not noticing that a stranger was admiring you from afar.

You got home, took a shower and started to get ready. You wanted to look good tonight, you rarely went out so you might as well put some effort into your outfit.

By the time you got to the bar it was pretty crowded already. Some loud rock music playing. Dina was holding your hand pulling you towards the bar to get some drinks.

She waved the bartender over. “Hi, can I please get two Long Island iced teas?” She yelled over the loud the music. The bartender nodding at her, starting to mix the drinks.

“You’re not planning on getting drunk tonight are you Dina?” You asked.

“Umm of course I’m planning on getting drunk, come on (y/n) it’s Friday night, loosen up a little we’re gonna have a good time!” She was so excited about this night, it was kinda cute.

“Alright, how am I gonna get your drunk ass home if I’m gonna be drunk myself?” You questioned.

“Who says we’re going home tonight?” She smirked at you.

You gasped, “Dina you dirty girl, planning on keeping Jesse some company tonight aren’t you?” Smirking at her.

“Yup and we are going to find you a hot girl to hook up with, trust me you need it when was the last time you had sex anyways?” She asked you.

This girl was really testing you tonight.

“Dina!! I’m perfectly fine alright? Plus if you go home with Jesse tonight, I’ll have the apartment to myself, not having to deal with your drunk ass seems pretty nice to me.”

“That’s exactly why you have to find yourself a girl tonight, apartment is free you can be as loud as you want to.” She winked at you.

“Oh my god, okay whatever.” You gave in knowing it was a lost cause discussing this with her, she would bug you as long as she had to till you’d agree with her.

Just when you got your drinks you saw Jesse coming up behind Dina, motioning for you to not tell her he’s behind her.

He put his hands in front of her eyes, “guess who?” He smiled standing close to her.

Dina started grinning, “ummm is it the weird guy from the café who keeps ordering the grossest drinks ever?” She started teasing him.

She was not wrong about it, Jesse did order the weirdest drinks ever.

“Hey they’re not gross”, Jesse protested.

Coming up from behind her he pulled her into a hug. He turned around also pulling you in for a quick hug, ruffling your hair.

“Hey (y/n), nice seeing you here. I hope you enjoy our music.” He smiled at you.

Smiling back at him, “Hi Jesse, I’m sure I will!”

Wanting to give them some privacy you decided to go sit at one of the free tables close to the stage. You watched the rest of the band setting up some stuff, preparing for the concert. You noticed a girl amongst the other people on the stage, strumming her guitar. She was hot, the way she had half of her hair in a bun, she was wearing a plaid shirt that had the sleeves cut off, showing off a tattoo on her arm. She was definitely your type. You couldn’t help but stare at her, looking her up and down you didn’t realize she catched you staring at her until you looked back at her face, noticing how her eyes were on you now. Your eyes widened, embarrassed about her catching you shamelessly checking her out. She smirked at you, challenging you to keep looking at her. You suddenly felt shy under her gaze not able to look at her anymore you tried distracting yourself with your phone, switching from one app to another. You didn’t even know why you had your phone in your hand, you couldn’t distract yourself not when you could still feel her eyes on you.

Was she actually still looking at you or was your mind playing tricks on you? Looking up to where she was, she was indeed still staring at you. Giving her a shy smile you didn’t notice Dina sitting down next to you. She watched you and the stranger sending literal heart eyes to each other, she started smirking remembering how you just told her minutes ago how you were perfectly fine on your own and now you and the stranger were practically undressing each other with your eyes.

“Hah, look at you eye fucking the singer, didn’t peg you for a groupie (y/n).” Dina laughed at you.

Shocked at Dina’s words you snapped out if it, “Dina!!”. You were embarrassed, not only did the hot girl catch you staring at her Dina did too, she was going to be so annoying about this now.

“I mean, she looks pretty into you too. Guess you won’t be going home alone after all.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink. She noticed how shy you’ve gotten, deciding to spare you from her teasing right now she told you how they were going to start with the concert now, she took your hand pulling you away from the table and towards the stage, you suddenly got nervous. Noticing how close you’ve gotten to the stage, meaning you were closer to the girl too. Trying to avoid looking at the stage before they start playing you were making small talk with Dina over the loud chattering of all the people that gathered around the stage.

A few minutes later the band finally started playing. Jesse being the drummer, two other guys both with electric guitars, similar to the one the girl had, she was standing at the front fixing the mic before she started singing.

Her voice was just as beautiful as she was. The crowd going wild when the first song started playing. Dina grabbed your hands and started dancing to the music.

You haven’t felt this good in such a long time. The band was amazing and you had so much fun, forgetting everything for a moment. You asked yourself why you didn’t go to concerts more often.

The girl kept staring at you throughout the whole concert, occasionally looking away only to have her eyes back on you a moment later. Smirking and winking at you at certain parts of the lyrics she sang.

You were a mess under her gaze but something about her pulled you in, you were intrigued.

You noticed her flushed cheeks and her face covered in a thin layer of sweat from performing all night.

The concert was coming to an end, currently playing a much slower song, her voice getting a little raspy now. It was raw and beautiful and she looked even prettier now, her eyes currently closed she enjoyed the last song of the night.

When she was done, she said a quick thank you into the mic and the crowd started clapping and whistling for the last time that night. She looked at you one last time before disappearing behind the curtains.

Jesse waved Dina over, motioning her to follow him to the stage room. You started smirking at her.“Go get him tiger.” You laughed when you saw her starting to blush.

“You’re the worst (y/n).” She said. Playfully rolling her eyes at you.

You pushed her towards were Jesse was waiting for her, telling her you were going to get some drinks at the bar. She finally started walking towards him.

Watching how Jesse smiled at her and took her small hand in his much larger one was so cute, you were happy for your best friend. You had to admit Jesse and Dina would make a good pair.

You sat down, ordering yourself another drink. You looked around, noting how it was getting a little less crowded now, some 60s rock playing in the background.

The bartender putting down the drink in front of you, he gave you a small smile and went back to his other costumers.

You took a sip of your drink, feeling someone come up beside you, you realized it was the girl from the band, she ordered herself a whiskey. She turned to you finally seeing you up close, she looked you up and down and sat down on the bar stool next you you. She was bold, you liked that.

You turned to look at her and gave her small smile “hi” you shyly said.

“hey, I’m Ellie.” She confidently said, looking into your eyes.

“I’m (y/n).” God you were so nervous, you don’t remember ever being this nervous before talking to someone.

She smiled at you, “So... did you enjoy yourself tonight?” She asked. Taking a sip from her whiskey.

“Yes! All of the songs you performed tonight were amazing but the last one was definitely my favorite.” You were talking about ‘through the valley’ by Shawn James. You definitely preferred Ellie’s version of the song, loving her voice and the raw emotion she put into it.

“It’s my favorite too.” She added. Her voice was going to be the death of you, it was so raspy right now and she looked so hot. Your palms were getting sweaty, she was making you nervous.

Ellie wasn’t stupid, she saw the effect she had on you and she enjoyed it. She felt the same though, she was just better at controlling her emotions.

She was enamored with you the second she saw you at the café this morning, she knew you didn’t see her but she desperately wanted to ask you out but you left the café before she had the chance too, so seeing you at her concert tonight was a surprise, she was excited to see you here and she had to take a chance and talk to you. Ellie wanted you, bad.

You kept some small talk going but that quickly turned into some flirting from both sides, you noticed how hot it’s suddenly gotten. You needed to splash some water on your face, your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Your skin was so hot, it was just Ellie’s effect on you. This sensation was new to you, you haven’t felt this way before, not even with your ex girlfriend. You excused yourself to the bathroom, telling Ellie you’d be right back. She bit her lip, watching you leave.

You went into the bathroom, splashing some water on your face you looked into the mirror. Telling yourself to get a grip, she was just a girl. No she wasn’t just a girl, she made you nervous. You were totally at her mercy, you didn’t even know her, she was a stranger but she gave you a such comfortable feeling, letting you know you were safe with her. Hearing the door open behind you, you saw Ellie through the mirror. You turned around staring at her as she was slowly making her way towards you. You stared at her. You knew she wasn’t here to make conversation and you were totally fine with that. She was so close to you now, her nose almost touching yours. Feeling her breath on your skin. Your heart started racing. You were looking at her lips, boldly you decided to make the first move, you got closer and brushed your lips against hers, testing the waters. Looking into her eyes, giving her a teasing smile.

She smirked at you, grabbing your face she closed her eyes and smashed her lips against yours. You gasped in her mouth, closing your eyes as well you put your arms around her neck and started kissing her back. You tasted the whiskey she had earlier. Staying like that for a while, kissing each other, her hands left your face, she grabbed you by your waist pulling you even closer to her, her grip was tight. You liked the way she was holding you against her.

Pulling away from each other you were left breathless, Ellie started kissing your neck, teasing you, her hands going lower she grabbed your thighs putting you up on the sink. She got in between your legs, going in for another kiss. This one being more heated, she brushed her tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted her. She softly put her hands around your throat, squeezing slightly causing you to let out a moan.

She smirked into the kiss. You put your legs around her waist grabbing her face you pulled her closer.

After what felt like forever of making out, she pulled away looking at your disheveled hair and your puffy lips from all the kissing, she gave you a sweet kiss.

Brushing some hair out of your face. “So do you want to...” not even letting her finish “yes” she started grinning at you “my place?” She asked you.

“We can had back to mine, my roommate isn’t home.” You smirked at her

She gave you a devilish smile, “good, we wouldn’t want to wake up your roommate, babe.” She whispered in your ear, giving you another kiss, she grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers she guided you out of the bar.

@twdimagining your wish is my command, here’s the first part to rockstar ellie!! Hope this is what you imagined it like to be!! Second part is going to be a steamy one 👀💕

[allteacher]

also on ao3

Eris has been in the Tower for barely three weeks when she gets the message.

It should come as more of a surprise, but Eris has known since she crawled gasping out of the Moon’s tunnels that she would not have peace for long, even in the Tower. Even after she’d been discovered and inspected and questioned, spoken softly to and coddled and ensconced gently in her own private quarters— quarters in the civilian wing, far away from her old rooms.

“All your things are still in storage,” Ikora had told her that first day, watching Eris look around her new bedroom, empty save the large windows looking down on the memorial gardens. The view is of the Firebreak section; Eris had refused anything where she could see the names of the people she’d known, where the City planners had just yesterday taken down the stone inscribed with her own name.

She still hasn’t retrieved any of her things, the ragged cloaks or the blankets or the chipped mugs she’d stolen from the Hunter’s Lounge. She thinks about going into that dark room filled with the markers of her past life, sometimes. Sometimes she thinks she will open the heavy metal door and her old self will be standing there, surrounded by the past. Sometimes this is a dream; more often it is a nightmare.

Every few days, Eris sneaks into the supply closet at the end of the hallway and takes one of the chain locks from its carefully-labeled container. She installs them carefully, tests her weight against the door to see if it gives: fragile charms against some future ruin. She knows anything she is truly afraid of could not be stopped by something so mortal, but the action gives her hands something to do; material action, however useless, in service of her own protection.

(She’d done the same on the Moon, before they’d ventured down into the pit: the six of them, holed up in some small lunar colony outbuilding, she and Vell nailing sheets of spinmetal to the doors to keep out wandering Hive in the night. The chalk of bone dust in her throat as Toland had hung Hive-charms over each threshold, humming to himself.

Sai had looked at him, grin questioning. “Are those going to blow us up?”

Eris knows now they would’ve done much worse.)

She hauls herself to her feet, examines her handiwork. If Ikora saw her, she’d call Eris obsessive. Eris knows she is; she wants something new to obsess over. Wants to think of nothing but Crota, to dream of nothing else until his great luminescent corpse is rotting in his Throne. This is why, when her comm chimes with the one-two tone of a summons, she turns toward it with an eager expectation. Maybe Ikora has convinced the Vanguard to listen to her, finally.

The message is from a channel she’s never seen, not before she entered the Hellmouth or since. There’s no text, just a string of coordinates and, at the bottom, a series of pictographs. They’re not Hive runes, have none of the sinuous incomprehensibility.

Eris, the habit worn into her, has her suspicions. But she speaks of them to no one, has the feeling she’s guessed the importance of the secret she’s been entrusted with.

The message has no date attached, so she waits a few more days before acting. She spends that time in a stupor, drifting around her little room, sometimes venturing to the library or to the secluded back hallways of the Hidden to ask for information. She still keeps to the shadows, because no one in the City or the Tower has grown used to her presence yet. Idly, she considers the idea that she is making her problem worse, only alienating herself further by refusing to come fully into the light, to let herself be seen. In these in-between days, she cannot bring herself to care.

She considers leaving without telling anyone. She does not think she will be gone long, and she does not need permission to leave the City. But she considers what the Vanguard, already suspicious of her, would think, what conclusions they would draw. What Ikora would think if Eris disappeared into the night, like she’d done with Eriana so many years ago.

Finally, she sneaks into Ikora’s office.

Eris wastes no time on formalities once she sees Ikora's figure behind her desk, piled high with reports. "I am leaving the City for the afternoon," she says. It is not a lie, because she is loathe to hide anything but what she must from the one person who has tried to welcome her back into the City, who still sees her as an equal. "I am not going off-world. I should be back before tomorrow." The words feel stiff in her mouth even as she says them, but she is still relearning conversations not conducted in whispers or screams.

Ikora does not beam at her, does not over-indulge her, but Eris can still feel the warmth of her Light radiating outward. “Alright," she says, "Radio if you need any assistance. And let me know if you see anything unusual. I’ve been receiving strange reports, lately.”

Eris hopes that isn’t a warning. She inclines her head, leaves without a word.

She departs immediately, before her paranoia can get the better of her. She flies over the Cosmodrome for half an hour before inputting the coordinates she’d long since memorized— some Hidden practicality had made her delete the message almost as soon as she’d read it. She comes to the location soon enough, a little clearing tucked into some foothills. Still on Earth, which she privately considers a blessing. She does not know if she would have been able to leave it, yet, not when her wounds are still so raw.

Eris parks her little ship in the shadow of a few trees. She feels secure having it a physical presence near her, a concrete mode of retreat. It’s more than she’d ever had in the tunnels.

She picks her way across a stream, climbs to the top of a small hill that rises over the clearing. She sees the figure immediately, cutting a striking figure against the weak afternoon light. Even from here, he hurts her eyes to look at. She grimaces, continues down towards him.

As she grows closer, the figure grows more obvious: Osiris. She’d had her suspicions, driven by what she’d remembered of his writings before his exile, Toland’s ravings. Even the message had a certain Warlock quality to it, a mystery, a challenge. She and Eriana had crafted just such a message with their own hands once, join us in our quest…

Osiris looks as she remembers him, though she’d only ever seen him from a distance. Eriana had disliked him, had hated his presence as Warlock Vanguard. Despised his position because of the power it gave him over the Praxic Fire, who stood in clear opposition to everything he'd gradually become.

(“I don’t see why he’s so desperate to understand them. I’m tired of trying to simply understand,” Eriana had groaned once, servos whirring, bent over some ancient tome. “I do not need to know the Hive to raze them to ashes. I only need to know what they have taken from us.”)

Forgive me, Eris thinks. She will not get her vengeance without fully comprehending everything the Hive are, without learning the weft and weave of their existence so that she can unravel it.

She blinks and she is standing before him. “Osiris,” she says. Maybe it is her memories of Eriana but she feels like a newly-Risen, again, standing before him. He is a figure cut neatly from her past and transplanted into the present, unchanging, looking down at her.

“Eris Morn,” he says, and Eris does not startle but she is, for some reason, surprised that he knows just who she is. She knows that it is her own tortuous journey that has made him seek her out, that it is her pain that has made her valuable. Some part of her rails against it, even as she is desperate to turn her nightmares into something usable, to prove to herself that their deaths were not meaningless, that they have done something other than feed the Hive’s ever-eager desire for suffering.

Osiris is looking at her strangely. Eris tries to stare back, but her eyes skitter sideways off of him, the afterimage of his silhouette burning in her eyes. She must make another face, because Osiris’ Ghost slides close to him, spinning intently, and the aura of his Light fades to a shimmer over his skin.

“I know you have information regarding the Hive,” he tells her. “The City ignores your warnings.”

“As they ignored yours.” It is not meant as a challenge, but everything she says sounds bitter, now.

Most of his face is covered, but the tilt of his head changes. “Yes. But we both know what is coming. The question is how to stop it.”

Eris has never been good at these Warlock-games, at talking in circles, hinting closer and closer to what lies plain before them both. “I think I know how to kill Crota,” she says, because she needs to get to the heart of the thing that has been eating her alive. She needs to tell someone who will understand.

And she thinks Osiris will understand, because he has not been through the Hellmouth but he does understand what it is like to exist utterly alone with the enemy, to be shaped by your experience of something completely alien. To be so utterly changed that everyone around you can only think you mad.

“Tell me, then,” he says, and so she does.