#everything can disappear and maybe i'll be a little sad about it initially but then i'll move on really quickly

[voidfeather]

sometimes i wish i was a little more interested in things, i'm so bored all the time

[pomplalamoose]

*takes deep breath* you and luke are the only ones on the ship when traveling in space (obviously) and is completely oblivious flirting n batting ur eyelashes at him he jus gets way to embarrassed :( u guys end up making out w you on his lap in the cock pitt when he’s sitting in like the control chair YKKK

*slams fist on table* YES SPECTACULAR I AGREE what a fantastic ask🤝🏻🩵

warning for slight nswf content

• with this scenario in mind I immediately thought of ANH Luke (though I'll get into ESB and RoTJ Luke too)

• especially if you're alone and sharing a pretty small space, it's so easy to fluster him

• so easy to get him excited

• just sit down next to him, lean in slowly, soften your voice

• "oooh Luke, this is amazing, you're doing such a good job flying this thing"

• oblivious to your schemes, he'll be quick to turn around, to beam at you proudly

• maybe he was going to tell you about the practice he got on Tatooine or his training with Han and the rebellion

• maybe he was about to wave it off, to play it cool

• though all he'll manage, caught off guard with your face closer to his than anticipated, is a soft gasp

• smile at him sweetly then, bat your eyelashes and you'll be practically able to see his brain reset as he resolves into a stuttering mess

• in his panic he won't know what to do and eventually just turns back around to "readjust the navigation system" or to "check on R2"

• just imagine him trying his absolute best to seek a distraction as his jaw clenches and his cheeks turn redder by the second

• imagine him refusing to look at you because he knows he won't be able to turn away again

• maybe after a while he's huffing in frustration, wriggling around in his seat, the urge to do something, anything, too strong

• (he's not sure what he would like to do if he's being honest but he's sure he'd successfully decide that in the moment)

• meanwhile you're having a great time

• "Is everything alright, Luke? Aren't you feeling well? You look quite hot"

• he won't tell you how much he enjoys your touch when you reach over to check his temperature in mock concern, though a barely noticeable shudder will tell you all you need to know

• he likes the attention you're paying him

• gently poke his cheek

• draw squiggly lines all over his arm

• scoot even closer until you're able to rest your chin on his shoulder

• play with the little curls at the nape of his neck

• blow in his ear

• if he didn't do so before he'll certainly react to that

• though while he tells you to stop he looks suspiciously disappointed when you remove your hand out of his hair and draw away

• that's not how he thought this would go

• he'll sneak little looks at you out of the corner of his eye to see if you're about to make another move

• he'd really like that but doesn't know how to bring it across without seeming too pushy or needy

• not many have flirted with him yet,,,can he really be sure that's what you were doing??

• and would you even want to continue after he so bluntly told you not to?

• afraid to do or say something wrong and even more so to have misread the whole situation, he'll stay silent

• alternatively he blurts out a "No!" the second your touch disappears, only to wish for an immediate death after

• since in my mind ANH Luke is still fairly inexperienced I don't think he'd make a move to clear up the situation

• (except to sneak little glances at you now and then, hoping you'll either notice the longing in his eyes or let it go completely)

• in the end it's you who'll have to initiate any further contact

• though it will take him a while to get over his embarrassment to realize you still seem to be very interested in continuing what you started

• only when you suddenly get up does he fully look at you again, his face genuinely sad at the thought of having chased you away with his weird behavior

• he's close to uttering an apology, to tellimg you he didn't mean it like this, but any clear thought simply evaporates as soon as you plop yourself down into his lap

• and then he just,,,stares

• for a long time

• to a point where maybe you feel the need to ask whether this is okay for him?

• all he'll be able to do is nod, his cheeks a fiery red

• he got what he wanted, yes, but contrary to his beliefs from earlier he has no idea, what to do now

• where to put his hands

• (he's going to be very relieved when you tell him that 1. he's allowed to touch you and 2. what exactly it is you'd like best right now)

• his head is completely empty safe for a few facts:

• you smell very nice

• for some reason the cockpit has gotten very hot

• he's painfully hard and straining against his pants in a way that's driving him to near insanity

• somewhere in the back of his mind he's aware you barely even touched him and there probably isn't a reason for him to be this excited but he can't help it

• not with you so close

• not with you perched exactly where he needs the friction the most

• it takes all he has to refrain from rutting aginst your body like a dog

• the first kiss you share is tentative, near innocent, a simple peck on the lips

• and yet Luke moans

• it's small, barely audible, but unmistakably there and were it not for more pressing issues at hand he'd be a little ashamed

• as it is though he dives forward, seeking another kiss, a longer, more passionate one

• he's greedy, doesn't hold back and soon feels bold enough to wrap his arms around your middle, holding you even closer

• it's then that he isn't even aware anymore of the sounds he's making

• or how his hips are bucking into yours, helplessly chasing release

• however as soon as he realizes what's going on it's already too late

• he has lost any control, can't stop

• it feels too good

• breathless from exertion, his voice utterly wrecked, he might try to force a few words in warning but all he can manage is a blurted apology before his orgasm catches up to him

• (be kind to him then, he'll need lots of reassurance)

• ESB Luke is just as easy to rile up but far less embarrassed about any reaction of his

• contrary to ANH Luke he's able to tell right away what you're doing too and enjoys it, probably even egging you on to do more, to try new exciting things to really catch his attention

• he's desperate to see how far you're willing to go, what else he can make you do

• in this regard he's his own biggest enemy though as he can never bring up the patience to really wait things out

• he wants everything to happen now and fast and gets easily frustrated when he feels like he's being toyed with

• accordingly you have no chance of getting away

• do you think it's funny to get him all excited only to leave the room immediately after like nothing happened?

• he doesn't

• you might get as far as rising from your seat until he has you restrained, either holding you hostage on his lap or pressing you against the next wall to do with as he pleases

• (for more look at this post)

• with RotJ and post RotJ Luke you might want to pause for a second to really think twice about whether teasing him while he's busy is a good idea

• don't get me wrong, he certainly feels drawn to you, it's just not like his body is the one making decisions anymore and suddenly he might decide you deserve a lesson for distracting him

• his patience is insane and while I think he'll let you win this fun little game of yours from time to time to not discourage you completely, your chances that he'll let it pass are slim

• he may enjoy it a lot if you try anyways, yes, even thinks it to be endearing, but can and will flip the table on you faster than you're able to think

• very quickly you will be the one to be overly excited and frustrated, the one seeking relief without knowing what to do

• if he's feeling generous he tells you to wait for him in his bed

• more often that not though he'll make you sit still for hours, orders you around for ridiculous tasks or teases you mercilessly until you just can't take it anymore

• because if there's one thing he likes more than seeing you enjoy yourself is to make you beg

[silvernyxchariot]

Formaggio is currently my emotional support hitman. So, have a rant.

The synopsis is that no one appreciates this character and it makes me sad. Formaggio, come pick me up; I hate it here./j

Out of La Squadra, Formaggio's generally not my favorite, but as a La Squadra whore, I'll make an effort to appreciate my boys.

My initial impression of Formaggio and the majority of La Squadra was... non-existent. I paid attention to Giorno, Bucciarati's group, and subsequently Narancia during this fight. But if I had to come up with something for Formaggio, the only thing that stood out to me was Little Feet. After part 3 and 4, finally, someone had to have the ability to shrink. It's such a simple and convenient ability to have, both on the battlefield and on the daily.

Lock yourself out of your house? Shrink and crawl under the door. Have a lot to carry or something incredibly heavy to carry up a flight of stairs, like a car or a 5 ft x 6 ft paining (don't ask)? Shrink it down to size and put it in your pocket. Or maybe carry a couple of grenades and automatic rifles and wear them like a braclet until you're ready to use them... No one's gonna know. They're gonna know. No one's going to know./ref

The more I made La Squadra a part of my personality, the more I realized, "Fuck yeah, I would appreciate a homie like Formaggio." He may look like an annoying punk (like 99% of my classmates) but he's adaptable and clever. During his first conversation with Narancia, it sounded like Formaggio was just rambling and making jokes, but every sentence was a transition to get information or a reaction from Narancia.

Vol. 2 VA, chp 31:

(To Narancia) "Word is, Polpo died last night. Then, all of a sudden, Bucciarati, Fugo, Abbacchio, and Mista all went into hiding They're not anywhere. I finally found you, though, Narancia. Do you know where they are and why they disappeared?"

"Did you hear about Polpo's body? . . . They can't figure figure out how to cram his fat ass into the furnace. Ha ha ha! They're going to have to cut him into tiny pieces to get him in!"

"Why didn't your crew show up at the capo's funeral?! Answer me, Narancia! If I can't tail you then I'll make you tell me everything!

Baby boy, if you'd stayed quiet and patient, you might have been able to follow Narancia to the vineyard without interruption.

He also has an unnecessary amount of knowledge on mosquitoes and arachnids.

Vol 3 VA, chp 34

"Mosquitoes can sense the carbon dioxide animals exhale. . . That's what's happening here. Aerosmith is seeking out my carbon dioxide!"

The only thing I needed to know was that mosquitoes are little menaces that help transfer diseases and need to be smacked out of existence. I didn't want to know this extra CO² info, but thanks, I guess./s Did I want to read about spiders' digestive fluids killing their prey from the inside out on a random Tuesday night? No, not at all. But here we are. u.u

When the brainrot got worse, the anime and manga yielded superficial results. So, I'm glad the JoJo World Event gave us a bit more. In a Twitter translation of the La Squadra info, Formaggio was described as an insightful opportunist and aware of his comrades' deficits (condensed from image below). Good, because I'm going to need my emotional support hitman now. 🫴/lh

Not gonna lie, Formaggio gave me "annoying jock" vibes initially when I took everything that I've mentioned into consideration. But seeing that he does pay more attention to others than they believe is somewhat... hmmm, comforting. In all earnesty, I would trust Formaggio to be a good judge of character or a human lie detector.

This part's not important, but I don't like the majority of his design. In the manga, he's given orange hair, and while I understand his name means "cheese," the grey in the anime helps bring contrast from the rest of his outfit that focuses on a red top and brown pants.

Like his Stand, he's very unassuming, but there's this slow burn effect that endeared this character to me. Formaggio still isn't my favorite among La Squadra, but I think about him a lot sometimes. u.u

⭐️ My work is for entertainment and personal purposes. Do not take, translate, repost, or use it for profit. Don't take it seriously.

[your-nanas-house]

My missing wife

Pairing: Yandere!Bruce Wayne X missing wife!Reader; Platonic Yandere!Jason X mom!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Words: 908

Summary: in the request

Note: sorry for the mistakes and the English. I made it slightly different from how your version was with more detail I hope you like it and if you want me to rewrite it just tell me and I'll do it. 💓

.....................................................................................................

He never thought he'd hear that name again... after all those years, he was completely stunned and disappointed in himself, he'd lost hope so much that he'd kept searching without dedicating his full attention to the search.

Everything had changed since his wife had disappeared, years had passed and now he was with Selina Kyle aka Catwoman, Dick had left the Manor and Jason Todd was the new adopted son.

Not many months had passed before the shocking revelation happened, he just wanted to talk to little Jason and ask him why he hated Selina so much and why he never called her mom, instead using only her last name; at that point the little boy, who had been staring at him in silence the entire time of the speech, replied " because I already have a mom" Bruce's gaze softened and he sat down on the bed next to him "yeah? What's her name?" "Y/n...Y/n Y/l/n."

Bruce Wayne's heart lost a beat when he heard the name of what was his wife, he couldn't tell if he was feeling that weight in his chest again from sadness or happiness of having someone who could maybe understand his loss.

"Y/n Y/l/n?" Jason nodded, showing him a picture of the young woman smiling happily as she held little Jason in her arms, half-closing her eyes happily slightly as he kissed her cheek.

"Do you know where she is now?" there was an initial hesitation from the boy who had to be asked twice more before answering "she's...she's hiding but I'm not sure sure if it's her, I just have....a feeling and she has our necklace" the man nodded slowly, slightly confused "do you know where she is? Can you take me to her?"

Yes, was Jason's answer as he stood up and grabbed his small backpack, running into the kitchen to get some food under Selina's steady gaze who was watching him sipping some wine "what are you doing Jay Jay?" he frowned before walking out "it's Jason not Jay Jay to you! And I'm going out with Dad" the woman's gaze then shifted to what was her current boyfriend "where are you two going?"; 

Bruce could see that Selina could sense that something was different and from her expression he could tell that she was annoyed....but why? Why be annoyed? Did she know something he didn't know about Y/n's missing?

"We won't be long, we'll be here for dinner or later," the man said, shifting his gaze from his girlfriend to his butler as Jason held his hand tightly, quickly dragging him out.

They had to drive for a few minutes to get to where Jason stated Y/n was; it was dark and the street where they were walking, wearing their Batman and Robin suits, was damp and unpleasant.

The child passed under an open gate to enter a rundown building "I'm here mom! I'm here!" announced the child as he set things on a table, receiving no response, pulling food out of his backpack "I brought food!". 

No response, just a crack; Bruce didn't know what to think, would he see his beautiful wife again exactly as she was years ago? Would he see what he had been trying to forget for years? Would he see his son or had Y/n lost him when she was kidnapped?

There was a flutter of wings or so it seemed but the man was too lost in memories to realize it, he would have loved to see the young girl with the y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes he had fallen so in love with come out, wearing his mother's pearl necklace and her white dress, long just the right length and tight in all the right places...It wasn't like that though, not at all.

It wasn't a girl that came out but a monster...what looked like a bat but bigger and scarier it was...a mutant bat?

Bruce Wayne was shocked, he didn't know for sure if it was really her but it had her lovely scent and it was wearing the pearl necklace; It was his wife...but she was so different, she didn't even seem to recognize him, but he had to help her, he wanted to bring her back...he had to.

There was a sound of heels meeting the ground and approaching them "she's a lost case Bruce, there's no cure and I'm not going to let you leave me for her again okay! I did it once, I can do it again!" "Done what, Selina?" "I got her away from you so we could be together of course."

The light was blinding and she felt her head lighter, she had woken up from what felt like a very long nap and she couldn't remember anything: how had she gotten there? Why was she in a room that looked like a hospital? 

The answers were given to her by the doctor who after all the checks let her out of there and called a cab for her.

Y/n walked out of the hospital walking with her usual quick step towards the street, following and walking on the sidewalk, colliding with a strong muscular chest " sorry" she quickly picked up the papers, finally looking up meeting the gaze of the man she had collided with "it's okay…”

Taglist:

@gabile18

@trainer--taylor

@elizamalfoyy

@eovjjj

[hallelujahmeatgod]

"Do you want to talk about it?"

KEN "DRAKEN" RYUGUJI X READER

+word count: 1580

+warning/s: cursing

+genre: kinda fluff, kinda comedic

"He's in his room and he haven't left that damn room since he arrived"

"He didn't even spare a glance around like he'd usually do, he just went straight to his room. He'd usually help around first before disappearing in there"

You nodded in understanding, looking around the brothel which just opened a few minutes ago.

The people at the brothel called you out of concern for Draken, saying he's been moody and not his usual self. They asked you if you know as to why he's acting the way he is but you haven't got a clue yourself. Quite frankly, you haven't seen Draken yourself for a few days since you've been taking care of family matters.

They asked you to come by since you haven't been in the brothel for quite a while, also to talk to Draken since none of them wanted to deal with him.

"I honestly don't have a clue, but I'll try talking to him. I tried asking Mikey about it but that kid isn’t any help either" You replied, giving them a soft smile for reassurance.

You asked Mikey about Draken before you went to the brothel but that kid just gave you a petty answer, so you're convinced that they're not the bestest of friends right now.

"Honestly, what would we do without you? Anyway, go and talk to his moody ass cause he's getting a little annoying for our liking. Then when you guys are done come out here and let's catch up and eat the snacks you bought!"

You nodded and made your way to his room. Thankfully he didn't lock his door so you were able to just enter. You were expecting to see him splayed on his bed or be working out but he's nowhere to be seen.

"Ken" You called out softly. No reply.

You set your school bag on the ground and walked further into his room. Just when you're about to walk past the bathroom you hear water gently splashing a bit inside.

You slowly opened the door and there he was in the tub, head resting back on the tub facing the ceiling, with his eyes closed. You can tell he's not relaxed at all because of the tensed muscles on his arm and his furrowed brows.

"That tub looks relaxing yet there you are still looking like you're about to fight someone" You said to get his attention. You leaned on the door frame as his eyes shot open.

"Y-Y/n" He said, looking a bit surprised, sitting up straight from the tub.

"Ken" You gave him a small smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed here anymore?" You asked not too seriously.

"You are. You always are. It's just that you seem busy these days" He looked down at the water.

"I'm sorry for not being around, Ken" You gave him an apologetic look.

He shook his head lightly, still looking down at the water. "No need, I understand"

You stayed silent and just observed him. How he's looking intensely at the water, that you swear he could probably boil that water right now just by staring at it. How he's muscles are still nowhere near relaxed. How his breathing isn't steady. How his brows are still furrowed. And how his lips pout a little bit.

You pushed yourself from the door frame, walked up to him and crouched down beside the tub so that you're eye level with him.

"Ken, what's troubling you?" You asked, putting your hand on his nape and caressing it.

He slowly looked at you, looking vulnerable. A sight no one often gets to see, even you. It honestly pains you a little to see such a look from such a strong, stern man who's always got his composure.

He sighs, leaned over the tub and drops his head on your shoulder. "I-I... I'm just not that okay nowadays. I don’t even know anymore.” He admitted.

You hummed in understanding, caressing his nape all the way to his hair, pulling his hair tie to let his hair loose. You ran your hand through his hair, untangling some knots, and for the first time since you saw him he relaxed. You saw his shoulders drop slowly as he let out a breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's just so many things bugging my mind. Life here in the brothel, the gang, and other things. It's just one of those phases wherein everything dawns upon you" He sighs, lifting his head just to hide it on the crook of your neck.

"I texted Mikey before going here and he just gave me a petty reply. That also bothering you?" You asked, massaging water on his head to hopefully help him cool down.

"Yeah, we ended up arguing cause he’s not in a good mood and so am I. It's all just chaos in my head right now really" He groans, lifting his arms from the tub and wrapping them around you. You're a little soaked now but you didn't mind, all that matters is him.

He hugged you tighter and tighter until you guys were literally flushed against each other, soaking you more.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I badly wanted to just go to you, to seek refuge in you and just to lay and hold you like this, to calm my mind. But I knew you were dealing with family stuff and that it means a lot to you, so I just bottled it all in."

"It's okay" You pulled away just enough to see his face. You held his face in your hand and caressed his cheeks. "I'm sorry I wasn't around. But now I'm here, you don't have to go through such tough times on your own. It’s okay to feel sad sometimes, just take your time, I’ll wait for you'' You smiled, making him smile. You kissed the corner of his mouth making him roll his eyes. He pulled you on a proper kiss, sighing against your lips.

"Thank you" He said when you pulled away. "Thank you for always being by my side and showing me affection even though I tend to suck at it and sharing my feelings. Just how would I repay you"

"Repay me by relaxing properly, dropping the attitude towards other people, and reconciling with Mikey" He groaned at the last part which made you chuckle.

"What? You'd be doing the gang a favor if you take the initiative, Ken. We all know Mikey wouldn't dare do it, and the longer you guys aren't besties the more agonizing it'll be for the rest of the gang. Imagine the captain and the vice captain being petty, ugh, I already feel bad for all of them" You said humorously, making him pull away completely and sit back on the tub as he pouts.

"I'm always doing it." He pouted even more.

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. "You know Mikey can be an extreme kid when he's not beating up someone."

"Why do I always have to be the bigger person?" He said under his breath.

"I mean you are 6'1 and Mikey's only 5'3"

"You're lame" He immediately countered before laughing lightly, making you laugh too. If being lame means you'll get to hear this giant laugh, well maybe being lame isn’t too bad.

"IS THAT THE GIANT'S LAUGH THAT I HEAR?!" You heard someone say from the outside. Suddenly the door burst open revealing Remi.

Draken rolled his eyes, flipping her off and she flipped him off too.

"Now that the giant doesn't seem like an asshole anymore Y/n let's go and catch up!" She grinned, pulling you up and out of the bathroom, not giving you time to reply.

"Hey! You can't just take her away!" Draken protested, standing up from the tub quickly wrapping his towel around his waist.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you, restricting Remi from pulling you away. He and Remi immediately looked at each other with daggers as they kept on pulling you. At this point they could definitely cut your body in half.

"Well I already am, what are you gonna do about it?" Remi spat.

"Umm….Pull her away from you? You midget" Draken spat back but more calmly, which is honestly annoying. It's always the most annoying when people talk back in a calm manner...or is that just me?

"At least I'm not as moody as you. You act way worse than a woman on her period or a pregnant lady!"

They went back and forth with you still in between them. For every comeback they kept on pulling you.

"OKAY! Kindly shut the fuck up you two?" You smiled sarcastically at both of them, pulling your arms from them. They both pouted and huffed like little kids, turning away from each other.

"I'll go with Remi now since it has been a while since I saw them." You said, making Remi light up and Draken give you an offended look.

"WHAT--" Draken was about to protest but Remi burst into laughter pulling you to the door. You shrugged at Draken as he gave you a narrowed look and mouthed "traitor"

"Oh-- and when you're done, change the bulb in the lounge room, jerk!" She stuck her tongue out.

"Seriously, when will I ever catch a break-- you know what? Just get out you two!" He groaned, making you and Remi laugh.

[sushi-jyushi]

𝓟𝔸ℝ𝕋 𝓞ℕ𝔼 -- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼! 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

fluff !! :)

Polpo was dead. He had apparently committed suicide in his jail cell and everyone on Bucciarati's team was bewildered except for you. You hated his voice, his big nose and his ugly personality. The thought of him dead made it slightly easier to sleep at night, especially now that you knew he could never speak to you again.

      Yeah, you had some bad experiences with him. His interrogation of you made you uncomfortable, and you swore that if glass hadn't separated the two of you he would have touched you. You shuddered, ridding your head of the thought.

     Dinnertime arrived promptly at 5:37 PM when Fugo hollered throughout the hideout that dinner was done, come eat. You slipped some wooly socks on and grabbed your phone, then left your bedroom and headed to the dining area. 

     Narancia was already there, drooling all over himself with an eager look in his eyes. "Ahh~~ Fugo fixed steak! I'm so hungry I could eat it all..." Narancia stared dreamingly at the meat, and on a whim, attempted to steal a piece. Fugo saw this and thrust a knife into Narancia's hand, causing him to growl and curse at Fugo.

     A giggle escaped your lips. Abbacchio was now sitting on the far end, keeping to himself and sipping on wine. Bruno had just made his way down the stairs, a blank expression on his face. He walked over to Narancia and zipped his wound better, telling Fugo to heal him right now. He sat at the head of the table with his hands crossed, supporting his chin from his elbows. Giorno arrived seconds after, sitting between you and Bruno. The only person left was Mista.

     A few minutes passed, and Bruno was growing upset (though you could only tell from his light fidgeting). You stood up and nodded, turning your torso to face him. "I'll go drag Mista's ass down here, sir." He replied with a thankful nod, and you proceeded to climb the stairs with a gentle huff.

     Mista's room was the third door on the right; when you approached it, you banged your fist on the door and yelled. "Mista! Get your ass down there, we're all starving 'cause of you!" You folded your arms and pouted, listening for any sign of movement. You heard some rustling and indescribable sounds. He didn't respond though.

     "Alright, Mista, you have til the count of five and I'm BURSTING in there to whoop your ass! One." No response. "Two." The rustling continued. "Three." He was walking, or... jumping? "Four." His voice finally came through, right before you said the word five. 

     "Don't come in!" He pleaded, sounding a bit worried. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the door knob with the sort of sassiness you can only get from being hungry.

     Mista was frozen in place, eyes wide, as you stood there staring at him from the threshold of his room. He was pulling his clothes on, completely naked except for the pair of boxers he managed to slip on. His fingers were holding onto his red, tiger-print pants at the knees, and it almost looked like he was stripping down. You felt your face warm up a bit, but you covered your flattery with annoyance.

     "Why the hell would you take a shower before dinner?" You asked, folding your arms and walking over to hand him his shirt and cap. He shrugged and pulled his pants on the rest of the way, a little upset that there wasn't more of a reaction from you.

     Now that he was ready, you grabbed onto his forearm and practically dragged him down the hall. Number Five was sitting on top of your right shoulder, a tear in its tiny left eye. "(Y/N)~~~!!! We're so happy you caaaaammmee!!! Mista is starving us, and Number One is being mean again!" You cooed and ushered Number Five into the palm of your hand with a tiny smile.

     "Aw, Number Five, I'm sorry. You can sit with me! I'll share my steak with you, okay?" You gently stroked its head with your index finger, watching as Number Five wiped its tears away and purred at your touch. The other Sex Pistols were throwing a fit, but you didn't care; you always had a soft spot for Number Five. 

     As you descended the stairs, you released your grip on Mista's arm and ran down, stomach growling loudly. Fugo had returned with Narancia, who had a bandage wrapped in his hand. You sat left of Bruno, as your spot was taken by Fugo. You didn't mind, though. It was just a seat, after all. Narancia was on your right, foaming at the mouth and kicking the air as he stared at the food in front of him. Mista finally sat down, right beside Fugo, initiating dinner to begin.

     As everyone loaded their plates, Bruno stood up to perform the dinner ritual. Everyone paused once they filled their plate with food, and he nodded. "Thank you. Today, we received word that Polpo has committed suicide in his cell. That, however, is not the case. I do not encourage you to look into it further; just know that from today on, our tasks are going to get a bit rougher." He sat down and spread his arms, signalling everyone to chow down.

     As promised, you cut your steak and offered the smaller pieces to Number Five, who seemed to be happier than it had ever been in its life. You giggled, happy to bring joy to something so adorable. From the corner of your eye, you saw Mista staring at you as you placed some noodles in your mouth. You pretended not to see and continued eating.

     Narancia was the first done, despite getting seconds. Mista was second, partially because of his Sex Pistols eating his food with him. Everyone else was done around the same time, but the only person who had anything left on their plate was you. You frowned, upset that you couldn't eat the rest. You offered it to Mista, and he gladly obliged, quietly eating again as Bruno stood to discuss more mafia matters.

     "As you may or may not know, Giorno is the newest member of our . . . family. Please treat him with respect." Bruno eyed Abbacchio for a moment, and continued. "Giorno was the last person to see Polpo alive, and I'm sure he is devastated that he was the last person to chat with him." Something in Bruno's voice said he was lying, but you felt an odd rush of guilt at the thought. Bruno rambled on some more, and finally, everyone was dismissed. All that remained were you and Mista.

     He cleared his throat, and you played with your drink a little before standing up. He stood up too, eyeing you closely. "Wait." You froze in your tracks, watching as he walked around the table to study you. "You saw me half-naked, and didn't get flattered. That must have been difficult . . . Unless you've seen me fully naked before." You raised an eyebrow, confused as to what he was rambling about. 

     "Mista, shut up. Maybe I didn't like what I saw." You folded your arms and sauntered to the staircase, phone in hand. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him, drawing you in inches from his face. Your face turned crimson in response, and he laughed heartily after pulling away. "Oh fuck off," you mumbled, stomping up the stairs.

     "You'd like to see that, wouldn't you?" Mista asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow as your figure disappeared into your room.

     You slammed the door behind you and sighed heavily. You weren't in the mood to argue right now. You walked over to your bed and flopped down, laying on your stomach. Mista was just delusional, that was all. You didn't like him, right? You wouldn't wanna see him naked... 

     The very thought made your face hot, and you punched your pillow and brung it to your face. You shook your head, trying to get the thought out of your head. 

     

     Minutes later, you heard a knock on your door. You sighed and sat up. "It's open." The door slowly opened, and you saw Mista's figure enter your room. He shut it behind him and peered into your tired eyes with a confusing stare.  

     "Hey, um... I'm sorry." His hand was resting on his neck, and his eyes trailed to the floor. You sighed.

     

      "Uh-huh. Who told you to apologize?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and folding your arms. He sheepishly replied that Fugo heard everything and said he wasn't being a gentleman and needed to apologize. You smiled lightly and thanked Fugo in your mind. You scooted to your right and pat the spot beside you, offering him a seat on your bed. He obliged, and you two were inches apart again. You could feel his warmth on your arm.

     "So, um, about Polpo... Why did you hate him so much?" Mista asked, finally meeting your eyes again. You shivered and bit your lip. His eyes widened, and he apologized immediately. "I'm sorry! I didn't know what the circumstances were ... I didn't much like him either to be honest."

     You sat there quietly, taking a deep breath before explaining. "He made comments about my body. He told me a model like me shouldn't be in the mafia, unless I was his... sexy maid. I... I laughed of course, but it... Got to me. He made a lot of sexual gestures and innuendos and it just messed with my head."

  

     Mista nodded and grabbed onto your hand. "Hey, don't worry. I would never have let him lay a finger on you... You're too important to m- to the mafia. To us." You smiled in response and squeezed his hand. 

 

     "Thanks Mista." You sighed and laid on your bed, throwing your arms over your head and breathing deeply. Tomorrow, everyone would head out to get Polpo's hidden fortune. You weren't scared, only sad that you probably wouldn't get to go. Mista saw your mood drop, and laid beside you, holding you close.

   

     "Maybe Bruno will let you go after all," he said, looking into your (E/C) eyes. You nuzzled into him, closing your eyes heavily and swallowing the sadness that was eating away at your sanity. He ran his fingers through your coarse hair. Number Five appeared and nuzzled it's cheek on yours. You were soon being comforted by all 6 of the Sex Pistols; after that, the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

[mantrabay]

A Little Known Shortcut.

Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell.

Even when prickly brambles

scrape my eyelids or those bony ankles are being twisted by tooth like stones. The angular sort clustered mischievously among the green shoots that litter every footpath.

They lie in wait, in ambush.

It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman.

Meandering landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills that are rife in my area.

Their rustic heritage sometimes sacrificed to the orphanage of malleable motives.

Crop farmers obsessed with bountiful harvest.

A restless developer pushing the limits of an urban jungle.

Fellow traveller in league with fugitives from the cockpit.

The pressure cooker of modern life.

The town dweller with split loyalties who clings to the tumult of the city but hankers after some rural idyll.

Culprits one and all.

A lair from the hubbub.

Dwellings of the quaintest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.

The more alluring aspects of tradition have been preserved.

Among these are shortcuts or bypasses.

Those sequestered passages that shave miles off for the perennial rambler or clueless hitchhiker.

The eye becomes a lense to all these

things hidden or supposedly hidden.

Human vision as sensor to magic trails.

Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.

They festoon the sprawling countryside at random.

My name is Eric Spring.

Anthea, my partner a transcendental meditation teacher retired early at an early age.

Her withdrawal from work was never meant to be permanent.

A final decision hinged on Anthea's ability to purge that fiendish veil of sadness that had been shadowing her.

There were several obstacles in her path but they weren’t insurmountable.

Thoughts of Anthea in her halcyon days haunted me.

Mental pictures of a vibrant woman imbued with passion.

Poignant evocative heart-tugging images.

Bar excursions into town my station is that of Anthea’s carer.

This eternally stoic woman is mindful of her mental boundaries and the abyss concealed by each of them.

But she is not prone to self-hate or abuse. The more lethal plagues of the psyche hadn't yet impacted on her.

Anthea was groping for exits but hadn’t found the signs.

She remains housebound as I embark on those age defying treks into town.

We keep in touch by mobile phone.

A very angelic sensitive looking person is she.

Reminiscent of a Sunday Times editor.

The accent filters every noun and stresses every nuance.

Like the sounds from an early morning orchard.

Anthea's job became monotonous and her other pursuits painting and writing fled without trace.

A budding artist’s most dreaded syndromes struck.

Writer's block. Artistic vacuum.

The wellspring of her imagination now devoid of those inspiring flashes that sustain creative impulse.

She had few outlets bar my care and a lady called Fidelma who had the edge on me with regard to local knowledge. I longed to hear Anthea's voice on my device.

Her hypnotic voice bridges gaps.

You feel close even when speaking to her from a distance.

I love the walks and savouring all those pivot points of folklore.

I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of every branch strewn rivulet, stream and layered rock formation.

My links to the environment are almost erotic as I crave it's sensual touch.

At times I enter a tranquil zone where the shutters are drawn.

Just myself and all those habitats.

“Hello Eric? Lost in thought again.

How is anthea these days?

I spoke to her over the phone a few days ago.

I sometimes drop in on her when you are out.”

Fidelma speaking with that chirping red robin voice of hers.

She had this penchant for suddenly appearing like an archaeological site.

And she vanished just as quickly leaving the person she spoke to scrambling to process her asides and insights before they disappeared.

Neighbour, friend, root and branch archivist whose grasp of detail was legendary.

“She seems to be coping.” I said.

“Glad to hear that. Maybe I can pay a flying visit some time soon.

But aren't you a foolish man to be imposing all those Olympic Marathons on yourself?”

Fidelma about to share one of her treasured nuggets.

“I love walking but any tips?”

Spring enquired naively as events soon demonstrated.

“There’s a shortcut…..a little known shortcut.

People in the know recommend it though I have never actually used it myself.

Maybe I will one day.

See, it's on the right hand side up the road there.

Think it might be useful when you want to get home in a hurry.” She concluded.

Fidelma in advanced middle age was still sprightly and youthful in her ways.

I missed a text from anthea and Fidelma noticed.

“Yes. I have one of those gadgets too.

Keeps me connected.

Took me awhile to master it.

Wish there was a shortcut for that.

But I'll best be on my way.

Take good care whatever the route.”

As always having spoken to Fidelma I wondered about in a trance.

Another colourful aspect of Fidelma’s personality was her “Banana Skin Syndrome.”

She could lose her balance betimes when enthusing about a topic or when she stumbled on an area that fascinated her.

The feet were a little wobbly.

All this against her philosophy about how interconnected everything is.

The mind is an antenna sending out signals to others was a frequent broadside of hers.

Even when Fidelma said very little she always had this magnetic effect on others.

Those terse one liners could trigger an avalanche in the mind.

Her thin phrases were always shrouded in a well crafted poetic meter.

It was in the tone, gestures and body language.

Those beady yet expressive eyes scanning her environment like a radar screen.

A cascade of images and sound bytes ensued when she left.

Several hours passed as my mind was in overdrive like a central processing unit.

I heard this inner voice telling me to explore this “shortcut.”

Having texted Anthea I then proceeded to this offshoot of a lane.

It was going to lighten the journey of this slope and pavement plodder.

Off I went down this quaint country shortcut.

Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with until Anthea rang.

“Gnawing feeling of sadness.

My mind is a dark blue canvass at the moment.”

Her lilting twang mingling with the song birds at the start of my downward journey.

I sensed this was urgent and started to walk quickly.

That's when problems arose.

Just a plain country passage with a primarily flat surface at this point.

There were houses on each side and some weeds strewn and partially mangled, turned to mulch by wild and indiscriminate boots.

Strange feelings welled up within me as I felt like a geyser at yellowstone.

The puff and splutter of tractors in nearby fields as furrows, the epicenter of future yields were turned.

Scarecrows were strategically perched in the meadow behind the right hand hedge to ward off some menace or other.

Something told me to relate my surroundings to Anthea.

If only to divert attention from an impending gloom.

Those barely audible inner prompts again.

“Eric, I don't want to pressurise you but at the moment I feel this dark cloud.”

Eric paused.

It then occurred to me that I was engulfed by dark foreboding clouds in tandem with a rising rainbow like haze.

As Anthea continued her disorders seemed to be complemented by external threats of rain intermingled with sunshine.

“I feel, Eric there is a radiance trying to break through.

Just to see you … your presence is a light which I could focus on.”

Then I realised that speed was of the essence.

That's when I could have panicked.

Anthea’s voice seemed louder, but also more lyrical as I realised this obscure

overlooked route could have done with some restoration!

Tufts of grass oozing slime.

Mounds of mud with pockets of oil stained water.

The briars were a shock team that endangered every part of the human body.

I was conveying all this to anthea as I was trying to dash at my normal pace.

Oddly Anthea’s tone of desperation started to dip.

But she did appear less tense as I told her this story over the phone.

“Someone told me this is a shortcut.”

Eric said gingerly.

“Who was that ? Anthea asked.

“Fidelma. We met on the main road just a short while ago.” I responded.

“You know her a bit better than I do.”

Anthea observed. “She's going to call over one of these days I'm sure.”

By now Anthea, initially nervous was mellowing as I continued with my frantic running … and staggering commentary!

She didn’t have had much to excite her over the last five years.

But I had to be careful lest those dark brooding phases returned.

Like a roving reporter I regaled her with lurid descriptions of limp green shrubs, tea brown leaves shredded on fissured rocks, juice dripping blackberry bushes with foraging earwigs seeking shelter from the sun.

But here I was almost knee deep in tangled foliage while keeping the love of my life up to speed!

The labyrinthine outcrops and mock craters were all included.

Suddenly misfortune struck without warning.

I nearly sprained my leg as I fell face down on a grassy patch.

Sprawled awkwardly across this surface my phone went flying but I managed to catch it.

“Eric, are you ok?

I don’t mean to be a burden.

Will I get someone to meet you at the end of this lane or short cut.”

Anthea again.

“I'm fine, Anthea.”

Eric said before slowly rising.

I kept detailing my observations and Anthea was reacting positively.

But I made it eventually with the sounds of the road as guide.

The temperatures continued to rise causing perspiration.

Peering thru the maze of entwined growths I saw … Fidelma.

“Where did you spring from?” Eric punning his own name.

“Fidelma ...you fell too.” A question that might have appeared tactless.

She was getting up, having fallen when taking her bearings it seems.

“Fidelma …. thanks but no thanks.

The shortcut.” I said.

“You are shivering.” She observed.

“I am. Spring responded.

“Got to get to Anthea because she might be in need of help.” Spring continued.

We both headed for my house as quickly as possible.

But it wasn’t far.

I texted Anthea and she answered by saying she had every reason to speak to me.

One wondered what that might be.

My face whitened.

Fidelma and I soon reached the house where I lived.

Eric pressed the doorbell as his heart pounded.

The door opened suddenly and we couldn't believe what we saw.

“Anthea, is that you?

I haven't seen you smile like that in years.”

I said.

Fidelma and I were perplexed to say the least.

“It’s early days yet but those locusts of darkness hopping around in my head maybe dwindling.

Those creative juices returned when I sensed your anxiety down the lane because I didn't want two sick people in this house.

But you brought splashes of vivid colour into my drawing room.

I could almost smell the rustic fragrance of every wilting petal and the creaking of every twig.

You set a whole cycle in train.”

Anthea then showed me two items she was working on.

“I have started a rough sketch of the lane you detailed and a short story.

There's been a sea change.” She said.

“Oh I wonder what I'll call this sketch and that short story?

Any ideas?” Anthea enquired.

Fidelma and I looked at each other and spoke almost in unison.

“I think we both have a fair idea what they both might be called.

Your story included.”

A little known shortcut indeed!

Photograph and short story copyright protected

[sasorikigai]

"I trust you." (For either Hanzo or Fujin, I'll let you choose)

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡ || @xthesparequeen || accepting 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || He can never rewrite the past; the words, the actions, the love he had been given - they will all stay right there where he has left them. On the pages where he’s written them, he can only be better for the future. Sometimes, it takes a ton of courage to accept that, and sometimes it’s hard to let go of the regret and sadness. But he must remember that his stories never stop, it must go on. And it is up to him, to what he does now, how will it turn out beautiful and magnificent. Hanzo Hasashi’s mind may be volatile, unpredictable, even to his own, as his mind would have high probability to get into flashbacks, bringing him to the moments where he doesn’t want to go back. It’s crawling his skin whenever he remembers every little thing about his past. Tartarus of thoughts where every memory was thrown, abyss of forgotten dreams. The deceitful and treacherous nightmares become melancholic songs that would paradoxically fuel him to do better, as they become a sonata crashing to the very bones of his mentality. Its every line writing him an ode of odes. 

Even amidst the familiar call of the void, with clamor of every escaped anxieties, he shuts his eyes and opens his ears. As the highest general of the sentinel directly reporting to the Queen, he has to suffer the pain of its double-edged sharpness and get through this, to endure everything and carry all these burdens and distressful stress. “The assassin’s sound may gradually disappear into the thin air, and you may realized that it is just a sound and will never kill you, will never dictate your life, but assassinations never work that way. An urge to jump affirms the urge to live, so always listen to the sound of yourself fighting for your life. What I have taught you maybe just enough to parry and counterattack, and even land a decisive blow against me.” Hanzo had taught her the most two important things; all movements are round. The basis of Hapkido states that a fighter must move as if one is inside a ball. Influencing forces are rerouted from the outside and neutralized at the surface of the “ball,” and as the river, which adapts extremely flexibly to the landscape and nevertheless in the moment the buildup develops an enormous strength, the Hapkido also sensitively reacts to one’s opponent, in order to let her pent-up “Ki” flow by the technique into the opponent in the crucial moment, to reflex countermovements, in order to fluidly move into subsequent techniques. 

“I don’t expect you to get it right on the first time, for I have shed countless liters of sweat, blood, and tears to get to where I am, and I still am perfecting my own techniques when it comes to fending off attempts of assassinations,” he solemnly nods, as the swell of his heartbeat eases, as an inkling of smile etches upon his sun-drenched countenance. “Good, now, I expect you to intuitively and instinctively defend yourself, while doing so, concurrently attack at the same time.” With that, Hanzo steps in with the mock dagger, pulling Anna’s arm closely against his own chest, as raising the right leg and stepping to immobilize the Queen to send her clashing to the floor by tipping her balance to break. Then, his knife arm is applied against her upper arm. 

This motion intending to facilitate control over her body, as Hanzo will expect her to utilize his own power against her. If she tries to pull his arm directly in, it may resist. Due to the advantage of his much greater strength, Anna may be able to resist the pull and neutralize the attack. By initially pushing Hanzo’s arm away, it would destabilize him and minimal amount of strength would be required to grapple and pull his arm back in. Without care and attentiveness, the window to counterattack his forceful thrust would simply pass, and he would be able to plunge the dagger into her throat. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Right For All The Wrong Reasons Duncan Shepherd x Fem Reader (18) AU

Dedicating to @langdonsinferno for our mutual love for the film American Beauty, couldn't resist writing this concept hope you enjoy!

A/N: Used some of the main elements to the plot of the film American Beauty with some adjustments and changes. Duncan Shepherd becomes disillusioned with his existence and begins to hunger for fresh excitement in his life. As he experiences a new awakening of the senses, his marriage to Claire Underwood-Shepherd was a dead end heading nowhere but when their daughter Alexis brings her friend Y/N around Duncan's fantasies get the better of him, bound and determined to get what he wants he let's his lustful thoughts become reality when he seduces the barely legal 18 year old fulfilling his wildest desires.

Warnings: Cheating, Lust, Fantasizing, Barely Legal 18 Year Old Reader, Fingering, Masturbation, Oral (Fem Reader Receives), Virginity Loss, Rough Sex, Choking, Dominate Duncan, Submissive Fem Reader, Mention Of Divorce, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Absolute Dirty Smut

Word Count: 4,361 Words

Note: Lyics used in this fic are from American Woman by Lenny Kravitz and Beach by Mew

Duncan Shepherd becomes disillusioned with his existence and begins to hunger for fresh excitement in his life. As he experiences a new awakening of the senses, his marriage to Claire Underwood-Shepherd was a dead end heading nowhere but when their daughter Alexis brings her friend Y/N around Duncan's fantasies get the better of him, bound and determined to get what he wants he let's his lustful thoughts become reality when he seduces the barely legal 18 year old fulfilling his wildest desires.

They were always fighting. There were screams, a loud crash and shattering glass. I quickly escaped to my room and closed the door

He  was outside.

I turned on the music, so I wouldn't have to hear anything from downstairs. I brushed my hair. It was dark and long, much like raven's wings or maybe just a black veil draped over my head. The mirror reflected sad eyes of a little girl, hiding behind that veil. The veil had been put on at the very moment of birth, since my family was never a family, but a nest of cruel and uncaring people.

I went to the window and eyed the front yard. He was there, I knew it, even though I couldn't see him. Carefully I let the music carry me, lyrics letting me sway to the beat.

"It's hard to make sense

Feels as if I'm sensing you through a lens

If someone else comes

I'll just sit here listening to the drums"

I had closed my eyes. The notes flew through me like a force of pure emotion, so raw and so deep that it almost hurt. I could've stayed like that for a long time but I knew that was not what he expected.

I opened my eyes. Then I slowly took off my top, revealing the skin beneath it. There was no need for a show, he didn't want that. I didn't want that. Or at least I thought I didn't. My real wants and needs had blurred with his, making me obey him blindly. Still, he didn't force me to do anything. It was all up to me to make my next move.

I took off my bra. When I revealed my breasts, I saw a quick move somewhere in the night. He was there, watching me, I was sure of it now. I swirled a stray of hair around my finger, then let go of it. I traced the line from under my jaw right down to my waistline, feeling the breastbone, the navel and the fabric of my skirt. Then I stopped.

"The world is like you

Here time's the charm

Like a dog it's breathing

They're just as lonely

And we all make mistakes once in a while"

//Seated in the bleachers, next to the high school BAND, is a group of about twenty TEENAGE GIRLS, dressed in pale blue and white uniforms. Among them, Alexis sits next to Y/N Y/L/N. At eighteen, Angela is strikingly beautiful; with perfect even features, h/c  hair and a nubile young body, she's the archetypal American dream girl.

On the gym floor, the girls perform. They're well-rehearsed, but too young to carry off the ambitious Vegas routine they're attempting.

Duncan Shepherd leans forward in his seat.

He is focused on Y/N now. Everything starts to SLOW DOWN... the MUSIC acquires an eerie ECHO…

He watches transfiixed.

Y/N looks directly at us now, dancing only for Duncan. Her movements take on a blatantly erotic edge as she starts to unzip her uniform, teasing us with an expression that's both innocent and knowing, then... she pulls her uniform OPEN and a profusion of RED ROSE PETALS spill forth…

Y/N, fully clothed, is once again surrounded by the other girls. The HIGH SCHOOL BAND plays its last note, the Dancing Spartanettes strike their final pose, and the audience APPLAUDS.

Claire Duncan's wife claps along with the rest of the audience while he just sits there, unable to take his eyes off Y/N.

The game is long over. Y/N and Alexis come out of the gym. Duncan and Claire  stand at the edge of the parking lot. She crosses reluctantly toward her parents, followed by Y/N. “Congratulations, honey, you were great.” Duncan praised his daughter. “I didn't win anything.” She states offhandedly with a shake of her head. “Hi, I'm Duncan.” He extends his hand to his daughter's new friend. “Hi.” her voice is melodic Duncan is drawn in, though she comes across shy he senses something about Y/N, something beyond the shy front Y/N has in place.

“This is my friend Y/N Y/L/N” Alexis introduces you to her parents, her parent's looked like the high class version of the typical 9-5 office job type of couple. Claire is well reserved and has made quite the name for herself in D.C. in the political profession, Duncan Shepherd was tall handsome dressed in a $10,095.00 Giorgio Armani business suit. The 5 o clock shadow that adored his handsome face and every  hair on his head was perfectly in place, the scent of his cologne Killian's Black Phantom waived through the cool night air. Duncan was old enough to be her father at the distinguished age of 35 and though it was inappropriate Y/N already found herself attracted so strongly that it was impossible to deny. She couldn't help all the dirty overly sexual thoughts that already flooded her mind, but then again neither could Duncan despite the 17 years age difference their minds seemed perfectly in sync.

Later that night….

Y/N POV

Duncan and Claire were in bed, even in a deep sleep Mrs. Shepherd looked determined. Duncan is in that boundary between sleeping and awake he stares up at us.

A solitary single red rose petal falls slowly through the air.

Duncan's POV

'It's the funniest thing’

The red rose petal lands just in view on Duncan's pillow.

Duncan POV

‘I feel like I've been in a coma for about twenty years, and I'm just now waking up.’

More rose petals fall to the bed surrounding him, in his dream induced haze he smiles up at the almost life like vision that played out before him.

Duncan's POV

Y/N, naked, FLOATS above us as a deluge of ROSE PETALS falls around her. Her hair fans out around her head and GLOWS with a subtle, burnished light. She looks down at us with a smile that is all things…

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

A few days later Alexis brought Y/N over after school, it was Friday night the initial plan was a sleep over and girl time.

The two were in the living room in front of the large screen streaming music videos from YouTube. “Oh, shit. They're home. Quick, let's go up to my room.” Alexis clicked the tv off tossing the remote aside. “I should say hi to your dad I don't want to be rude.” Y/N called from behind her shoulder sauntering towards the kitchen. “Besides I could use a drink, you want me to grab you one?” “Yes there is root beer thanks.” Alexis responded hastily disappearing.

Duncan is in the kitchen faced towards the open refrigerator. “Nice suit.” Her voice rings out immediately causing him to snap at attention to face her, He is instantly transfixed.

Duncan's POV

‘Y/N leans against the counter, twirling her hair.’

“Your looking good Mr Shepherd.” There is a saying that says flattery will get you no where but to him hearing anything come from her lips would get her anywhere even if it was naked in bed with him to play out all his wild dirty fantasies. In the eyes of the state 18 is considered an adult so in all honesty it would be consensual. She slowly moves towards him, “the last time I saw you you seemed kinda wound up.”

Duncan's POV

‘She reaches inside the refrigerator to grab a bottle. As she does, she moves to place her other hand casually on Lester's shoulder. He sees it coming. Everything SLOWS DOWN, and all sound around in that moment  FADES…’

‘Her hand as it briefly touches his shoulder in SLOW MOTION. We HEAR only the amplified BRUSH of her fingers against the fabric of his suit, and it's unnatural, hollow ECHO…’

Duncan snaps back into reality, the hear and now. Y/N grabs two root beers from the fridge smiling at him. His eyes narrow just slightly with that mixture of sexy yet dangerous.

Duncan's POV

‘He cups her face in his hands and kisses her. She seems shocked, but doesn't resist as he pulls her toward him with surprising strength. He breaks the kiss, looking at her in awe, then he reaches up and touches his lips. His eyes widen as he pulls a ROSE PETAL from his mouth right before we…’

Real time...

Y/N is back against the counter, drinking the root beer. Duncan stands by the refrigerator, gazing at her, still lost in fantasy.

Later that night….

Claire  lies sleeping. Duncan is awake, staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he gets up, taking care not to disturb Claire, and walks toward the bathroom.

‘Across from us, in a PEDESTAL BATHTUB, is Y/N. She smiles and beckons us, and we MOVE CLOSER. ROSE PETALS float on the surface of the water, obscuring her naked body.’

‘Duncan leans down by the bathtub like a man in church. “You've been working out, haven't you? I can tell.” She arches her back looking up at him provocatively. “I was hoping you'd give me a bath, I'm very very dirty.” ‘

‘Duncan  gives her a hard look, then slowly slips his hand into the water between her legs. Her eyes widen and she throws her head back...and we…’

Y/N POV

‘His hands run over my body and I let out a soft sigh. I need to ease the ache between my thighs. I need him touch me, to tease me. I need to cum. Wanton desirous thoughts invade my mind. The feeling overwhelms me and I can't do anything else until I'm sated. I let my thighs fall open as he slips his fingers into my cunt. Heat envelopes them as he slide two inside.’

‘My cunt throbs with pleasure. I feel you inside me, filling me. He  slide another finger inside, greedily filling me, thrusting them in and out to keep rhythm with my hips. I lift my leg, needing him to push deep, feeling the velvet walls of my cunt squeezing tight around his fingers. My arousal surges. My legs tremble. I wonder if you can feel me. Feel how my body knows just how to respond to your touch.’

‘My clit throbs. He presses harder, stroking me. His fingers are slick against me. My body begins to succumb. I don't want to draw it out any longer. I need it too much to let it last. I need to be greedy. I need to be satisfied. His fingers move frantically over my clit. My cunt pulses harder. I feel the heat building inside me. I gasp again and a small cry escapes my lips. I can't control my hips as they buck up against his hand. My heart pounds as I feel pleasure flood my body. Hot breath rushes from my lungs as I cry out. Warmth pulses over his hand and I careen into bliss. Can you feel it?’

Real time…

Claire, her eyes wide, listening to the rhythmic BRUSH of Duncan's hand as he masturbates under the covers. She flips over and faces him, “what are you doing?” A beat passes “Nothing” he responds frustrated. Claire switches on the bedside lamp, “you were masturbating weren't you?” “Don't be ridiculous Claire I was not.” He turns his back to her letting out a loaded sigh. “Yes you were” she challenged. He turns to face her trying to appear innocent but gives up. “Alright so shoot me I was whacking off!”  Claire gets out of their bed repelled Duncan can only laugh. “That's right. I was choking the bishop. Shaving the carrot. Saying hi to my monster” Claire shakes her head “that's disgusting.” “Well, excuse me, but I still have blood pumping through my veins!” Yelled argumentativly.

Duncan's POV

‘ Claire this hasn't been a marriage for years. But you were happy as long as I kept my mouth shut. Well, guess what? I've changed. And the new me whacks off when he feels horny, because you're obviously not going to help me out in that department.’

//American woman, stay away from me… american woman, mama let me be… don't come a  hangin' around my door... I don't want to see your face no more...//

Duncan has retreated downstairs to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator he grabs a beer and starts to head toward the family room.

Duncan's POV….

‘AS we MOVE SLOWLY around a corner, Y/N comes into view, standing at the STEREO, holding a CD case. She's been crying; her face is puffy, and her hair mussed. She regards us apprehensively... then puts on a slightly defiant smile.’

‘ ‘'He leans against the wall taking a swig of his beer, “Not at all, bad night?” “No not really just strange” she replies. “Believe me couldn't be any stranger than mine” he stated with an exasperated huff. She smiles. They stand there in silence; the atmosphere is charged.’

‘ “Alexis and I had a fight…. It was about you.” Y/N admitted. “She's mad at me because I think your sexy.” Duncan grins. He is sexy. “Do you want a sip?” You nod. Duncan  holds the bottle up to her mouth and she drinks clumsily. He gently wipes her chin with the back of his hand “so are you going to tell me what you want?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. “I don't know.” It was a lie she knew exactly what she wanted. “You don't know?” ‘

‘His face is very close to yours was this really happening--or was it mere imagination… “what do you want?” She asked him her eyes locked on his. “Are you kidding? I want you. I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Y/N takes a deep breath just before Duncan leans in to kiss her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids, her neck… “you don't think I'm ordinary?” “God, fuck no… you couldn't be ordinary if you tried.” Duncan presses his lips to yours in a seductive kiss, it was wrong but felt oh so right in a variety of ways.’

‘Y/N lays back on the couch as Duncan moves in over her. He pulls her jeans off and gently brushes his fingers over her legs, then moves up and caresses her face.. He  starts unbuttoning your blouse. Slowly he eyes every inch of her skin. Duncan pulls her blouse open, exposing her breasts. He looks down at her, grinning, unable to believe he's actually about to do what he's dreamed of so many times, and then… “It's my first time.” Duncan laughs surely she is kidding right? ‘

Y/N POV….

‘ I laid down and he was sort of kneeling over me as we kissed. “You’re a lovely girl.” Duncan's voice was kind of firm. I imagined he was expressing irritation with me for earlier telling him about being insecure about my looks. I  felt uneasy for a moment. I was embarrassed that I was wearing an old plain white bra. I looked up to see if he was staring at my breasts, but he was to my surprise looking at my face. I wondered if he thought they were unattractive or if maybe he didn’t like breasts. “I don’t think you ever  did tell me.” he broke the silence. I pulled off my skirt and underwear, and then he moved his head down. For a while I stared at the wall, and then I caught a glimpse of his head down in between my legs. I wondered what he was doing.’

Duncan's POV…

‘ I was kissing and licking everywhere  between your thighs I could tell you were getting turned on. I moved on to the clitoris, I starting with gentle licking and sucking. I look up to see you “does that feel good, babygirl?” You were unable to respond but by your blissed out expression it was clear I was doing something right. “You look so hot right now, at my mercy, so young so vulnerable” I paused for a moment then I asked you, “Did any guy ever do that to you before?!” ‘

Y/N POV…

‘ “Do what?” my voice came out nervous betraying the brave front I often gave off. “Eat you out.” Duncan responded seductively. Despite the dim lighting I could see the smirk on his face. I had felt his face and hair rubbing against my thighs, it kind of tickled but at the same time it turned me on. I felt an unrelenting pressure build in my abdomen it was driving me insane. I could smell my pussy juices on his breath. ‘

‘ He moved in to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, but I didn’t want him to think I would want something like that, so I turned my head to the side to dodge him. But he tried again, grinning big, and we kissed and I was excited by him forcing a kiss on me and forcing me to taste myself on his tongue. Then two of his fingers went into my dripping pussy and it hurt tremendously.  My eyes snapped shut and I started to moan both from pain and out of feeling an obligation to make him think I was enjoying it (and in all honestly I really was), and feeling like I wanted to excite him by moaning and groaning.’

‘ I peeked my eyes open and saw his face was right over mine, watching my reactions.  he was grinning god how he looked so sexy right then. “God, you’re wet.” he moaned. He took his fingers out and held them up to the light. They were drenched, completely covered in my arousal.’

‘ I writhed beneath him in sexual bliss, nothing mattered in that moment than how this felt, how my body responded to his. My body was a map but every inch, every curve he knew it almost like committed memory. I was made for him and he knew it, I knew that there would never be anyone else that could ever make me feel like this it was like ‘devine appointment’. He was experienced and he knew just what to do and boy he did it well. I embraced the desire to quench the sexual fire that burned throughout my body setting every nerve ending on a blazing rage of intense fire.’

‘ “Cum for me babygirl.” His voice was firm yet commanding. My body detonated. The heat that had built up inside of me for what seemed like forever  and had been centred entirely on my most sensitive areas and it burst out. Warmth and tension coursed through every vein as my heart leapt for joy and pumped my blood explosively. My skin tingled as a wave of goose bumps rode a shiver along my body stretching out to every extremity as my breath caught in my throat. I could feel fluid blasting out of my exposed and knickerless core and soaking my thighs further as an orgasm ripped through me.’

Duncan's POV….

‘ “Do you like that? Do you like I make you feel.” I own every single piece of your body, and we are attached to each other as one. I love how your skin tone matches your lips and make your hot eyes look brighter when you look me directly in the eyes telling me that you know I'm have you, I have you right where I want you. I want to cover you in marks and hickeys hearing you moan uncontrollably.’

‘ “ I want to make love to you, rub my cock on your clit, make you beg for it for me to put it inside of you. But I'm not going to until you say please daddy fuck me. Over and over again, I want to make you drip babygirl.” Your frustrated state was almost endearing, your face was flush, I heard your needy please leave your lips like a prayer. “Please daddy fuck me, I want to feel every inch of you rip me apart. I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk straight for weeks afterward.” You begged me.’

‘ “Well since you put it that way…” my body was in overdrive, in an almost inhuman speed I was out of my pants discarding them off to the sidelines. “I want to choke you while I fuck you relentlessly, I think it's only fair to warn you that this won't be sweet and slow but it will be hard, fast and deep. I don't intend on showing any mercy.” I smirk at you before I slammed into you without warning giving you no time to adjust to my size. I want to ruin you, rip you apart, test your limits.” ‘

‘ Pelvic bones got heavier, shifted somehow. Y/N not only  experiences multi-orgasmic fireworks, but a more realistic longing for the act of sex to last longer, to “feel more.” ‘

Y/N POV….

‘ When we had danced and I lost myself—in him, in the music, in the shapes on the wall—I was also intensely aware of myself physically. I felt as though my pelvic bones got heavier, shifted somehow. And when he had pushed into me on the mattress, I was wet, though I hadn’t known I would be. His warm slide in and out felt not like the intrusion, but like something that was already part of me. I hadn’t any sense of wanting him to finish: I’d reached and pushed against him to feel more. “Deeper…” I managed to call out breathlessly. I felt his hand reach up to grab my throat closing in around it with just enough pressure to add to my already heightened senses.’

‘ It’s hard to experience desire while at the same time controlling it. We were trying to lose control, I couldn't explain it but I trusted him. His dominance is merely a way to show his control, to push my limits, to break me. Would he hurt me intentionally, or cause any harm? No the kind of delicious pain I was feeling was more a way to drive me crazy, the right amount of pain mixed with pleasure was nothing more than absolute complete and total bliss.’

‘ We were moving purposefully, into and against each other, I was holding the top of the bed, my eyes falling back into my eyelids, and we were trying to follow our desires, such as we understood them, and we could tell we were close to something. I watched these images in gold and red and white as Duncan’s fingers fluttered and moved as our bodies molded into one. When my body began to tense, his understood and our bodies seemed to move like a well oiled machine, my rhythm matching his thrust for thrust.’

‘ I was waiting, craving almost desperate as I felt my release very near. No violence was committed, it was clear he desired it as much as I did, it was consensual like an unspoken agreement between us both. I was savoring this saving every last moment between us that we were sharing, I committed it to memory. I have been stripped and I entered the pit and I didn't want to ever come up out of it.’

Duncan's POV…..

‘ Y/N was poised to melt, to completely shut down underneath my touch. I owned you ever single inch. Because of the intensity of this moment we shared it was an unspoken happiness of pure sexual and wanton bliss. Her head flung back fuck she looked absolutely gorgeous. When I locked my gaze with her she was fixed on me eyes glassy.’

‘ My breathing became loud and shaky I moaned out. Our bodies were in the extremes of pure unbridled pleasure, it's like we weren't in our own bodies anymore like we were possessed taken over by desire. We worked at a deliberate frenzy to chase our ultimate release. She wrapped her legs around my waist lifting up at just the right angle allowing us a feeling that both of us enjoyed. “I am close… I….” I gave my go ahead, dropping my dominant personality just slightly “go ahead cum for me babygirl.” I coaxed you. I felt your pussy walls clench around me as your release covered my cock causing me to near my release within not even half a second afterward. We road out our orgasms and attempt to regain normal breathing again. I laid down next to you, our eyes connected both of our blissed out expressions giving us a natural high. With damn near fifteen years of marriage with Claire it was evident that the passion between us had fizzled out making the act of sex nothing more than going through the motions. But tonight with us it sparked something between us something unquenchable, I knew this was the first time but it surely wasn't the last. We had both had a taste and if it was the last thing we would ever do it damn sure wouldn't at all be the last especially if I had anything to do about it. Claire was now nothing more than an inconvenience, an unpleasantry and she would be dealt with. Our marriage was dead and undoubtedly within less than 24 hours I would see to it to have her served with divorce papers. It was time to live life my way on my terms fuck everything else because nothing or noone was going to stand in my way.’

‘ "You are as beautiful as a raven; wrong in all the ways but still the only right for my eyes." I broke the silence between us. "And you are not a dream, because if you are, then I am one too." I scrutinised her for a brief moment. After that fell the silence once more. For the first time ever I smiled at you, then looked away and the moment passed. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.’

//"It is sweet outside

Where it seems magical

And if nothing works

We'll do nothing

Save yourself tonight

Asleep in the dark

I hope we're on time"//

[mantrabay]

A Little Known Shortcut.

Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell.

Even when prickly brambles

scrape my eyelids or those bony ankles are being twisted by tooth like stones. The angular sort clustered mischievously among the green shoots that litter every footpath.

They lie in wait, in ambush.

It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman.

Meandering landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills that are rife in my area.

Their rustic heritage sometimes sacrificed to the orphanage of malleable motives.

Crop farmers obsessed with bountiful harvest.

A restless developer pushing the limits of an urban jungle.

Fellow traveller in league with fugitives from the cockpit.

The pressure cooker of modern life.

The town dweller with split loyalties who clings to the tumult of the city but hankers after some rural idyll.

Culprits one and all.

A lair from the hubbub.

Dwellings of the quaintest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.

The more alluring aspects of tradition have been preserved.

Among these are shortcuts or bypasses.

Those sequestered passages that shave miles off for the perennial rambler or clueless hitchhiker.

The eye becomes a lense to all these

things hidden or supposedly hidden.

Human vision as sensor to magic trails.

Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.

They festoon the sprawling countryside at random.

My name is Eric Spring.

Anthea, my partner a transcendental meditation teacher retired early at an early age.

Her withdrawal from work was never meant to be permanent.

A final decision hinged on Anthea's ability to purge that fiendish veil of sadness that had been shadowing her.

There were several obstacles in her path but they weren’t insurmountable.

Thoughts of Anthea in her halcyon days haunted me.

Mental pictures of a vibrant woman imbued with passion.

Poignant evocative heart-tugging images.

Bar excursions into town my station is that of Anthea’s carer.

This eternally stoic woman is mindful of her mental boundaries and the abyss concealed by each of them.

But she is not prone to self-hate or abuse. The more lethal plagues of the psyche hadn't yet impacted on her.

Anthea was groping for exits but hadn’t found the signs.

She remains housebound as I embark on those age defying treks into town.

We keep in touch by mobile phone.

A very angelic sensitive looking person is she.

Reminiscent of a Sunday Times editor.

The accent filters every noun and stresses every nuance.

Like the sounds from an early morning orchard.

Anthea's job became monotonous and her other pursuits painting and writing fled without trace.

A budding artist’s most dreaded syndromes struck.

Writer's block. Artistic vacuum.

The wellspring of her imagination now devoid of those inspiring flashes that sustain creative impulse.

She had few outlets bar my care and a lady called Fidelma who had the edge on me with regard to local knowledge. I longed to hear Anthea's voice on my device.

Her hypnotic voice bridges gaps.

You feel close even when speaking to her from a distance.

I love the walks and savouring all those pivot points of folklore.

I pride myself on my intimate knowledge of every branch strewn rivulet, stream and layered rock formation.

My links to the environment are almost erotic as I crave it's sensual touch.

At times I enter a tranquil zone where the shutters are drawn.

Just myself and all those habitats.

“Hello Eric? Lost in thought again.

How is anthea these days?

I spoke to her over the phone a few days ago.

I sometimes drop in on her when you are out.”

Fidelma speaking with that chirping red robin voice of hers.

She had this penchant for suddenly appearing like an archaeological site.

And she vanished just as quickly leaving the person she spoke to scrambling to process her asides and insights before they disappeared.

Neighbour, friend, root and branch archivist whose grasp of detail was legendary.

“She seems to be coping.” I said.

“Glad to hear that. Maybe I can pay a flying visit some time soon.

But aren't you a foolish man to be imposing all those Olympic Marathons on yourself?”

Fidelma about to share one of her treasured nuggets.

“I love walking but any tips?”

Spring enquired naively as events soon demonstrated.

“There’s a shortcut…..a little known shortcut.

People in the know recommend it though I have never actually used it myself.

Maybe I will one day.

See, it's on the right hand side up the road there.

Think it might be useful when you want to get home in a hurry.” She concluded.

Fidelma in advanced middle age was still sprightly and youthful in her ways.

I missed a text from anthea and Fidelma noticed.

“Yes. I have one of those gadgets too.

Keeps me connected.

Took me awhile to master it.

Wish there was a shortcut for that.

But I'll best be on my way.

Take good care whatever the route.”

As always having spoken to Fidelma I wondered about in a trance.

Another colourful aspect of Fidelma’s personality was her “Banana Skin Syndrome.”

She could lose her balance betimes when enthusing about a topic or when she stumbled on an area that fascinated her.

The feet were a little wobbly.

All this against her philosophy about how interconnected everything is.

The mind is an antenna sending out signals to others was a frequent broadside of hers.

Even when Fidelma said very little she always had this magnetic effect on others.

Those terse one liners could trigger an avalanche in the mind.

Her thin phrases were always shrouded in a well crafted poetic meter.

It was in the tone, gestures and body language.

Those beady yet expressive eyes scanning her environment like a radar screen.

A cascade of images and sound bytes ensued when she left.

Several hours passed as my mind was in overdrive like a central processing unit.

I heard this inner voice telling me to explore this “shortcut.”

Having texted Anthea I then proceeded to this offshoot of a lane.

It was going to lighten the journey of this slope and pavement plodder.

Off I went down this quaint country shortcut.

Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with until Anthea rang.

“Gnawing feeling of sadness.

My mind is a dark blue canvass at the moment.”

Her lilting twang mingling with the song birds at the start of my downward journey.

I sensed this was urgent and started to walk quickly.

That's when problems arose.

Just a plain country passage with a primarily flat surface at this point.

There were houses on each side and some weeds strewn and partially mangled, turned to mulch by wild and indiscriminate boots.

Strange feelings welled up within me as I felt like a geyser at yellowstone.

The puff and splutter of tractors in nearby fields as furrows, the epicenter of future yields were turned.

Scarecrows were strategically perched in the meadow behind the right hand hedge to ward off some menace or other.

Something told me to relate my surroundings to Anthea.

If only to divert attention from an impending gloom.

Those barely audible inner prompts again.

“Eric, I don't want to pressurise you but at the moment I feel this dark cloud.”

Eric paused.

It then occurred to me that I was engulfed by dark foreboding clouds in tandem with a rising rainbow like haze.

As Anthea continued her disorders seemed to be complemented by external threats of rain intermingled with sunshine.

“I feel, Eric there is a radiance trying to break through.

Just to see you … your presence is a light which I could focus on.”

Then I realised that speed was of the essence.

That's when I could have panicked.

Anthea’s voice seemed louder, but also more lyrical as I realised this obscure

overlooked route could have done with some restoration!

Tufts of grass oozing slime.

Mounds of mud with pockets of oil stained water.

The briars were a shock team that endangered every part of the human body.

I was conveying all this to anthea as I was trying to dash at my normal pace.

Oddly Anthea’s tone of desperation started to dip.

But she did appear less tense as I told her this story over the phone.

“Someone told me this is a shortcut.”

Eric said gingerly.

“Who was that ? Anthea asked.

“Fidelma. We met on the main road just a short while ago.” I responded.

“You know her a bit better than I do.”

Anthea observed. “She's going to call over one of these days I'm sure.”

By now Anthea, initially nervous was mellowing as I continued with my frantic running … and staggering commentary!

She didn’t have had much to excite her over the last five years.

But I had to be careful lest those dark brooding phases returned.

Like a roving reporter I regaled her with lurid descriptions of limp green shrubs, tea brown leaves shredded on fissured rocks, juice dripping blackberry bushes with foraging earwigs seeking shelter from the sun.

But here I was almost knee deep in tangled foliage while keeping the love of my life up to speed!

The labyrinthine outcrops and mock craters were all included.

Suddenly misfortune struck without warning.

I nearly sprained my leg as I fell face down on a grassy patch.

Sprawled awkwardly across this surface my phone went flying but I managed to catch it.

“Eric, are you ok?

I don’t mean to be a burden.

Will I get someone to meet you at the end of this lane or short cut.”

Anthea again.

“I'm fine, Anthea.”

Eric said before slowly rising.

I kept detailing my observations and Anthea was reacting positively.

But I made it eventually with the sounds of the road as guide.

The temperatures continued to rise causing perspiration.

Peering thru the maze of entwined growths I saw … Fidelma.

“Where did you spring from?” Eric punning his own name.

“Fidelma ...you fell too.” A question that might have appeared tactless.

She was getting up, having fallen when taking her bearings it seems.

“Fidelma …. thanks but no thanks.

The shortcut.” I said.

“You are shivering.” She observed.

“I am. Spring responded.

“Got to get to Anthea because she might be in need of help.” Spring continued.

We both headed for my house as quickly as possible.

But it wasn’t far.

I texted Anthea and she answered by saying she had every reason to speak to me.

One wondered what that might be.

My face whitened.

Fidelma and I soon reached the house where I lived.

Eric pressed the doorbell as his heart pounded.

The door opened suddenly and we couldn't believe what we saw.

“Anthea, is that you?

I haven't seen you smile like that in years.”

I said.

Fidelma and I were perplexed to say the least.

“It’s early days yet but those locusts of darkness hopping around in my head maybe dwindling.

Those creative juices returned when I sensed your anxiety down the lane because I didn't want two sick people in this house.

But you brought splashes of vivid colour into my drawing room.

I could almost smell the rustic fragrance of every wilting petal and the creaking of every twig.

You set a whole cycle in train.”

Anthea then showed me two items she was working on.

“I have started a rough sketch of the lane you detailed and a short story.

There's been a sea change.” She said.

“Oh I wonder what I'll call this sketch and that short story?

Any ideas?” Anthea enquired.

Fidelma and I looked at each other and spoke almost in unison.

“I think we both have a fair idea what they both might be called.

Your story included.”

A little known shortcut indeed!

Photograph and short story copyright protected to mantrabay