#he used to take the same route as me so hes given me tips on getting in + an alternative bus route

[phagodyke]

finished for the day 40 mins early but I can't catch an earlier bus so...... 🥱🥱

[yawnderu]

your loser somno konig has given me so much brainroott

i have a proposition however: what if reader knew?

or completely different route, what if the reader drugged him often to do the same, with the intent of having his baby, a permanent piece of him 😇

ANON. ANON WHEN I CATCH YOU. WHEN I CATCH YOU ANON.

cw: somnophilia, drugging, noncon, femdom, breeding.

It had started out innocently— a small crush on your colonel, his tough image like a monument of what a man should be, slowly building up to an obsession that had you crushing sleeping pills, mixing them into a nice tea made specifically for your lovely colonel. It's wrong— could end your career and could even get you killed, but the chances were worth it.

You waited patiently, only slipping out of bed when you heard his snores. Your body hovered above his with the same quietness you use in the enemy backlines, one hand carefully trying to move his body just to make sure he was fully asleep. His breathing pattern didn't change at all, neither did his loud snores, so you quickly got into action knowing he'd be out for at least a few hours.

You've seen his bulge before— how can you not? It's always poking out of his pants even when he's soft, yet this is the first time you see the entire thing once you lower his pants, hooking his boxers underneath his balls.

''Jesus Christ.'' You mutter under your breath, eyes slightly ajar when you notice how massive he is even when soft. You begin to stroke his soft dick with your hand, feeling him up and taking your time to experiment with him, doing what feels right until his cock starts to respond to your touch, getting harder in your hand. You take your time to admire him once he's fully hard— all 8 inches of pure thickness, the bulging veins running down his entire length only making the heat in your stomach pool up.

Your warm tongue runs up his entire shaft, his snores reassuring you that he's not going to wake up no matter what you do. You latch onto the tip, the taste of salty precum invading your tongue, running circles on his tip before letting go with a loud ''pop'', only getting up to take off your pants, straddling him and holding the tip of his hard cock over your sopping cunt. You don't take his mask off— the least you can do is respect his privacy even when you're doing something so sinful and forbidden.

You lower yourself down on his cock slowly, taking your time to enjoy every single inch stretching open your insides. It takes a hot minute before your cunt is able to take all of him, a hand over your mouth to muffle your whines. It almost hurts, but the ache is overcome by the pure need of feeling more of him.

You slowly bounce on his cock, getting more and more used to having all of him all the way inside before you're freely bouncing on his cock, your free hand going down to massage his heavy balls while you impale yourself down on him. It feels too good to stop despite how wrong it is, mind filled of images of a possible future together if you manage to get pregnant tonight— if not, you can always keep trying.

Your eyes drift down to his masked face, a small smile on your lips when you think about what he may look like underneath the balaclava and sniper hood; how pretty your babies will be. It's only motivation to keep fucking yourself down on his cock, feeling it throb inside you while you only bounce down on him faster, feeling your orgasm build up. It doesn't take long before you're cumming around his cock, getting even tighter around him and milking him dry, his unconscious body responding to your stimulation by shooting ropes inside you.

You wait a few minutes before hesitantly moving away from him, getting on your knees in bed and licking him dry, getting rid of the evidence of your sinful act, taking one last look at his softening cock before you pull his pants back on, fully unaware that König would be returning the treatment the next night— and the one after that, up until you come to him with a positive pregnancy test, hopefully seeking for his help.

[kunikinnie]

hii :) c'est moi, hehe. i couldn't resist that tempting offer you made, so here i am^^

take all the time you need to do this, and most importantly, take care of yourself, first.<33

i was wondering if you could write about Ōgai, Yukichi and Doppo, separately, with a s/o who practices martial arts and who very much enjoys them as a sport? (if you need any more specific hint, aikido is preferable, though do as you wish :))

perhaps s/o is playful and teasy, and started a play-fight, surprising them with a technique or something? without hurting them too much of course, hihi

neutral pronouns (they/them) are good, though i don't mind he/him. up to you ^^

[lol sorry if it sounds dumb, but i often think about it ever since i started practicing martial arts..]

anyways, take care !

— L

a/n: hi L! I don't actually know much about martial arts but I hope this was good enough :)) i tried my best

warnings: some profanity

with an s/o who practices martial arts for sport

featuring: Mori, Fukuzawa, Kunikida x GN!Reader

Mori Ougai

He's quite elated and supportive about it, the three main points being:

(1) As a former doctor, engaging regularly in any physical activity is a healthy habit.

(2) As your lover, of course he's hecking proud. Isn't it cool to have a s/o who's honing their skills in something they love? And can kick ass while doing it?

And most importantly (3) there's low risk of you getting seriously hurt since you're not "out in the field." While he still would be supportive of you if you did go that route, it's still a big relief that he doesn't have to worry about your life being on the line, especially given his current occupation.

The only thing he doesn't like about it is that you keep surprise-tackling him. Sure, he can fight if he wanted to, but given that his style is lethal (and dependent on the existence of a scalpel) there's not much he tries to do, especially if you're physically stronger than him.

"Y/N, I love you. So please let go. Please-"

If you have any tournaments, he'll do his best to attend, although because he's so busy him he seldom actually makes it. So he would compensate by some form of congratulatory celebration, be it a fancy dinner or whatever you like.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Strangely enough, he's the most chill about it among the three. Don't get me wrong it's not that he's not impressed at all. It's just that he assesses your skills from the perspective of a fellow practitioner.

He's not so strict about it tho since you are just doing it for sport.

He'd gladly demonstrate or share any tips he has. Ask him and he won't hesitate to help you. Sometimes he'll even invite you to train with Kunikida during their sessions.

Sparring with him alone is unfortunately a seldom thing. Work eats up most of his time and energy so he's not able to spend time with you in general as much as he'd like to.

Yet each session with him gives a massive boost to your skills. He's able to counter and even teach you new moves outside of the style that you're mastering - something which even the other people you learn with/from can't do.

As to you trying to pull tricks on him... you can try, but it will never work. He may play along for the first few moments but he'll swiftly counter it just the same. The most you'll get from him is a "I see you've learned something new. Good try."

Words cannot express - not that he uses them much, really - how proud he is whenever he notices your abilities improving. But the occasional smile.

Kunikida Doppo

You can bet he fell hard when he found out you're learning martial arts. Doesn't matter if you were already dating at the time or not when you started.

He'll definitely teach/coach you the most compared to the other two. There's allotted time and plans for progress all written down. Important events like tournaments and the like are in his notebook as well.

Unlike Fukuzawa, sparring would definitely be one of your more frequent "bonding" activities. Kunikida believes it saves time and is just a win-win for both of you anyway.

Now this one is a little too mindful about what part of you he touches whether it's during demonstration or actual sparring. He apologizes extremely quickly and frequently even when it's nothing too bad. He also gets flustered if you two are in any way, shape, or form in an awkward position.

Which is why although the gap in skill is considerably large (but not as large as with Fukuzawa), you can catch him off-guard and tease/surprise-tackle him. This is Kunikida we're talking about - any barrier he has put on will disintegrate quickly. Push him just a little and you will get reaction that you want.

"Focus, Y/N."

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you that?"

"I-I-"

Eventually, he'll let you off the hook with any of your antics as long as it doesn't delay your schedule.

tagging: @stygianoir, @requiem626k , @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas

[zhongrin]

dear mei and her dearly beloved,

how have you both been? days have been harsher here, and in spite of our hard efforts to overcome these barriers, times have been tougher recently. jiaoqiu appears rather at peace with his condition, but i'm afraid something darker is rotting inside his heart. if only i knew.

on the brighter side, we have been closer than ever these few days, and he seems rather at peace with not running about the place due to his duties; much like he was all those years ago. i'm certain you remember, back when we were in university together. those were easier days, and love was easy to maintain as it was to blossom.

when zhongli would be busy with other duties, i would drag you to the cafeteria to ask you about everything you knew about boys and their likes. you seemed to be rather fond of the fact that i had never been in the company of many, and would often tease me, but answer my incessant questions regardless. beautiful days, those were.

oh, and do you remember that time the four of us were a part of the same team that went to the swamps as a part of our educational tour? best memory ever! zhongli would be so cheesy all the time, always telling jiaoqiu and i to leave you two to your privacies for a while and go 'enjoy our few days of single-ness' and we'd never understand what you meant until one of those days of wandering off resulted in us falling for each other, and you both resulting in a hearty fit of laughter when we told you both about it.

alas, all good days come to an end. although i must say; every day spent thinking about our memories together is a day cherished. jiaoqiu speaks of zhongli often, and hopes you two will drop by some time. he seems to be of the impression that zhongli is an 'old man' who struggles with his vision all the time so he would be able to give amazing tips with his current condition. zhongli would be amused, i bet.

take care, mei. attached with this letter is a tin box of the lotus candies that you both love, made with care by jiaoqiu. he hopes it will be enough an apology for not having dropped by when he was in your city, and is rather disappointed about it. do console him. he refuses to listen to me, and is too nervous to speak to zhongli on his own. i also hope zhongli has been doing well, and wish good luck upon the both of you.

with love, cherry and jiaoqiu.

dear chryseis and jiaoqiu,

i have routed your letter to meirin, but she seems to be particularly taken with some work and house chores at the moment, so i have been given the liberty to reply, i hope you do not mind.

my heart goes out to the both of you. if you ever need any help, please remember that we are always here for you two. it may be hard to initiate such sensitive topics directly, so if you ever need us to become the middleman to kickstart the topic just so you both could talk about it in private afterward, please do not hesitate to let us know.

ah, yes, the olden university days. i am constantly reminded of them whenever i walk the university halls. i find myself seeing us in some of my students as well. looking at it from this perspective, it all feels almost surreal sometimes.

i had no idea you would talk about 'boys and their likes' with mei back then. i'm glad you both could bond and support each other over such topics. but i have to ask, did she ever say anything about myself back then? foolish and young as i was, she must have had a multitude of complaints about me.

i'm afraid the glasses you may have seen in our photos only serves an aesthetical purpose. meirin insists that i wear them sporadically, and my students encourages me to abide by her wishes. after a while, i find myself taking a liking for it as an accessory myself. i do, however, have a few acquaintances who might be knowledgeable about this issue jiaoqiu is facing. let me forward you their contacts when i have the details.

please extend my gratitude to jiaoqiu for the lotus candies. it's not much, but meirin had baked some banana oat cookies the other day. i hope you both will enjoy her latest baking endeavors. i've relayed your message to her, and the following is her reply, which i have transcribed word-by-word: "you think some lotus candies is enough apology? come apologize properly to our faces! …. haha, i'm kidding. wow, i feel mean saying that. i meant, don't worry about it, but be sure to drop in next time!".

lastly, while the good old days may not return, let us continue to look forward to the infinite possibilities of even better days which are to come.

postscriptum. i hope the both of us may reconvene soon; meirin has been cooking more often lately and wanted some guidance from an expert. i think she's just excited to show you the progress of her culinary skills and is itching to catch up with the two of you, but i implore you to entertain her. you have my thanks.

always wishing the best for the two of you, zhongli and meirin

[simplifiedemotions]

For @sumbul 🐰

It would be fine, Draco told himself as he exited the lifts to the DMLE. He looked around, breathing a sigh of relief at the relative din of the early morning.

He was doing office work today, and could hide the offending thing currently perched on his open hand. If someone came into his office, he would simply shove it into his desk drawer to hide it from view.

As if the small white rabbit currently nestled in Draco’s hand could read his thoughts, it gave him a look of abject betrayal, eyes wide and pleading. He scowled at it, but conceded a brief pet of its floppy ears.

“Alright, Malfoy?” asked Dresilda, one of the senior Aurors who seemed to have a knack for catching Draco unawares (see: that time Draco came out of the supply closet with a mortified Granger hiding behind his robes.)

Dresilda had given them a wicked grin before sauntering away, leaving Draco at the hands of a very angry witch.

Draco jumped, though he felt no relief when he saw she was alone. He was sure word of his new pet would reach the Auror bullpen before lunch, thanks to the ever-loose tongue of his superior.

“Did you stop by the Magical Creature department on your way here?” she asked, her shoulders shaking suspiciously, lips pursing in a tight line before she finally let out a cackling laugh.

He scowled at her, then turned on his heel to take the long route. When he made a sharp turn towards the archive wing, he bumped right into Granger.

With the same force she came at everything, Granger barrelled right into Draco’s chest, causing him to almost lose his hold on the fluff ball.

To stemmy both their falls (he was grateful for all his etiquette lessons as a boy), he caught hold of Granger’s waist before she tipped back and fell, still holding the rabbit in his other hand and lifting it in the air if it were a prized snitch.

“Steady on,” he said, privately delighting in the way her soft curves felt beneath his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” she said jovially, looking up at him with a small smile, before turning her gaze skywards, eyes widening.

“Malfoy,” she said, bafflement written in the furrow between her eyebrows. “Are you aware that you’re holding a bunny rabbit?”

The bunny in question raised its chin, staring at Granger as if considering if the fluffy-haired witch was an ally or an enemy.

Draco’s mouth twitched upwards.

“I am.” He sighed, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t make it to his office as fast as he would’ve liked. “Teddy decided that it was a good idea for me to chaperone his bunny rabbit while he was forced to go to the doctor. Evidently, there is a no-pet rule.”

She let out a light laugh, then set a hand on his arm. There was an odd, fluttery sensation in his stomach at the touch.

Draco had long decided that Granger had offensive knuckles. She would brush them down his arms, his sides, and, in one particularly offensive moment, down his cheek. Those same knuckles scorched his already heated skin as she turned her hand and brushed his sleeve.

“And you were the only hero available?” she asked teasingly.

He grimaced. “Mother was there too, but she’s allergic to rabbits. The entire time she was there, she was wearing a bubble-head charm.” He chuckled at the memory of his mother, whose stern frown held no weight with the thin film of liquid surrounding her. “We had to raise our voices so she could hear us in her bubble.”

“Your mother is allergic to rabbits?” The idea seemed to bother Granger greatly.

“She is.” He started heading towards his office, ready to say goodbye, but paused when Granger fell in step beside him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Did you know a gathering of bunnies is called a fluffle?”

“A fluffle?”

“Yes!” She slapped her hands together, her eyes filling with glee. “Actual bunny colonies. I think I’d die if I ever saw one.”

“And this is important information?”

Her cheeks coloured. “Well, no. But the idea that a bunny colony is called a fluffle is spectacularly adorable,” she said primly.

“Flunny, even. Granger—please don’t laugh.”

This did not dissuade her, and she laughed all the way to his office. “Sorry. That was just such a terrible dad joke,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She gave him a considering look as she turned fully to face him. “Though I suppose ‌you are a bunny dad now.”

He glared at her, then spelled his office open, cursing inwardly that he held the rabbit with his wand hand. If there was a sudden attack in the Auror Department, he’d go in rabbit-blazing rather than wand-blazing.

He was certain the rabbit just gave him another betrayed look.

When Granger walked in with him, he gave her a confused look. “I didn’t realise this was your office.”

“I’m just glorying in seeing you like this,” she said, smiling wryly. “Your obnoxiously tailored robes and coiffed hair really suit her.”

Draco scoffed, holding the rabbit closer to himself as he made to step towards Granger. “How do you know it’s a she?”

She grinned. “I’m the one who bought her for Teddy. Though I have heard no word on its name.”

Of course Granger would be the one to gift someone something annoyingly adorable. Two words he’d also use to describe her.

“Teddy is a genius five-year-old,” Draco started, unable to contain a smile.

Granger raised an eyebrow.

“He named it The Chosen Bun.”

He had to give Granger credit. She thinned her lips in a straight line—even put her hand over her mouth to stop the torrent of laughter that was clearly trying to make its presence known.

“Does Harry know?” she asked, voice muffled by her palm.

“He was a bit horrified, to my eternal glee,” Draco said, letting out a laugh, then another, until Granger joined him. They laughed for a solid minute, until Draco’s stomach hurt, and Granger had to wipe tears from her eyes.

“Oh god,” she said. “Nothing will top this for me today. I can’t wait to harass Harry.”

He looked at her smile, at the way it brightened his unlit office, and thought nothing could ever top the image of her.

She seemed to sense the change in the air as well, because she blushed. Her avid gaze and knowing eyes made his heart pound.

“I like it,” she said lightly, laying a hand on his arm. His blood roared in his veins, “You look… attractive with a small animal.”

Draco blinked, feeling as if he’d combust on the spot.

She gave him another smile, before reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. “I have to go,” she said softly, right at the scene of the crime in which her knuckles had first caused destruction.

Granger was trying to kill him with that smile, that mouth. It was a sort of lazy larceny she’d honed to precision.

Soft knuckles brushed down his arm again (beautiful thief, he wanted to say), before she gave the rabbit a gentle pat on the head. It seemed to have made up its mind about Granger, because it leaned into her touch.

After Granger left, Draco sat at his desk, considering the floppy-eared menace, which was now sniffing the air and tentatively moving its front legs on the hard mahogany desk.

“Don’t suppose you’re part of some rabbit colony?”

The rabbit’s floppy ears twitched once, and then it rolled onto its side and promptly fell asleep on Draco’s palm.

“I suppose not,” he said with a roll of his eyes. And smiled.

[starres-stuff]

Day 10: Stable FFXIV Write 2024

Stable:  a building in which domestic animals are sheltered and fed.

“It is good to see everything has been kept in tip-top condition since my last visit. You have never given me a reason not to trust you, even when I am malms away.” 

It had been several Moons since Viviane had taken a trip to the Jienuex Chocobo Ranch, near Tailfeather in Dravania usually leaving Qih'a to the visits so that he could visit with those who took care of him while he had amnesia. Currently, Vi was chatting with T'halia Lihzeh, the Matriarch of the Lihzeh clan that lived on the ranch and the woman who ran it in her absence. 

“We've had good weather!” The white-haired Miqo’te grinned, there was always a sense of pride in her smiles that gave away just how confident she was in herself and her abilities. 

“Qih'a and the other boys got the roof on that there stable ship-shape when he was out here last Moon. That boy is damn good with a hammer, but then he did learn from me and I'm the best there is.” T’halia pointed her thumbs towards her work overalls and then sneezed; causing her eyes to cross. This brought a musical giggle from Vi’s lips as the Miqote's eyes crossed. 

“It looks wonderful from here, nice and sturdy. Have there been any more leaks since then?” The concern was noticeable in Vi's voice and she worried at her lip slightly. The ranch was the sole generator of House Jienuex Assets now. There used to be other ways that Vi's Mother supported the continuation of the family generational home in Ishgard but when Vi stepped up to Baroness she shut down the often shadier businesses that her Mother had run, in hopes of making an example to others that gil could be made without brothels and criminal activity. 

“Not a single leak, no more cranky Bobo’s; haven't lost a strand of hay we didn't already expect we would. C'mon, let's have a gander. I know a certain red-feathered Chocobo who would love to see you, Baroness.” Thalia, who was much shorter than Vi, crooked her arm and offered it to her to hold, which Vi did without thought. It would not be the first time nor the last. 

“Heard you got married last spring. Two husbands knew you would take after me. When should I expect you to bring them by? Any chances we will see some little ones running about soon?” T'halia turned her head, her one remaining eye winking at Vi. The other had been lost in the same fire that cost Qih’a his as he fought through a burning building to rescue T'halia from within. 

“I am not certain, on either account, honestly. We all have such busy schedules. Clement is a businessman himself, has a focus on growing fruits and vegetables in the cold of Corethas using Greenhouses, he spends a great deal of time opening trade routes through the snows.” Vi's features warmed as she spoke of the Elezen and her eyes twinkled. She admired his dedication to his work immensely. 

“Kovalt on the other hand is what the Gridania's call a Hearer, they can hear the Shroud speak in even the tiniest of plants. He spends alot of time at the Conjurer's Guild and out on duty. Then you have me with my performance career and the bakery. We are three very busy people but we make it work.” The happiness in her voice made T'halia grin again, and her free hand lifted to pat Viviane's thoughtfully. 

“Well don't let being busy stop you from kids, lass. It's my job to remind you, that you need an heir or two to take the mantle from you when it's time and there will be a time.” It was a serious conversation that Vi knew she had to have, but she was nowhere near ready to speak about even with T'halia who she knew most of her life.

Silence enveloped the two women as they walked through the soft grass towards the reconstructed stables, the closer they got the easier it was to see the red feathers amongst the sea of yellow the others created. 

“There she be Baroness.” T'halia of course meant the stable but Vi was already lost to her, a sense of joy appearing in her face. 

“Pandora!” She cried out, the bird swiftly turning her head at the sound of Vi's voice, and a loud “KWEH” erupted from her beak, this caused Vi to let go of T'halia's arm and rush toward the Stable and right inside without even looking at the roof or anything else, even T'halia for that matter. 

“That's right Lady Vi, you already have a daughter don't you.” The Miqo'te chuckled to herself as she moved forward again just in time to see the two hug, Pandora's excited Kwehs and Vi's squeals bringing a smile to her face as she disappeared into the stable to join them. 

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Romance of Anonymity

Part 2/2

@polyshipweek 2023 prompt day 3 - Bed Sharing

I have nothing much to say about this one other than the fact that finishing this puts me officially at 12,058 words written for these first three prompts for the week. I just started writing it all this weekend...I'm very sleepy haha.

--//--

Their final stop on this outbound leg of the trip, before they turn back towards home, is a Super 8 just off of route 212. Meng Yao draws the short straw so he gets out of the car and pauses to stretch his arms high above his head, even going up on his toes to elongate his spine as much as possible. (Is he possibly doing it partly to make his enormous boyfriends jealous that they can’t get out to stretch yet? Yes, absolutely yes.)

When he’s given up on getting the perpetual tight spot at the base of his spine to pop for now, he drops his arms with a huff and heads into the motel lobby that smells like all motel lobbies do – a little bit like floor cleaner, a little bit like cigarette smoke, and a lot like stale air that way too many people have breathed first.

He asks the bored looking teenager behind the counter for a room for two nights, and he smiles pleasantly in the face of her bright pink bubblegum expanding, expanding, popping before she turns a bored look down to the check-in book, her ballpoint pen waggling manically between her thumb and forefinger.

“All we’ve got’s the honeymoon suite,” she tells him around her chomping. “Tourist season, you know?”

“Yes,” he commiserates, because if there’s anything he understands it’s the pain of menial retail work, even if he doesn’t understand why the Super 8 has a honeymoon suite. “That’s fine, I’ll take it.”

The girl – Amanda, according to her scuffed up nametag – nods and blows another bubble as she reaches for the key. She runs through the usual gamut of questions to check him in, informs him of the check-out time two mornings from now and the existence of a continental breakfast at 8:30 in the morning that Meng Yao desperately hopes they won’t need to subject themselves to, and then he’s heading back out to the lot with the key and a smirk on his lips that his boyfriends clock the second he gets back in the car.

“What are you so happy about?” Mingjue asks him, already smirking as well just in anticipation. Meng Yao leans forward over the seat to bat his eyes at Xichen behind the wheel, dangling the rather unremarkable key off the tip of his finger with a little jingle.

“Er-ge,” he purrs, “Will you please drive us around the back of the building to the honeymoon suite?”

Mingjue’s deep belly-laughter is music to his ears as Lan Xichen turns a brilliant shade of sunset pink and buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with his own laughter as well.

“A-Yao if you walked in that lobby and asked for this we’re stopping in Vegas on the way home,” Mingjue tells him when they’ve finished hauling all of their luggage inside for their luxurious two nights in the same place. Xichen’s currently stuck staring in dreamy-eyed awe at the king-sized bed (thankfully bed-shaped and not heart-shaped as Meng Yao had half-feared) that they’ll be sharing, so Meng Yao leaves him to it and sets about digging around for his toiletries.

“Much though I’d like to see this strange new impulsivity of yours play out, no, I did not walk in and ask for this room. It’s the only one left, apparently the motel’s packed with tourists.”

“I sincerely hope we aren’t sharing a wall with a young family,” Xichen pipes up, his voice a little muffled from the way he’s still covering both of his cheeks with his hands, his face smooshed up between his own palms. “Their children may require The Talk a little prematurely.”

“Occupational hazard when staying in cheap motels, I suppose. But no, ge, we have a supply closet on one side and the laundry on the other, I checked as we were coming in,” Meng Yao tells him. “Probably for the best considering what the room is for.”

Mingjue wrinkles his nose a little at that and spares the bed a dubious glance.

“Oh god how many people do you think –”

“Absolutely do not under any circumstances finish that thought,” Meng Yao warns him with an admonishing finger pointed straight at his face. “You do not want to know the answer, and I would like to get laid tonight.”

“You say that like you haven’t already gotten some every night this trip, including the one we spent in the car.”

“I’ll do it either way, A-Yao, I don’t care,” Xichen offers; Meng Yao snorts and shares an indulgent look with Mingjue.

“We know, er-ge. Your willingness has never once been in question.”

“And there’s a very good reason for that, sweetheart, have you seen both of you?”

“I swear I had no idea being cooped up in a car with us for a week would make him so horny,” Mingjue mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “When we get home I’m sticking him in the Jiangs’ big fridge at Lotus Pier for at least a full day.”

Meng Yao raises a brow at Mingjue and makes a point to drift a little closer to where Xichen is still making googly eyes at the bed. “Speak for yourself, I’m thoroughly enjoying horny Xichen. You’re just ungrateful.”

On cue, Xichen reaches out to reel him in with an arm around his waist and a smile pressed into his hair that makes Mingjue roll his eyes at them before clearly giving them up for a lost cause, considering he turns to dig around in his own suitcase for his toiletries.

“Fine, fine, I’m going to go take a shower and you two enjoying being gross together out here.”

“Are you doubting the shared showering capabilities of the Super 8 Motel’s honeymoon suite, Mingjue?” Meng Yao teases to feel Xichen laugh against the side of his head, to see Mingjue tilt his head back to stare up at the ceiling for a long moment in an attempt to pretend like he isn’t smiling too.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. We won’t die if we take turns one at a time tonight.”

Meng Yao shrugs and settles into Xichen’s arm with a happy sigh, pleased to have his steady, tight warmth wrapped around him to counteract the way he feels like he’s still kind of in a moving car after so many hours and days on the road.

“You’re tense, A-Yao,” Xichen murmurs in his ear as Mingjue disappears into the bathroom. “Want a massage?”

“I should be offering you that, you drove most of today. Tradesies?”

“Mmm deal.”

By the time Mingjue comes back out of the bathroom smelling like home (now that they have the time to bother with breaking out their own soap rather than using what’s provided) and wrapped up in nothing more than a scratchy little too-small towel, Meng Yao is laying between Xichen’s thighs with his face buried in his boyfriend’s stomach and arms around his waist while Xichen scritches through his hair and occasionally dips down to rub his shoulders. (Meng Yao feels like he could start purring any second he’s so content.) When the massive bed barely dips under Mingjue’s weight, Meng Yao reaches blindly for him until he can lace their hands together and bring Mingjue’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles before he just…holds his hand right there, knuckles pressed to lips as he breathes in the steam-sticky air.

They ate dinner out earlier, a long stop at a steakhouse on their route, and so there’s nothing pressing to do now that they’re in for the night except…exist. Meng Yao drifts happily through lazy lassitude and feels it like a barometric change as Xichen and Mingjue both lose the keyed up energy of the road in favor of the same sleepy sort of heaviness dragging at him. He isn’t tired, he isn’t in danger of falling asleep, but it’s been a long week (it’s been so good, but so draining), and he knows Mingjue and Xichen feel the same. It’s nice, then, to lay together like this knowing that they don’t have to go anywhere in the morning if they don’t want to, and there’s nothing else for them to do tonight.

(Xichen called Lan Qiren last night to reassure him they haven’t died on the road, and then Mingjue called Nie Huaisang to make sure he hasn’t died on his own in their house. Meng Yao gets them all to himself tonight, as he has for the vast majority of this week, and yet somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough.)

He stirs a little at that thought and nudges Xichen’s shirt up enough with the tip of his nose to drag kisses against his warm skin that barely count as such; he parts his lips and drags them over the soft planes of Xichen’s stomach, over the waist of his jeans, down into the warm space between his forearm and his hip, and Xichen shivers slightly underneath him before he relaxes again, more than before.

“Er-ge needs his shoulders rubbed, da-ge,” Meng Yao mumbles against Xichen’s hip. “I’ll do yours if you do his.”

Meng Yao melts further into Xichen as Mingjue gently breaks their grip on each other’s hands in favor of skating a broad, warm palm down the length of his back, ending with his hand on his ass and like this it barely even feels sexual, it’s just…comforting. To be held, to be theirs. To be so solidly theirs that any touch is okay. Anything feels good, simply because it makes him feel known.

“You have to let him up if I’m going to rub his shoulders. Sorry babe,” Mingjue tells him with an apologetic kiss to his temple.

Meng Yao does as asked with some grumbling. Xichen sets aside the book in his free hand with a smile to sit up straight again, and adds his own apologetic kiss to Meng Yao’s other temple, just for good measure.

It takes a bit of adjusting – Xichen on the floor at the foot of the bed, Mingjue sitting behind him with his feet on the carpet, legs bracketing Xichen, and Meng Yao kneeling behind Mingjue – but they get there with the same lazy happiness suffusing everything else about their little bubble. Once settled, Meng Yao hooks his chin over Mingjue’s shoulder and slings his arms around his waist to watch him press and dig strong thumbs into the tense, long line of Xichen’s neck until their boyfriend sighs in barely-concealed relief.

“There you go,” Mingjue says, soft and warm. “Good, A-Huan.”

When that simple praise makes Xichen whimper, Meng Yao’s hands on Mingjue’s stomach twitch in sympathetic pleasure, and without his conscious input he strokes delicate fingertips up the thick line of him, sturdy and densely-muscled. He’s just so much in the best way possible, and some of Meng Yao’s lassitude slips away as he skims teasing hands along the beloved, familiar contours of him.

“A-Yao, feeling me up is not the same as rubbing my shoulders,” Mingjue says. Meng Yao, one hand squeezing the swell of Mingjue’s pec without any shame and the other slipping down towards the overlap of his towel hanging on for dear life by a mere inch of fabric, just smirks and lays his cheek on Mingjue’s shoulder to kiss his neck.

“I’m getting there, don’t question my methods.” He pinches Mingjue’s nipple for good measure; laughs when Mingjue jumps and swats at his hand with a laugh of his own.

“You two are hopeless,” Xichen hums from his spot sitting tailor-style on the floor, hands on his knees like any good Lan boy trying to meditate and relax in spite of his boyfriends roughhousing just behind him.

“It’s just foreplay, er-ge, you know he likes it rougher than you do,” Meng Yao says sweetly as he stops groping Mingjue long enough to find a knotted up muscle just under his shoulder blade. Where Mingjue’s method of massage is slow, firm pressure and coaxing tired muscles to relax, Meng Yao takes a somewhat more…pointed approach.

Mingjue hisses through his teeth for Meng Yao digging the point of his extremely bony elbow straight into the center of the tension, but he doesn’t let up. He holds Mingjue’s shoulder still with his free hand and presses, presses, presses – until Mingjue rolls his shoulder a few minutes later and the muscle gives up with a not-very-reassuring crunch and a judder.

“Fuck that feels good,” Mingjue groans, slumping forward until his forehead is resting against Xichen’s hair. Meng Yao runs the flat of his palm up and down Mingjue’s spine a few times, slow and soothing, and marvels again for what feels like the thousandth time this week that they can just…do this. He can have this. It still strikes him at odd times, utterly unexpected – a lightning flash of sharp hot want, a desire to be selfish and greedy and claim everything that these two will give him, followed by the thundering rumble, steady and building, that that’s not only allowed, but desired.

“Mingjue,” he mumbles to try to hide how it wants to stick in his throat, all this wanting. “Can you and er-ge come to bed?”

Xichen, already so closely attuned to all the little nuances of his voice for better or for worse, pats Mingjue’s hair to get him to sit up and extricates himself neatly from his loose hold to stand, turn, and promptly press Meng Yao down into the bed exactly how he likes, firm but not overbearing. Meng Yao goes easily under the weight of him, willowy strong and lovely as he leans in to press their cheeks together, just breathing through the intimate press of it until Meng Yao (hopefully) won’t feel like he’s willing to crawl out of his skin if it’ll mean getting to be closer to his partners.

Somewhere underneath the hazy warmth Xichen is pressing into him, there’s a tiny piece of him that worries it’ll all be swept out from under him one day, and that sooner rather than later. But it’s hard to think about the worst that can happen when Xichen is holding him down, when Mingjue is shucking his towel and turning down the covers without dislodging them. When he’s done, It’s easy enough to do an awkward little shimmy up the bed far enough to slip between too-crisp, too-cool sheets to join Mingjue beneath them, already bare and radiating more than enough heat to make even the thin cotton sheets too much to cover up with, let alone the blanket and comforter also still piled neatly on top.

There’s quiet talking and a few chuckles for the questionable logistics of finagling all three of them into getting naked and settled into a comfortable configuration when none of them want to be too far apart, but when they do finally get there, for a few long minutes there’s nothing but the comforting hush of out-of-synch breathing, the hum of the air conditioner under the window, and the occasional whisper of skin-on-skin, or skin-on-cotton.

Meng Yao drifts in it, content and resting, waiting patiently now that he has bare, warm skin pressed against his and the knowledge that they have all night together settling under his skin again, his moment of urgency soothed instantly by the two who know him and his moods the best.

Mingjue, for all his teasing earlier, eventually makes the first move. Meng Yao sighs and settles in as Mingjue brushes scratchy little kisses along the line of his shoulder, his neck, until he’s turning Meng Yao’s head the other way with kisses to his jaw – and of course Xichen is there to meet him in a heartbeat. He and Mingjue are just…like that, Meng Yao has found, and while at first it had made him feel perhaps a little left out, it had quickly become something he loves (mostly because they use their weird synchronicity to give him everything he asks for and then some in ways that take him apart and put him carefully back together again, so it really all works out in his favor).

What starts out slow and ponderously lazy doesn’t stay that way for long – it never really does when it’s all three of them, to be fair. Tenderness is usually saved for when Xichen is with him or Mingjue separately, or on the rare occasions Meng Yao doesn’t feel like biting every inch of Mingjue he can get his teeth around. And so when his boyfriends fuck him so good he forgets he even has a body, Meng Yao sinks into the satisfying exhaustion of it with a grin he can’t suppress and his heart pounding with the knowledge of what he’s going to tell Mingjue and Xichen the second they’re recovered enough to actually hear him.

He practices it once, in a whisper, under the cover of their ragged breathing. With so much bed to go around they’re both barely touching him as they recover, outstretched hands and tangled ankles under their kicked-off blankets all that binds him to them as he stares up at the spot of a streetlight from the parking lot glowing on the ceiling and tells them, soft and simple, “I love you.”

This time Xichen gets to him first. There’s an arm slung over his waist, squeezing tight tight tight, and a face buried in his neck that suddenly feels warmer and wetter than it had a moment ago. Meng Yao wraps an arm around Xichen’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his forehead just as Mingjue kisses him in the same spot near his hairline, long and slow, leaning over him propped up on one elbow to manage it without squashing him.

Meng Yao feels Mingjue rubbing his free hand up and down Xichen’s back, and Meng Yao strokes Xichen’s hair off the back of his neck, and when Xichen’s recovered enough from both his orgasm and the strongest of his emotions Meng Yao finds himself under an onslaught of kisses punctuated with ‘I love you’s in every flavor spilling from Xichen’s kiss-swollen lips in between each frantic press of mouth to skin. Mingjue mutters it against his hair, his temple, his ear, his jaw, and Meng Yao blinks up at the ceiling gone a little wobbly around the corners of his vision and wonders, half-wildly, if Mingjue was serious about that pit stop in Vegas on the way home.

(They spend the next day in bed, because there’s no reason on earth why they can’t. Yellowstone will still be there the day after, with all its trails and quiet spaces and whatever else it is his boyfriends are so interested in seeing. Meng Yao is happy enough for now with just this – just his boyfriends lazing around in bed with him, the tv set to some awful news channel low enough that it’s nothing more than a murmur, and each of them pursuing their own pastimes in each other’s company.)

(A few days later, when they’ve turned to trek home again, he finds out Mingjue was, in fact, very serious about going to Vegas. They make it all the way to the Strip before Meng Yao folds, and Mingjue laughs at how deeply Xichen pouts about not getting to marry one of them after all [he doesn’t even know if that could happen, but it’s worth knowing anyway]. Meng Yao strokes his hair back over and behind his ear from his usual perch in the back seat and promises him one day they’ll find a way to do it. Xichen’s smile could light up all of Nevada, and probably California too.)

[ebitenpura]

Quesh World Mission/IA Minor Spoilers:

Moff Dracen gives the player a mission to invade the Three Houses' palace by fighting through the frontlines, or rely on the Hutt's inside-man to smuggle you in and skip the heavy fighting-- by taking a Quesh adrenal and being smuggled inside unconcious. To me, this wasn't so much a choice at all: die charging souped-up Republic commandos or go the sneaky route and infiltrate.

However, since this is Eight we're talking about, this is where it all goes wrong for him.

Especially since this is the same planet that manufactures the serum for Castellan restraints.

Instead of going through Nine's version of events, the Moffs were given the extra task of innoculating Eight with one of the first prototypes for the IX Serum. Easy enough, given that Dracen gave him a choice between life and death on an important mission where he has to take it.

Norvaan Kel was blackmailed into doing so, but the Republic discovered Portho's plan conveniently right as he was smuggled inside, and I definitely think the Chevin betrayed him and tipped them off in return for safety from the warring Hutt Houses and at the same time, informed the Republic about the Castellan Restraints. Albeit unknowingly, as he was only given sparse information about the strange adrenal but the tip was intriguing enough that the SIS investigated and was able to uncover the Empire's secret brainwashing program a little later, hence why they decided to use Cipher Nine at the timing of their class story instead of earlier as the serum would have been perfected by then.

Ironically, Eight also is the one who allows the Empire to seize a good chunk of the venom mines on Quesh and in turn the deposits of dimalium-6 by doing this world mission, so you could say this was an extreme precursor to the events of Imperial Agent if you headcanon this world mission as taking place prior to the brainwashing operations.

I also headcanon that since he received an early prototype of the Castellans it had a few design flaws/failed several instances of activation, so it's still technically running through him, but rather unpredictably. Wink wink. I'll have to brainstorm on that more.

Quesh has a lot of foreshadowing to the serum since AFAIK it's the only planet that has that much direct influence to the class story in the agent's, but it gets me so excited. I'm surprised it was that good considering Quesh is the WM everyone groans at bc it's partially mandatory (and now I understand why) before everyone forfeits it and skips it entirely.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (973): Tue 19th Nov 2024

I found a letter on the doormat this morning telling I'd been fined for driving down a bus lane on the way to see Amyl and the Sniffers. I didn't do it on purpose I just turned into it by accident and I haven't driven in over fifteen years so it will take me a while to get used to all this shit again but I didn't complain or bother to contest it I just went onto the Gateshead council website and paid the fine which was only £35 and doesn't result in getting points on your licence or anything so I just accepted that I'd fucked up. You'd think that the sign saying "BUS LANE" would have given me a clue but as I've only been driving on the same route for the last six months to work and know all the signs on said route I'm not used to reading new signs until its too late as it was in this instance. I'm planning a trip around the UK next year so to ensure this sort of thing doesn't happen again I'm either going to buy a SatNav or a bus. I meditated for the first time in a while today after beginning to read Alan Moore's Bumper Book of Magic. He provides some helpful tips for meditating that weren't suggested to me during the medidation class I attended a few years ago. For one he suggests focusing on a symbol and treating it as some sort of door that you pass through and treat the things you see as a sort of territory that you can travel around and explore. It took me a while to get the mental image of a red triangle as Moore suggested firmly planted in my head but once I did and I treated it like a doorway the world I stepped into became very vivid. I found myself in a field of wheat and after walking through it for a while I found circle of cars buried in the ground facing up like at Stonehenge. This was quite a revelatory experience as before this the only benefit Igot from meditation was a brief moment of relaxation but I never got to experience some of the surreal imagery I had heard about. This time I got a journey into a strange land and a feeling of relaxation too, sadly this brief moment of Zen didn't last as when I finished the meditation and opened my eyes I saw there was a letter on the floor telling me that on my way to the field of corn I'd gone through a bus lane again. Aw come on man, you can't fine me for what I do in my dreams that's just bullshit man!

[myriadxofxmuses]

Sydney agreed with silent nods as she spoke. Given her upbringing, she hadn’t been one to cherish memories.  There were so few that she was beginning to have a hard time recalling them. Only bits and pieces remained. But here talking with Ky was bringing up a lot of long forgotten emotions tied to the most important ones.  She was surprisingly enjoying the reminiscing.

The mention of comics caught her attention. Now she knew Ky and D would hit it off. The short, two years they spent as friends had ingrained itself so deeply that those were memories she would never forget. Including when she’d caught him reading comics and subsequently how much he’d enjoyed them once she convinced him he wasn’t a nerd for it. 

“Thanks,” she said with a tip of her bottle and a small huff of a chuckle. “And you’re one of the first people I haven’t wanted to put a bullet through your eyes,” she added playfully, taking a drink.

------

Two weeks later.

"So have you talked to Ky yet?" Syd asked Daryl as they loaded up a truck for about upcoming run.

Immediately a soft blush tried to make its way to his cheeks. "Yea. A little," he told her of their concersation at his place a few nights ago. And the few times they'd managed to catch a few words in between duties. "Why? S'she said somethin'?"

Sydney shrugged and shook her head. "Just curious," she half lied as she shut the truck bed and leaned against it. "But I still think you guys would hit it off."

"Yea. You n'Carol. She's been tellin' me tha same," he admitted, now leaning against the back bumper himself. He pulled a smoke from his pocket and lit up. "You two better cut it out. Ky s'too good for a guy like me," he told her with slight disappointment.

"You mean a good guy who actually gives a shit?" she asked rhetorically. "You gotta stop being so hard on yourself D. You'd be great for her and I really think you should take the chance."

Daryl silently smoke and took in her urging, even if he didn't agree.

"Tell you what. I'll give you an easy in. I found out she has a penchant for comics too," she told him.

He looked her way with what she could assume was hope he might be wrong like she said. In reality he was both surprised with the information and terrified she'd told Ky how much he enjoyed them too.

"Don't worry. I didn't tell her you're a geek for them too," she both assured and teased him. "But maybe you'll find something on the run." She pulled a folded up map out of her pocket. "Here," she told him, pointing to a marked spot.

He took it from her and looked it over. The spot was right on their route. "What's this?" he asked with a shrug, sliding the map in his back pocket.

"Comic store I saw on my way in here. I used it as a marker to find my way if I had to," ahw explained just as she caught sight of Ky coming their way. "Speak of the devil," she said with a knowing grin his way.

“Oh loads,” she joked back. “My social calendar is full up. Guess Negan’ll have to wait his turn,” she added with a smirk, taking a drink of her beer.

Nice, huh? Syd smirked into her bottle as she drank, Ky’s word swirling through her mind. She had found Daryl nice of all things. Not gruff. Or standoffish. Or the most popular first impression - the lone wolf type. Which he very much was, but she had found him nice. Interesting.

“He can be quite the chatterbox once you get to know him,” she told her, finishing off her slice and dusting off her fingers on her pants. “Or you get him drunk,” she teased him with a wiggle of her bottle.

She left the kitchen and headed into the living room. While she was grateful for what they had there, and also back at her place, she sure wished there was t.v. to kick back and watch. Anything at all. She’d even watch the news - even if it would have been the usual reports of death and destruction.

“You know what I miss?” she asked aloud. “Did you ever watch that gross, cryptkeeper guy that used to tell scary stories on t.v.? That. Of all the shows I remember as a kid, that’s the one I wish I could watch right now,” she continued. “Sort of ironic considering the walking dead would have been a great episode back then. Never thought life would be like getting sucked into one,” she added with a small chuckle before taking another drink. “Well, that, and Three Stooges. Its corny as fuck, but my grandma used to love that show. We would watch reruns late at night whenever she watched me,” she reminisced mostly to herself to keep the silence at bay.

Was it surprising that she had described Daryl as nice? The look on Syd’s face kind of led Kyleigh to believe it was but that was how he had been with her. Oh she saw how he was with the others, very short answers to their questions, right to the point. She couldn’t blame him for that. With the way the world was these days why let that many people get to know you when they could be gone the next morning? Maybe she was the one being too nice to him, but damn it was hard to find people she could stand and she could definitely stand to be around Daryl more often.

Tucking away that little bit of information and the fact that she was going to do her best to find some liquor while she was out on her next run, the half lycan finished off her beer as well and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. She wondered where the hell they were putting it all, shrugging it off quickly after. As long as it wasn’t near her why bother to even care?

The pretty living room of the house seemed so empty without a television in it, but even with electricity there still was no shows to binge watch or even just have the damn thing on in the background while doing something else. Kyleigh missed the days when she would lay in bed during the night when she couldn’t sleep and read her comic books while something played away on her small TV. Reruns of something that she kind of wished she had paid attention to now. Grabbing another bottle for herself Kyleigh made her way over towards where Syd was sitting and plopped herself down. Where in the hell had they found these damn couches? Better yet all of the furniture that was around them. Yes she had been made aware that this community existed before the world ended, but with more and more people finding it how did they manage to keep up with the demand?

“Oh shit I loved that show! My Aunt didn’t want me watching it because she thought it would give me nightmares but I still did. Some of the graphic novels I used to read were so much worse than what they showed. I think that’s what started my love of horror. Of course I never would have picked this to be my future either. Thought I was going to have to live the rest of my life slinging food and fixing cars. Not that there’s anything wrong with either one of those but having to deal with the people that come along with it? Yeah, not the fun part.” Pausing to open her new drink Kyleigh took a swig before she paused, hating herself already for what she was about to say. “Current company excluded from that. You’re one of the first people I’ve met that I haven’t wanted to throw a pot of hot coffee in their face.”

[rhokisb]

Dragonlance Session 8 : Between Rock and Earth

Happy New Year everyone!

Sorry for the delay, holiday season and whatnot.

We last found our party in the Elven capital of Qualinost where they were tasked with rescuing the captured people of Krynn from Pax Tharkas. During their time in Qualinost, our favorite problematic Dragonborn met the Elven princess, Laurana, who seemed to take an immediate interest in our angsty boy.

Unfortunately, she was kidnapped that same evening, putting a pin in our blossoming interactions.

The party started this week with leaving Qualinost to journey to Pax Tharkas, with Gilthanis as their guide. Before leaving, Lady Liadrin was given the title Captain (Lady) Liadrin, The Unbroken Jewel of Qualinost. She is to be the last warrior given rank in Qualinost during the Age of Despair as the elves readied to abandon their homeland to find sanctuary in the western lands.

Heading south towards Pax Tharkas, and the secret Elven entrance Sla-Mori, the team came across a bloodied battleground strewn with the corpses of men and Hobgoblins. While investigating the clearing, one of the bloodied men rose to his feet, warning the party of the ambush surrounding them. After defeating the ambush, the party spoke with the man, Eben, and agreed to take him with them on the mission.

Before reaching their destination the party witnessed thousands of Draconian soldiers exiting Pax Tharkas, headed towards the Elven homeland. This sight spurred the heroes towards their destination which they reached by the evening.

Having entered the hidden passages of Sla-Mori the party was IMMEDIATELY SLOWED by the DM's attempt at a puzzle dungeon. Yes, friends, we had it all. Back-tracking a hundy, no attempts at investigation roles, 0% questions directed at their guide; just a complete and utter disregard for their situation that bordered on absolute arrogance.

The party did recover an ancient weapon, Wyrmslayer, which was used by the first Speaker of the Sun of Qualinesti thousands of years ago. Neltharion was gifted the Greatsword after Aello begrudgingly admitted that she could not use it--but it looked dope and she wanted to keep it anyways. Having found the sword, the party returned back the way they came and took another route, where they found the ghost of a man long since trapped in Sla-Mori.

They asked this ghost NOTHING, just promised they'd get him out of Sla-Mori if he helped guide them. The ghost...who has been trapped in the tunnels for over 500 years. Guiding them, evidently. Not the living elf, this random ass ghost they found.

No matter, Gorm the dwarf just promptly heaved all those bones into his pack and continued forward. Surely no consequences there!

The ghost had offered them some tips in a highly manic voice. Those tips were as follows:

"Fools take the RIGHT way, continue through darkness, find the lowering stone. Touch not the tombs of the dead. Speak, “Friend to elf, dwarf and man.” and the doors will open. I’ll see you in time."

Again, nothing haunting or sinister there.

The team was very hung up on "the RIGHT WAY" so they opted to return back the way they came--completely passing the entrance where they could have taken the ghost so that he might escape, just fuck that, he's not going out the way they came in apparently--and continue exploring the room where they found the sword again. This time they found that the room was larger than they previously thought, and OH LOOK AT THAT:

A giant slug was stuck in it. Just a massive 1 1/2 story, 45 ft long slug.

So naturally, they decided to kill that thing. But they didn't just...attack it with swords and bows and whatever else they had. No no.

These absolute psychopaths proceed to torment this thing by casting both Phantasmal Killer and Phantasmal Force on this thing and forcing it to view the Tiefling Bard as an almost 7ft tall salt shaker, while the Dwarf made it believe that a 10ft bucket of salt was just perpetually hanging directly over its head.

When they asked me to make Wisdom and Intelligence saving throws for this thing I screamed, "MY DUDES, IT'S A SLUG." As it failed both of those miserably. They killed it within 2 rounds, as it could not move at all due to the phantom salt plaguing it.

To kill it, Neltharion and Rodriggo were right up on it and Neltharion stated that he, "Slid on his knees alongside the beast cutting it from end to end so that all of the entrails and nastiness purposefully lands on Rodriggo." It's...a love-hate thing they've got going.

We left our heroes being judged very harshly by Eben for the chaos and villainy of what they'd just done to this poor creature (who had obviously been just stuck in this room peacefully growing in size over the centuries, living its best life) which then caused an existential crisis over whether or not they were supposed to be friends with it (they weren't, but I enjoyed the sorrow and anxiety the thought provoked).

We will be picking up in the tunnels of Sla-Mori; Neltharion has a new weapon, Gorm is carrying a whole ass ghosts worth of bones, the party has a new ally (Eben) and Rodriggo is covered in slug goop.

Which is exactly where I love to leave things.

[ithebookhoarder]

Hi, maybe a steven fic where reader is a bad ass fighter or a sniper (oddly specific 😅 haha) and he's super whipped and impressed (I'm obsessed with oscar rn it's unhealthy 😥) thank you so much!

Take your shot (Marc Spector x Steven Grant x Reader)

A/N: First off, never apologise for being obsessed with Oscar - we've all been there 😆 Secondly, thanks for sending this in. I enjoyed writing this a little too much

Masterlist

----

“Pretty nice place to hide out, don't you think?" 

Your comment lingered in the air as you kept your eyes glued to the rather grand, and extravagant property positioned opposite you. 

The sun bleached stone structure was several stories tall, and extended across the dusty landscape. It was hard to miss as it was, given the scale of the complex, but the lush greenery that lined the property made the juxtaposition against the arid desert backdrop all the greater. 

With the heat of the desert, the property probably needed more water to maintain than the nearby village reservoir could provide… another reason you were perfectly ok with Marc and Steven’s plan to rob this asshole. 

Sure, you were after one item in particular, knowing how much Khonshu wanted it, but you’d be lying if you weren’t tempted to ask the pair of them to grab a few more goodies on their way out. You knew there would more than likely be some in the vault Marc and Steven were currently en route to pilfer. 

"I mean, if you were a billionaire collector, making money off of the black market, an oasis in the middle of the Sahara isn't exactly a bad location to stick your head in the sand."

Marc sighed. 

Even through your earpiece, it felt as if he was lying next to you, his tone making it clear he wasn't in the mood for your usual chatter. 

“You and Steven are just as bad as each other, you know. Always with the chatter... some of us are trying to concentrate here.” 

Maybe it was the incredible heat making him grouchy, but even if it was, you couldn't protest. The sun was baking you alive out there, even where you were currently hid, crouched in the lea of a small patch of shrubbery located just up the hill. 

Marc, however, was stuck trying to sneak in the place and - considering he was currently sneaking across a rooftop - wasn’t afford such luxury as shade. 

“Some of us can do more than one thing at a time, Marc. I’d have thought even you can walk and talk at the same time, or is that something only us sharpshooters get taught?” 

You kept your scope positioned on him as he continued to move in to position, skirting his way closer to the edge. All he had to do was drop down on to the balcony below and he’d be able to sneak into the room. 

If your intel was right, then what you were looking for was just inside, concealed in a safe stashed behind a large portrait… what a cliche. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. As long as you got the artefact and got to leave this inferno, you’d be a happy person. 

Unlike Marc, however, who did not look at all happy. 

His frustration was clear, even from your position miles away, as he fluttered his slightly damp shirt, which was beginning to cling to his toned body. 

Well, even if the climate wasn’t ideal, at least you could enjoy the view… 

You already knew what your plan was for when you were done here. A cold shower was in order... Or several... Anything to no longer feel like you were in an oven. You’d even invite Marc to join you - or Steven… or both, depending what mood they were in after all this was done. 

Given Marc’s grumbling, you had a feeling you knew what it would be like. 

“Keep it down, would you? Don’t make me regret agreeing to you coming along.”

“I’m just saying,” you continued, knowing you were only going to earn yourself an irritated moan as you did. Marc didn't disappoint. “Maybe - just maybe - our tip was wrong about this. I mean, maybe we should have done this at night, when it’s dark and it isn’t a thousand degrees outside."

"Patience, y/n”, Marc stated calmly, acting almost as if he knew something you didn't. “This jack ass isn’t home during the day, so this is our best shot - which is ironic, because the light also means you can give your best shot and cover my ass if I need it. We’ve come too far to think about packing it in.”

“You realise you just gave me permission to stare at your ass now?”

“As if you needed it, when we both know you’re already doing that.”

“Maybe,” you chuckled, trying not to laugh at the sight of Marc turning his head and giving you a wink. He knew you caught it, even from so far away. “But, as much as I appreciate the view, can we hurry this up, please?” 

Marc nodded, finally making the drop down onto the balcony below. He was quick to check the coast was clear before opening the doors, and ducking inside the top floor study. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m on it. Even I want to get out this blasted heat - we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I’m holding you to that - Steven too.” 

“We wouldn’t expect any less.” 

You were glad they knew it. After all, you might have trusted Marc more to get the pair of them out of this sort of situation, but you trusted Steven more when it came to honouring promises and commitments. If he told you something you knew he meant it - including agreeing to a plan, which was more than could be said of your slightly more rebellious partner. 

Sometimes you swore Marc deviated off script just to mess with you - he knew it made you both frustrated and reluctantly impressed when he then pulled his ass out of the mess he made. 

So, whilst your voice might have been badgering him via comms in his ear, at least you could count Steven to badger him from within. 

It was harder to tune him out than it was to cut you off and blame it on a technical issue. 

You could only imagine what Steven was saying right now, as he watched Marc sneaking his way about the office, clearly using the blueprints you’d acquired before hand to remember where to look. 

Part of you was amused that the safe you were after was concealed in so cliche a place as behind a bookcase. It was like these evil guys had no originality - maybe there was a memo they all got, telling them how to be a basic douche bag. 

The thought made a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. 

You knew both your boys were probably thinking the same as they hurried, pulling books off the shelves until the door finally swung open. Even from a distance, and down the scope of a sniper, you could see their efforts through the various windows decorating the property. 

The fact you caught Marc’s lips moving several times, and not whilst holding down the mic on your comms, told you he was talking to Steven. 

“How’s it looking in there?” 

“Almost got it.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, keeping him in the corner of your gaze as you took a quick sweep of the nearby area. You knew chances were there would be company and soon. There were too many guards rotating about the place, meaning your window of time was getting shorter by the second. That, and things often tended to go pear shaped when it came to you guys.

However, reminding them of that fact would just distract them from the task at hand - and probably start another bickering match which no one needed.

As it was, you could see Marc spinning a dial of some kind - most likely the lock on the safe, before finally ripping it open. 

Two more agonising seconds of watching him rifle around in front of him, and then you finally heard him cheer. 

“Got it.” 

Instantly relief washed over you. 

However, just as quickly as the relief appeared, it disappeared again as you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. 

"Uh... guys,” you began sharply, lifting your gaze off of Marc and turning it towards the two men you saw hurrying up the stairs on the outside of the building. “You’ve got company headed your way-“

“What?”

“Two targets, headed up the stairs. Probably twenty seconds out?”

“Shit.” 

You knew without looking Marc was hastily closing the safe again in an attempt to cover his tracks, and making a bolt for the balcony. You were too busy lining up your shot to risk sneaking a glance - but you held off the trigger. 

The sound of two guys being taken out would draw too much attention, and you wanted to give Marc and Steven a chance to try and get out undetected first. However, you were poised and ready, waiting for the command anyway. 

“Marc-”

“I know. I’m going! Just cover me.” 

“Ten seconds.” 

You heard Marc curse, and let your eyes flicker over as he made a dash to the balcony. 

He barely even took a breath before hurling himself over the edge, aiming for the one below. 

You felt a lump form in your throat as he dropped for a moment, before catching himself on the edge, and successfully landed on the ground. Relief was quickly replaced by adrenaline as you took aim, and began to eliminate the men who suddenly began to swarm around him. 

It was like riding a bike - aiming, firing, feeling the recoil as you reloaded and positioned yourself for the next shot. 

Sure, Marc was holding his own, but even he needed help keeping his exit clear. 

“Watch out! Six more incoming.” 

You hoped he heard your warning, but couldn’t be sure as he didn’t reply. Then again, he didn’t exactly have time given the fact he took off in a mad sprint.

You could just about keep pace with him as he took off, dashing in and out of the buildings dotted around the complex. However, he quickly disappeared from your sight and firing range. 

“Shit. Marc. I’m blind here.” 

No reply.

“Marc?” 

The lack of response would have worried you more, had you not had the exchange of gunfire echoing in the air, to tell you he was still ok. 

“Damn it,” you cursed once more, knowing there was no point you remaining away from the action. 

With that, you scrambled to your feet, and began to sprint across the dusty terrain, headed back to the bike you’d deposited a little way down the hill. Pretty much a rusty pile of nuts and bolts, it was all your contact had been able to provide you with for this mission on such short notice. 

Still, it worked, and that was all that counted for now. 

You leapt on, kicked off the stand, and took off down the dusty desert road. 

“Marc,” you tried again, hoping he could hear you. Thankfully, you heard him grunt in acknowledgement. “I’m coming up on the north side!”

“On - my - way!” he grunted, clearly occupied with other things at the moment. 

As you turned the corner, you saw exactly what it was that had his attention. 

You could see him up ahead, making a break for the road. However, he still had one guard on his tail - a rather large, beefy, guard.  

He was almost at the road when the man lunged at him from behind, knocking the pair of them to the ground. 

What was probably only a few seconds seemed to feel like minutes as you tried to close the distance between you. 

“Marc!”

As if hearing your warning, he twisted, a lifetime of training on display as he lashed out, striking the man before trying to break away. However, his assailant was clearly just as trained. He was on his feet just as quickly as Marc was, taking a blow to the face but refusing to fall. 

Instead, he reached for something inside of his jacket. 

“No!” You screamed, just as the man raised the barrel of his gun, ready to fire and take Marc and Steven away from you.

You revved the throttle, urging the bike to go all that bit faster but everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. 

The next thing you knew, there was a splatter of blood and Marc was looking up at you, his face a mix of shock and… relief as the man fell to the ground and didn’t move again.

The gun was in your hands.

Your finger was on the trigger.

Your sights were still trained on the man—on the red mass spreading out from his chest, covering the place where his heart should have been. He lay so still, as if he might be resting.

“Nice shot.” 

Steven’s breathless praise shattered you from your daze as you remembered that you were still not quite out of danger yet. That had been close - too close. 

“Steven?” You blinked, hearing the British accent all too clearly. “Wait. What? Where’s Marc?” 

“I don’t bloody know,” Steven yelped, eyes wide as he stared back and forth between you and the body lying on the ground. “Something happened inside. We keep switching - I blame this tiny trinket of misery.”

As if to prove the point, he held aloft the pendant that had brought you all here in the first place. You’d spent days staring at sketches and pictures of it, and knew it by sight. Although, it was somehow smaller than you’d imagined, given the significance and body count that came with the piece of bronze. 

“Well… ok. Shit. We can work it out later. Just get on.”

Steven didn’t need telling twice. 

He reached up to take your outstretched hand, and scrambled onto the seat behind you. 

“Uh, nice shot back there, by the way,” he stammered. You could have been mistaken, given the heat of the day, but you almost swore you saw him blush. “Bloody brilliant. Thanks… really saved our bacon.” 

“We’ll, we’re not out of the woods yet.” 

“Yes, Mam. Roger that.”

His grip on your waist tightened.

Whereas Marc was always keen to assert his independence and authority around you, Steven was a lot more reliant when it came to things like this. Sure, he could wipe the floor with you when it came to knowledge of the ancient worlds, or solving the crossword puzzles he loved so much. However, in situations like this, he was a fish out of water, and was only too happy to sit back and let you take control. 

You had a suspicion - given the glances he often shot you when he thought you couldn’t see them - that he’d more than likely let you take control of him in other ways, if you wanted to. Ways that would give even Marc’s best efforts in the bedroom department a run for their money…

The thought brought heat to your own cheeks, but you were prepared to blame the desert sun if anyone had asked. 

Thankfully, Steven and Marc were too busy at that moment in time to take notice. You did have an escape to make after all - a fact you were reminded of as a shot rang out once more. 

“Shit. Hold on,” you warned, though it felt redundant given the way Steven was sat so close, his front against your back, and his chin perched on your shoulder.

Still, he did tighten his grip as you revved the engine once more and took off,  spraying dust behind you in a massive cloud. 

 It was almost like you were flying and in a weird way, despite the sheer terror pumping through your veins, you felt more alive than you ever had before. You felt euphoric. You always did when you, Marc, and Steven were together. 

This… this was what you were meant to do, and in that moment, speeding towards chaos, you knew you’d found exactly where you belonged.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Can I request a Kai Parker smut

stuck in 1903

kai parker x reader / masterlist

summary; being trapped in the prison world after sacrificing yourself to protect your friends, leads to some very embarrassing and frustrating situations / warnings; kai being an annoying lil shit, mentions of death, smut, possessiveness, imprisonment,

the prison world, perhaps it would have been slightly peaceful if an entrapped witch was not following your every move like an obsessed ghost. he was relentless, stalking his threatening footsteps after your own, prowling for a manner of attention.

“if you stop this whole, ‘let’s walk in y/n’s shadow’ charade, i will have sex with you. can we pursue a deal concerning the matter?” instantly, the witch muted his movements, gripping onto the side of the aisle shelf as he studied you, searching to see if your prospectus contained serious regard.

once he had come to a conclusion, he raised his eyebrows. kai had tried his darnest to keep you contained in that house that he likened to call a home. there was something he didn’t wish for you to discover, he was keeping you isolated from everything within the empty world that his family had banished him to.

that made you think, that it was possible, that perhaps other souls had entered the enclosure of this world, and that was why you were seeking, in the hopes of providing yourself with the comfort that you weren’t alone in this cursed nation with the one, and the only, to your misfortune, kai parker.

there wasn’t much that you knew about him, he was a practical talker, rather than a personal one. he had stocks of questions about the modern world, so that he could relish in the imagery of how much it had evolved without him. a part of you pitied him, but another worried that there was a wisp of darkness that he was hiding.

you didn’t know him, he was a stranger, and that truth made him potentially dangerous. it was safe to always remain on your toes, even if he had a habit of trailing huskily after. it gave him no chance of envisioning you as a sitting duck, every day was the same, but he was the one thing that could change that.

one tip of his mindset, and he could remember that he preferred being alone. and he could kill you, piking you on a stake, despite being human, or using his siphoning hands to drain all life out of your body. this wasn’t your first rodeo with the aftermath of death; bonnie had found a way to bring you back, her power flowed through you, keeping you logically alive, to a fault that was.

parker licked his pork rind exploited lips, collecting the dust from the treat, and bringing it into the cauldron of his mouth. the man was thinking, and that idea alone scared you. however you waited for him to persevere with whatever was unravelling in his mind, although you could have easily passed him by, finding elsewhere to seek salvation.

“is there a due date for that offer, because i’d like to take you up on it right now?” a smirk curved his mouth. perhaps not every day was the same, this was certainly going to be different, that was one thing that was for sure.

he noticed how your shoulders withered from the thought; sex in a grocery store, you had never been so filthy, and despite there being nobody around to bare witness to the sin, it still had your skin crawling. hugging your arms across your chest, you sighed, giving into his slick prompt, leaning your head down out of self disrespect.

kai couldn’t be trusted, you knew that. not for the fact that his own family had sent him here, to wallow in nothing more than the loneliness of his own company. there had to be a reason! nobody’s mother nor father would do such an act for no resolving purpose.

gulping, you finally grew the guts to adjust your gaze on him, and how he tapped his foot, silently demanding a response. “i mean it kai, we have sex, and you stop trailing after me like some stray. you got that?”

he got it. his footsteps came closer to you as he backed you into a shelf along the outer wall, enclosing you against the packets of rustling pork rinds, accidentally crushing their interior contents, as you raised your chin up, obscenely glaring at the mysterious man.

“oh, i heard every word.” he held out his pinkie finger to make a promise, and sickeningly you reached your own out, shaking on it, before he rasped his hand around your wrist, pressing a kiss upon the thin flesh. leaning down, kai attached your lips, humming contently, it had been so long since he had endured the contact of another person.

with his unoccupied hand, he slithered it down your chest, dragging his knuckles down your stomach, before he reached the tender edge of your trousers. he toyed with the band, the action making you stifle any sounds of admitted likening to his teasing; if you did, then he would only continue to do so more.

it felt like forever since you had gotten laid, a large portion of you wanted kai to take you on the spot, which it looked as though that was his intent, and that he definitely would do so. but another felt sick of yourself, these were the extents that you would go to to be left alone, and there was not exactly a plan b if he didn’t.

you wanted to obtain a way out of this place, and possibly the only chance that you had of doing so was to wander away from his ever watching eyes, and strive on your own, trying to discover any evidence of life throughout this semi detached world. you felt like a cattle, being guarded by their herder, he was protecting you from anything that could daunt your mind with realisation.

it wasn’t the fact he was protective, it was more in the terms of possessiveness. though he wanted to leave, he claimed that there was no way out, he was intent on descending your hope of uncovering an escape, from not only the ghost town of your home, but from him also.

“what to first? should i just fuck you or make you blow me?” his teeth toyed with a sly smile, as though he were trying to convince you into a conflict regarding the answer. but instead of growing a fuzzy brain, you simply glared at him, pushing his fingers out from where they had slipped under the top of your bottoms, leaving the man to be a confused mess; it was kinda cute, but for all you knew, his often sublime attitude.

“i didn’t say foreplay parker, only sex was on the table. and that will be all you’re getting, unless you want me to leave you high and dry, and find another resolve to rid myself of your attached escapades of following after me like there’s a wire attached from me to you.”

“fine.” he raised his hands in a motion of surrender, chuckling lightly to himself. “i was just testing my luck, which is clear that i don’t have.” he turned, his brows going up higher on his face as he saw a variety of boxes stacked on one of the shelves. he picked one up, reading over the scripture as you scoffed.

“i don’t think your gonna need xxl, unless you’re going to cum that much since nobody has had their hands on you for a long time. you’ve had to suffice and please yourself for how long again?”

“spicy, i like it. eh, you’re right anyways.” he tossed the box down the aisle, grasping for another like a kid in the candy store, this time it was for the variety of average sized men. kai aggressively ripped the box open, causing the contents of packets to spill all over the ground.

“are you incapable of doing anything like a grown ass man?” it was irritating just watching him fail to do ordinary everyday tasks. he was destructive, and it seemed to be a large part of his personality.

“you won’t be asking that in a minute y/n/n.” he sent you a gruelling wink, making you inherently gulp, watching as he plucked a singular condom off the ground, holding it between his teeth as he began to unbuckle his belt, starting towards you.

“whatever you say kai.” rolling your eyes at his constant cockiness, you pried open your jeans, dropping your panties to the ground, as you caught kai frozen, with a slight swab of drool bathing his bottom lip. “come on, i am waiting, so hurry your ass up before i get bored of doing so.”

“you want this as much as i do, you just won’t admit it.” he lightly sneered towards you, and you felt your body flush with composed embarrassment. perhaps you had thought about the ordeal a little during the time you had been there, but there had to be some excuse! he was the only guy in a worldwide radius, that was a reasonable enough purpose.

when he was rid of apparel on his lower half, he rolled the protection onto his length, as he pinned you completely flush against the shelves of the aisle, one of his hands cupping your ass, before he helped you clamber into his arms, as he held your weight up.

you wrapped your legs expertly around his waist, biting your lip as he ran the tip of his cock against your clit, and then pushed into your walls, his moans reverberating erotically along the column of your throat, as he trailed his lips against your tender flesh.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he uttered as he began to thrust. it had been a long time since kai had endured any physical contact, let alone like this. the siphon was relishing in it, slipping his cock in and out of your folds as though that was his lifelong purpose.

for the first time in many years, he no longer felt trapped, he had inched into a small paving of freedom, all because he was inherent not to leave you to abandon alone. you too were also caught up in the web of pleasure, you didn’t here two specific sets of footsteps enter the store, searching for the witch that had claimed that he knew of a route out of this subordinate hell.

they had survived the enduring loss of their own freedom, being sucked from the force of a collapsing vacuum into this lonesome reality. the other side had fallen, and so had their jaws, as they saw kai not only having sex, but with you, their lost friend whom had given her life to previously save them from complicated doom.

bonnie felt borderline disgusted as she watched you shut your eyes and try to bounce yourself on the man’s cock, whilst damon was specifically disappointed. your hands rasped around his shoulders, though their grip tightened as your name was called.

as you turned and saw your friends, it all suddenly made sense. from kai’s behaviour, to his lack of inclination to leave you alone, it was clear that he was hiding you from them and vice versa. “bonnie, damon!” you gasped, unsure of how you were supposed to compose yourself throughout this predicament.

“yes, bon bon, damey.” kai mocked with a roll of his eyes, as he remained still to his own dismay. “could you maybe give us five minutes, we kinda weren’t done here. just let us finish, and- ow!” you slapped the side of his face, scrambling to situate yourself out of his menacing grip.

with downturned eyes, you hastily pulled your clothes back up into place, glaring at the siphon. “you knew didn’t you? you knew that these were my friends and you purposely made sure i was distanced from them!” you growled at kai, your eyes fluttering with disregard for the imprisoned magician.

“well if i had, then you’d be less inclined to spend time with me, and this, would never have happened.” his fingers pried at pointing between the pair of you, amusedly he would say, though you would think otherwise. “welcome to 1903 baby! the world of lies and disgrace.”

“you’re the disgrace, you killed your own family, your younger siblings.” bonnie spoke, and her words made you feel physically sick. “get away from him y/n.” you followed her command, rushing over to her and damon, with shock established in your eyes. you had just fucked a sociopath.

“well, i guess that the jig is up.” he shrugged as he conformed his own clothes to be put in place. the fact that you still felt a rouse to finish what you started made you feel disgusted with yourself, though he deserved to rot here. why did the bad guys always have to be so hot? it just was not fair.

[vischys]

The cambion barely tilted his head over his shoulder to regard the bomber's masked form let alone acknowledging the youth's dazed quality of commentary before advancing forward in a balefully determined gait, noiseless and fluid, with the tip of his tailcoat billowing from the breeze, a manner befitting an angel of death in pursuit of his next reap.

Were he in a less vengeful state, Vergil might actually take amusement from the foreboding manner that Navarro's bewilderment had taken form of, a stark difference from Shdwkyz's composed acknowledgement and Ink's juvenile excitement. Yet as he was now: one thought prevailed overshadowed the rest and trivial impression: to rendezvous with Ink as in to ascertain her well-being first and foremost. With every second they spent separated in this city where the Lovely Horrors were about, the more Vergil was aware that at any time now, Ink could encounter their murderous leader again and despite what Navarro's prior vouch of her victory this time around, he wanted , no, needed to be there. It had naught to do with Ink's own ability or Vergil's confidence over her prowess, but rather making peace with that part of him, that part that never ceased reminding him of his failure to protect his family in the past. His mother's smiling visage upon his brother's desk would never allow him to forget why she was not there in flesh.

Nevermore shall I be reduced impuissant and allow any to be taken from me.

The Darkslayer strode past the littering remains of the HYDE Followers his blade was liable for. Unlike the denizens of the Underworld whose remains evaporated forthwith following their demise, these HYDE consumers seemingly retained enough humanity for their remains to persist despite the absence of life within. He silently took note of this fact with an indifferent standpoint, convinced in his judgement and subsequent verdict.

They chose willingly to consume the so-called HYDE substance in return to their allegiance to the Killer Night. His fangs gritted behind his lips, the very moniker alone was enough to tempt him to draw his blade once more. No mercy shall be accorded to these self-seeking fustilarians and associated ilk.

Humans and demons, it matters not who and what they were. Those who stand upon his way with the intent to foil his purpose and knowledge of what consequence awaits shall be dealt justly and swiftly. This principle was reflected from the impeccable cut made upon said remains, not one swing of his blade was amiss for each was aimed not to inflict suffering, but to deliver an immediate end.

In the aftermath of the explosion and grim of battle receded, an aperture had been left upon a whole section of the channel frontward. As the son of Sparda approached it, he could sense a current of air that blew Yamato's sageo gently in his left palm.

Thus our next route is secured.

Vergil looked up, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to obtain a better sight of the area that lied across the opening. It was not an open area which made sense given how deep they were underground, but rather yet another channel though possibly the one with nearer access to the surface judging from the appearance of the HYDE Followers prior. All they needed to do thereby, was simply tracing the route those scums took in order to find the entrance and exit.

Least those scums are useful in death.

As Vergil made to cross the gap in the wall thereafter, he recalled a certain word spoken by one of the fustilarians : LIAISON. Is it a mere coincidence that they are using the same term to address a different contact?

The possibility of a conspiracy was presented in his mind once more, that the Lovely Horrors may not be as singularly responsible as they were in the mayhem currently befalling Harrisburg. Even if they were in New York and concerning Demon Blood Tears. Concerning Ink's traumatic confrontation with the Killer Night.

Nevertheless, both matters interrelate and shall converge toward finding Ink. It is merely a question of who reaches her first. Dante can see to this spurious liaison whilst I take upon the imminent Horrors. For faced with a horde of mutated humans and their host of gothic terror, the matter of the liaison had admissibly been deemed a lesser danger that he could entrust his brother with sans much concern and focus upon his own priority.

Gray eyes flicked toward the bomber then, recalling what the teen said about the blonde youth, Rust, being the first-hand witness to the aforementioned confrontation. There was naught more he could glean from Navarro upon that matter, not to mention he could sense 'twas not a tale that the red-clad youth would like to prolong, let alone recall had it not been for Vergil's sake. He simply respected the teen's preference to not dwell upon the memory of being on the verge of losing not only a mere colleague, but one he might as well consider family at this point.

“ Your compendious recount is appreciated, ”  tersely came the swordsman's only vocal recognition to Navarro's candor toward his query apropos of Ink's dealing with the killing night after a long silence. A tilt of the chin was dispensed perfunctorily in precedence to his continuance through the newly breached wall.

The Darkslayer committed to memory every word that Ink’s next in authority relayed concerning the leader of their shared mark. His first impression upon hearing that the aforementioned leader dispatched his mark at night thus earning his epithet was;Either this Killer pursues his marks through the coverture of darkness like the most ignoble of recreant, or he is abysmally averse to light.The corner of his lips twitched, as much as the cambion wished it to be the first so that his principle could come up with a warrant to personally seek the killer out, it would be unjust to form a conclusion based solely upon personal grudge instead of fact.

Keep reading

[hangon-silvergirl]

@majicmarker tagged me to have a look at my WIPs and find the words sigh, sweet, and taste. I went a little overboard with the size of snippets, but, eh. Enjoy?

sigh, from a one-shot I'm working on for HellCheer Week that'll be called flowers in the window:

Eddie has Chrissy’s arm in his hand, and he’s doodling the outlines of flowers on her forearm and wrist with ballpoint pens, alternating between black, blue and red. “You’re quiet tonight,” he says, shading a sunflower. She rolls her shoulders in a shrug and gives him a small, sad smile, but she’s looking at the water-stained ceiling. “Everything alright?” “Yes. No? I don’t know…” Chrissy clenches and unclenches her fist, and she’s chewing hard on her bottom lip. Eddie pokes Chrissy’s stomach with the backend of the pen in his hand, and she sighs. “My mother was harassing me about Jason again.” Eddie starts drawing daisies. “Jesus,” he says. “It’s been a month, when’s she gonna give up the fucking ghost?” “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I keep telling her that it’s over, that I wasn’t happy. Daddy keeps telling her too, he keeps trying to run interference, because otherwise she’s just… Incessant. Like, God, at this point I’ll bet that even Jason’s probably telling her to get over it, when she calls him up to cry.” Eddie snorts. He starts drawing roses with the red pen.

sweet, from chapter 6 of Marigold:

“Cunningham,” he drawls, giving her a once-over, pleased smile en route to becoming a wolfish grin. “You told me that your mother buys your clothes. Gonna be a hard sell to convince me that she dresses you like a kindergarten teacher during the day then--” he gestures to all of her “--like this at night.” There’s a lot of emphasis on the this, and Chrissy likes it. It makes her feel tingly and desired, and her cheeks burn hot. Jason always tells Chrissy that she’s cute, or sweet, or perfect. He's never even called her hot or sexy during sex, though she's certainly heard him use the words with his friends when they talk about Phoebe Cates and Kelly LeBrock. But the look in Eddie’s eyes and the implication of his tone, and the juxtaposed way he's doing this very wholesome sort of leering, suggests that those words might be on the tip of his tongue. Emboldened by this, Chrissy does a little spin for him, so that he can get a good look at her exposed back. Eddie lets out a low whistle. (It’s not a wolf whistle, but she’ll take it.)

taste, from chapter 5 of the buzz:

The HairTM: I don’t even understand how you were able to DRINK Starbucks without bursting into flames. You: that is some nonsensical bullshit, harrington You: they don’t make their fucking lattes with holy water Rockin’ Robin: aaaaaaalll joking aside, steve, you actually know that eddie’s not really, like, /literally/ a vessel for the devil right You: nah, bro, i fucking wish The HairTM: Could’ve fooled me You: harrington, that’s not hard You: your last two brain cells smothered each other in 1999 The HairTM: I wasn’t even alive in 1999. You: i am aware You: such is the deficit at which you live your sad life You: lost your sense before your daddy even shot his load You: SAD Rockin’ Robin: hahaha buuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn The HairTM: You’re a dick. The HairTM: I need this barista’s phone number, Munson; she needs to know what she’s getting into with you! You: dude i’m a professional shit disturber with middling local celebrity You: i think she knows The HairTM : Yeah, well, in that case she’s got piss poor taste. You: ya know, if i WAS a vessel for the devil, i’da had you dipshits selling me your souls for tootsie pops yonks ago The HairTM : Whatever. Rockin’ Robin: overkill, i would’ve given you mine for a single shitty bong rip Big Wheeler: You can’t afford mine. You: no, nancy, no i cannot You: tweedle dee and tweedle dumb on the other hand...

I'm gonna tag @grewup2sheltered, if you're interesting in playing! Same words, because they're good ones. :D

[elysianslove]

heaven on your lips; matsukawa smau

synopsis; he finds refuge in that no matter what, you will always come back to him. he finds refuge in that he’s the sole reason for your pleasure and happiness. whether that be from the sidelines, or from within the four walls of your home, in the confines of your bedroom. no matter what, you’re his, and he’s yours, even if neither of you seem to notice it.

pairings; matsukawa issei x fwb!reader

genre; fluff, smut, humor

warnings; cursing and inappropriate language. nsfw and suggestive themes.

masterlist  |  previous , chapter fifteen , next

“you look so— good.”

it’s the first thing that you notice when you slide open your door to greet semi, at exactly seven minutes past five in the evening. he’s punctual, and you’re sure of that because you’d heard the roar of his car’s engine arrive at your door seven minutes earlier. you’re not too upset about this though, because you’d needed those extra seven minutes of preparation and self boost, as much as he apparently did too.

at your words, semi laughs lightly, and the second thing you notice is just how much prettier he is in real life. of course, you’d met him before, spent hours with him too. but seeing him in a different light, from a different perspective, and also with how the two of you are older now, it somehow makes him even more attractive. his hair is the same lovely silver, dipping into a darker tone at the ends, and it’s styled nicely, yet not too neatly: making an effort, but effortlessly. his smile is slight and simple, and it sends a flurry of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. you shiver to try to rid yourself of them.

you were right, for the matter. he does look really good. he dons a plain, loose and thick, lavender sweatshirt, which compliments his hair rather nicely. it’s tucked into his black trousers, which have a two chains dangling from one hook in the front to the back on his right hip, similar to the chain on your own skirt. to compliment the simplicity of his sweatshirt, he wears a couple of chain necklaces, paired with a small cross. you were really right. 

as your eyes travel back up to his face, you notice the light pink that’s dusting his cheeks, and instead of eliciting a cheeky, teasing remark from you, all it does is fluster you even more, and you shiver lightly. so instead, you ask, “ready to go?” 

he nods at you, smiling and muttering a simple, “whenever you are,” before he steps back to allow you space to leave and shut the door behind you. 

soon after you’re in his car, the neighborhood’s music playing in the background as he drives off. he has the windows down, the wind’s breeze welcome despite it tousling your hair. december weather is always perfect back home: it’s not snowing yet, so it’s not too cold, but it’s not the stifling heat of the summer either. it’s settling somewhere in between, enough to make it necessary to wear thicker layers, but not to the point that your fingertips purple.

the route he takes is not familiar, but you still recognize the streets. it’s not a reason for worry either way; this date is iwaizumi-approved after all. you enjoy the scenery as it dashes by you, making small talk with him, catching up slightly as he drives the two of you to your destination. 

“would it scare you too much if i asked you to put on a blindfold?” he asks, eyeing you slightly with a careful smile. 

you laugh, twisting in your seat to face him better. “depends; what’s it gonna be for?” you tease, and he gasps jokingly at your insinuation. 

“that sounds more like a second date activity than a first, don’t you think?” he retorts. 

you giggle, leaning your head against the passenger seat’s headrest, watching him as he drives. he has a really nice side profile. a nice everything. “aw, already thinking of the second date?” you say. he only hums in amusement to humor you, pulling out the blindfold from his pocket and handing it to you. “alright, my life’s in your hands now, pretty boy,” you tell him, before you lift up the cloth, and tie it at the back of your head. 

when semi unlocks your car door, you try not to resort to your other senses as he leans down and takes your hand, leading you out of the car. his hands are firm, grasping yours steadily and firmly, and the pads of his fingers are calloused, a symbol of his musical talent. when your fingers brush against the back of his hand, you find it so soft, veins barely evident underneath your touch. 

“careful, don’t trip,” he guides you, and you hear the car door shut behind you. wherever he’s taken you, there seems to be a lot more wind, and excitedly, you squeeze his hand, letting him lead the way, before, a couple steps later, he comes to a stop. you do too, and you hear him step behind you, feel his hands brush lightly against your hair as he tentatively undoes the blindfold. “moment of truth,” he whispers, before finally the blindfold falls, and your eyes blink back open. 

your breath hitches in your lungs, and you freeze, eyes frozen on the scenery before you. you’re at a beach, the shore a little bit further away from you, the sun hanging low, cascading a pink and orange simmer on the waves. once given the okay to feel and smell all around you, the sea salt breeze rushes through you, and you shiver, but it’s not from the cold. it’s from just how thought out this is. there’s a blanket spread out on the sand, plain white, with two pillows and food spread out. there’s fruit, bread, ramen, drinks, everything. and on the picnic basket in the corner, there is another, smaller bouquet of flowers, simple daisies. he planned a beach picnic. 

he planned a beach picnic. 

holy shit.  

“semi,” you gasp out, finally managing to turn to face him. he’s eyeing you carefully, observing your expression in an attempt to read it. “semi this is—”

he laughs lightly at your speechlessness, and walks closer to you, closer to the setup, outstretching a hand. “after you,” he urges. 

you look back quickly at the blanket spread out by your feet, before gazing back at him, and in a sudden rush, you reach out for him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady him, and leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“oh,” he sighs, breath staggering as you step back. 

“thank you,” you whisper, smiling at him brightly. he smiles back. 

by the time you’ve finished your ramen, sipped on your drink, and have begun snacking on the fruit semi’s brought, the sun is dipping further down, illuminating your surroundings barely. he’d come prepared though and had brought out two lamps, placing them between the two of you. as you stick your toothpick in another piece of fruit, you listen intently as he speaks, telling you of some hilarious rampage him, tendō and ushijima had gone on. 

“you three were pretty close, huh?” you mumble, shifting so that you lean on one hand to your side, your legs spread out elegantly to your other side. 

he nods. “yeah we spent a lot of time together,” he replies. “what with school, volleyball, and the dorms.” at the mention of this, he laughs, before continuing, “yeah don’t get me started on the dorms and the shit tendō would drag us into.” 

you laugh with him. 

“what about you?” he adds. “you and your third years were also pretty close, weren’t you. i saw you at a couple of their games.” 

you hum, sitting up straighter. “i grew up with oikawa and iwa, so i’ve known them my whole life.”

he looks surprised at that, asking, “you— you did? i didn’t imagine the three of you went this far back.” 

“oh yeah since diapers,” you say, giggling lightly. “oikawa i’ve known maybe two years longer, since our mothers were friends, and then iwa moved in right by us and it was like fate really.” 

his mouth falls open, and he breaths in steadily, as if about to speak up. but then his eyes falter, and he sighs instead. instead of mentioning it, you pick up a cherry stem, two red cherries hanging off on either end, and pop one in your mouth, spitting out the seed before eating the other one. he watches your mouth part carefully as you take the other seed out, fiddling with the stem in your fingers. 

“can you tie a knot?” he asks, curious. 

“hm?” 

he nods at the stem in your hand, pointing a finger barely, before asking again, “can you tie a knot with your tongue?” 

you raise a brow at him. “maybe.” 

he grins at you, before suddenly, he’s a lot closer. “show me,” he encourages. you see his eyes flicker to your lips, to the stain of red from the cherries you’d just eaten, and reflexively, you bite on your bottom lip, muffling your laugh. otherwise, you do as he asks, and brings the cherry stem in your mouth, placing it on your tongue. 

you yourself have settled closer to him, and you’re not sure when this tension had built all of a sudden, but you welcome it. with the cold that’s pinching at both your revealed skin, his cheeks are dusted pink, and so is the tip of his nose. his hair, longer than it had been in your high school years, covers the tips of his ears, but the breeze shifts it, and you notice how red they are too. maybe it’s the dimming light around you that’s set the mood like this, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re all technically alone, secluded away in this corner of the beach. either way, you feel your nerves alight as his eyes remain on you, as your tongue moves and twists and your teeth pull at the stem. and when it’s all done, when you’ve tied the knot, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and revealing the stem to him, and he visibly shivers. 

taking it between your fingers, you showcase it to him. “that’s what i like to call talent,” you joke, twisting the stem between your fingers. 

“can i kiss you?” 

the question forces you back slightly, throwing you off guard for a second, but you drop the stem without another moment of hesitation, and gasp out, “yes,” and his hands are settling on your cheeks and bringing you to him before you could think. you welcome the taste of him on your lips, kissing him back. although he seems eager, he feels gentle. he’s testing out the waters, letting you slightly take the lead, so you do, leaning closer, kissing him harder, breathing him in, leaning into his touch. as he deepens the kiss, encouraged by your actions, you sit up. his mouth doesn’t leave yours once as you push yourself closer to him, hands blindly reaching for him until finally, you settle on his lap. his hands leave your face at that, dipping down to your waist, welcoming the new position. 

it’s when his hands grip your waist, caress down to your hips and squeeze at your thighs that you realize— he’s different. he feels different, smells and tastes different. his hands don’t necessarily feel wrong, because they feel good on you. you want more, want him to push you flush against him, want to press your lower body harsher on him, want to kiss him till he’s breathless. you do, you want to so much. 

and yet, even if it doesn’t feel wrong, it also doesn’t feel right. 

there’s something missing, something you can’t identify. you kiss him harder, pushing away at the thoughts, trying to lose yourself in him, in all of him. he gasps against you as you grip at his sweater, your hands trailing upwards tangling in his hair, pulling and tugging. his moans are muffled against your mouth and you swallow them eagerly, hips rutting against him, your own gasps tumbling out. 

still, there’s something missing. 

you’re unable to dwell on it for too long as he grabs a firmer hold on your body, and twists you, pushing you down onto the blanket. 

end note; i’m v sorry to have kept you guys waiting so long for this chapter omg, but i hope it didn’t disappoint at all. i’m nervous to post it uh oh. anyways! things are gonna get so good ugh i miss issei 

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