#he has to not use his powers for weeks before he regains some feeling in his arms and body

[worstloki]

imagine thor doesn't feel much pain easily since a bunch of thor's nerve endings are dead from having lightning constantly running up his skin

[dinsbeskar]

Evil Will Find Her

He has waited so long to have you again, he cannot wait until you reunite in the flesh; or:

Sauron gets off on thinking of you thinking of him, despite the distance in time and space between you

Sequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Through Glass by Stone Sour, Closer by Nine Inch Nails

I'm looking at you through the glass Don't know how much time has passed Oh God, it feels like forever But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home Sitting all alone inside your head

Warnings: smut! goo!Sauron, male masturbation, mentions of oral sex (female receiving), finger/P in V sex, biting, kinda rough sex, praise kink and degradation (only a little, he calls you a slut, sorry, he is Sauron though, man idk), Sauron POV, he is super down bad and also recovering from being literal goo

A/N: I tried so hard not to use the word 'goo' lmfao, considering that's what Sauron is for half the fic! So this is the sequel to In the Dark of the Night, the scenes will mirror each other but not quite... you'll see.

Word Count: 2.8k!

After centuries in the caverns beneath Forodwaith, he had finally escaped. Not that he was any closer to reclaiming you, not in his current state, a seething mass of something dark and primordial, but he could at last seek you out. The only thing he knew was hunger, consuming everything in his path; the only discernable notion in his mind, clouded and murky, was to find you. He had only an inkling that some time had passed since you'd been in his arms, and even less of an idea of where you would be, but he was patient. He could wait, as he had waited many times before for you.

Creature after pathetic creature he gathered and consumed, slowly regaining shreds of his former self, piece by tiny piece, until he was able to drag himself, formless and near-liquid, across the frozen wastelands of the North. The only guiding light in his current unfeeling state was the vague grasping notion of you, waiting for him, yearning and enduring for him, and it pushed him on, gave him strength to endure when all hope was lost.

His mind reaches out for you, across plains and rivers, over mountains and into the halls you now call home. The first time he does this, he has not the strength to make himself known to you, and can only regard you from afar. It takes all of his efforts to merely behold you for a second before you vanish in his mind's eye. If he was capable of sound, all of Middle Earth would have heard his guttural scream of frustration. However, in his current form, he emitted barely a weak gasp masquerading as an exasperated sigh, before falling still and unmoving for at least a week, unable to drag himself any further after weakening himself for just a glance at you. It was worth it. When he awakens, he tries again, and again, the effort lessening every time, but it still feels like forever until he finally regains enough power to reach out and touch you, a tingle across your lips, a tendril of his will wrapping around you.

You're seemingly unaware of his presence, though you react to the stimuli he provides. Your thoughts turn more and more to him, even as you try to push them away, heart shattered after so much time apart, the heartache he caused you in simply being himself. The more you push them away, the more they come unbidden, in your dreams and waking thoughts, until you can no longer ignore them.

This makes it easier for him, you leaving the door ajar, to slither into your mind and wrap himself around your heart once more. You thought you had moved on from his betrayal, the knowledge of his true self having shattered your desire to have him close. Your need for him however was not so easily undone; no matter how much you told yourself you were better off free of him and his inevitable path of destruction, your souls were inextricably bound together, and no earthly power could sunder you. In his primordial oozing state, the terrible ache deep in your souls, yearning for the touch of the other, was all he could feel, and he neither knew nor cared from whom it originated. It was all he could do, limbless and liquid, to revel unthinking in this torment, to bask and rot in the empty void between you; for to suffer in your absence was sweeter than never having known you at all.

The only salve for your unceasing ache was his touch on your skin, his words in your ear, his fëa wrapped around yours as your fervent light battles with his blazing darkness. And you would have it. He swore to you eons ago that you would never be without him; you cursed him for that promise a thousand times, and yet the thought of his desertion was a knife between the ribs.

~

He awakes in a freezing wooden wagon, lying on his back surrounded by bloody detritus as the pale morning light greets his rebirth. For a moment, he has no idea where he is, who he is, or how he came to be here. It is only by looking around, as he takes in the visceral scene before him, that it all comes flooding back.

White hot pain in his shoulders, between his ribs, daggers twisting in his gut.

Darkness, pitch black nothingness.

Hunger.

Centuries of freezing cold, leagues of endless empty wasteland.

You.

He can't catch his breath as he remembers the last time he saw you, guilt flooding through him in nauseous waves, the cruel twisted things he had said to you and the malice you had thrown back in return. He can't even conjure his wrath, grateful that you had abandoned Forodwaith in your fit of temper when you had, lest you'd been caught up in the events of his coronation.

Coronation. He inhales harshly, revelling in the cold air in his sinuses; the tiny sensations for which he must be thankful, he thought bitterly.

Weak with the effort of reconstituting himself, he slowly pushes himself to sit, idly rifling through the possessions of the unfortunate peasant who had so graciously provided him with the sustenance he needed. He begins to root through the sacks and chests, looking for anything to protect himself from the persistent chill outside. He gathers some clothes from a sack in the corner, pulling on a cloak haphazardly; in doing so, he knocks a stack of letters that cascade across the floor. One catches his attention.

He skims the contents and realises it is an old love letter, the page discoloured and brittle with age. The scrawled, pretty words are trifles in comparison to everything you have shared, but the way it is signed lingers in his memory.

Forever devoted, your Halbrand.

He does need a name after all.

With a smirk, he tosses the letter aside and makes his way towards the sunlit back of the wagon. The moment his bare feet touch the ground, he can't help but grin with relief.

In fact, to say he is relieved is an understatement. He is a Maia, one of the greatest of all beings in creation, reduced to crawling in the dirt for centuries. To regain any kind of fair form is a blessing, and it is with appreciation now that he regards his limbs, feels the cold hard ground beneath his bare feet, and finds clarity in the brisk northerly wind on his face. His first thought, as ever, is of you. Where are you, are you well, are you thinking of him? He senses that you are leagues away, but senses you he does. Satisfaction takes him over and he laughs, uplifted now that he finally knows for sure that he is on your mind.

~

Day becomes night, and he eventually stops to rest, unused to needing to do so; he muses over his small fire how you'll greet him when he returns. How he longs for your sweet kisses, however they'll feel in this strange form. He clings to the memory of your breath on his face, your laugh in his ear, the scent of your sweat-slicked skin beneath his. His longing turns to rage before long; the time you both had lost would never be regained. Your long lives would give you every chance to do so, but he cherished whatever time he spent with you, and this wasted time would not be forgotten.

He would have his revenge on the Uruk who dared defy him, who must have assumed merely destroying his physical form would kill him. More's the pity, for Sauron's wrath was great and his will greater. It might take a hundred years or a thousand, but his revenge would be as sweet as the memories he had of you, of the time together that had been stolen from you.

Usually he has no need for sleep, but in dreams, he can join you, so he lays down on the frozen ground next to the dying embers of his fire and waits for you. It's not long before he finds himself in your chambers, breathing in your scent. He has been here before, tried to make contact with you, but in his weakened state he could do nothing but watch you, every night feeling like forever without your touch. Now he can make himself known, and he does just that.

You're lying on your bed, and he thinks to lie down next to you, as he has so many times before, and stroke your hair and tell you he'll be with you soon, that he is counting the seconds until you're in his arms again.

However you surprise him, as you often do, even after all this time. It's what he loves most about you.

You're clearly focused on something, brow furrowed, and before he can slip into your mind further, you cast off the sheets, and trail a hand down to between your thighs. He can't help but grin as he realises what he is witness to. You used to become so flustered when he asked you to do this for him, to touch yourself and think of him, and even now your cheeks are red. His previous attempts to touch you have been in vain, like catching smoke in the wind, the veil between you thwarting his every effort. He brushes a finger over your face adoringly and you sigh contentedly. Did you feel that? He wonders, because as happy as he is to watch you chase your pleasure, he would much rather join in.

Watching you sweat and pant his name always does something delicious to him, satisfying that dark ever-present urge to defile and corrupt you. Savouring every filthy noise he elicits from you, the whines in your throat, the wet sounds of his cock inside you, dragging over every sensitive inch of flesh until there is no thought in your head but of him and your lovemaking.

Your tiny whimpers become moans as he delves between your thighs, delighting in how wet you are. It used to fascinate him, when he first bedded you, just how needy and slick you would get, and he can't deny that fascination never faded. He can't get enough of the taste of you, would happily subsist on you for the rest of his days, and you would probably let him, given the unearthly sounds currently escaping your lips.

His attention wanders to his own pleasure as he realises he is so fucking hard, and he is leagues away from being able to fuck you until you can't stand the next day. He hasn't explored this new form yet, and briefly wonders if you would approve. The peasant who revived him was mortal, and so he seems to have taken the form of a mortal man; would that repulse or thrill you? If you knew it was him, you wouldn't care, he knows this, but he still wonders.

He pulls out his cock and regards it, not having paid it much attention until now. It looks like any other, perhaps thicker than his last, a little longer maybe, but he doesn’t have much with which to compare. You would be the ultimate judge in that regard, and the only one that matters. Most importantly, it feels just as good in his fist as he dreams of you, fingers inside your needy cunt as you moan his name. How long it has been since he heard it, his breath hitches and he strokes faster, keeping in time with the thrusts he makes into you, using all his regained powers to satisfy you like only he knows.

"Are you my good girl, love?" He moans out loud as he has so many times before, not expecting a response but-

"Yes, for you, only you..." You whimper, arching your back, reaching for his touch, and he melts, forehead pressed against yours as he moans your name into the dark. How fucking perfect you are, how eager you are to be his, so ready and willing to fuck the shadows for him.

How times had changed since you saw each other last. It thrilled him to know you still wanted him, needed him, had put any thought of abandoning him from your mind, had embraced him as your husband, your lover, your protector, of course you had, and he arched into his fist as you keened under his attentions, leagues away in your bed.

How could you think for a second that you were not his, wholly and completely? That he could not simply find and have his way with you whenever he cared to? You must know that he would rather be your undoing than let you leave him.

He wants only to ravage you, to pin you down and leave your skin painted with bruises, marking you as his, trails of purple and blue leading to your aching cunt. To possess you, body and soul, chained to him for all eternity.

He would build a temple to your flesh, no, of your flesh, and desecrate it with his seed, worship you as his equal, pray to you with tender kisses and the blood of your enemies, if only to feel your skin on his, your light on his face once more.

He wraps a hand around your throat and groans, running his thumb across your skin and collecting your sweat.

"So good for me, so needy, so fucking perfect, waiting for me to fill you over and over," he moans as he leans down, phantom tongue swiping your throat, the salt of your sweat inflaming his senses all the more.

He wants nothing more than to bury himself within you, to climb inside you and never leave, if that is what it would take to never be parted from you again. He wonders how much of him you could take before your screams of pleasure turn to pain.

You're both so lost in your lust, he has no idea if you're here with him or he's there with you, but he'll take it greedily and without question.

He bites the shell of your ear, nipping just hard enough that you react, hand flying to your face. He grabs it and kisses your palm, rutting into you like an animal.

"Always so good for me," he whispers in your ear, willing you to hear him more than ever, "look how you take my cock so well, the way you stretch around me, always such a good little slut for me."

You asked him once how he could worship and degrade you in a single breath; he'd told you they were the same thing.

Whether the timing of his words is a coincidence, he is unsure; you come hard, orgasm wracking your body while you moan and keen under his spectral touch.

Your walls tighten around him, you both hiss with pleasure, and he can't hold back any longer, pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. He lets loose a string of curses, spilling himself on his thighs, christening his new mortal form and gasping your name.

His tenuous link to your pleasure is broken, and he curses once more, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around you, to fuck you through your orgasm until you're whining and overstimulated, too sensitive under his flaming touch.

~

There is no such thing as a chance meeting, every passing encounter preordained to fulfil a purpose, and he thanks the Valar every day that despite all he had suffered that they had put you in his path. Fate was no small thing and it had bound you all this time, unwavering in the face of defeat and suffering and war and Morgoth, all of which wanted to sunder you from him. It is with that thought that he presses on.

He meets a group of Men who are bound for a ship to take them across the sea for a new life. At first he wants nothing to do with it; he knows where he is going, finally going home, wherever you are. But the old man is insistent, that perhaps his path lays in the West.

There are no chance meetings. If the old man advises Numenor, then perhaps it is his destiny to seek the descendants of men who had destroyed his aspirations centuries ago; the long road of revenge will lead him back to you, of that he was certain.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Spicynoodles with egged MK content.

The angst, the fluff, the hurt/comfort, all of it.

That's all I got right now.

That feel when the boy you have a crush/rivalry with is having a (literal) single-parent crisis, and he's just learned he's a primordial stone monkey that may die due to the unique process.

Red Son is confused af - when did *this* happen?! He was in a Scroll for a lot of the process, so he's a little out of the loop!

Not to mention, everyone's gut reaction is to look at them!! As if they had something to do with it!

Red Son and his family have been in more frequent contact with Sun Wukong and his protégé ever since the events surrounding the release of the Brotherhood. DBK forms an unexpected friendship with Pigsy over their shared journeys of cooking and fatherhood. The same occurs on a smaller scale with Tang and PIF getting together to gossip about immortal drama over cocktails.

The fact that Red's parents see MK's future cub as a surrogate grand-calf could be part of that. Red still blushes whenever she remembers her father's first assumptions on the matter.

MK becomes a bit of a recluse in the days after S4. Not only because of what he's learned about himself and his Egg, but because his energy is severely sapped.

At Mei's insistence, Red Son agrees to come over and spend some time with their fave monkey-boy. MK appreciates the company. The Egg absorbs so much life energy that he can barely get out of bed some days.

After a few weeks MK breaks down into hormonal tears. Sobbing into his former-enemy's jacket.

MK: "Everything I do leads to pain.... I'm sorry. You're the last person I should cry to." Red Son, rubbing MK's back: "It's ok. This is all... very new for all of us. You being the only other known celestial monkey besides Sun Wukong and Macaque has been a shock to everyone." MK, sniffling: "No. Not just that... this... I don't think I'll be able to be there for them." Red Son, stiffens: "What do you mean?" MK: "I'm..." (*gets quiet*) Red Son, thinks for a bit: "My mother does share the stories you know. How she almost died bringing me to life. To make that risk... It's admirable." MK: (*quietly leans head on Red Son's shoulder*) Red Son: "You've stated your intentions many times before to continue the pregnancy despite the risks. All I can offer is that I'm allowed to be there to see you through it." MK, looking up with surprise: "You will?" Red Son: "Yes." MK, regaining cheeky smile: "Not just because your parents are convinced it's yours?" Red Son, coughs awkwardly: "WELL uh!" *cough* "Uncle did mention that proximity to a preferred... partner, could help alleviate the worst of the symptoms caused by lack of life energy. But that the child could become peppered with the Dao of the partner and therefore their DNA..." MK, happy laughing: "I don't mind having a baby with red hair or horns, if thats what you're worried about!" Red Son: (*blushing furiously*)

So Red Son unofficially deems herself "the sire" of the Egg so she can donate her life energy to the depleted MK.

Then Season 5 happens...

MK actually manages to fight back against the restraints of the Ten Kings - his body providing a beacon of Life that they have no power over. Li Jing still handles the pregnant creature roughly, father or not - he sees MK as a beast that needs to be tamed. Nezha growls at his father's actions, and quickly comes to MK's aid - declaring his duty as a Protector of Children (although stretching the definition considering said child could be MK himself or the unborn cub) to preside over Li Jing's orders.

Somehow, knowing about his Egg, makes MK even more self-sacrificial. Because in his mind; if his Stone Egg is going to kill him anyway - why not sacrifice himself to repair the Heavenly Pillar?

Everyone reacts even worse than in canon.

The Nine-Headed Demon certainly didn't expect the Harbinger to "sprout off" so soon! They tease and prod MK - pointing out that he's accomplishing something not even the Monkey King has done; have a child of his own.

Wukong and Macaque snarl and bite at the snake for that comment...

Xiangliu is kept busy from trying to stop multiple heroes and anti-villains from tearing him apart.

Wukong can't even bring himself to fight MK's sacrifice, only able to hang onto his successor in a desperate hold. Begging him to please think of himself. His family and friends! His Egg even!

But MK still makes that leap.

Upon entering Nüwa's sanctuary within the Pillar and learning that his sacrifice was to only upkeep a destructive cycle, MK... has the expected reaction.

MK: "You expect me to sacrifice myself to when my kid won't even live to see the world?!" Nüwa, surprised: "I... I will admit. I had not known you would be able to do that."

After hearing her Harbinger's tearful plea, the goddess can only smile and sigh.

Although the safest option is to continue the cycle, she knows any child of her blood or clay would not dare leave the world or people they love so dearly. Heavens weep when a mother/father sets their mind to something. Something she struggled with many eons ago...

She gives her Little Heaven the Five Stones and the instructions for how to split their powers evenly across the cosmos. Humanity has certainly increased in number since her time!

She also gives blessings to her future grand-creation! The little stone monkey will be the first born naturally since Sun Wukong after all. She can spare a blessing or two to ensure their safe arrival!

MK leaves the Pillar, seeing his friends and family clasped together - all believing that the world was truly coming to an end.

Red Son, emboldened by the coming apocalypse, suddenly declares something that's been on his mind for a while now.

Red Son: "I like-like you, noodle boy! I did not lie when I said I want to be by your side through it all! If the world is to end now, I do not wish for it to end without saying I wish we could have been courting!" MK, touched: "Aww!!! Thats really sweet, Red Son! But I actually have a plan to save the world!" Red Son, stuttering: "Oh um. Ok?" MK: "I totally reciprocate the feelings though!" Red Son, excited: "You do!?" Macaque, interrupting: "Excuse me, lovebirds. End of the world?" MK, fumbling the five stones: "OH YEAH! RIGHT!"

The stones are still destroyed, and the Queen Mother of Heaven watches as the power her husband harboured for so long spreads across the universe like petals on the wind.

It takes some time for MK's egg to be fully ready, so him and Red Son have some time to do some courting before the little guy arrives!

PIF and DBK totally called it.

Also it turns out harbouring the Five Heavenly Stones while pregnant has some... unexpected effects on the Stone Egg within...

The Whole Family: "..." Baby: (*eyes glowing with a rainbow shimmer*) Baby: *chirp*! Pigsy: "Why does my grandson look like a Lisa Frank drawing?" MK: (*tired shrug*) Mei, taking photos: "He's so pretty!!"

The baby is named "Haoyu - the "Vast Universe/浩宇" to MK's "Little Heaven/小天". Depending on the characters it can also mean "cloudburst/豪雨" aka an unexpected rain.

[carooosa]

Bound by You: Love is Power, Love is Weakness

Part 1: Exposure (rewrite)

Full series here

Word count: 1.5k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Ascended Astarion x AFAB Resist Durge/Reader Warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, ear play, violence against an NPC AO3 link: Exposure

Summary: Astarion can exert his control/power as he maintains composure while fucking you, and while he may not be as strict with his council when doing so, the harshness behind his actions is still there. But when you torture him by making him moan in front of everyone who is beneath him? Not only will it show him weak, but it’ll show his weakness.

It’s another boring day as a consort while you sit on your lover’s bare lap, slowly rolling your hips into him. Ever since the ascension, Astarion has refused to let you out of his sight for too long, always wanting to have some part of him touching you. It upset you, at first, having to sit in on all of the dreadful conferences and dull discussions. But as always, Astarion made sure that it was worth your time.

He’s droning on about some inaccuracies in recent reports he’s received and his fingers dig into your hips as the proprietor of the counting-house stumbles out an excuse. You can’t help but giggle when you picture the proprietor trembling as he tries to talk his way out of this mess. You remember his name being quite the joke as well, something like Sparkleboard or Glimmerbrook.

“Rakath Glitterbeard,” Astarion barks at the dwarf before berating him for his inadequacies. He shoots you a mischievous glance, confirming that he too is bored with this meeting, so much so that his mind had wandered into your own.

Of course the poor sod’s name was something ridiculous. If he was going to have a name as awful as that, he should just change it to Goldcoin or something similar. At least then it’d have relevance to his job.

Astarion pinches your hips in an attempt to stifle any laughter that may come out, and you yelp in surprise. You look at your lover and notice the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eyes. The ramblings from Rakath stop, and Astarion’s head snaps towards him. “Have you run out with excuses already, Glitterbeard? Or have you simply come to your senses and decide to own up to your shortcomings?” Astarion says with a growl.

You turn your head as well, excited to see what’s about to unfold. The dwarf readjusts his collar before clearing his throat, and the idiot decides to speak up against your Lord.

With the arrogance of a little kid, he says, “No, Lord Astarion, I just noticed that you seem to be preoccupied and thought I would wait until you regain focus.”

Astarion scoffs and you feel him grab onto your ass with one hand as he stands up and kicks back the chair he was sitting on. With his other hand, he pushes off all the paperwork that lay strewn about the desk. He sets you on the edge of the table before pushing you down so that your back is against the hardwood. He stares directly at that insufferable banker as he begins to thrust into you – hard.

“What was that about losing focus?” Astarion says with a crazed look in his eyes.

Rakath’s face turns bright red as he tries to stammer out a response, but it’s no use, as Astarion has already made up his mind.

“Silence. Pick up those documents and put them back on the table – in their correct order. After that, you will redo all of this week’s reports, as well as the last 4 month’s as well.” Astarion is interrupted by a noise of disapproval, his frustration reaching its highest point today. “I said silence. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how that tongue of yours works, shall I cut it out and show you?”

Rakath drops to the floor and begins frantically gathering the papers, all the while Astarion continues to slam into you with reckless abandon as he addresses the rest of the meeting attendees. 

“Do I need to remind everyone that you’re in the presence of the Vampire Ascendant? I am more powerful than you could possibly comprehend, yet you wager your lowly lives just to make some ridiculous point. I could replace you with the snap of my fingers and no one would even care. I keep you around because I couldn’t be damned to get rid of you – however, give me enough of a reason and I’ll put the dungeon to use.”

You weren’t sure exactly how or when it started, but whenever Astarion would get annoyed or pissed off during a meeting he would yank you closer and begin to fuck you, right there, in front of everyone. Somehow he was able to maintain composure as he catered to your needy whines, asserting his dominance over the room while he dominated you. He always took care of you, and one day, you got the brilliant idea to care for him in return.

You’re once again sat on your lover’s lap with his cock buried deep inside you. His nose is deep in a document, a contract with an architect from Neverwinter, and his shoulders are tensed. You delicately reach your hands behind his shoulders to start massaging the knots. He doesn’t acknowledge you save for a quick twitch in his ears, so you push harder, hoping to alleviate some of the stress the Vampire Lord must feel. Moving up to his neck, you meticulously knead every knot you find, humming a soft melody as each point of tension slowly comes undone. When you finish giving him a massage, one of your hands slightly brushes against his ear, causing a shutter to ripple through Astarion.

You quickly look at his face and notice his lips part, a silent moan leaving them. Interesting, you think to yourself, and you slowly reach out to stroke his ear.

You watch as Astarion gasps, eyes fluttering closed in contentment, the contract falling from his hands. He desperately tries to regain control by focusing on his breath. You caress the helix of his ear and his breathing hitches before a pleased sigh escapes his mouth and he leans into your touch. His hands move to your back to stabilize you as he begins to roll his hips, ever so slightly fucking you.

He looks so beautiful like this, you think to yourself. Astarion’s eyes are hooded when he opens them again, and if your heart was still beating, you’re positive it would’ve skipped a beat.

You can tell from his posture that he’s about to move your hand away, and the mind-link connection you share confirms that. The Vampire Ascendant has an image to upkeep, and he can’t show any vulnerability outside of the bed chambers. He starts to shift in his seat when suddenly, you take his ear lobe in your mouth. He mindlessly bucks his hips forward and grasps the armrests of his chair, splintering the wood. You nibble on the lobe, pressing and flicking your tongue against the soft skin.

He can vaguely see in his peripherals the guests from Neverwinter glance at each other and shift in their seats. One of them clears their throat and Astarion tries again to regain his poise but all he can think about is your lips on his ear. You roll your hips and gingerly reach out to his other ear, pinching and rubbing the tip. A quiet moan starts in the back of Astarion’s throat as you coo at him, telling him that he’s such a good lord, so strong, incredibly smart, your love. All the meeting attendants can do is watch as the Vampire Ascendant comes undone beneath your touch.

Astarion is panting as you whisper sweet nothings in between giving attention to his ears. You bite down on the flesh in your mouth – harsh enough to draw blood – and moan from the sweet ichor that flows into your body. The nobility that would usually cower at the mention of the vampire lord’s name now sit watching, unable to do anything in fear of retaliation. One of the younger nobles, the son of the architect, begins to slowly stroke his fingers against his strained trousers.

Within seconds, Astarion barks an order.

“Stop.”

You pause, concerned that you may have gone too far. Before you can ask if you did something wrong, you’re sat alone on the chair while Astarion is on his feet and holding the young man by his throat. He raises the boy above his head and dangles him above the table, his claws piercing into his flesh. The architect starts to get out of his seat but a nearby guest stops him.

“You fucking degenerate. How dare you please yourself while looking at my consort,” Astarion bellows.

The boy is unable to respond as blood fills his throat, causing him to suffocate. Astarion slowly closes his grip around his neck, watching as the architect’s son struggles to pull his nails out. The boy stops thrashing, the life drained from his eyes as his body goes limp.

Astarion continues to hold the corpse in the air as he addresses his room. “Leave. Now. And if so much as a word of today’s events is whispered outside of this room,” he pauses, throwing the body onto the table where the group congregates, “I will personally hunt each and every one of you.”

A few days later, a rumor silently spreads across Baldur’s Gate. Astarion, the unforgiving and merciless Vampire Ascendant, has a weakness. While many laugh and make jokes about how the powerful tyrant gets turned on with the touch of his ears, a resistance group takes note of his true weakness, and their key to his demise: you.

Part 2 here Full series here

[phantom-0-writer]

nightwing the cosplayer

Barely 30 minutes into his shopping journey to find a present for his mom, Danny’s ghost sense went off. He only had enough time to grab the Fenton Thermos and wrist ray from his bag, before three vultures infested The Mall. Easily souping the first vulture, Danny zapped Vulture Number Two, but the distance between them made the impact of the ray feel more like a wrist slap than a gutting punch. Vulture Number Two apparently didn’t like that very much and took it upon himself to attack Danny. As if the vultures weren’t bad enough, Razor Claw came crashing through the ceiling right behind them. 

“Fenton!” Dash called because he was here too apparently, “Behind you!” When Danny turned around he was expecting Vulture Number Three, another rebel, maybe even Plasmius himself. 

Not Nightwing.

Like Nightwing from Gotham, Nightwing. Formerly Robin the First. Member of the Titans and Justice League Jr. Standing there, like, right in front of Danny. “What the fuck?” Danny heard himself say before turning to Dash, who was standing next to him now and felt validated by their shared confusion. 

“Are you a cosplayer?” Danny heard Dash whisper-ask Nightwing. 

Nightwing, who was just awkwardly and nervously(?) standing there, seemed taken aback by the accusation. “W-What?” He said gracefully, before regaining his composure. He sounded almost indignant “No, I’m the real Nightwing.” As if to prove himself, he pulled out a Bird-a-rang and displayed it to the two teens like it was some kind of rare YuGiO card. Talk about professionalism. 

“Looks fake,” Danny said in a mock whisper to Dash, knowing Nightwing could still hear them. 

“He’s totally a cosplayer,” Dash responds with a sage nod. Nightwing was about to respond, but the words were knocked out of him when Danny pushed both of them out of the way of an oncoming vulture attack. 

Seriously, why in the Ancients was Nightwing here? If one of the Justice Leaguers had to show, then at least someone useful like Zatanna or Dr. Fate, heck even Constantine. But no , he has to get the guy that outgrew his Robin suit. 

Razor Claw used his claw to slice at some of the merchandise in a nearby store, laughing in amusement at the shopper’s terror. Danny slipped his bag off, opening up the middle zipper. “There should be three spectator-deflectors and maybe a few rays.” He told Dash, “The Ghost Shield Rooms are probably full by now, so just use that. You two stay here.” 

“What? You’re not dealing with this on your own.” Nightwing protested, grabbing his arm before Danny could leave. 

Danny gave him an unimpressed look, “And what? Wait for the Justice League to show up?” Danny scoffed. 

Nightwing scowled in response, “Still-” 

“Dude.” Danny said pointedly, “We do this like every week. This guy’s a small fry, compared to, like, Plasmius.” Danny reassures him before forcing his arm off to blast an incoming Vulture attack, the positing just right to leave him ready for Thermos Time. “Two down. Easy.” Danny told Nightwing, just as Vulture Number Three swooped down at Danny, knocking the thermos out of his hand, causing  it to roll away from Danny’s line of sight. 

Him and his big mouth. 

Just then, Razor Claw launches an ectoblast at the three of them. Danny rolled out of the way, putting some distance between himself and the sitting ducks. Dash and Nightwing had already put on the specter deflectors, so the shield had popped up just in time to block the attack. “Dash, you’re on guard duty,” Danny said before heading to deal with Razor Claw and the Last Vulture and hopefully find the thermos. 

“I’m doing it because I want to and not because you told me to,” Dash yelled back at him from inside the store. Danny could hear more protest from Nightwing, but not even a Gotham hero could defeat a ghost on their first try (especially one without any powers). 

“Sure, dude.” Danny shot back, knowing Dash was probably flipping him off. 

“I'll have you in my claws soon, pest.” Razor Claw sneered, turning around on his hoverboard to shoot a blast. The shot from the wrist ray missed the ghost but landed a clean hit to the hoverboard, as the device tumbled down ineffective. Not that it really did much- the ghost just used his natural flying abilities to charge at Danny.

“Kwan!” Danny heard Paulina call out somewhere to his left. 

“Yeah?” The football player asked back. Danny looked over and noticed he had the thermos right next to him. 

“Look! The thermos!” Paulina pointed out to their intellectually declined friend. 

“Oh yeah, I have it” Kwan held it up to show her from where she was crouched down. Paulina facepalmed. 

“Give it to Danny, you dumbass!” Star practically screamed at her boyfriend. 

“Oh, Okay!” Kwan said before rearing to throw the thermos at Danny. Proving why he was a starter for the football team, the thermos landed squarely in Danny’s hands. Not wasting any more time, Danny scooped up Razor Claw and the incoming vulture. 

“Good teamwork guys!” Danny called out to them cheerfully knowing they wouldn’t return the energy.

“Shut up, Turd Face,” Dash said, pushing the spectator-deflector into his chest roughly for no other reason than to be Dash. He went off to join his friends in doing whatever he and his friends did.

“That was pretty impressive,” Nightwing walked up to meet Danny, handing his bag and spectator-deflector back “With a little training, you could easily be on par with the Robins.”

Danny bent down to put his stuff back in his bag, “If this is your invitation for me to join Batman’s gaggle of furries, I’m gonna have to give you a hard pass.” Danny responded, looking up to see Nightwing look like he couldn’t decide if he should laugh or not. “Respectfully.” He added half-heartedly. 

Nightwing watched him in amusement. “I thought I was a fake?” Nightwing prompted as Danny stood up swinging on his backpack. 

“They don’t exactly sell High-Density Reinforced Kevlar in your average corner store,” Danny said, knocking on Nightwing’s insignia lightly. The unique sound of the light impact confirmed his point. 

Nightwing gave him an inquisitive look (Danny assumed). “Then why did you tell your friend-”

“Uh!” Danny stopped him abruptly, putting a finger in his face, “We’re not friends.” Danny started walking into a nearby store with Nightwing following him. “And to answer your question, Dash can keep a secret but not from Kwan. Kwan would try to keep it a secret but he'll probably let it slip to Star. Star tells Paulina everything. And Paulina definitely cannot keep a secret. So unless you wanted all of Amity in your business for however long you’re supposed to be here, I did you a favor.” Danny finished, looking through the rows of memorabilia the store offered. He picked up a snow globe with a little ghost inside. 

Nightwing was quiet for a while, still following behind Danny as they headed to check out. “Aren’t you gonna ask why I’m here?” 

“No,” Danny said, easily asking the check-out lady to gift wrap the globe for him. “It’s probably the Dr. Kilye case. It went pretty big. And if it’s not, then I’d rather stay not knowing.” 

“Cool cosplay, dude.” Said the check-out lady, handing Danny his gift bag. 

“Thanks,” Nightwing responded awkwardly, as Danny walked away.

excerpt from regular boy: daniel wayne (chap 3)

masterlist

[apathycares]

could you write about Sukuna being bored after he conquered the world again and taking itadori’s girlfriend as his wife cause he always ,,noticed her’’. You know like he kind of liked her when she was with Yuuji and he wanted to experience the same love and warm she gave to Yuuji?

Hola anon, thank you for the request! I sort of explored this concept (sans Yuuji and a little bit more dark) in my multi-chaptered monster I created here, so feel free to tune in if you're interested! Here's a little something for your request though -

※ Warnings: suggestive violence against people and children, Sukuna in general

※ Characters: Sukuna x reader, implied Itadori x reader, Gojo Satoru

Sukuna lives for his pleasure and displeasure alone. Defeat would mean death for him, which is why he was able to conquer his adversaries and ascend to the highest position in the world. No matter how much those sorry excuse for sorcerers were willing to die fighting him, they were not ready to die, leading to their defeat.

Japan had not only reverted to the freedom of the Heian Era, but devolved to an anarchist society upon the curse's reign. The rest of the world dubbed Japan a dead country, and refused to partake in any of its affairs. Despite this, they were very much aware of Sukuna's power and wanted nothing to do with it.

They simply lived on his whims alone.

Sukuna had not only conquered and reigned supreme, but he had taken everything that he wanted - he had kept Gojo Satoru alive as a pet, his eyes gouged out and kept in a case among his war spoils. All other sorcerers were killed and returned as cursed spirits, some held in captivity for entertainment and others loose in the world. And his wife?

She was the cherry on top of his possessions.

Not that she was happy about it.

The door to Sukuna's chambers creaked open, allowing a stream of light into the dark yet lavish space. You barely moved from your sprawled form on the massive bed, eyes dull and faraway as the sound of the door closing punctured the quiet of his room and duly reminded you that you were still alive. The inaudible yet heavy footsteps of your captor echoed off of the high walls, in a beat that you could pick out from anyone else’s, as he undoubtedly made his way to you as he always does when he needed to –

“You seem lively.” Sukuna said sarcastically, staring down at your unmoving body before he poked your side. “I’ve been informed of your refusal to eat – are you going to make me go through this again?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Sukuna tilted his head as he watched the minute rise and fall of your back, counting your breaths for a minute before he was satisfied. You were steadily regaining your health back after your last 'emotional lashing'. He had to endure several attempts at you harming yourself in the beginning of your union, up until he could finally enjoy the fruits of his labor and keep you by his side at all times. Sukuna only kept you in his chambers when he needed to take care of some business alone, which was rare.

Taking a moment to run his eyes around the room, he noted the bath water needed to be replaced after your use, and the room needed to be aired out so you would flourish a bit more. He asked if you would like to get some Sun and fresh air with him, sighing a bit when you said no.

“I’m not going to kill myself, Sukuna.” You spoke up suddenly after he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his attention back to you when you finally lifted your face off the mattress and cast your gaze at him for the first time in weeks. “My goal is to be just shy of that so you’d get bored of me and let me go back to Yuuji.”

“Impossible.” He shot down, pushing your leg to make room for himself so he could lie down, placing his head on your back and smiling at the ceiling when you made a noise of protest. “Whatever happens, there’s one absolute truth that has remained so since I first saw you – I’ll never abandon you.” Sukuna rolled over on his side to face you, never really able to stop himself. “Moreover, where would you go? All your little friends are either dead or curses.” He laughed a little as he said, completely ignoring the brat's name. “You wouldn’t want me following you into the foreign lands, would you?”

No matter how broken you were, you would never tempt yourself to lead Sukuna into the curse-less, populous world outside of Japan after causing this whole mess in the first place. No matter how much you believed that he kept you as a trophy after you survived Kenjaku’s ritual, morphing into a vessel for his ‘lesser’ emotions when the thrill of killing and fighting wasn’t doing it for him anymore, you wouldn’t doubt that he’d take your escape as a challenge to hunt you down, endangering anybody in his path to get you back by his side, as prideful as you've come to recognize him to be.

He had truly won, and there wasn't anything left to conquer.

Sukuna would hold death tournaments when he returned from his travels around his kingdom, sometimes jumping in when he got too bored or too excited, eviscerating the competition.

On monotonous days, he'd have you around as a spectator, dragging your detached form to his death matches and travels around Japan, laughing in pure ecstasy when you'd betray a small reaction at the carnage he'd hosted.

That's when he realized once again that it was you - you would always quell his boredom and restlessly cultivate his fire for pleasure when he needed you to.

So he kept you closer. You barely ever had a moment to yourself. He'd put you in exquisite kimonos and kosodes and hair ornaments, dressing you up like a doll ready to be shown off at all times. If anyone visited him, they knew to bring along gifts exclusively for you, and if he wasn't pleased with your reaction, he would use the visitor to pull one out of you.

Eventually, you got used to his antics, causing Sukuna to quickly grow bored once again, and so he decided to pull out his best -

"You wound me, wife." Sukuna drawled, clawed fingers reaching down and tracing your spine beneath your kimono as you sat at the foot of his throne. Your empty stare ahead did little to deter him, as he'd gotten used to your acts of rebellion pretty quickly. His fingers trailed down until he turned you by the jaw, leaning down to smile lovingly at you. "What will it take for you to smile for me again?"

Roll over and let me stab you in the ass until you die, you thought, but kept your mouth shut. Time and time again he'd ask you how he could melt the ice from your stare, or show some affection towards him when he was in the mood, and you'd respond with something along those lines hoping to hurt his ego, but all it did was make him laugh and derive pleasure all the same. You've come to find out that what hurt Sukuna the most was your non-reaction, and although it was hard to steal your heart, that's what you would give him until the end of your days.

"Hm, seems like you need a little inspiration."

You perked up a little as he descended from his throne and disappeared from the room, curious to see what he'd come up with next. Was it another death match? Maybe a few more children to skewer and roast in front of you?

Despite teleporting out, he'd chosen to return through the door.

Your heart froze over and dropped straight to your stomach.

"Surprise!" Sukuna tugged the chains in his hands and pushed forward his captives to kneel in front of you, reveling in the hot tears that fell freely from your widened eyes.

A disheveled Gojo stared up at you with empty sockets for eyes, bruises littered on whatever bit of skin that was exposed, and a hefty collar around his neck. His cracked lips parted in a silent plea to free him, before he was shoved out of the way and landed on the ground, the crack of his bones echoing in the large throne room, by a cursed spirit. No matter how deformed and disgusting this cursed spirit looked, you instinctually knew who it used to be.

"Yuuji?" You sobbed, placing your hands on your mouth.

"Die." It said in a cracked voice, reaching out to claw you just as Sukuna reeled him back towards himself. "Die. Die. Die."

"You're correct!" Sukuna dropped to a knee in front of you, holding the cursed spirit of your dead boyfriend back without a sweat as he smirked at you, completely unbothered by Gojo who had obediently sat up again like a robot. "Now, do you want to see them fight to the death, or will you give me a little smile?" He cooed at you, rolling his wrist to better hold on to Yuuji.

With eyes drowning in tears and a chest heaving up and down with a building panic attack, you cracked the most devastatingly broken smile he had seen in his entire existence.

"Beautiful." He mused, his heart fluttering for a moment in nostalgia before he reigned it in again and shot you a wide grin.

Sukuna released them to fight anyways.

I just realized I completely went left from the request. I'm sorry anon LOL might do another part to depict why he chose her and do the fluff bit (as close to fluff as we can get from this man).

[callmerainman]

𝐍𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Mob Psycho 100 by ONE

spoilers!. unspecific spoilers about season’s 3 finale in the beginning, otherwise spoiler free

plot. Reigen Arataka is not only your boss at your part-time job, but your former high school best friend and unrequited love. After a kiss happens between you two, you worry that maybe Reigen is drifting away from you another time. You are devastated, and decide to discuss it while sharing a cigarette at your place.

word count. 4,836k

prompts. fem!Reader, reader is a model, childhood friends, not actually unrequited love, love confessions, fluff, light angst, smoking, late night conversations, kissing, teen crush, childhood memories, hurt and comfort, getting together, making out, emotional sex, naked cuddling, love making, getting together

tw. mild sexual content, sex is here but not graphic or either specifically described

notes. this fanfiction can be considered as a sequel to my other work “Still Into You”. It’s not mandatory to read, but it gives some more insight into reader’s work as a photo model and when Reigen realizes he’s in love with her. Enjoy :)

“I care for you still and I will forever”

There was a kiss.

With Reigen's hands plunged in your hair. Your eyes squeezed shut until they hurt. The sound of his breathing going out of his nostrils. Your hands holding his face.

It happened when Mob lost control of his powers, spreading chaos throughout Seasoning City. You could go with Reigen only for a brief part of your road towards the perturbation, as Serizawa protected the three of you with his umbrella. Reigen insisted on trying to meet Mob halfway, despite your protests.

"It's just Mob, I'll be okay and I'll be back"

He said all of this before taking off his shoes and running in the middle of all the debris that was flying around in the sky. Your legs couldn't move anymore than that, and you just put a hand on your mouth, trying to suppress the urge to scream at him to stop. As Reigen tried to reach Mob, you waited for him while leaning on Serizawa's shoulder, his umbrella protecting you two. Then, the storm stopped. And Reigen emerged under the sunsetting sky, his shirt ripped, blood pouring down his temple. As soon as you saw him, you stood up on your feet, beginning to run towards his direction as he did the same.

"Reigen!"

In a matter of just a few seconds you find yourselves in the arms of one another. It wasn't clear who started it first, but you began kissing. And why? For the care. For the passion. For the happiness of being alive. For love? You felt Reigen's lips moving on yours with resolution, while he ran his hands in your hair. He tasted like smoke, and vaguely of blood. It was a warm kiss just like you imagined it happening between you two. Your heart was beating so hard that you were sure that he was feeling it from your chest to his, from your heart to his. It wasn't the first kiss with Reigen that you expected, but it was the one you wished for. You were so lost in yourselves, that at some point Dimple had to call you two out.

"Geez, get a room"

Only then you regained the necessary awareness to separate. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, and slowly the hands that held you two close started to drift away from your skin. The moment you realized that not only Dimple was still alive, but that Mob was also okay, you ran up to both to hug them tight, even if it was difficult to do so with the green spirit. About the kiss, you didn't exactly know how to feel.

You don't even know it now that things between you and Reigen became weird. It has been two weeks since the kiss and neither one of you talked about an "us". Even after a kiss like that it was still just Reigen and (Y/N). But childhood friends don't kiss like that, and neither do co-workers or people who don't really love each other. That day, maybe for the first time, you had no doubt about his intentions. Reigen really did want to kiss you. It was written in his hands in your hair, in him pressing his body against yours, in the trembling breaths he took at any given occasion. But now you are tormented by doubts. The tone of your conversations was the same for the two weeks following the kiss. Always with the desire to talk about it on the tip of your tongues, but never with the courage to do it. You blame yourself too, it's the responsibility of both you and Reigen to consider your actions, what you two do to each other. But every time you see each other in the office there's that silent agreement: today the kiss will not be discussed.

This afternoon in the office is no different. Reigen has his appointments, Serizawa prepares some tea before heading out for an exorcism, while you on your desk do some paperwork. The looks you and Reigen exchange from time to time, full of unsaid things that are pushing to get outside the heart. In the beginning you could take it. The majority of time spent in the office was with Serizawa or Mob, and it wasn't the case to talk about the kiss in front of them. But after two weeks the excuses were running out. Even today. Not when Serizawa has been out for hours to get an exorcism done and neither you or Reigen decide to talk. Your eyes are slowly starting to sting, as you are scribbling down some practices. You think about how you and Reigen were best friends in middle school and high school. You told each other everything, even the things you were afraid to say to yourselves. You fell in love with him as you grew together, and hopelessly. You gazed at him from a distance at any given occasion, when you couldn't be close to him. Then you distanced yourself when you understood that your feelings couldn't be reciprocated. He just didn't love you that way. Your parents gave you the opportunity to move from Seasoning City and you took it. You and Reigen had promised each other to stay in touch but, over time, your paths were divided. You both started university, found a job and made a new life. Texts and calls became colder, more rare. This until you didn't even wish happy birthday to each other anymore. Then, after ten years apart, you came back and reunited with him after accidentally bumping into each other in the same office you are working now. You just walked in because you thought that your backache was orchestrated by an evil spirit. You didn't read the sign outside and when you came face to face with Reigen, your world changed again. Even if ten years went by, Reigen still reached out to you to help you find a part-time job while you tried to pursue your career as a photo model when you talked to him about your problems. And like that, you were together again.But now, because of a kiss and again because of your feelings, you feel Reigen slip away from your hands. Your eyes start to water at the idea, your writing on paper becomes more sloppy.

Why can't you hold Reigen close to you? A single hiccup escapes from you, and you immediately try to shut it by smashing your hand on your mouth. Finally, after an entire evening with his eyes on his laptop, Reigen flashes his head upwards. He looks at you, and he understands immediately that something's wrong. His lips part, his eyebrows curve upwards.

"(Y/N), are you okay?"

Your eyes bolt up, watered, and your cheeks start to get hot.

"I'm sorry"

You get up and quickly get out of the room, your hand still on your mouth. While you're in the bathroom shedding your tears and your frustration alone, Reigen has his hands planted on his face and his fingers pulling his hair. He lets out a low and muffled groan against his palms, and he curses himself. Seeing you cry makes him crumble completely. And it's not the first time he sees you like this. In high school you were not afraid to cry in front of him, because you knew that you could afford to do that with him. Reigen always listened to you religiously, he always knew what to say to make you feel better and understood. But there were times when you were impossible to comfort.

One of those times, you showed up in front of Reigen's front door without any notice. You were still dressed in your high school uniforms, and it was a spring night. When he opened the door, he immediately asked what happened to you. You planted your hands on his shoulders. Then you got close to his face, your lips parted. And at last, you burst out crying, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You began crying so hard that Reigen, fearing for your privacy being invaded by neighbours, pulled you inside and shut the door quickly. You two were alone, just you and Reigen in that empty and liminal space as you cried against his shoulder.

"(Y/N), don't cry, please" Reigen said, concern in his voice.

You didn't say anything, too overwhelmed. So Reigen decided to take you upstairs, in his room where you spent so many afternoons. He made you sit down on his futon, then he rested his hands on your shoulders, caressing them.

"What happened?" he asked, gently.

You shook your head.

"(Y/N), please, talk to me"

Breaking your sighs, you finally managed to say "Taka, I just can't tell you"

Reigen, although confused, understood you. With all the respect for your feelings, he accepted that he just couldn't know what was making you cry like that. So he took you in his arms and laid both of you down on the floor. You were so close in that embrace, your legs intertwined, your face in his neck, his hand on the back of your head and his breath on your trembling lips. Two teens in their last year of high school inside a little bedroom on a spring night. One of them cried until her eyes shut from fatigue, and the other fell asleep after making sure that the crying stopped.They fell asleep in their school clothes, all over each other, until the sun came to wake them up. And Reigen never knew why it happened that night that, although so sad, he would always remember with romantic nostalgia.

Today in the office you feel like you are living that night again. But this time he can't cheer you up and he knows exactly why you're crying. Inside the restroom, as you shed tears, you watch your reflection in the mirror. Your shoulders are hunched forward, your hands pressing on the sink. You look in the mirror as you say to yourself "you and Reigen won't ever be the friends you were before". It hurts you more than the idea of him not loving you. When you come back from the restroom, Serizawa is in the office again. He says hello to you with a smile, and you reciprocate, he doesn't notice your red and swollen eyes, but it's not his fault. He's the first to leave the office, closing the door behind him. You silently start to help Reigen close the office for the night. It's dark outside and way past the lunch hour, which you both skipped in order to wait for Serizawa to come back. You feel Reigen looking at you from time to time and your cheeks are hot from embarrassment and frustration.

"Okay, everything's closed" Reigen says, walking towards the door "you ready?"

"Yeah" you say, with half your voice.

Before you can reach for the door knob, Reigen blocks your way with his body. You look at him, confused.

"Today I came with my car, I can give you a ride home" he says "if you want to of course”

You feel your stomach tightening. With an unsure sigh you say "It's really dark outside, are you sure?"

Reigen's driving experience was really limited, but he nods convincingly "I'm sure"

You take a deep breath and nod "Okay then, lead the way"

You walk out the office, making small talk as you go down the stairs. It's more comfortable than your silences. Years ago your silences were relaxing and intimate, beautiful. You can't afford that luxury now. You chat about your day in the dark and empty parking lot behind the office. Reigen was used to escort you to your car when you finished work late, just to make sure that you were safe. You arrive in front of his grey car, the one that you had to drive when he got too drunk at a wedding party. That same wedding where you pretended to be a couple to avoid people's prejudices. You slow danced and smiled together. Maybe you haven't had such an intimate moment with him since high school. The chatting ends inside the car, replaced with commercial music on the radio. Reigen keeps the volume low to not get distracted as he drives through the city night lights. Your elbow is pressing against the inside of the car door, your gaze fixed outside the window as you rest your chin on your hand. At red lights, Reigen takes some seconds to look at you.

He would kiss you right now if he could.

After ten minutes of driving in the night streets, the car slows down. Reigen's foot hits the brake, stopping it completely. You don't move from your position, and he looks at you with apprehension.

"Wanna smoke a cigarette?" he asks.

Finally you turn around and look at him, and you give him a melancholic smile.

"Yes, why not?"

Reigen nods and opens the door. He takes a few steps outside and then he lays on the car hood as he waits for you. You stay in the car, looking at him. Your heart steadily beats against your chest. Then, you get out and walk close to Reigen at a determined pace.

"Do you wanna go inside?"

Reigen, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, widens his eyes a bit in surprise.

"If that's okay for you" he replies.

"Of course it's okay"

You smile. It costs you some effort but not because you don't mean it. Reigen reciprocates. It's maybe the first sincere smile you exchanged since you kissed. Reigen starts to follow you up the stairs of your condo. You guide him, and from another perspective that walk up the stairs looks like a chase. It's not that far from reality. In front of your door you shove your hand inside your purse, frantically looking for the keys. You take them out with a chiming sound and then you turn them around in the keyhole. Reigen thinks that your apartment smells just like you. Like the perfume you always put on, vaguely like your lips of which the taste is carved in his mind forever. And it had that same pleasant air of your former house during summer afternoons when you were teens, when you used to sit on the floor in a star position. The fan always on, ice cream sticks thrown away in a corner, sweat running down your temples and your hair sticking onto your skin.

"We can smoke on the balcony" you say, gesturing him to follow you.

"It's your own apartment but it smells like your old bedroom" Reigen adds.

"And the mess is still here"

As you walk towards the balcony, you shove some clothes behind a sofa with your foot.

You slide the big door-window open. You both get out, and a cold breeze hits you unexpectedly, making his grey jacket and the hem of your skirt flow. Then, you close the door behind you and go towards the balcony railing. You lay against it on your back, it's cold and rough. You start searching for a pack of cigarettes. It's new and fresh, the smell of tobacco mixture faintly tastes like chocolate. You take one cig and put it between your lips. You gesture towards Reigen's lighter with your finger, since yours died.

"Wait" he says, and he makes you come closer.

You obey, and he makes the tips of your cigarettes touch, his is already lit up. Inhaling deep from the filter, even yours lights up with a magmatic color. You look at Reigen and your faces are really close as you exchange a cigarette kiss. Then you separate and you both blow the smoke out in sync.

"It's funny" you say, exhaling smoke "the first time I saw you smoking after we met again I was surprised because I thought you dropped the habit"

"Yeah, but since Mob started working for me I smoke way less" Reigen takes the cigarette between his lips, but then his eyes widen and he looks at you "wait, what do you mean by habit?”

You chuckle "You thought I was that stupid in high school?"

"I dunno what you're talking about"

You smile with nostalgia "I knew that your bathroom breaks during class were just excuses to go behind the school and smoke"

Reigen presses the filter between his lips and inhales. Meanwhile, he puts his hands up to resign, and he exhales a puff of smoke.

"You got me" he says, an amused grin "I didn't want you to think badly of me"

Now Reigen's elbows are pressing against the railing, his clasped hands hanging down. Your apartment is not in the heart of Seasoning City, and during the night the balcony is plunged into nothing but darkness and starry skies. Both you and Reigen puff some clouds of smoke that start to dissipate between stars. You don't see them because you are laying on the back, opposite to Reigen who is hunched forward. Your head slightly swings back and cold hair hits your naked neck.

"You've always been like this, Arataka" you whisper.

"Like what?" he asks.

"Ahead of me"

Reigen frowns his eyebrows and takes another hit. He seems concerned. You copy him and you let the smoke roll on your tongue.

"During middle school, high school..." you continue and blow smoke out "you were always so ahead of me. Everytime I looked at you, I couldn't help but feel like you were always a hundred steps ahead of me. Not in a bad way, but not in a good one either. It was just like that"

Reigen puts the cigarette out, throwing it out the balcony. He looks at the last cloud of white smoke disappear in the starry sky, dissipating forever. With a nervous chuckle he says.

"That's not true"

You look at him. Reigen's eyes are somewhere else, very distant, maybe in another reality. He talks again.

"I mean, you were the prettiest girl in both middle school and high school. Perfect grades, in a lot of clubs and groups, with students asking you out almost on a daily basis. Maybe if I didn't hang out with you I would have been bullied or something like that"

You shake your head.

"That doesn't mean anything, Arataka"

For some reason, the soft and tender tone of voice you used made Reigen want more. He gets close to you, who just stepped on the butt of the cigarette with the tip of your shoe. Almost without noticing, Reigen's arms encage you between his body and the railing, his fingers wrapping tightly around it. He looks at you deeply as you look at him through your lashes.

"The truth is that I couldn't even reach your ankles. I was nowhere near you," you say, slowly "because I loved you but you didn't love me.

Reigen's eyes widen and his fingers squeeze the iron railing more. His heart skipped way more than just a beat. You don't move beneath him, because you're so tired of not talking and running away. Your eyes are fixed on one another, pupils dilated.

"The beautiful and intelligent girl you talk about actually spent the night crying between your arms ten years ago because she couldn't be yours. I never told you, but that night I cried for you and not just that. I even cried because I thought that if I couldn't get you then I couldn't get anything. I moved from Seasoning City because of this. I felt small at that time and I feel small now, because I don't know my future in the modeling career and I'm still here chasing you. Because I still love you, Reigen. Maybe I never stopped in ten years. And I know that you don't feel the same but I wanted to tell you anyway"

"But I do love you" Reigen says "I really do"

It's a really quiet night. It's made of stars, cold air, smoke and words that are finally said. Made of (Y/N) and Reigen, his eyes in yours, his arms that create a space that is all between you two, his hands that are shaking around the railing. And it's made of your (e/c) eyes that fill up with intent, and your irregular breathing, and your mouth opening.

"And I'm not saying it just because you became this super hot model who poses for famous perfume brands. I say it because I loved you everytime we smoked a cigarette together, or when you wished me good morning in the office with a smile. And I love the way you never judge me even if I always do so with myself. I feel small in the world too, and with this anguished feeling that I've never accomplished anything in this life"

Reigen takes a deep breath, just a few inches from your face, and his voice breaks slightly.

"But I rather feel small in the world with you than being alone"

Reigen gets close to you and kisses you. Your mouth smothers the shaking in his voice. You reciprocate the kiss immediately, closing your eyes. It's happening again. You missed his mouth as if you had kissed it a thousand times already. Without notice, his body pins you against the railing, and when he does it you relax. You feel the airy noise of his breathing blowing out of his nostrils, and his heart beating against his chest. When you were in high school you spent a lot of time thinking about how kissing Reigen would be and feel like. Maybe it would happen in class when it was you two's turn to clean it, or at your home when he visited you to read manga together on the floor, or maybe in the back of your car after you took your driving license. Now this kiss feels right as it is, just like the first. When you separate you look at each other with astonishment, the eyes before and the lips after.

"Stay here tonight" you say, in a whisper.

"Yes" Reigen says.

This time you kiss with more urgency, your hands in the bristly base of his honey hair, his arms around your waist. Reigen moves you from the balcony railing and you begin to walk inside. Sometimes you stumble on your feet or bump your teeth against each other. Both of you chuckle and whisper some sorry's. Once inside, you close the glass door and take his hand, guiding him towards the bedroom. You take a second to switch up the lampshade and then you begin to take your clothes off. Your skirt first, then your shirt, and even your underwear, until Reigen sees you completely naked under the dim and orange light of the lamp. He gets close to you, removing his jacket, and he looks at you up and down.

"You're so beautiful (Y/N), you've always been" he says, calmly.

You, on the other hand, cup his face in your hands and kiss him again, and you feel him pushing you lightly towards your bed. You fall down on the mattress, a cloud of pristine blankets moving under your body like waves, your hair contrasting with them and scattered all across the bed as if you were underwater. You look at Reigen with hypnotized eyes as he gets on top of you and takes his shirt off, then you help him unbutton his pants. Only his boxers are on now.

"Can I?" he asks, he's sweet and his hands encapsulate your knees.

"Yes, please" you blurt out in a hurry.

Reigen opens your naked legs and slides his boxers down his thighs. He kicks them off with his feet and positions himself between your legs. You stroke his cheeks and his bangs with the tip of your fingers.

"I find you as beautiful as I thought you were in high school"

You smile to each other slowly, drowning in your gazes. Then, Reigen enters you and you both emit low groans.

Reigen starts making love to you with infinite delicacy, always looking at you in the face. Your lips relax.

"I waited so long..." you whisper.

Reigen arches his eyebrows upwards as he speeds up his thrusts. He feels your legs intertwine around his waist so you can feel him deeper. Your bedroom, in which you always slept without company, is now full of the sound of skin against skin, of the sweet nothings you whispered to tell each other that you were doing good. A lot of praises too. Sometimes you stop to kiss, with Reigen caressing you everywhere, and you squeezing around him even more because you want to be closer. Two bodies under a soft light and with the night out the window. After a while, the rhythm of Reigen's thrust gets more erratic like the creaking of the bed, you know he's close and you are too. You come first, then Reigen follows you. Your mouths are wide open to catch air. Then, Reigen collapses on top of you, plunging his face in your neck. In your skin, he whispers

"Maybe I didn't love you then, but I love you now I swear"

You close your eyes and hold Reigen close as you feel him slide outside of you. You brush your face on his shoulder.

"I know you mean it, you never lie to me"

Reigen rolls on his back, his diaphragm moving up and down irregularly. He looks up at the ceiling as he takes you in his arms and makes you rest on his naked chest.

"I wish I loved you ten years ago, so I would have never lost you"

You shake your head and look up in his eyes.

"Arataka, it was all my fault. You didn't owe me your feelings, not ten years ago and not now, I was just selfish in moving from Seasoning City because I couldn't handle the heartache. We were best friends before lovers, and it wasn't right to just run away without telling you why"

"I could have done more to hold you close, maybe writing you more, calling you, insist to know what was going on"

Reigen shields his sweaty forehead with his hand, covering his eyes in frustration.

"C'mon, stop. We are here now, and we are together"

You pull Reigen's hand away from his face and he rests it on your back, tracing circles on your naked skin with the tip of his fingers. Then, he cups your cheek with his free hand and closes the distance between you and him, kissing you deeply. He moves you on top of his body. Then, you reach for the lampshade switch and turn it off.

"We were good today, we did good to each other" Reigen says, holding you close.

You nod, your hair tickling his chest.

"And tomorrow morning I'll make you breakfast in bed, have sex again if you want and then I'll take you out to eat ramen"

In the darkness it's possible to distinguish only the outline of your bodies, which looked like an individual identity. The motion of your laugh and Reigen stroking your hair can be seen.

"You are every girl's dream. Well, mine in particular. Thank god that after ten years it's still me and you"

You both fall asleep all over each other.

In the morning you wake up to the sunlight shining through the open windows. It floods the room with a warm natural light that makes the white sheets of the bed shine, and even your naked skin. You open your eyes, fluttering them a couple of times. You start to slowly roll on your side, sheets sliding down your body. During the night, Reigen inadvertently scooted away from you and laid on his stomach. He's still sleeping, it's dictated by the slow movement of his back going up and down. The scar he got from his first fight against The Claw is clearly visible, a deep cut running from the top to the bottom of his back. His face is directed towards the window, you can't see the expression he has on his face. But you are more than happy to just settle with looking at his honey colored hair that play with sunlight. You smile full of the awareness that you love Reigen, and Reigen loves you.

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension, you say we’re small and not worth the mention

[genocidehim]

Nacho secretly falling for Lalo's trophy wife and she not so subtly likes him back

notes: render is female, angst, marital problems, emotional neglect. words: 2715 part. 2 here

1. keep in mind that if Lalo as a husband seems disgusting here, it's because I'm basing it on the common archetype of the Mexican drug lord! don't kill me, I'm just trying to give some realism to the matter.

2. This could have more chapters, I really liked the dynamics!! Just ask for more and I'll make them.

Since Lalo's return to Mexico, many things had changed, but many remained the same.

Life in Mexico was pleasant and peaceful despite all the inconveniences brought by the criminal life. You were Eduardo Salamanca's wife, a man who was quite respected in Don Eladio's cartel, which gave you and your family some status.

You met Lalo about three years ago, when by chance, you both became emotionally involved. He was an attentive and somewhat arrogant man, like any man involved in organized crime. Lalo loved to shower you with gifts and treat you like a queen. He even proposed to you not long after and took you to live with him in his house.

Although married life with Lalo seemed like a dream, it was much more problematic than you imagined. Lalo was an obsessive man with his work and would typically not spend time at home, much less with you. Once he had you in his house, he began to neglect you because he no longer saw the point in chasing you. He had you under his power. Although he was still quite thoughtful and romantic, it was almost a rarity. Lalo was mostly away from home working, and there were days when you didn't see him at all. Not to mention, he didn't sleep with you most nights due to his strange sleeping behavior.

Over the years, you seemed to have grown accustomed to staying at home without expecting him at night, and due to the danger of going out, you stayed at home while watching the employees work and converse. You were not a prisoner, but you felt like one.

You no longer had friends, your family was not happy with your decision to marry a criminal and they avoided you. You didn't see your husband, and you had forgotten the last time you had spoken to anyone other than the house employees.

Lalo had priorities, and his wife was not among them. His family and his business came first.

When he had to leave for Albuquerque urgently due to business problems, you couldn't even say goodbye before finding out he was already in another country. However, that was already a habit and it didn't even make you sad anymore.

You lived alone in a house where the only people who talked to you were those who were paid a salary. Living in luxuries that you could not enjoy and feeling like just another decoration in Lalo's expensive house.

And technically, that's what you were. Just the beautiful wife that Lalo showed off at parties.

That's why when you heard the shots and a car skid through the entrance of the house, you guessed that he had returned, not knowing how many weeks or months had passed.

You took the time to fix yourself up before going downstairs. Your mood was much lower than on previous occasions, and you felt less excited to receive your husband because that meant having to make yourself hopeful only to be abandoned again without even being able to say goodbye.

You went down the stairs and walked to the entrance of the house after seeing all the employees welcoming Lalo with applause and smiles. You walked towards them and gave your best smile to Lalo, who quickly gave you a big hug and a kiss on the lips to which you tried to respond.

"¡Al fin veo a la niña de mis ojos!" Lalo held your face and gave you another kiss on the lips. "How has the queen of my heart been?"

Lalo's gentle and sweet voice awakened something in you, that love that you used to suppress when he was away. Little by little, you were regaining the excitement of having him home, and your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Missing you... Last time I couldn't say goodbye to you."

"Ay mi niña... Did I leave you too abandoned?"

Lalo wrapped his arms around you while speaking in a sweeter and more mellow tone, caressing your hair as if you were just a little girl who needed attention. Shortly after, he let go of you and smiled widely as he put his hand on your back to keep you close to him.

"You still haven't met Ignacio! I want to introduce you to him. He's going to stay in the house for a while; he's a friend of mine."

You looked at the man Lalo was introducing you to and felt a small pang in the pit of your stomach. A strange sensation filled your body as you kept a warm smile while getting to know him.

Ignacio seemed your age, much shorter than Lalo, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle because, yes, the first thing you noticed was how well that red shirt he was wearing fit him.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ignacio," you said as you extended your hand to introduce yourself. He hesitated, but eventually took your hand and shook it with little force.

When Nacho first laid eyes on you, he knew that you would be his downfall.

The days in the house didn't seem so boring to you anymore, and they were less stressful for Nacho.

Most of the time, Lalo seemed to be more occupied with fixing his cars and taking care of his horses than paying attention to you. He thought it was enough to have you at night and see you at breakfast, and he didn't seem too interested in playing the loving husband if he had more important things to do. It was something that Nacho noticed almost instantly.

Nacho was more observant, subtly noticing how you seemed to be seeking Lalo's attention while he seemed interested in other things. How you flirted with him at every opportunity you had, and how Lalo seemed to completely ignore it, offering you a credit card as a solution to your flirting, thinking that was all you needed from him.

Over time, Nacho discovered that Lalo wasn't just a man obsessed with the Cartel and his family, but they were his top priorities above his young and beautiful wife.

And then came the interest. Nacho started seeing you with different eyes when one of those days when Lalo wasn't home, you asked him to accompany you to a clothing store to replenish your wardrobe, and he was the first spectator to see you in clothes that were quite revealing, with the excuse of "wanting to know his opinion."

You weren't subtle, and neither was he.

The topic began to escalate when the factor of physical attraction came into play. Some afternoons, he would wear slightly tighter shirts or even sleeveless shirts to subtly show off his body in front of you. Other times, you took advantage of the heat to dress more lightly and walk around the house showing more skin. They were so subtle with the signals that no one would think it was intentional.

It was one of those strange mornings where you had a slight argument with Lalo before he had to leave to Don Eladio's house despite having plans with you that day. Lalo had his priorities and you weren't one of them.

It was insulting and it saddened you how everything had cooled down so much, now you could only watch Lalo's horses while reflecting on things in your life. In the distance, you heard Nacho's jovial voice, which seemed strange to you.

"Weren't you with Eduardo?" you asked curiously.

"No, he asked me to stay here resting while he did other things."

You nodded with disdain and gave him a forced smile before refocusing your attention on the galloping horses. Nacho felt a little more courageous and approached you to talk more privately without looking too obvious.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he leaned on the railing that contained the horses.

"Yes... I'm just a little bored of being in this house..."

"You're always at home, you should go out with your friends or do something else."

Nacho realized he had touched on a sensitive topic for you because your gaze saddened and you turned it away from him.

"I don't have many friends... Especially now that Mexico is so dangerous and there are so many kidnappings of narco families..."

Ignacio couldn't remember that, probably because the place where they were was quite safe and well-protected, but it was true that Mexico was much more dangerous now with organized crime so rampant.

"And why don't you invite those friends here?"

"I don't have friends, Ignacio," you said seriously as you gave him a cold and serious look. It was embarrassing for you to have to reveal that part of your life because it was admitting that you were just Lalo's trophy wife, that woman who was only in his house waiting to be the incubator of his children.

"I'm sorry... I had no idea."

"I thought you had already noticed, everyone notices it instantly..."

An awkward silence lingered in which both were unable to speak no matter how much they wanted to break the silence. Nacho hesitated if it was respectful to ask more about it, and you wondered if it was appropriate to talk about your marriage with one of your husband's friends.

"... Would you like to have lunch with me?"

Your question caught Nacho off guard for a moment as he didn't know how to respond. When he looked at you and saw you smiling with a sad expression on your face, he felt the need to accept.

"Lunch together?"

"Yes, we were supposed to have lunch all together, but Lalo had to go to Don Eladio's and I imagine he'll eat there..."

"I don't want to sound nosy, but... why didn't he take you with him?"

"To where? To Don Eladio's house?" You chuckled before continuing. "I don't go to those kinds of meetings, they never let wives attend the meetings."

"I understand…" Nacho recalled his last encounter at Don Eladio's house and was able to piece things together. Those gatherings were typically focused solely on the cartel: alcohol, cocaine, women… things that most husbands would hide from their marriages. And although Nacho knew that Lalo wasn't particularly interested in getting involved with other women, he couldn't guarantee it 100%. Not when he knew very well how the narco behavior was in Mexico.

"You've been to one of those gatherings, haven't you?" You asked curiously, turning around to face him. Nacho felt somewhat out of himself having you so close, normally when he spoke to someone he kept a considerable distance, but now you were just an arm's length away and he could smell the expensive perfume you were wearing.

"Just one, it was when Lalo introduced me to Eladio."

"And… is it true that there are girls at those gatherings?"

The sad look you gave Nacho was enough to break his heart. It hurt to see a young girl like you feeling so insecure about her marriage, a marriage that seemed more like a sentence in jail.

"There are always girls, Mrs. Salamanca…"

"Don't call me that… you can call me by my name." You felt some discomfort remembering that you were also a Salamanca, but not part of the family, just an extension that would one day serve to bear and give birth to true Salamancas.

Nacho nodded and watched you in silence as you seemed immersed in your own thoughts, with an unreadable expression on your face. Ignacio often didn't understand Lalo, and this only made him have a more abstract idea of what kind of man he was. He knew that Lalo had a strong connection to his family and always did everything for their benefit, but... Wasn't his wife also his family? How was it possible for him to abandon such a pleasant woman like you in a house like this? It was almost like a castle where you were locked up. Nacho wasn't very knowledgeable about many things, but he could easily deduce that you were depressed.

Those thoughts made something inside him stir. He couldn't conceive the idea of a woman like you losing her youth and life locked up in this house. Nacho wondered if your love for Lalo was so great that you allowed it, but was it right?

"So... do you want to have lunch with me?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he nodded, giving you a kind smile to which you responded with your own.

Both decided to take their lunch to one of the tables outside the house. Sweet Yolanda prepared Chilaquiles rojos and some natural juice to drink as they talked with more privacy outside of the house. The atmosphere was cool, the heat no longer felt as present, and the fresh air messed up your hair as you tried to keep it away while eating, eliciting laughter from Ignacio.

"Provecho! I hope you like it. I told Yolanda to make this especially for you."

Nacho's sweet gaze watched you with affection as he thanked you politely. Nacho's gaze seemed more focused on watching you than on the lunch he had in front of him. He was enchanted by you, not only were you beautiful, but you also seemed very affectionate and charismatic, and Nacho imagines that you would be a good wife and mother with those incredible qualities.

Nacho's heart beats strongly and he begins to wonder if it's really right to think of you that way, his boss's wife. However, he can't deny that being beside you really makes him happy.

"I wish Lalo could eat with us…"

The mere mention of Lalo's name made Nacho feel repulsed.

"Maybe tomorrow it could happen."

"I doubt it… He never has lunch with me, only breakfast and dinner."

"Lalo is a busy man..." Ignacio can't believe he's defending that man as you look at him with sadness. "I don't think he does it on purpose."

You let out a sigh and set your fork aside. You're tired, as if your pent-up emotions are about to overflow. You feel the words coming and speak up;

"I shouldn't be talking about these things, but... Sometimes I feel like I'm just a decoration in this house."

The sadness in your words really moved Nacho, who gave you a sad look seeing how distressed you were.

"Lalo only needs me when he wants to show off his beautiful wife... Sometimes he just talks about the pretty children I can give him, how obedient I am, that I never give him any trouble..."

Nacho stared at you with a sadness on his face. He could see how your beautiful eyes had no shine and only held sadness and loneliness... The idea that you felt that way crushed him deeply and only gave him more reason to despise Lalo.

What kind of man could be so cold to his wife? The kind of man who only cared about his business, and Lalo was like that.

It hurt Nacho to hear you describe yourself as useless, it hurt to hear you call yourself a "decoration" in your own home.

"God... I'm sorry I told you this, I don't know what came over me... I don't think I've ever had a chance to get it off my chest." You sighed, feeling the air in your lungs become heavier, holding back the urge to cry as you tried to regain your composure. "Don't tell Lalo I told you this... He'd be so angry with me if he found out."

He has to maintain his composure to not get lost in his emotions. He wishes so much he could stand up and embrace you in his arms, caress you, and tell you everything will be okay, to let you know that you are not really the things you think of yourself… However, he has to restrain himself, it's a bad idea, it's a terrible idea that he's starting to feel things for Lalo's wife.

"I won't tell him, I promise. Trust me."

The warmth of his words had really managed to take away some of your sadness. With some reassurance, you took Nacho's hand and gave it a little squeeze before thanking him. And Nacho felt like he had won heaven just by touching you.

[primalsouls]

Inner Visions

can you tell what's happening?

nothing's ever what it seems

tighnari x gn!reader pt.2

theme: general

warnings: ooc Tighnari?, kinda heavy dialogues, not much but please lmk if you find anything triggering or need a warning for.

summary: Tighnari's life was safe but appreciation wasn't shown. Forgetting the new fungi, his attention moves on to an individual who claims they can see the future, which he finds to be impossible to do. No one can really see the future.

notes: outfit look because i suck at description lmao it took me a while to get this done lol. it is currently 2:00am and i work at 8am xD .... oh gosh. anyway, here is Inner Visions pt 2! would try to work on pt 3 this week or next. please enjoy and lmk what you think in the comments. the characters might be a bit ooc but that's due to me not playing the game for a long while haha. anyway, please have fun!

pt. 1

✿ some reader info ✿

has a third eye - uses to see future visions when activated, atm the third eye is ◉ᵕ◉.... third eye is the closed one haha...

a "deity" - doesn't have a region to rule nor followers to guide

third eye makes them lose energy, making them be tired easily, sleeps regains their energy/power back

wields a polearm mainly but can use more than one weapon - hand-to-hand combat mostly preferred

Kunishiko is the name I used for Wanderer haha.

more will be added once i remember haha

⌑ reblogs & feedback are appreciated here! ⌑

"That's impossible." Were the first words Tighnari spoke right after (Name) introduced themselves. The atmosphere felt thick but he wasn't sure if it was the horrendous smell of the fungi or the deep unsettling gut feeling built within the depths of his stomach. It was confusing. How was it possible for someone to see the future? What if they followed him here instead and lied about such nonsense? But if that were the case, he would have known by the sounds of their footsteps his long ears would have picked up or Iraj would have let him know there was someone behind him from the get go. Actually, how didn't his ears pick up any sound from them? Tighnari looked around. There wasn't any other entrance nearby other than the one he came from.

"I'm a light walker." (Name) answered without hearing the ranger's worried questions. Their voice caught his ears, his eyes snapped back on their figure. "You're thinking how I got here. I didn't follow you. I just saw in my visions that someone was going to die in this cave by eating a deadly mushroom. I was actually heading my way to Sumeru City. This place was just on my path there and before I could continue on, I got a flash of someone with fox-like features about to commit a stupid move."

Tighnari frowned, his bow lowered by his side. He still kept his stance up, not fully trusting (Name) yet. And they could see it in his eyes. Such pretty serious eyes. (Name) figured there was no use to continue staying in the cavern with the forest watcher. They had done their good deed for the day, there was no point in trying to prove themselves to someone. Especially when they had someone else in the city waiting for them.

"Believe me or not, take what you can from this encounter. It's not like I've expected for anyone to believe or know about me. Though, as much as I'd like to stay and chit chat with a pretty fox like you, I have to go." (Name) said as they turned on their heel, but they didn't miss the chance to see the light pink blush decorated the fox-hybrid's cheeks. Raising the hood over their head, the stranger began to walk away.

Tighnari stood there, watching their figure distances as they walked out of the cave. Bow in hands. His heart was still racing from the earlier attack—or in their case, help—(Name) caused by the use of their polearm. Letting his weapon disintegrate as he put it away behind him, Tighnari quickly climbed out of the cave. There were too many questions in his mind. The new fungi was long forgotten the moment he set his eyes on the other. Maybe they hadn't gotten too far. His ears stood on high alert for their footsteps but nothing was able to be picked up. When he reached the entrance of the cavern, Tighnari turned to Iraj.

"Iraj!" The ranger called out, hurriedly making his way towards the startled man.

"Oh, Master Tighnari! What's wrong? You looked as if you saw a ghost." Iraj said as he walked towards the dendro user. Tighnari glanced around the area for any sign of (Name).

"I hope I didn't." He said, panting under his breath. "Have you seen someone just walk out? A hooded individual with a trident?" Iraj shook his head, a look of confusion on his face.

"No, sir. No one has walked in nor walked out." The ranger said. Tighnari frowned. How was that possible? Then how was (Name) able to pass Iraj with being seen?

"I see…" His brain tried to wreck any other entrance of the cave. There was the first Southern opening just where Iraj guarded. Above them to the right was both the second southern entrance and the first northern one. But the northern opening belongs to another cavern just above the one they stood at. Maybe they came from the second way in. Though they would have been too late to stop him if they took that way in. "What are they?" He asked himself, looking back at the cave before he scanned his surroundings once more.

"Was someone in there, Master Tighnari?" Iraj asked, concern laced in his tone. The fox-hybrid scratched the back of his head, unsure what to say.

"No, um, forget it… I'm gonna leave my stuff behind there. Need to go to the city." He said. Before the ranger could say anything to stop him, Tighnari already headed on his way to Sumeru City. It was the destination they mentioned they needed to reach afterall. Who knows, maybe he would be able to catch them before they reach the city's walls.

"So, who are we meeting again, Nahida?" Paimon asked, looking down at the dendro archon with a tilt of her head. The duo were called by Nahida at the Sanctuary of Surasthana for a small meetup. They were notified by Katherine at the Guild when they went up to report their last commission. The small archon requested their presence at the sanctuary. And there they were, the archon catching them up with her latest commission.

Nahida smiled, looking up at the floating girl. "(Name). They are an old acquaintance of mine. I found out about them when I was searching for some more information about Aether's sister through memories in Irminsul Tree. There was a hidden ley line that held some unusual information about (Name). I figured with their help, maybe we could learn more about your sister." Nahida explained, turning her gaze on the puzzled traveler.

Help them learn more about his sister? Could this (Name) person have anything to do with Lumine? What could their relationship with his sister be? So many questions ran through his mind, but he won't let this opportunity slip away from his fingers. "I hope they can be of any help. Thank you, Nahida." Aether said, a kind smile crossing his face. Nahida beamed with a nod, turning her small body towards the door.

"Then let's go. They should arrive here in no time." Nahida said.

"Wait, what about Kunishiko?" Paimon asked.

Nahida giggled. "He's studying with someone right now."

The pair raised a brow. That was a first. Usually he wasn't the type to study with someone. Dismissing the whereabouts of the Wanderer, the trio descended their way to the entrance of Sumeru City. Nahida looked forward to meeting her old friend. She was grateful they managed to reach out. Hopefully there was no trouble heading their way. She didn't want anything to ruin their rekindle meeting and friendship.

Tighnari frowned. He stood at the entrance of Sumeru City but found no sight of (Name). Did they lie to him? Did they also see in the future that he was going to follow them? A scoff of a laugh left his lips. There was no such thing as future visions.

"Who would have known you would be a stalker." That alluring voice! Tighnari turned to the source. There they were, standing near the Guild with their arms crossed over their chest, the hood down to their shoulders. Registering the words from the other, Tighnari scoffed.

"I didn't stalk. I-I… I—well—I…" Why was it difficult to think of a lie? "I've��� came to pick up some new materials. Yes, new materials. Since the ones I had were destroyed." Tighnari eyed the individual with a glare.

(Name) smirked, a shrug being delivered at the fennec fox. "Sounds like it could be partially true, but we both know why you came here, cutie." Their words made Tighnari do a double take, a huff leaving his lips. Another blush colored his cheeks from the endearment they used. Before he could continue the banter, another voice popped out.

"Tighnari!? What are you doing here?" Turning to the owner of the high-pitched voice, the young man noticed the traveler and the other two make their way to the Guild. Paimon flew over to him, standing between him and (Name). "Do you know them?" She asked, glancing between the two. Tighnari kept quiet, unsure what to say until Nahida took account of their behaviors.

She turned to the individual, a polite smile on her face. "You must be (Name), right?" She asked. Earning a nod, Nahida clapped her hands. "I don't know if you remember me but I'm Nahida! The dendro archon of Sumeru. It is a pleasure to meet up with you again, (Name)." The archon asked. Hearing her introduction, Tighnari frowned.

"I'm sorry but you guys know them?"

"Only Nahida does! We're just meeting them now, too. They're here to help Aether learn more about his sister's whereabouts." Paimon explained with a nod towards Tighnari. "Have you met them before, Tighnari?"

"We met at a cave today. Poor fox was about to meet the stars so soon." (Name) said with a cheeky smile. They received a glare from him.

"I've almost eaten a new mushroom found within the caves of Gandha Hill. Fortunately, (Name) was there to stop me." Tighnari admitted, a look of embarrassment on his face. (Name) chuckled.

Nahida looked at the vision user. "Why don't you join us then? We would love to have more extra hands to help, I'm sure (Name) wouldn't mind." She offered. They shook their head, silently agreeing they truly didn't mind his presence. Paimon and Aether agreed excitedly as well. It would be a good chance to catch up with Tighnari. The fennec fox hesitated in his answer, sparing a glance at (Name) who only sent him a wink. Huffing a sigh, Tighnari agreed to come along. With his positive response, Nahida guided the group to the Lambad's Tavern. Today's reunion meeting was going to be interesting.

[dailydragon08]

Random cute Luke x Reader headcanons that live in my head rent-free pt 2 (Force sensitive reader edition)

- Luke is completely mesmerized by you when you first meet. Just the fact that there’s someone else out there who is like him (especially after Yoda told him he’d be the last Jedi) fills him with so many emotions.

- Luke’s gotten used to sensing other people’s emotions, but isn’t used to someone else being able to sense his. He really loves and appreciates how in tune you are with him and always seem to know just what he needs. You never push but just knowing there’s someone out there who cares and notices makes him feel incredibly lucky.

- He’s a bit shy at first, especially if you’ve had a lot of experience/training. There are a lot of things with regard to the Force that he just doesn’t think about since it wasn’t part of his life for a long time. Sometimes, before you have a chance to use the Force to grab something out of reach, he’ll get it for you and hold it out to you with a shy smile.

- The first time you two spar, he really has to make an effort to regain his composure seeing you in such revealing, form-fitting clothes.

- You both teach each other things about dueling and the Force that you learned from your respective masters/training.

- But that doesn’t mean you don’t have fun. Pranks via the Force are practically a requirement. After you two get together, you have a habit of Force-flinging his towel across the room as he steps out of the refresher. “Oh noooo ~ guess you’ll have to walk around naked.” “Maker, you’re ridiculous” (but of course he’s laughing and fully planning on doing it to you later).

- He can’t help but daydream about running a Jedi academy with you by his side. Once he had a dream about the two of you with a little stone hut on a forest planet surrounded by padawans, a few other masters, and of course R2. He wasn’t sure if it was a dream or Force vision (but hopes it’s the latter), but hasn’t been able to let it go since and prays one day it will be a reality.

- Your presence always soothes him (and vice versa). When you first meet, it’s a bit distracting for him cuz he’s just so starry eyed over you, but as your relationship progresses, having you there actually helps him meditate better cuz of how calming and relaxing he finds your presence.

- When you first met though, he was definitely peeking his eyes open every few minutes during meditation to just stare at you (and you were doing the same).

- The two of you send cute little communications to each other through the Force. Whether it’s just a wave of love and affection or less innocent teasing, your ability to connect to each other through the Force is something Luke prizes above all else. Even though it drives everyone else crazy when you can communicate with just a look (“oh, maker, they’re speaking Force again”).

- You and Luke get looooots of one-on-one time going off on Force-related adventures. Although he knows you can handle yourself and respects (and a lot of times is in awe) your abilities, he still worries for you and dives in harm’s way to protect you more than once.

- Lots of cute, gooey, doe eyed post-mission injury care.

- You both have a great sense of what the other person likes and doesn’t like based on the excitement or disgust you can feel through the Force. After one particularly hard mission, the way his face lit up when you returned to the ship with a giant box of hot chocolate packs could’ve powered Home One for a week (of course he insisted on making you some).

- He feels so privileged to have met you, and feels even luckier when you decide to be with him, and does everything he can to show you how grateful he is everyday.

[nadia-zahra]

st5 ramblings plus more

I've been wondering if anyone was talking ab how plausible time travel is for st5, and the first and only post I've seen about it was this really well done post by @endgamebyler. I'm just gonna add on to the crazy-train lol.

The first lines El has in st4 are this:

"Dear Mike, today is day 185. Feels more like ten years. Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We're all time travelers if you think about it..."

Emotions can make time speed up or slow down

It makes ya wonder if Will's emotions the night he disappeared were so strong that it caused time to completely halt in the Upside Down, and that's why it's stuck on November 6, 1983.

And like if ya really think about it, how the fuck was Will to know he'd been in there for a week? There is no sense of time in the Upside Down, so for all we know he could've thought he'd only been in there for the night. Him thinking he'd only been in there for the night could also explain why time didn't continue moving with the seven days he'd been there.

Plus the st writers' posted this:

It makes a fuck ton of sense for time travel to be involved in st5 if it's supposed to tie Will's disappearance in 1983 and Vecna together. Maybe it'll be able to answer the questions of how tf Will got there in the first place if he didn't use a gate, why tf was Vecna seeking out Will at all, and why was El able to point Will out in the photo when they'd never met.

All of these questions are major plot points that had never been touched on-- maybe with st5 being a combo of st1 and st4 we will finally get some answers.

To rope in the flea and the acrobat for a sec, maybe the way it worked for Will was that he was so fucking scared and desperate for a way out that he accidentally traveled to the Upside Down with unknown powers instead of with a gate.

That's right, I'm tyin in the Will has powers theory cause believe it or not it makes fucking sense for Will to have the power of time control!

To further back up the idea that emotions are tied into Will's Disappearance lore and to Will having powers, EVERYONE who has powers in stranger things uses strong emotions to harness them-- what if Will was just unconsciously using his powers to stop time and escape (aka go into the Upside Down)?

This has already been touched on, but Will having the ability to control time would explain why Henry wanted him so freaking badly. Like the only people Henry didn't want to kill, but instead team up with, were Will and El. El has the power of going into the mind and opening/closing gates, and Will (probably) has the power of time control. If Henry was capable of either getting these two on his side or gaining them for himself, he would be unstoppable.

And think about it-- Vecna only goes after people who are extremely emotional because he thrives off of people's fear and emotions. What if he killed all those poor kids in st4 and in 1979 because they couldn't harness their emotions into powers he deemed valuable like El and Will can?

Furthermore: How did El lose her powers and Vecna gain them?

Well, obviously El was emotionally drained after everything she'd gone through within the last six years (yeah I'm starting with the mf rainbow room massacre) and she had to regain her emotional strength to get her powers back, but before she lost them Henry definitely didn't have the ability to just magically go into people's minds like we see him do in st4. He practically jumped Billy and had to possess him to gain control over his mind, so why tf didn't he have to do that with the other kids?

This is a stretch, but what if Vecna got a lil bit of El's power when that slug thing was in her. Seriously, after she had to manually rip it out from within her body, she lost her powers. That lil peice of Vecna did get squished by Hop, but it was still in there for long enough to cause some serious damage. Enough damage to make El lose her powers and give Vecna a taste atleast.

So to bring this post back to st5 time travel, let's speculate on how it's gonna come into play. They can't just randomly have Dustin or Nancy be like, "Oh no Vecna's back, looks like the only reasonable thing to do is use a wormhole!"-- like no they need an explainable reason why time travel's even involved. Personally, I think it's gonna be with Will needing to go back into the Upside Down and change the past.

Like what if those phone calls Joyce was getting from Will were actually 1986 Will trying to tell Joyce to go to the library or something while in the Upside Down, but he couldn't get in touch? What if he was trying to warn himself and Mike by flickering the lights outside the garage?

Will and Mike have been HEAVILY hinted at being the ones to stop Vecna *cough 20 cough*, but my brain is a lil too fried to add Byler onto this rn.

Point is, time travel is most likely happening it's just a matter of how and when.

[blazingstar24]

Random Ludinus Headcanons B/C I’m fucking insane 😌

It’s break week so y’all have to suffer with me and my brainrot ✨ Pulled some of these based off character ask prompts

Headcanons:

- Ludinus can cook, it’s an uphill battle to actually pull him away from his work to eat an actual meal, but he can cook. Nothing fancy, more practical. Being the head of the CA and knowing a lot about what kind of training the Volstruckers do, I think he wouldn’t really let anyone else prepare his food. Barring of course his own magical servants (like with Caleb’s tower cats) He’s not really that scared of being poisoned, he’s probably immune to most at this point, but he’s also not about to set 1000 years of planning into flame because he dropped his guard down on something. Imo he also knows a lot of practical skills despite being rich and powerful since he lived through the Calamity and had to survive in dnd apocalypse times.

- Characters from other media that I think has Ludinuscore vibes: Sauron, Lord Shen(KP2), Sephiroth, Luke Castellan, Swain(LoL), and ironically Chronos (Hades 2)

- Before Dominox, Ludinus was resolute in his goals. Post Dominox, he’s still resolute but there’s this nagging feeling that’s haunting him. Of course Downfall reignited his rage and hatred but now the sacrifices to get to this point is fresh in his mind and not buried with the centuries of time. And he’s returned to Ruidus and the exultants are dwindling and he’s returned to Liliana and…he gives her a different task to do instead of pulling the trigger again because the weight of the sacrifices have smacked him in the face again. He’s wavering and his outburst at Zathuda, at the Unseelie is him trying to regain control of not just the plan but over himself. If he can just tap back into the rage and the feeling that it’s all worth it…

- Ludinus didn’t really like anyone in the CA and was probably lowkey happy to ditch them. He’ll take the support and use them as pawns of course, but he hates them for one not matching up to the CA of yore and also because their ambitions were small and they were basic ass hubris wizards. Lud has said he sees power as a tool, he differentiates himself from them in the idea that he is being utilitarian about his power gains. It’s to serve a purpose for all, not just him. Hence why he vibed better with Liliana and Otohan over Zathuda because the latter just reminds him of the CA and in his opinion, small lackluster goals and grabs for power.

- Ludinus would not last one minute in an Among Us lobby. His ass would be voted out even if he wasn’t the imposter. He would always get killed first. He would be mad af that people aren’t doing their tasks. And if he was playing with proximity mod, he would be bullied by Jester and Fearne. And maybe Chet still asking about Molaesmyr.

- His spellbook is incredibly fucking messy—to everyone else. Not that he would share it with anyone. A lot of it is written in an older form of Elvish that isn’t used anymore/no one alive to remember it. He has his own organization system. Honestly it’s akin to how the Journals are in Gravity Falls

- Ludinus definitely a winter person and hates summer. He’s built for colder temperature and if he wasn’t an all powerful and rich wizard who can regulate the temperature in his house, he would fucking die in the summer.

- Because of the fey eating shenanigans, Ludinus’ eyes glow in the dark like a cat’s. His pupils also do the dilation thing.

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Emo Buff Daddy [15]

TW::: smut, mention of self harm

And quick A/N: i know a couple people were upset with me for not using the keep reading option-- i'm very sorry but i'm still new to tumblr so i didn't quite understand how it worked! i've added this feature to all of my chapters so anyone can skip past it if they want. i hope it's better now-- happy reading!! <33

++++++++++++++++++

"I don't see why you're still standing."

Sal's dark tone and breathless voice catches me off guard. What's that supposed to mean? My gaze snaps up to his and our eyes meet. His are slightly narrowed as though his brows are furrowed behind his prosthetic.

His hand suddenly wraps around me and presses into the small of my back, his nails digging into my too-warm flesh. The stinging sensation pushes me over the edge and I suck in a breath, still looking up at him inquisitively. What does he want me to do if not stand?

His free, gloved hand reaches up and aggressively latches onto my jaw, setting my face right before his. The rough surface of his prosthetic nose scratches against my mask as his eyes glare into mine. I feel exposed to him, all my thoughts, feelings, as well as my entire body completely bare to him.

The edges of his fingerless gloves brush over my chin, making me gulp down any visceral reaction I may have because of the light touch. It's teasing, almost. A soft, barely noticeable touch makes me feel more than a complete, full enveloping touch does. Because no matter how ridiculous it may seem to someone else, a fleeting touch has so much withheld intention. There's a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it-- the prospect of someone holding back makes every nerve-ending in my body light up. I could power an entire city right now.

Sal's head tilts slightly to the left. His fingertips dig into the hollows of my cheeks, his breaths are a bit ragged and muffled, his knee is propped between both of legs with reason. His combat pants rub against the inside of my bare thighs, creating a friction so delicious that it's nearly painful. He moved us into a compromising position before I could even really notice.

"I said," he starts, voice low. So low that it carries off into the air around us to the point that I almost miss it. "I don't see why you're still standing."

I blink up at him and he squeezes my face. So I suck in a breath that's been deprived of me for the past couple minutes and lick my dry lips. He makes me nervous in an exhilarating way. "What do you--" my voice cracks and I quietly clear my throat, casting my gaze off to the side. "What do you want me.. to do?"

As if my head began to lean away from him, he readjusts his grip on my jaw, gripping it so tightly that I'm forced to look into his eyes yet again. His ocean eyes that seem more like the depths of a dark sea rather than clear water once you're near the surface, just about to breach.

"If your knees aren't bruised by the end of the night, then there's a problem," he rasps out, dark eyes capturing the image of my parted lips before our gazes clash again. "So bruise them."

I swallow thickly over the sudden shiver that passes through my body. Sal notices my light tremor, his fingers loosening around my face.

We stare at each other for a moment or two longer as I replay his words in my head. He obviously wants his dick in my mouth, and honoring up on our bickering that I thought was merely some harsh jokes a few weeks ago feels a bit horrifying now that the opportunity is being presented to me. Obviously I want to do it, but if it's anything like what I felt last night, I'm not sure I'll be able to do such a great job at taking all of him into my mouth. There's no way.

"Hey." Sal regains my attention again, his eyes blazing as he stares at me. His voice is just as serious as it's been since we ran into each other, but the underlying lust is filtered out for a moment. "Are you uncomfortable?"

I gulp, shaking my head vigorously to let him know that I'm fine. I guess my silence made him feel the need to make sure that I'm cool to do this. That's... uncommonly kind of him.

Sal relaxes a bit, his shoulders dropping as the tenseness falls away and he moves his fingers from my jaw. To replace that bit of control, he slaps my cheek gently and holds my chin up with two fingers, tilting my face toward him. "Good," he breathes. "Then don't fucking make me say it again."

My lips are uncomfortably dry, so I lick them again and nod once at him. I swallow down all of the surface level fears I've developed in the past second and grab onto the waistband of his cargo pants. I'm so glad the photographers put him in this getup because I've never seen him look more drool-worthy in all my life.

"You--" I say quietly, looking down the empty hallway that we're occupying. I slowly pull my fingers from the fabric of his pants and crack my knuckles. "Here?" I ask.

"C'mon," he taunts suddenly, taking a little step closer to me. His combat boots scuff the cement ground at our feet and his eyes squint. "You always have so much to say. Where's that dirty mouth of yours now? You nervous over the possibility of getting caught?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out as a rush of heat filters through my veins. He's not wrong. I'd hate to get caught sucking him off in a fucking hallway. I can't be vulnerable like that.

But Sal's on a warpath today and he isn't showing me any mercy. But then again, when does he ever show me any mercy?

His eyes drop to my mouth again and he snickers beneath his breath. "That doesn't turn you on? The prospect of someone finding us while I'm buried in your throat? You're such a little slut, I'm shocked you're not into that."

There he goes again with the degrading. His voice alone is enough to sway me, but his words are manipulative too and suddenly his desires are my own. Maybe the looming threat of someone walking in on such an obscene act is pretty invigorating...

Sal's calloused thumb rubs along my wet bottom lip, pulling it forward. "So soft," he mumbles, eyes never straying from where his fingers touch. His hand wraps further around my back just as he dips his thumb between the seam of my lips, the digit barely brushing over the surface of my teeth. "They'd look so pretty wrapped around my cock."

My breath catches in my throat and I effectively pause everything-- my thoughts, my breathing, my movements, even my fucking heartbeat. Sal seems to notice the moment I've reconsidered his offer. Just as he releases my lip, I drop the tactical gear in my hands, grab his biceps, and reverse our positions. I back him up with shaky breaths until he's pressed against the wall, then I drop to my knees right in front of him.

"Good girl," he purrs, praising me prettily as he drags his fingers over the underside of my jaw. I waste no time after his words shoot through me. I trail my hands up the sides of his legs and keep eye contact with him the entire time before finding my way into the top of his pants again.

I hook my fingers into the fabric and give a light yank, watching as Sal's pale hips come into view. His boxers are just barely visible, hardly hanging onto him at all. I brush my thumb over his warm skin and swipe my tongue over my bottom lip when Sal sucks in a sharp breath. He's sensitive.

I pull his pants down the rest of the way, which didn't take much effort on my part since they're pretty loose. They pool around his ankles and then the only thing in my way is the thin fabric of his underwear. Even with that covering him, his member is incredibly apparent and there isn't a single thing that could hide him right now.

And then there's that tattoo on his hip. Earlier today, mere hours ago, I still couldn't make out what it was. I have so many opportunities now, I can rip his underwear off him and finally answer the question I've had since Larry sent me that damned picture of him over Discord.

His shirt is covering the very top of the tattoo from me, so I'm only able to see a set of vertical curves and lines along his skin that never connect at the top that's hidden from my view.

My fingers carefully trail along his bare leg until I reach his boxers, crossing over to the front to palm his thick cock through the fabric all while looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Sal's breath stutters as I rub my hand along his length, teasing him until he cracks-- hopefully. He was rough with me last night, deliciously so, and that's the type of attitude I'm looking for again.

I squeeze his dick lightly, not enough to set this scene in motion, but it's enough for him to shut his eyes in ecstasy. "Vi," he says darkly, a grating edge to his voice. "If you don't start choking on my dick in the next second, I'm going to do it for you."

My hand tightens around his member again and I tilt my head up at him. His eyes are still closed. "I don't think you'd be able to choke on your own dick, Sal," I say softly, sensually.

His head snaps down to look at me, eyes blazing with lustful rage. Within the next second, as promised, he's shoved his boxers down with one hand and buried his hand into my hair. His fingers wrap around the strands and he yanks my head back roughly so I'm looking up at him. He doesn't give me a single chance to finally find out what kind of tattoo he has on his hip. "It's about damn time I shut that dirty mouth of yours, you fucking brat," he barks out, nearly sneering down at me with that impressive fire in his eyes and the tantalizing grip he has on my hair. Then he pulls me back a bit more, tilts my head down just a tad, and taps my chin. "Open the fuck up. Now."

My mouth willingly falls open and before I can fully prepare myself, Sal drags my face forward and bucks his hips up at the same exact time. His dick slams into the back of my throat and my immediate reaction is to choke.

Thankfully, he doesn't move. He sits there for a second while I gather my wits and adjust to something so large intruding my airways. But I quickly close my lips around his length and blink over the tears that brim my eyes.

"You're going to cry?" He says through pants, letting out a single laugh. "Pathetic. You can do better than that."

With his cock filling up every inch of my open mouth, I can't make a sound no matter how badly I want to. I simply blink up at him quickly, relishing in the way he gazes down at me with glazed eyes that drink me in so devilishly.

So instead, I moan around his length and shut my eyes again, hollowing my cheeks as I suck on the part of him that's in my mouth. I lift a hand and wrap it around the rest of his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. My other hand moves to his bare thigh. As soon as my fingers brush his skin though, Sal uses his free hand to slap mine away. "No touching unless it's my dick. Got it?" he breathes, fingers tight around my wrist.

Fuck it, whatever. If that's what he's into then fine. It's not going to stop me.

Sal drags his fingers through the strands of my hair until he reaches the end, then he wraps it around his hand, holding on close to my scalp. He pulls my head back then pushes his dick further into my mouth.

And then he's thrusting into my throat, pushing my head forward to meet him halfway. I'm just the added pleasure-- he has no patience, doesn't want me to help him at all.

I do everything I can to use my tongue, licking under his shaft and using my leftover saliva to pump the rest of him with my hand. But Sal fucks my mouth rough and quick-- so much so that this is simply so he can cum as fast as possible. It's not about a slow build up, it's about using me to chase his high.

Too bad he chose the wrong bitch for the job.

Tears threaten to stream down my cheeks as his head repeatedly slams into the back of my throat. I choke on his cock multiple times and it has to be music to his ears. Sal's a whimpering, groaning mess above me, bucking his hips into my face and tilting his head to the ceiling.

Sal's hand is still clutching my wrist, but I want to drag this out for as long as I can, especially if he orgasms quickly like he did last night.

I tug on my wrist a bit and Sal pauses his rough thrusts, taking a breath. "What?" he asks, shockingly a tad concerned. "Are you okay? We can stop?"

He's let go of my arm and that's what I wanted. Instead of answering, I glance up at him and pull back so just the tip of his dick is between my lips. Then I suck gently, swirling my tongue around him to lick up all the pre-cum that had leaked. Sal shivers, a deep groan following the action. The sound forces my thighs together either to hide the evidence of my own arousal or to provide some relief for myself-- I'm not sure which one.

I wrap my hand around his velvety cock to give him a tight, slow pump, all while looking into his eyes. I want to watch him squirm.

He lets out a quivering breath when I separate my mouth from him with a reverberating pop that makes him flinch. He moans quietly and my eyes catch the way his hand squeezes into a fist then slowly stretches out beside him. That's hot. Mr. Darcy who?

I use my hand as leverage, placing my tongue at the base of his cock to slowly lick a stripe all the way back to his tip. Then I suck the head of his dick into my mouth again, my tongue wrapping around his throbbing member and eliciting a pretty little whimper from him.

Finally, I start bobbing my head along his length, sucking and licking up as much of him as I can. The salty taste of him coats my tongue deliciously, making me eager for the moment he finally climaxes.

Sal lets out a deep, trembling breath as I repeatedly take him in and out of my mouth, going as deep as I possibly can to force him into making some kind of sound again. He pushes a hand through my hair, gently massaging my scalp with his long fingers. It's almost intimate, but I know better. This is praise for doing well.

"You can take more than that, Vi," he says, voice audibly shaking. "Keep going, pretty girl. Don't make me take the reins again."

I know he'd love to take control and shove his dick down my throat again, but hopefully I can get him to cum on my own. I just know he'd cry for me. I want that bad.

I pull him out of my mouth and use my hand to pump the entirety of his pretty, soaked cock that I'm finally able to lay my eyes. He's definitely a good size. Gorgeous, pink, and so incredibly sensitive.

And there's the tattoo. My eyes were pinned to it as soon as I had a moment to admire his cock. It's faded, something he must have gotten years ago compared to the newer, darker marks on his arm and neck.

A crescent moon and stars around it. Fitting for him, actually. I find myself admiring it while I take my time to pleasure him. It's detailed, pretty. If there were any perfect words to describe him, this perfect little tattoo says it all. Dark, night, a little bright, definitely a dreamer. A hoper. It's him, more personal to him than any of his other tattoos.

I'm brought back to reality, heart thumping affectionately in my chest when Sal twitches in my hand. I look up at him, panting heavily since I'm finally able to get a good breath of air in. Saliva and pre-cum is smeared across my face and Sal seems drunk off of the image when he glances down at me again.

His fingers stop their gentle caress and tighten around my hair again, quickly using that grip to keep my head still as he shoves his throbbing dick back into the depths of my throat.

He doesn't say a word as he repeatedly thrusts in and out of mouth, making more tears flow down my cheeks. He doesn't have to say anything-- I took my mouth off of his cock for too long and right after he warned me. This is his nonverbal way of telling me that karma's taking control.

No matter how many attempts I make to bring him closer to climax with my tongue, by sucking every inch of him I can, it means nothing. All he cares about is making me crumble beneath him. All he craves is the sound of me gagging on him. All he wants to see is his cock filling up my mouth and the tears that have begun to paint my cheeks.

"Just like that," he moans out pathetically, beautifully. "You're doing so good." I'm hardly doing anything other than acting as his fucktoy, but if that's what he wants then I'm more than happy to oblige. Watching him fall apart, pleasure himself, and show this vulnerable side is enough to satisfy me. I don't even need to cum if it means he'll do it for both of us.

"I'm about to cum," he rasps out, still pounding into my throat roughly. I might not be able to speak after this, not with the way he's fucking my throat raw. "Swallow every drop or you'll fucking regret it--" his voice falls into a sinful whimper and he shudders, his fingers tightening impossibly around the strands of my hair.

I moan against him, squeezing my eyes shut as he picks up the pace, his dick roughly pumping into my mouth. It's brutal and I love every second. He feels good, he tastes good, he sounds good. I'm obsessed with the way he falls apart so viscerally. It's intoxicating.

For just a second, I'm thinking I might actually orgasm over the sound of his salacious moans alone. He's so vocal and so dirty about it-- how could I not? But he bursts into my mouth before I can think harder about it. The salty flavor and warmth of his cum envelops my tongue so quickly and I try to keep it all contained, but he continues thrusting into my throat. A bit of the liquid seeps from the corners of my lips, dripping onto the floor.

I don't care and Sal doesn't either for the moment. He simply whimpers between breaths above me, sucking in as much air as he can before he looks down at me and begins to pull his cock from my mouth.

I suck on him to lick up whatever cum I can. He jolts at the feeling of my tongue on him, hissing as his head tilts down to look at me.

I run my free hands up his thighs, absolutely reveling in his post-orgasm bliss with him. He's so pretty-- takes his hand out of my hair to run it through his, pulling strands away from his sweaty forehead. And now that the moment is over, he's not stopping me from touching him.

But as I'm feeling his skin, I notice something. A row of thin, raised lines. Not just one, multiple.

I try to rationalize it in my mind. There's no way-- but what if there was a way?

My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I flatten my palm on his thigh, rubbing my thumb gently over the protrusions. I swallow the remnants of Sal's orgasm and watch him with a renewed mind. He looks down at me and wipes his cum off of my chin, sticking his thumb into my mouth to slather the liquid onto my tongue.

He's still glowing right now-- he must not realize what I've discovered and I can't even fully wrap my head around it myself. I know what this is. How do I bring this up? I don't know if these are from two months ago or from years ago and if he's not happy... I can't just act like I haven't noticed anything.

I gulp down my nerves. It's going to be uncomfortable for both of us but I'd rather help him. I know I would have appreciated it when I was going through a tough time. Whether I hate him or not, I don't hate him enough to let him suffer alone.

"Sally," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat. "Are these..." my voice is barely audible from the way he abused the inside of my throat, but I rub my fingertips along the lines on his thighs again and Sal suddenly returns to the land of the living.

He roughly shoves my hands off of him, nearly pushing me onto my haunches. His boxers are back on before I can even regain my balance. "What?" he asks, taking a breath to recover from the marathon-like orgasm he just had. My heart thumps in my chest, an overwhelming mix of anxiety and shock taking hold of me. "I have a lot of scars, Vi. If that's going to gross you out then let's just stop this now."

My head rears back at his sneer and accusation. He's deeply offended and I can't help but feel like he's acting this way because someone's turned him away because of the scars before. That's not my intention-- I'd never do that.

"No, they don't--" I gape up at him, brows furrowing. "I'm the last person who's going to be grossed out by scars, Sal. I'm just..." I pinch my lips together as a wave of fear washes over me. He's going to think I'm insane for actually worrying over him. "Fuck, this sounds crazy," I warn. "But I'm just worried."

I watch him with wary eyes, but Sal scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Don't be worried about scars from my delinquent past with Larry. If anything, I deserved these," he grumbles, looking down and grabbing his pants. He shimmies them up his legs just before I can get a look at the scars that I felt. And I don't believe him. Those are too meticulously placed.

"Deserved? Delinquent?" I ask softly. "These are--"

"Yea. Delinquent. Larry and I hopped a barbed wire fence and my unlucky ass got caught on it. That's what those scars are. I broke laws, karma broke me. That's the circle of life." He says this all so nonchalantly, all the while swiping another drop of cum from my lips.

No one would be able to lie so efficiently. Not even I could. Something's still sketchy about this and I want to question him more. But that's invading his privacy and I can already tell that he's on edge. One wrong move-- which is the direction I'm heading in-- and he'll never open up about this regardless.

But what if he's telling the truth? Maybe I'm just bringing up past trauma. I didn't get to look at the scars on his thighs anyway.

I should keep asking anyway though. If he needs help...

I'm driving myself insane. I want to pester him, beg him to be honest with me just because I know how desperate I was at one point for help with my mental. I couldn't leave anyone to stay silent when I suspect that there's something wrong, even my enemy. It's just not--

"Now, I remember saying something about you having to regret not swallowing everything," his voice suddenly turns sinister in a very pleasurable way. He pulls me back to reality quickly, and I find my heart racing for a different reason. The truth always comes out. Obviously he wouldn't trust me enough now, but maybe he will in the future. I will find out.

For now, there's nothing more I can do. I tried.

Sal tilts his head down to the floor between us, so I follow his gaze to notice the various drops of milky white on the floor.

I gulp, swallowing the remnants of what was left in my mouth. The salty taste begins to die away-- I can hardly taste anything, in fact, as anticipation takes hold of my entire body. My mind goes blank in an instant, my worries replaced with expectations.

My eyes instinctually look back up at Sal who's already gazing at me. I'm guessing he's waiting on some kind of reaction from me.

Half of me wants to let him do whatever it is he's undoubtedly planning, but the other half of me is hyper-focused on the clothes I'm supposed to be changing into. And what I discovered just seconds ago. This doesn't feel right, not when there's so much else to focus on. But memories of last night have plagued me all day. What to do, what to do...

I really should just get dressed and start heading back to the other room. If Sal and I are away for too long, it's going to look really suspicious. And I mean, if anything, we can find another time to continue this. If he's adamant on punishing me, so to speak, he'll make time to do it. That'll give me time to figure out a plan on how to get the truth out of him too.

With that thought in mind, I grab the pile of clothes and push myself off my knees, standing to my full height. I take a breath and then a step back, all while Sal watches me closely. His eyes are so bright right now-- they look like they're glowing. The hardly contained desire swimming around in his cerulean irises does nothing to help.

I open my mouth with the intention of telling him that we'll figure something out later, but I don't even get a chance to say a syllable-- I only squeak out in surprise when Sal lunges toward me, sweeping me off my feet with no effort.

My hands automatically latch onto his shoulders once he wraps my legs around his waist with a little grunt. My eyes widen significantly when Sal turns on his heel and starts heading for the room that he just came out of. The clothes that were previously in my grasp are pressed between him and I-- they miraculously stuck around during whatever just happened.

Sal's hands grip my ass tightly, his fingertips digging into my flesh as he quickly walks us closer to the changing room. "You're lucky I don't make you lick that off the floor like a fucking dog," he bites out, a short chuckle following.

I have too many responsibilities for him to be talking like this.

My legs tighten around his waist and I squeeze my eyes shut. My lips pinch together as I try to remind myself why I can't just let him tear me apart in the room that he's carrying me into. My thoughts are clouded-- rational mind is completely missing because Sal is in tactical gear, I just sucked his dick, and he has his hands on me. How could anyone think?

Sal moves one hand to grab the heavy metal door leading to the changing room. He rips it open like it weighs nothing, but the way it scrapes across the cement floor says different. Maybe it only makes a scary sound, but it's actually pretty light? Who knows.

As soon as he crosses the threshold into the room, the door slams shut behind us. Then, Sal's unwrapping my legs from around him and dropping me to my feet. The sound of my shoes hitting the ground echoes in the room-- cement floors again.

I swallow thickly as my clothes drop to the ground. They're going to be so dirty. My hands slide from Sal's shoulders to the top of his chest due to the sudden height difference. The same goes for him; his hands move from my ass to my waist, my shirt riding up from the contact. His cool fingertips press into the skin of my hips, and he uses that as leverage to yank me even closer to him.

"You have to be quieter than you were last night, Vi," Sal breathes, leaning his head down to rest on my shoulder. His prosthetic nose runs along the length of my neck, causing shivers to erupt along my spine. As those words roll off his tongue, one of his hands crosses over to my stomach.

I have two options: get pleasure and get caught or wait it out and play it safe. Either way, I'll see to it that he makes up for this later. I have no doubt that he'll make extra sure to handle me later too.

"Wait," I say, wincing over the fact that I'm not going to go through with this. Truly, it hurts to push him away for now.

I can always count on Sal to listen to me when it comes to our situationship. He doesn't listen regarding absolutely anything else, but he at least takes this seriously.

His hands pause instantly and he pulls his head away from my neck, looking into my eyes. He's wary, concerned, alert. "What?" he asks. "We don't have to."

I lick my lips and take a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong," I tell him. "I want to, but everyone's expecting both of us to come back any minute now."

Sal looks off to the side, his hands slowly dropping from my waist. The loss of contact makes me want to whimper. There's a far-away look in his eyes as he seems to think. "Oh," he murmurs. "That's true," he whispers to himself.

I gape at him. How could he forget? He's literally clueless. I've said it once and apparently I have to fucking say it again. I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. "Really?" I scoff. "You forgot that you're supposed to be modeling right now? You're working for Treyarch but you let pussy blind you?"

Sal's eyes meet mine again and his eyebrows furrow, a glare taking over what little features I can see on him. "You don't have room to talk. You're not even supposed to be modeling with us so why do you have clothes?" There's that snarky, aggressive tone again.

"You never fail to prove how self-centered you are," I sigh, taking a step back and leaning down to grab my clothes from the floor. "Larry mentioned me and the photographers heard. They asked me-- well, more like told me to go change." Just thinking back on what happened a few minutes ago brings a smile to my lips and a fluttering to my heart.

Sal snorts, "Tasteless," he says in regard to the photographers choosing me. He turns away from me and moves to a corner of the room. The corner has a fancy chair with a pile of clothes on it-- if I had to guess, those clothes are for Sal. And then a vanity with a mirror and table with makeup and other essentials. Those probably all belong to Ash.

They're tasteless for choosing me when he chooses to hang around gothic beauties like the one from the bar the other night?

"Says the man with a preference for emo barbies," I murmur halfheartedly. I'm too focused on ingesting the room. My words were a mistake though-- I'd gone back to the night that woman sat with him at the bar and I let the argument get to me. I really shouldn't have said that because it shows that it bothers me. But, it doesn't actually bother me.

A wave of anxiety slams into me like twenty puppies running to a newcomer at a daycare. Fuck, he's going to attack me for that one. It's so obvious that the woman bothered me.

Sal tilts his head at my words. "Is that what you're calling yourself now?" he says and I perk up a bit. I don't know how I should react to that. He didn't realize I was talking about his lady friend, but he also just admitted that I'm part of his preference in women. "I think bratty little bitch sounds better."

I lick my lips and try to contain the smug smirk that so desperately wants to take over my face. He's so preoccupied, I doubt he even realizes what just came out of his mouth.

I glance around the room. There's not much in here-- some ugly orange rug on the floor, a black leather couch with Todd and Larry's clothes on it. Todd's clothes are neatly folded whereas Larry's are just thrown into a pile-- that's how I was able to distinguish who's were for who.

Then there's a little folding screen. Ash's clothes are hanging over the edges. Besides that, there's a mini fridge in the corner adjacent to Sal. That's pretty much it.

"I wouldn't have to be a bitch so often if you weren't such a dick," I finally respond to his words after letting them percolate in the air for a short while. "Fix your attitude and then I'll fix mine."

Sal glances over his shoulder, black-lined eyes meeting mine. "Fix yours first and then we can talk," he says disinterestedly.

I shake my head. "Guess we'll never agree then."

I walk over to the folding screen and step behind it, laying my clothes on a little stool that the photographers were gracious enough to place back here. I start pulling my shoes off with a little grunt, moving onto my socks afterward.

Arguing with Sal comes so naturally now. It's mildly aggravating, but it isn't making me want to retrieve heads on pikes like it usually does. Maybe it's because we're both distracted right now.

"You're only well-behaved when you're being a whore," Sal says, and I look up because his voice is a lot closer to me now than it was before. And now, his slightly monotone voice is replaced with a nagging, agitated tone.

My head snaps up as I'm shimmying my skirt down my thighs and I make unexpected eye contact with Sal who's standing right in front of the folding screen.

I pause my movements, heat enveloping my cheeks at the same moment that Sal realizes I'm almost half naked. His eyes latch onto my thighs and then he takes a step back, then another until he can't peek over the top of the screen anymore.

I release a sigh of relief. "Do you watch all your women change or something?" I grunt out, watching him with a raised eyebrow-- not like he can see it. I know it doesn't really matter-- he's seen a lot of me so far. This is innocent compared to what he saw last night, but it still feels awkward and it seems he feels the same way.

"I didn't mean to," he snaps, crossing his arms over the armor plate on his chest. "I actually had pure intentions for fucking once. Don't make me out to be the bad guy."

"Funny," I respond, pulling my shirt over my head. "You always play the villain so I never expect anything else from you."

"Wow," he sarcastically says. "High praise. Considering me a villain is the nicest thing you've done for me."

I glance up at him while pulling on black cargo pants. He looks so proud and smug. What an ass. "It wasn't a compliment," I grit out.

"And that's exactly why I took it as a compliment. It pissed you off."

I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to changing. The entire reason his fingers aren't in me right now is because we have somewhere to be, so I don't understand why the hell he's sticking around and pestering me.

Then something slaps me in the face. Well, my mask.

I blink, shocked at the audacity of Sal to throw something at me, but when I look down to where the unknown object dropped, I see a little rectangular piece of foil. I tilt my head, wondering if I'm seeing right.

I lean down and grab it. Yea, this is gum.

I stand up again and eye Sal curiously, warily. Did he poison this?

Sal must see the contemplative look in my eyes because he scoffs in disbelief. "It's just fucking gum, dick breath. I'm doing you a favor."

I cringe at what he just said. "Oh my fucking--" I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "Get out of here, Fisher. There is absolutely no reason for you to be hanging around with me. I literally cannot stand you." The more I think about what just happened, the words that came out of my mouth, the more I want to jump over this folding screen and choke him out.

Sal cackles evilly, backing over to the metal door with his hands in his pockets. "You're just upset because I'm right, like I always am."

"Fuck off, asshat," I fire back. It's a weak comeback but it's all I've got. Of course this would happen after I thought about how mild our argument was earlier.

Sal's laughs die off when he opens the door, but then he calls me. "Vi," he says and I hesitate to look up. But when I meet his bright, cerulean eyes, I see determination. "We'll continue where we left off later. Okay?"

I watch him. Those are good words. Those are expectations. So I nod gently. "Okay."

And then he's gone. Completely disappeared from my view in the blink of an eye.

Every inch of malice and aggravation I felt just seconds ago melts away like candle wax. It'll reform all over again later, but for now, it's just replaced by butterflies making my stomach turn excitedly. So there's something for me to look forward to later. Absolutely wonderful.

I pull off my shirt and replace it with the long sleeved grey one that I was given. It's a little big on me, but no one has my body proportions either so I expect as much. My chest plate is adjustable, which helps tremendously. It makes the loose shirt stick to me like glue and because of that, it's hardly noticeable that the clothing isn't even my size. Said chest plate is much like Larry's-- camo and cargo. If anything, it's more like an armored vest with gun magazines and extra storage.

I secure it over my arms and to my chest then move on to the belt that holds a couple holsters for what I presume will be prop guns that I get later.

All that's left is for me to tug on the tan combat boots, which I lace up fairly quickly, and from there I'm home free. The issue now is walking up to my friends like I didn't just have their friend's dick I'm my mouth. I have to face Larry and pretend that I didn't suck the soul out of his step-brother's cock.

Simple. Easy job.

I take a breath and watch the door, begrudgingly unwrapping the spearmint gum that Sal was oh, so generous enough to give me. I want to be mad at him— I am mad— but he did help me out, even if it was only because he didn't want everyone else to smell the clear evidence of whatever happened in the hallway.

My feet trudge toward the big metal door while I chew on the stupid fucking gum. This couldn't be any worse... but no regrets.

My hand fits around the handle easily, but when I push it down to open the door, a little tug does absolutely nothing. I pause and stare at the door, bewildered. Sal threw this thing open earlier? One-handed? No way.

I give another tug, this one a bit more forceful. The door squeaks on its hinges, slowly moving to follow my weight. It's not extremely heavy, but I have to put some weight behind it and physically walk with the door. Am I tripping or am I just pitifully weak? Both?

I'm finally able to get the door open enough to squeeze my body through. Even then, the door gives me a little shove in the right direction, hitting me as it slams shut before I can move out of the threshold. My glare pierces through the inanimate metal while I rub my abused back. I did not ask to be the target of everyone's hostility today.

The hallway isn't nearly as eerie to me now as it was a few minutes ago. I walk through it quickly, the buzzing lights on my mental back-burner once I reach the door that separates me from reality.

I purse my lips, blowing out a sigh. Ash, Larry, Todd, and Sally Face Fisher are on the other side of this door. I am not going to fuck up. I am going to be brave. And I'm not sure why I'm so nervous— maybe it's because any one of them could have very easily walked in on Sal filling up my throat like it was a common occurrence. Yea, probably that. But, we didn't get caught, so there's really nothing for me to worry about.

I guess my fantastic, trauma-induced ability to lie is a plus here. Not like it's fed me all too well in the past. Seriously, I'm playing three different people right now and all it's doing is tangling me up in a sick mess that I created. There's Vi, who no one knows, there's y/n who everyone loves— except Sally-- and then there's Lexi who just so happens to be the object of Sal's affection.

Things literally couldn't my be any worse. But damn if I do, damn if I don't. I'll lie my ass off when I leave this hallway if I have to.

With my little pep talk finished, I pull this much lighter door at the opposite end of the hallway open and cast my gaze upon the darkened room. The Faces are perched in front of a large, stretched out tapestry being used as a background. It's this dusty looking city scene from what I can tell. And my friends are just milling about, talking with each other. Well, most of them. Todd is in the corner stuffing his fishing hat under a pile of prop rubble. I guess the photographers tried to make him keep it.

I amble toward them, a little unsure of how to address anyone after what I just did. I actually got to sleep on the knowledge of Sal and I last night, but now I have no time to recover.

Relax, y/n. Everything's fine. No one's going to suspect a thing.

Upon finally reaching my friends, Larry's the first to acknowledge me. His eyes glance over me appreciatively and he nods his head, furrowing his brows as a little smirk pulls at his full lips. "You look delicious. But you always do," he chuckles. Then he walks over and claps a hand onto my back. "So what took you so long, Vivi? Found some good dick to munch on?"

There's no way to describe the way my stomach suddenly drops out of my ass. I've seen this scene so many times. It's like when Jim gets caught flirting with Pam in The Office— that initial reaction of fucking book-it or use the worst excuse known to man while awkwardly looking around.

So I intellectually hit my friend with, "Yea. Why else would I be chewing gum?"

I make a face akin to the expression that anyone would pull after sucking a lemon or taking a shot of tequila. I genuinely want to disappear. This is going terribly.

Even Todd turns his head toward Larry and I, raising an eyebrow in my direction. Ash and Sal are just out of my direct line of sight and they can fucking stay there. If I meet any more judgemental gazes, I'll probably vomit.

But Larry's a giggly mess, something I didn't take note of because I'd panicked. His hand is squeezing my shoulder while he bends over and wipes a fake tear from his eyes. "See?" He says, giving me a wide, gap-toothed grin. Cutie. "You get it. That's humor, baby!"

I giggle nervously, slowly letting go of the nauseating bout of anxiety that just swam through me. "Mhm," I hum. "Don't worry, Lar. I'll always take good care of your jokes." I cannot form good, coherent responses for the life of me right now.

Larry can't answer me in time because there's suddenly a huge prop gun shoved into his arms. I step away from him, baffled when the weapon clatters loudly in his unprepared hands. It's a shock to my system and the same goes for Larry who juggles the hunk of— metal? plastic?— with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"This shit is heavy," he gasps out, finally getting a good hold of it. "These— these aren't real, right?" He asks, looking up at the photographer who's currently holding out a big Resident Evil-esque gun toward me. Assault rifle, maybe? I know nothing other than Leon Kennedy when it comes to those games.

I take the weapon carefully after Larry's nervous remark. He's not kidding— it's heavy as hell, definitely metal. They wouldn't give us actual weapons right? There's a serious issue going on in the world with these things and the last thing I want to do is hold a real one.

I look up to the photographer, my gaze questioning, hoping to get an explanation for Larry's question.

"No," the photographer says, snickering. "Well, they were once." I cock my head to the side. Were?

I watch the photographer drop a hand gun into Ash's awaiting arms, then a shot gun goes to Sal. They both look pretty shocked by the weight too.

"Hold on," Ash says. "We didn't come here to fuck around with real guns. Fake ones, fine. No one can get hurt. This is different—"

"I said they were real at one point," the photographer cuts her off, heading toward Todd. "They aren't real anymore." Todd trades in his fishing hat for a gun similar to mine and the photographer rolls his eyes. "Our crew found these on eBay. They're refurbished military-grade guns, basically. They were either damaged or deemed as duds. But someone bought all of them and got creative, took them all apart and put them back together as paint-ball guns. So no, they can't hurt anyone. Plus, since they're remade and no longer used for horrendous shit, they come pretty cheap."

My lips form into a little "o" at the explanation. See, this is more acceptable. Perfectly explains why they seem so real.

"That's actually pretty interesting," Todd murmurs, turning his weapon over in his hands. "Sounds like something I'd be into."

"Leave the Super Gear Boy in seventh grade, Todd," Sal pipes up, sighing at his scientific friend.

I roll my eyes. He always has to kill the mood, and for what? I think this is a good way to kill off guns instead of letting someone fix them up to resell as actual weapons. Todd would thrive in the paint-ball industry.

"What's paint-ball even like?" Larry asks, completely mystified if when putting the sound of his voice into account. I glance to him, noting the way he looks into the barrel of the gun. Even if it's not real, that shit still makes me nervous.

I close an eye, recalling my limited paint-ball experience. If I wasn't doing something band related or reading in bed, I was playing paint-ball, truth be told. I grew up in two of California's— no, America's— major city's. If you weren't old enough to hit the bars or clubs in town, there was virtually nothing for you to do, period. That left me with dad's favorite little hobby and a run down storage building for me and my two or three friends to go rip open the gates of complete chaos. It was fun.

"I don't quite know how to explain it," I tell Larry, shrugging. I hold my gun at my side, gripping it by the handle. "Think Call of Duty. You load it, then you shoot it basically."

"And how do you know?" Ash asks, scrunching her nose up at me when I turn to acknowledge her. I love her little nose scrunch. It has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen.

"I had a lot of free time as a kid. So I used some of that time to play paint-ball," I tell her with a smile.

"You'll definitely have to teach me one day," she grins, viridian eyes twinkling in the bright white lights.

The photographers move us into place mere moments after Ash's request. I'm not used to photoshoots— so I do my best to follow the directions aimed at me. Move here, step there, pose like so.

There's a lot of straight faces and eye work. "Look angry," "look determined," "look scared but in a way that doesn't show it." None of it makes much sense to me, but I do my best, aiming my gun in random places and trying to keep the awkward grin off my face.

It's tedious work if anything. I'm stuck changing positions second after second or having to hold a pose with this heavy ass gun for ten minutes at a time. I agree with The Faces now— it isn't half as fun as models make it seem.

"My arm is killing me," Sal grumbles to himself, but I catch his words and Larry seems to as well. Sal is positioned behind me, one of his elbows on my shoulder and the other aiming his gun forward. If it's not already obvious, he fought like hell to convince the photographers to put him with someone else for this shot.

I've been trying to smoosh down all of the excitement I feel because his knee is positioned between both of my legs. His chest is pressed into my back. I can feel every breath he takes, I can smell his shampoo, I can hear every word he speaks before he even says it. Every single syllable that leaves his throat. It consumes me, leaves me a drunken mess below him.

But I try to hold onto my sanity and I do that through negativity.

"Yea," I grunt, discreetly rotating my arm. "Well, you're killing my shoulder with that bony ass elbow of yours."

Sal doesn't respond immediately, only presses his elbow even harder into my shoulder. I bite down a gasp, sneering at the photographer in front of us.

"Hold that expression, VioletViolence— perfect, beautiful!"

I want to roll my eyes. Maybe they put Sal and I together for a reason. Somehow they know we bring the worst out of each other, and thus, the angry facial expressions.

"Stay strong, broski," Larry calls out from beside me. Yea, right. He's one to talk. He's laying on his stomach with his gun propped on the ground, all he has to do is put his hands on it. "Free style match!" He suddenly yells. I furrow my eyebrows, confusion swallowing me whole. "I'll go first," Larry continues in a sing-song voice.

"Okay, so... actually, someone give me a topic." I shake my head at Larry's request. He went back on his word immediately.

But Ash is quick to jump in. She's positioned to mine and Sal's left. "Ooo!" She says. I can't look up at her or I'll get scolded for moving. "How about cake?" I almost snort and break character. Cake, of all things. It had to be Ash.

A sudden flash blinds me for a second, but I blink through it, trying to hold my angry gaze.

"Cake?" Todd mutters, huffing out a quick laugh. "That's all you could come up with?"

"Hey," Ash snaps, disappointment evident in her sweet voice. "I think it's a good topic. It's definitely going to be hard for Larry to—"

"Got something," Larry says, an evil chuckle following his statement. My eyes widen— that's a concerning laugh and he actually managed to come up with something in, what, half a second?

I need to fear this man. This buff daddy, tactical gear-wearing, snarky, humorous, emo man.

"Alright," Sal sighs from above me, finally pulling some of the weight off of my shoulder. I groan at the instant relief. I'm definitely going to get back at him for this later. "Please, do go on," Sal continues sarcastically. My guess is that he doesn't believe Larry could come up with something like that on the fly. I hate to say it, but I'm with him.

"Okay, alright," Larry whispers. "Prepare for absolutely malarkey."

I guilty grin quirks my lips and I truly struggle to hold back a couple giggles. Larry is ridiculous.

"Do you like watching people eat cake too?" Larry asks and I glance down at him, noting the shit-eating smile taking up his entire expression. He's going to get in trouble for that. And why is he asking about cake? I thought he was going to bust a few free style rhymes.

And bust some rhymes he does, taking me by complete surprise.

"Nah, I prefer watching them eat my dick. When she sucks my soul like a motherfuckin' tick. Love it when she goes in lick for lick— errrrrrr. Resident Evil, baby, I know those zombies would pick herrrrr. Got her lips around me, getting stifferrrrrr Getting kinda goofy like Stiflerrrrr."

I snap my head down to Larry, eyes wide and a cackle working it's way up my throat. Did I hear all of that right? Is this motherfucker kidding me right now?

Every single one of us breaks character— Sal snorts as soon as Larry ends his verse, Todd actual smiles and pats a giggling Larry on the back, and Ash is in tears. Her gun has clattered to the floor and she's fighting to regain control of her emotions.

I join them, giggling with Ash who's borderline moaning in humorous pain on the ground beside me, on her hands and knees. The photographers have given up on us for now— all four of them moving away to chat about the pictures, no doubt.

"Honestly, should I say that?" Larry asks, taking a deep breath and swiping a hand over his face as he calms down from his insane laughter. "That was a little much."

Sal hums next to him, so I look up. The man looks like he's holding onto his sanity by the thinnest piece of string known to humanity. All of that just to drop his own free style continuation of Larry's monstrosity.

"It's never too much, she can never get enough. She's always barking at me like a dog, ruff ruff. She's a fucking baddie, you know she likes it rough. My girl's all pretty like Hilary Duff. She begs and she pleads, she likes that kinda stuff. Transformers Megan Fox vibes, I feel like Shia LeBeouf."

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Todd bites out, voice wavering with barely held back amusement.

Ash grabs onto me for moral support and I look toward her, tears building in my eyes while I try to contain the laughter that so desperately wants to be released. How on earth could both boys come up with something like this?

When I finally see Ash, she's got a permanent gaping mouth with her eyes squeezed shut in that awesome silent laugh that tells everyone something really funny just happened.

It's a wonderful, core memory moment where everyone's keeled over, giggling or crying their guts out. Sal and I aren't angry with each other, Larry isn't flirting with anything that has a pulse, Todd isn't stoney-faced, Ash isn't plagued by constant worry. We're all just friends being goofy and enjoying our time together. I hate to say it, but this is something we don't get very often.

I look around at my friends as they recover. Larry finally takes his hands off the floor, kneeling on the ground with tears streaming down his cheeks. He swipes a hand over his face as Sal walks toward him. They do a quick fist bump, praising each other for the perfect lyric session. Sal is still bent over, his eyes scrunched together with glee to accompany his horrible attempts to contain giggles that tumble out from behind his prosthetic.

I wish he looked this happy all the time. I wish he was this happy all the time. No matter what, I can't help but imagine what it would be like if we were different people in different universes. Maybe we would have met sooner. Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty for wanting him like I do. We could have been friends. We could have been lovers. We could have been more-- more than whatever this is. Fucking around when we feel like it because we both clearly have issues, both personal and regarding each other.

But I guess it doesn't really matter now because none of those universes are achievable. I can't unlock upgrades in life-- I just have to hope and assume that things will get better between us. To do that, I have to stop being so angry with him all the time too though. And that might be hard to do.

"She can't hear you bro," I hear Sal say. My kidney twitches at the sound of his voice. I'm being overdramatic, but that's how keen I am when it comes to his voice. I instantly tune in and feel frustration build up in me. I just know he's talking about me. "Vi's just mad she isn't Hilary Duff." I turn away from Ash, narrowing my eyes at Sal who then turns to me with malice veiled by amusement in his pretty gaze. "She isn't Megan Fox either. Must suck."

"What point are you trying to make? That I'm not successful? That I'm not pretty?" I sneer, tilting my head in question. Anyone would find that offensive. I don't know what he'll say to that, but I'm prepared for anything. If he wants a verbal battle, I'm absolutely down.

Sal shrugs, hands readjusting their grip on his gun. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you're not as successful or pretty as them."

I can't believe I put my everything into a blowjob for this absolute, complete, stuck up, and disrespectful cunt.

Tongue in cheek, I spin on my heel and look down at the ground. I can't tell if the flame of rage is growing in me, or if the embarrassed, insecure pin is about to officially pop my ego balloon.

Ash looks up at me, finally getting to her feet again, but she isn't laughing anymore. She isn't smiling either.

"Ash," I say shakily with failed attempts to hide my shaking hands. "I'm going to fucking strangle him," I bite out.

It seems like every time I try to look at him in a positive light, Sal's able to tell. Like he's a mind reader. And he jumps in every single time to completely obliterate any chance I was willing to give him. Even just a sliver of hope gets thrown back three miles the very moment he detects it. And now, we're ten steps back compared to the half step we had taken forward.

I can put up with most things he shoots my way, but shots to my insecurities really tear me down.

"Sweetheart, no one's going to strangle anyone, okay?" Ash says, bringing her small, cool hands to my cheeks. She lifts my face, forcing me to look into her eyes. When I do meet her gaze, those viridian irises are filled with the big R's-- regret and revenge. "Not until I do it first," she continues sweetly, her voice sugary like melted chocolate. To anyone else, it would seem like a joke, but that look in her eyes is real.

I feel a little better now.

"Ash," Sally spits out quickly, voice panicked. "I was kidding. Don't strangle me." How very pathetic of him to be scared now.

"Yea," Larry cuts in, chuckling. "He'll moan if you do."

Larry's barely able to finish his statement when a loud thwack echoes in the big room, followed by a resounding "Fuck! I'm sorry!" from emo buff daddy himself.

Ash looks off to the side, fuming with grace-- something only she can achieve. "You're lucky, Sal," she says coldly. "Larry handled you well enough, I think." She lets go of my face, so I finally chew down my anxiety and embarrassment and turn to the two boys again. Sal's looking like he's caught between contrition and anger, like he can't tell which emotion he should feel. "You need to cut this shit out, Sal. Vi didn't provoke you, there was no reason for you to say that. There's never a good, viable reason for you to target someone's looks. That was low, even for you."

I watch him with a glare, staying silent. Ash handled him better than I could. She said everything I wanted to and more.

Sal scoffs, "I wasn't serious. I'll even give Vi a compliment if that fucking helps. A real one." I don't believe him. There's nothing he could say or do that would make up for the damage he just did. Hearing his attempt at appeasement makes infuriation boil in me again, and his stupid blue eyes glancing my way only make that worse. It doesn't matter if he looks good in all that tactical gear.

"Actually," Ash chirps, "I think that's a great idea. Both of you give each other one compliment. And be serious. Don't be generic either, say something that sticks out about the other person."

Is Ash on fucking drugs? Did she smoke too much again because there's no way she dragged me into this.

"Okay, cool, fine," Sal grunts, looking to me again with a gaze that spell out the most genuine form of nonchalance. He couldn't care less about me. "I'll go first. Vi," he starts, tilting his head down. The light illuminates his azure irises, trapping me in that gilded cage I repeatedly find myself in upon simply looking at him. I hate this. "I think you have gorgeous eyes. They go with almost any color I've seen you in."

I gulp. Not only did he steal my compliment for him, he also hit me with the same compliment he gave Lexi. Does he know that we're the same person? Was that him trying to discreetly tell me that he knows my secret? But, then again, why would he go out of his way to fight me about Lexi and even text her?

Well, I've done that too, actually. But he's not like that-- so did he really mean that then? That's the only thing I can really think of.

I gape at him like a fish for a couple moments, blinking quickly while I try to come up with something to say. Blush on my cheek, fingers dipping into the pockets on my vest, boots toeing at the cement beneath me all while my heart races and my insides tremble. I shouldn't react like this after he said I wasn't as successful or pretty as famous women. I'm being ridiculous.

"I--" I say, voice barely a whisper. "You--" I try to speak a bit louder, but my voice cracks so I clear my throat, tilting my head down. What kind of compliment can I give him? "You..."

"What? Nothing you can think of?" He snaps, crossing his arms, gun still in hand. His tone blazes with fury. "You're such a hypocrite. You can get mad at my joke, but then you can't find a compliment for me even after I gave you an honest one."

I pinch my lips together. He's so fucking aggravating. "Shut up," I seethe, "I'm trying to pick one." The truth falls from my lips before I can think better of it. Please don't say anything-- please don't say the obvious. Please don't point out that there's actually things I can't help but admire about you, Sal. There's a lot that I hate, but there's a few attributes that I respect too. "You have pretty and talented hands," I finally say, lifting my left hand to gesture toward him. But that sounds like I'm referring to his expert ability to make me cum. "You're really, um, a talented guitarist," I tack on, wincing. I'm trying so hard to keep the heat off of me that I may very well be attracting it instead.

I take a quick, quivering breath as true terror grips my mind and body. Anyone would be able to tell how hard that was for me, how shameful it was. This is awful, this entire day has turned into a mess.

I pull a mag from my vest, inspecting it to pass the time and ignore my surroundings. But when I look into the cartridge, expecting it to be empty, I'm pleasantly surprised to see it completely filled with neon blue and green paint-balls.

Surely these photographers aren't that dumb. They can't be, right?

A satisfying shiver runs through my body, making goosebumps rise along my skin. This is just the distraction I was looking for. Everyone's had more than enough time to think over the compliment I gave Sal, but I won't let them get a chance to say anything about it.

"Hey, Ángel," I call loudly, glancing up to survey the room and find the photographer who told us about these guns in the first place. I finally catch his confused gaze and nudge my chin in his direction. "Do you guys have extra tactical gear?" Come up with something, y/n. No one can suspect anything. "I'd love to bring this home if I can," I lie smoothly, offering up a shy smile. "You know, for... memories."

Ángel shrugs, giving me a look that screams that he thinks I'm a little crazy. "I mean, we always have extras but you can't take it home. Activision spent money on all of this."

"Ah," I hum, returning to examining the weapon of mental destruction in my hands-- a fully loaded magazine of paint-balls. "Bummer," I mumble.

With an energetic grin on my face, I shove the mag into the holder right in front of the trigger. This is unlike any paint-ball gun I've ever seen, so I'm taking a guess-- but it clicks into place easily, so I assume I'm doing something right.

"Well," Ash says softly, awkwardly. "That was a... nice compliment, Vi." I can tell she's trying to make me feel better, but she's struggling too. I don't blame her. What I said was so sad, really.

But I have this paint-ball gun to make me feel better.

"Yea," I murmur distractedly. "Hey," I ask her, looking up for a moment. "Does this thing have a safety? Does it work?" Using what very little knowledge I know of weapons here. I'm a fan of knives for a reason.

"Um," Ash purses her lips, leaning over my shoulder. She turns my gun over and flips a little switch, showing a red dot. "Yea, look," she continues. "When red shows, safety's off." Then she switches it again.

I nod my head, letting that information go in through one ear and out the other as soon as I flip the switch again, taking the gun off of safety. I'll never need that knowledge anyway.

"Thanks, Ashy," I chirp, grabbing onto the barrel of the gun with one hand and the handle with the other, lifting it up so I can look through the scope. It's one little red line line at the end of the glass so I move the weapon, glancing around the room until Sal is in my sight.

"Nothing's better than revenge, my dear friend," I mumble to Ash as I close my left eye to get better focus on my target. I lick my lips, waiting for Sal to acknowledge me, finger hovering over the trigger. Energy reverberates through my body, hitting the top of my skull and bouncing back down to my toes, only to repeat the process over and over again.

Ash gasps and I really wish I could see her expression right now. "Vi," she hisses excitedly," Are you really--"

Before she can even finish her sentence, Sal turns his head, blue eyes flashing when he notices me. I see panic fill him for a brief second, right before I turn my aim to the armor plate on his chest and press down on the trigger before I can give myself time to change my mind-- or give Sal time to talk me out of this.

There's a loud thunk that comes from the gun as soon as the paint-ball flies out of the barrel. Then the splat heard around the fucking world the exact second that Sal's armor plate gets hit with neon green.

Paint gets everywhere. It's on the bottom half of his prosthetic, all over his chest and black shirt, spilling down his pale arms.

Sal staggers on his feet, taking a step back to catch himself from the velocity and force of the paint-ball. It didn't hurt him-- he didn't make a painful sound, plus the armor plate protected him. But he's a mess now which makes this evil plan of mine so worth it.

I lower the gun, opening my left eye to get a good look at the damage. Todd's jaw is dropped, his eyes wide. He caught a bit of the paint too, a couple green dots littering his freckled face. Larry starts laughing as soon as he gets a good look at Sal too, tears streaming down his cheeks for the second time today as he drops to his knees again.

Ash giggles beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is why I love you," she tells me confidently. My smile widens. "Great minds think alike."

Sal looks down at himself, lifting his arms up to examine his now neon green chemical spill. All that black polish on his nails is covered in green. His shirt sleeves: green. Veiny, guitar playing hands-- you guessed it, green. It's a beautiful catastrophe in my opinion.

And then he looks up, absolutely murderous blue eyes locking onto mine. Now he feels just like I felt earlier-- ready to attack at any second.

I grin at him, putting my arms in a comfier position over my body so I can hold onto my gun. "What a shame," I say, feigning disappointment. "I ruined those pretty, guitar playing hands of yours." I stick out my bottom lip in a fake pout. "I guess my compliment to you is obsolete now."

__________________

A/N:::::: HI SWEET BABIES!!! i'm back with another ryver original. the lyrics that larry and sal spit out during this chapter was the outcome of an idea bestowed upon me by my friends. i mentioned that i liked watching people eat cake, and they said, "that sounds like either the intro to a porno or a lyric in a rap song." so... i wrote a a couple verses for it LMAO i can't control myself, i am very much an embarrassing disappointment.

ANYWAY i really wanted to post this sooner, but i had my first day back at college yesterday and i was utterly exhausted. i literally fell asleep at 8pm and all of you know that i'm an unapologetic night owl so going to bed early was WEIRD-- but needed apparently. I didn't wake up til 9:30 this morning and that was only 'cause i had a class at 11am :3

huge thanks to MadamMilky on Wattpad for coming up with Sal's tattoo-- i think it's such a cute, unique idea for him and it just fits so incredibly well <333

so here you go, dropping a 12k word load on you guys again. thank you for the continued support, for the love, for the friendship. thank you for everything. i love you all eternally, more than the sun loves the day and the moon loves the night <;33

[tangerinesgirl]

Kinktober 2024 - October 26th

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction 

David Haller x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 1k

Warnings: watersports, piss kink, no like seriously, don't like don't read, urine, spit kink, orgasm delay, edging, degradation kink, Dark!David, daddy kink, everything is consensual but David does go quite dark here just fyi so still triggering for some, nice aftercare moment in the shower afterwards

Notes: I'm begging everyone to check the warnings. This is my first time writing for this kink (watersports), so please be kind. That means no kinkshaming; in the comments, reblogs, asks or anywhere. My blog is a safe place and I want to keep it that way. If you like it, drop me a nice anon, I would appreciate it. Or, alternatively, if you don't like it, scroll on, which I'm also just as cool with!

Kinktober List || Masterlist || AO3

It's been nearly two weeks now since you agreed to be David's personal slave. You would let him do things to you the other women refused. It is bad that it turns you on? Wondering how he could possibly go any further, what new and depraved act he would do to you next? Taking out his anger and frustrations, or sometimes testing out new powers, on you?

David had left you in this room for...well, it's quite hard to say as 1) there's no clock anywhere. Or anything for that matter. Just dark and cold. And 2) you can't get up to find one as he has tied you down to the floor. He had left a small vibrator running inside your pussy, on a low setting, enough to pleasure you but not enough to make you cum.

"Going to keep you warm and ready for when I get back", David explained. "But don't even think about cumming...I will know."

---

Once, you felt yourself very close to the edge before you heard David telepathically scolding you.

"What did I tell you?"

"I'm sorry David, it won't hap-"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Daddy, I'm sorry Daddy."

David didn't like you using his name. He told you only people with authority could use it. You're less than that, not deserving of gracing his name on your tongue. Nothing but dirt under his shoe.

---

Daylight shines through the door as David steps into the room. You struggle to open your eyes from the bright light, only seeing his silhouette. He takes a moment to look at you, glistening with sweat from constantly being on the edge of orgasm, as he walks around your body.

Stopping at your head, he takes his boot to your face, putting pressure onto his foot to make you turn your face to one side. The cold of the floor digs into your cheek, gasping out. David steps off you after a moment, and walks away to close the door, before lighting one candle across the room. His hand waves across the wick as it lights by itself. Part of his face hidden in shadow, the candle barely helps you to regain your vision.

"You must be thirsty", David breaks the silence.

You nod enthusiasticly, the restraints digging into your wrists as you jump up at the words.

"Well...open wide."

Your dry tongue hangs out of your mouth, thankful David is showing you mercy. He takes a moment to look at you, begging, before he raises an eyebrow and smiles, somewhat menacingly.

Realisation starts to creep over your face as he undoes his belt, his soft cock bouncing free. You fight every instinct telling you to put your tongue away before you feel the warm liquid start to pour out of David's dick.

Swallowing what you can, so desperate for anything he will give you, the rest dribbling down your chest. It burns as it trickles down your throat, the strong odour filling the room.

You're conflicted. Even though this is one of the worst things he has done, you can't help but find arousal in the way he groans "oh yeah" as he relieves himself, towering over you, smiling at you as you obediently drink him up.

You watch as David moans, directing his stream down south. You're so overstimulated, the feeling of his piss rubbing against your cunt is enough to make you cum. Your body tenses and shakes, walls clench as the vibrator inside you sends you over the edge, dragging out your orgasm.

The warmth of him is somewhat comforting against the cold of the room, as he continues to relieve himself on you for over a minute. He must have been holding it in, just for you. You watch as his stream slows down to a dribble, shaking himself before immediately starting to stroke his cock at the sight of you.

You catch your breath, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Watching David touching himself makes you try to rub your thighs together, looking for some sort of friction, but your restraints stop you. All the while, your vibrator continues to pulse inside of you.

"Daddy please-", you whimper, craving his touch.

"Did you cum?"

"Wha-"

"Earlier. Did you cum?"

You hesitate... David always knows when you're lying.

"...Yes", you admit, dejected.

"Then you get when you deserve for going against my orders."

He steps over your body, straddling over you, while still palming his cock.

"You're nothing but a dirty whore."

The words sting, David trying to teach you a lesson for disobeying him. But part of you loves it, in a depraved way. Being in your mind, David can always tell when he goes too far with you. But he's surprised he hasn't quite reached there yet. It spurs him on, trying to find your limits. As well as showing you his darker side, which you so desperately love seeing.

"So you're going to take everything I give you, like a good girl...now open that pretty mouth back up."

You do as you're told, your jaw shaking with the effort as you start to become tired. David's lips part, a globule of white sputum slowly making its way towards your mouth. You close your eyes at the impact, the warmth of his spit short lived as it hits the corner of your lips. Soon after, David begins to cum, groaning with the effort. It leaks onto your chest before moving upwards, towards your open mouth. The salty taste mixes with the notes of urine still on your tongue as you swallow, eyes still closed.

Before you can open your eyes, you can feel David undo your restraints and remove the vibrator from inside you. As you flutter your eyes open, you feel him slide his arms underneath you, carrying you straight into the bathroom. Warm water starts to soak into your skin as he places you down on the floor. He carefully starts removing his seed from your face with a flannel, looking at you, making sure you're okay. But he doesn't need to do that, he can read your mind.

Grateful for his care after such a rough day, you smile, looking into his eyes, telling him without words that you are okay. He smiles back, the darkness in his eyes no longer there, before kissing your forehead, as you let him resume cleaning your body.

[sparksinger]

a little snippet of what i've been working on

i haven't had much time to write in recent weeks, but last night i actually managed to sit down and write something. it isn't as much as i wanted to write but it is better than nothing.

for context, cordelia is recovering from a short illness and is connected to an iv drip. optimus is using his holoform in this snippet. it does mention cannulas and iv lines just for you to be aware.

.

When she woke, the first thing that she was aware of was a profound warmth, enveloping every part of her.  There was a deep pounding in the depths of her skull, making her feel like she had been hit by a sledgehammer. 

The pain in her abdomen was mercifully absent, though she felt a little tender between her legs.  A clammy moistness clung to the surface of her skin, rendering her cold despite the weight of the thick winter duvet she was snuggled under. 

A comforting weight was present over her side.  She turned her head slightly to see Optimus’ left arm curled over her, holding her close.  She relaxed into the shape of his body, finding peace and solace in the familiarity of his metal frame at her back. 

His weight shifted the mattress slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position, making sure to tuck her back in from where his movement had dislodged the duvet.  He was slightly blurry as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, coming more into focus as she blinked. 

She tried to push herself up against the pillows, but Optimus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and tenderly laid her back against them. 

“Easy love, gently does it now.”  Optimus’ voice was a soothing balm against the ire of the fire that was slowly stoking itself inside her skull.  She raised a hand to her face to wipe away some imagined stain and became distracted by the presence of a cannula in the back of her left hand.  One tube was attached, delivering a clear liquid into her veins. 

Optimus caught her inquiring look and offered a gentle explanation.  “Hound inserted that more as a precaution as opposed to any real necessity.  You have a habit of becoming dehydrated very quickly.  After all, they say prevention is better than cure, don’t they?”  He smiled warmly at her, moving to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, no doubt taking a reading of her body temperature.  She watched with mild amusement as he nodded to himself, apparently satisfied with his findings. 

Cordelia reached her hand out to him, fingers outstretched to bridge the small distance between them. 

His servo slid along the sheets to gently envelop her hand.  She watched as the frame of his hand swallowed hers.  Unexpectedly, tears welled up to the surface, making him shimmer before her. 

She swallowed before she spoke, trying to regain some semblance of control over her wayward emotions.  “It never ceases to amaze me you know,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb slowly back and forth over his knuckles. 

“Oh?  And what is that my little one?”  He asked earnestly, his optic ridges drawn up so that they resembled an upside down ‘V’. 

“The fact that you can be capable of so much raw strength and power, yet you are the gentlest person I know.  Physically and emotionally.  I mean, here, right now.  You can crush most things with next to no effort, and yet with me you carry this aura of…infinite gentleness.” 

His optics softened at her words, their irises dilating to their widest aperture.  He reached up to frame her face between his hands, his silvery thumbs tenderly brushing away tears she didn’t know had fallen. 

“That is because I hold the most precious treasure in the known and unknown universe between my hands.  Cordelia, you are so precious to me, more precious than you can possibly imagine.”  His gaze held hers, granting her unrestricted and full access to his soul. 

“I have lived for longer than the human race has existed.  I have seen civilisations rise and fall.  I have been a titan upon planets and been the one underfoot of titans.  But in all those eons, all those experiences, none have touched my Spark the way that you have my little one.

“You have shown me the beautiful strength of fragility and resilience, helping me to understand that one’s true strength lies in the ability to be gentle.  You often refer to me as your ‘hero’.  Well, I strive not to be like those heroes depicted in Earth’s comic books and movies.  No, what I strive for everyday is to be a true hero.  To realise that true strength means embracing one’s imperfections and vulnerabilities.  In essence, you have taught me to be strong enough to be gentle.” 

Cordelia’s throat was thick with emotion as she digested Optimus’ words.  She was about to respond when he interjected with a low chuckle. 

“And, of course, there is the undeniable fact that you are quite tiny.”  He winked playfully at her, and she managed to release a choked laugh. 

“Oh my god Optimus, you are literally the biggest dork on the planet!”

-- something i'm working on

[archangel-michael-of-heaven]

Speak now, before you lose your tongue. ⚔️

The Archangel Michael is a Seraph who was once the Commander of the Exorcists before he relinquished his position to the Winner @adam-the-dickmaster so he could await the Second Coming of Christ. However, he has become restless and displeased with Adam's brash attitude and leadership of the Exorcists, and seeks a way to regain power and respect.

Read more about him here!

Mod: @joyerisjoy

Michael's Story

Backstory

Past with @exorcist-milan420 and @lost-rin

RPs

Arc One

Encounter with Andy (@suits-n-such) ( 1 | 2 )

Running into Milan

SAVING NESSIE (CURRENT INTERCTION!!!)

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