#hes 26 inches total

[atomra]

neuro doll is going really well 😎💙

[macmillerxluvr]

♪ - i can feel the way you feel for me this is my playpen borderline thinking like barbie baby can you play ken?

SUGAR DADDY KENJI SATO

HEAD CANNONS

• kenji buys you a gold diamond chain with the letter k bold and center so when he’s taking you your tits are bouncing with the chain, marking you as his further more along with the amount of hickeys that he leaves all around your body

• he always provides you with the best of everything and regularly sends you cash through you phone typically sending you a message for you to buy something sexy for him to rip off later that night

• there’s an obvious age gap between you both but kenji doesn’t seem to mind that fact that you’re younger than him since he is only 26 and a 7 year age gap isn’t necessarily the worst, and he definitely doesn’t seem to mind when he’s impaling you with his 9 inch dick

• he insist on cumming in you, every time you guys fuck he always make sure that every last drop of his seed is inside your fucked pussy by continuously thrusting it into you even after climaxing

• the first time you both had sex together he was not even half way inside of you before you were telling him how much it hurts and that he’s too big, so he simply chuckled before sliding himself fully in making you screech as he pierced inside your throbbing cunt

• every 2 weeks he sends you cash for you to get you nails and feet done, on the condition that the nude base color is the color of his tip or his initial is somewhere on your nail

• you’ve both at least broken 3 beds in total from kenji thrusting and pounding into you so vigorously

• doesn’t matter when doesn’t matter where kenji is fucking you wherever and whenever, the shower? done it multiple times, the driveway? loud and proud, he owns the land around it and no neighbors for miles, his office? doggy style on the desk and chair with cum everywhere and at midnight? sometimes he gets home late and just want to snuggle his dick deep in your warm asleep cunt, so he does

• even though he insists there’s nothing of a relationship sorts going on between you both, he still damn well makes you be at every single one of his games cheering him on and after sucking him off as well as a reward for winning

• he will supply you with infinite amount of plane b’s or get you on birth control (for now before he decides to bby trap you)

• if it weren’t for him living so far away and alone the police would probably pull up for noises complaint because of how loud your moans and chanting are as he fucks you silly into the mattress

• will either punish you buy fingering the fuck out of consistency and stopping before you can cum or tucking a large vibrator inside your pussy on the highest mode and forcing you to not cum till your sobbing begging to be able to cum

• anything you want kenji can give it to you in a blink of an eye, as long as your eyes stay on him and not closed as he plows roughly inside of you making you grip onto the cum stained black silk bedsheets

• other than his clear breeding kink he also has a size kink, so when he’s thrusting inside you or in missionary what seems to mostly send the both of you over the edge is him pressing on the tummy bulge inside of you that his large cock created

• when in public sometimes he just has to relieve himself inside of you so he usually pulls you to the bathroom and rolls your panties to the side as you try not to squirm as he forces himself inside your pulsating pussy

• at first it took a while for you to get used to kenji length but now your pussys grown tolerant the pain for the pleasure as he fills you up till the very brim with his dick

• sometimes when he truly wants to savor you without you stopping him, he ties your hands up on headboard and legs tied up to either side of the bed and eats you out till your moans and screams are heard by all of tokyo and fucks you up til as many rounds as he can milk himself out in, or till your legs are shaking (which is mostly after the 5 round)

• when he bought you the car that you kept on talking about the first thing he did once he bought it was fuck you mercilessly in the back seats to claim you inside of it before anyone else enters it

• rarely but occasionally he’s sub and he’s in utter agony not being able to touch you as his hands are now tied along with his legs as you ride him til you both see stars but with every little moan or noise you make it’s all heard by him along with the sound of your thighs clashing together and the wet sounds your pussy makes, being like music to his ears making it seemingly worth it

• he often surprises you with trips and to fancy suites and airbnb’s where you’ll both just end up fucking all throughout the trip

• he makes you suck his cock til he’s at least cummed 3 times or til tears are flowing down your eyes, drools slipping out your mouth and til he hears you gag which is given on the girth and thickness of his dick

• kenji as well bought you your own huge penthouse (though you could’ve easily bought yourself considering you were a well known model) in which he installed a soundproof barrier around so when you guys have sex it’s aloud as you’d both like without causing issues

• whenever your around him he requires you to wear skirts for easy access so at any given moment he can simply slip your black lacy little panties from inside you mini skirt down your pedicured legs easily giving him your pretty little cunt out on display for him to toy and fuck with

[sunlightmurdock]

Ceasefire | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, slight angst at the end, smut, handjobs, teasing, riding and creampies that are never addressed again, sub!rooster, bondage, probably very inaccurate flight info

…

Eleven weeks have never felt quite so long. At the same time, the memory of seeing Bradley Bradshaw staring at you with that dopey smile still feels so fresh. In one week, classes will officially be over. Rooster will no longer be your student. It’s almost pathetic, the way you’re already miserable at the thought of not seeing his face when you walk in every morning.

Still, in this moment, he’s still here and frowning down at his flight manual. It’s a storming afternoon and the air stuff got canceled, but with Beau’s mood swings lately, class remains to be in session. You’re perched on the edge of your desk, waiting patiently for whichever one of your star pupils can answer your question first.

“Minimum total hydroplaning speed of the main landing gear tires inflated to 250 pounds per square inch is 140 knots groundspeed and, for nose gear tires inflated to 150 per square inch, is 110 knots. Ma’am.” Flipping his toothpick in his mouth and offering you a dimpled grin that proves he knows he’s correct before you tell him, Jake Seresin is a fraction faster than Natasha Trace, who sits directly behind him. It’s not the hardest question. They all should know it. It’s just the rain outside that even made you think of it.

Offering Jake a small smile and a curt nod, you open your mouth to confirm that he is once again correct. To his left, you can’t help but glance across at your favourite thing to look at in this bleak little teaching room. Only, he isn’t smiling at you.

He’s staring down at his NATOPs, brows drawn together in something between frustration and confusion. Maybe embarrassment. You can’t pretend that it isn’t your initial impulse to discredit Jake to save Bradley’s feelings — but you don’t. That’s not your job, and it’s not what you’ve worked so hard to do.

“Good work, Hangman.” You tell him calmly. Bradley doesn’t dare look up from the page. Not once. Rain pours on outside and he spends the entire afternoon glaring at the manual like he wants to rip it to shreds.

As you dismiss the class, the thought looms of this all being over soon. With just one more week to go, there are lots of decisions hanging heavy. Maybe that’s what is getting to him.

“Rooster, hang back. I need to speak to you.”

Instantly, you can tell that this was not the right move. He turns towards you, his face sullen and his eyes dark. Your brows draw together, closing the door behind the last of your students and shutting him in there with you. Alone, he remains just as closed off.

“Are you okay? — You seem kind of—“ One step forwards, you reach out for him with a gentle touch, in a way that could still be mistaken for professionalism if someone were to walk in on the two of you. But, the second your hand grazes his bicep, he shrugs it off.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, gaze turned towards the floor. His usual sunny disposition seems to have gone away with the weather. Your eyes draw into a stern squint. “Am I dismissed?”

“Dis— Okay. No, Bradshaw,” You pretend that one didn’t sting, squaring your shoulders and inhaling slowly, stepping closer so that he has no choice but to see you finally standing in front of him. “No, you’re not dismissed. If you want to start acting like this is about rank, then that’s fine by me. I want you to talk to me either way.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes dart towards the door, and then back to you. Finally, you watch him soften. His fingertips graze the inside of your palm, choosing to look down at that exchange rather than at you.

“Could you come over tonight?”

“On official Navy business?” You tease, poking softly at his ribs through the fabric of his flight suit. All you’re offered in return is a weak smile.

He links his fingers gently through yours. Slightly more incriminating, if you were to be walked in on. Still, it tugs at your heart strings as he sighs in resignation. “Please, Hyde?”

“Of course,” You tell him, giving his palm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be over just after seven.”

He has to wait for you to finish up your work before you’re able to leave. By the time you find him, he has already worked out and showered, and he has been sitting in his room wallowing for about forty minutes.

“Talk to me,” Even with his mood, there’s nothing he can do but drape his arms around your waist and tuck his head into the soft curve of your neck as you straddle his hips. “That’s what couples do.”

There’s a moment of silence, but not the same as earlier. His hands find the small of your back, tugging you closer as he sighs against your shoulder. You know that this time he’s just finding his words. It’s almost enough, having you here in his bedroom, draped around him, ready to listen.

In the meantime, you inhale the fresh scent of his cologne and turn your face towards his temple, pressing your lips to his damp curls.

“I’m just in my head about graduation,” He settles finally, curling his fingers around your hips, pulling back to look at you. “I knew I wasn’t going to graduate at the top of the class, but — I’m starting to wonder if I even deserve to be up there with all of them. You know?”

Your fingers are soft as they card through his hair, your expression much softer than it should be as his instructor. His fingers can’t sit still, pulling you closer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course you do,” The answer comes instantly, without hesitation. It’s followed by a chaste kiss. He turns his head and sighs again, readying to protest. “You knew the answer today. Doesn’t matter if you can find it in the book before Hangman or not, you knew it.”

“How’re you so sure that I did?” He challenges, frowning back at you. As much as he wants to believe you’re telling him this because you really believe in him, there’s still a voice in the back of his head telling him that you’re just trying to pacify him by giving him what he wants to hear.

You squint back at him, smoothing your fingers through his freshly washed curls.

“Because I know you better than I know anyone in that class, I’ve flown with you,” You tell him softly. He hums as you kiss his cheek. “I know your instincts up there are better than anyone else. Even if the answer isn’t in your head right away, I know that when you’re up there, you would know what to do.”

With that, he sighs and leans his head back. His fingers flex nervously around your hips. With his eyes closed, you used the moment to catch him by surprise. He sucks in a sharp breath as your palm dips between the two of you and grinds against his cock through his shorts.

“I trust you. Up there, and down here.”

His mouth twitches slightly, his eyes softening as he tries to pull back from you. “Hyde… come on, I don’t need you to baby me.”

You smile back at him, giving a curt nod of your head as you brush your palm more firmly against him. The way his throat contracts when he’s trying not to give in to you prickles along your skin, a rush of excitement.

He closes his eyes as you lean in and suck softly at the freckle on the left side of his neck. Your lips trail tantalizingly slowly along his throat until finally he shivers at the feeling of your breath against his earlobe, “Okay. You want me to make you prove it?”

“Make me?” He breathes out, fingers balling into the fabric of your T-shirt, brows knitting together. Already, his cock is standing to attention through the fabric of his shorts.

“That’s right,” It’s a gentle coo, so soft and sweet that Bradley really isn’t expecting it at all when you tug hard at his hair with your other hand. He inhales sharply, catching your hips and pulling you against him. His cheeks flush red, his eyes blown wide and desperate. You’ve never seen a man beg without even opening his mouth before. “Close your eyes for me.”

Another thick swallow, his throat squeezing around nothing as he closes his eyes, his dark lashes brushing against his cheek.

He’s so pliant, giving himself up to your more than capable touch. Lulling him into calmness that he’s powerless to fight against as your mouth kisses at his chest, pushing at the hem of his t-shirt and helping him out of it.

“Contrary to what you might have heard from Hangman, or from Pete Mitchell,” Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek as you lick at his freshly exposed chest, nipping at his pectoral. Even with his eyes closed, he’s red and embarrassed by how hard his nipples are in the chilled room. “Being a good aviator isn’t about confidence.”

If you’re going to keep talking as you head further south, he’s going to struggle to keep listening. His hands follow you as you slip out of his lap and settle between his knees, your tongue trailing along his middle.

“Instinct is everything.”

Bradley balls his hands into his bedsheets, lips parting just slightly as you suck firm kisses into his taut abdomen.

“Lay down.” You order, and without question, he obeys by scooting back and laying down flat with his legs still over the edge and bracketing you.

“Lay back for me.” You say sweetly, he obeys. To your right, you find the brown leather belt that you’ve been eyeing. Still looped through his jeans, discarded onto the chair in the corner of the room. Rooster fidgets in front of you, waiting to feel your touch again. “You trust me, right, Rooster?”

“Of course.” He exhales, his answer instant.

You push yourself up and he peeks an eye open, watching you free the belt and turn back towards him. Your smile grows as you find him even more red-faced than before, staring right at you.

“Lift your hands and hold your wrists together for me.”

“Really?” He whispers, his voice thick. You nod sweetly, nodding for him to shift further up the bed. He complies wordlessly, pushing himself to the top of the bed and presenting his wrists for you. His eyes darken and his brows raise, watching you climb up the bed with his belt in your hands.

“Don’t pull too hard, you’ll be sore.” You warn him, looping the belt around his wrists and through the wooden slats in his headboard. He gasps softly as you pull the leather tight and guide it through the buckle.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes out, his voice an excited whisper.

After the soft leather is secured, his wrists fastened to his headboard, you take a minute to sit back and observe. He’s watching you with such abject trust, desperation and excitement all at once. His stomach is quivering with each breath, stretched tight by the way his arms are raised.

Your tongue dips out to wet your bottom lip as your fingers reach for him, walking along the length of his thigh. Leaning over him again, you dip forwards and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to be naked.” Rooster rushes out, shifting uncomfortably and glancing towards his tied hands. When his eyes flicker back to you, he breaks into a bashful smile. Your lips twitch, looking back at him.

“Okay,” You agree sweetly, reaching for the bottom of your t-shirt. He watches the way your eyes darken, filling with mischief as you pull it up just enough to expose the soft skin of your stomach, then hold it there. “You’re at a cruise altitude of 35,000 feet, how do you know how to calculate your descent?”

Three miles per distance per thousand feet in altitude. Your mouth twitches watching him do the math in his head while staring at the sliver of exposed skin under your shirt.

“35,000 minus the last three zeroes — uh, thirty-five. Thirty-five multiplied by three… a hundred and five.” You narrow your eyes quizzically as he stumbles through the math, knowing that it comes more easily to him than he’s able to tell you. You’ve not seen him personally land on a carrier, but you know he can. You know that he’s done it a hundred times over. “You’d start the descent 105 nautical miles from the destination, maintaining a speed of 300 Knots-Indicated air speed… and a descent rate of 1,500 to 2,000 feet per minute, with thrust set at idle.”

You smile back at him, peeling your shirt up and over your head. He exhales, eyes falling down to the black bra covering your tits. Forgetting himself for a moment, he moves to sit, the buckle of his belt knocking into the woods and reminding him of his predicament.

“Feet per minute,” You continue, reaching for your own belt, slipping the leather from the buckle and pausing. “If you land on the carrier right, how does the hornet hit the deck?”

“800 feet per minute.” He exhales. Your mouth twists into a grin as you pop open your belt buckle.

By the time that he has rid you of your clothes, his answers are especially fast and you’ve noticed that his wrists are growing red under the hold of the leather.

Standing on your knees, you crawl your way up your, now completely naked, boyfriend and turn. Straddling his abdomen, your naked core sits just out of his reach. His mouth falls open and a dismayed, needy sound slips out.

Having freed him of his own shorts and boxers just moment before, his cock is red and swollen, angry from the lack of attention. Settling yourself with a sly wiggle of your hips, you take his cock in both of your hands and cover as much as you can with your mouth.

Soaking his length with a generous amount of saliva, you hear his head fall back and hit the headboard as your hands start to stroke him. Long strides coat his shaft in spit, your hands twisting loosely left from right. From this way, the way you’re straddling him, you’ve got a front-row view to the way his thighs have started to tremble.

Furthering his dismay, he has a front-row seat to your soaked pussy, inches from his face, but just out of reach. Your hands are steady, just as calm and skilled as they are when you’re in the cockpit. Not too fast, just guiding him steadily closer to his orgasm. Letting your spit soak him, adding more to the mix, squeezing him firmly every now and again. Craning your neck so that you can lick and suck softly at his balls. His moans are strangled, agonizingly desperate from behind you.

When you finally decide to grace him with a firmer, faster touch, his moans are so jagged and eager that you know Hangman and Coyote must be able to hear him. The heels of his feet press into the mattress, his hips bucking eagerly into your hands.

He tugs hard at his restraints and winces behind you. With each delighted sound from your lips as they’re wrapped around him, his own voice is growing more and more strained. For the life of him, he just can’t keep still. He’s putty in your hands. This wouldn’t be the first time he has made a mess all over your hands, but today, that isn’t the plan.

“Hyde, don’t — please don’t — I’m so fucking close…”

You hum, hands already withdrawn. He writhes under you as you turn to face him.

“You can hold on a little longer for me, right baby?”

His voice is getting more strained as you squeeze your hands around his twitching cock and just as he is about to erupt you retract your hands leaving his chest huffing in frustration and near euphoria.

You shift, straddling his hips. His eyes go wide and round, lips parted as you situate yourself right over him and sink down just barely. Your soaked core just grazes him as you rock back and forth softly. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the slight movement of your tits as you taunt him.

“Can wait a little longer for me, right?”

“Oh, fuck.” Rooster whimpers.

You lower yourself gently onto him, palms braced against his shivering chest as his tip notches into you. He gasps and turns his head towards the pillow, pulling hard at the restraint.

You lean all the way forwards, your naked tits pushing against his chest, your lips mouthing softly at his neck. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Finally, he’s fully sheathed into you, and he sighs out in relief, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulders.

“I still wanna see you cum,” He pants out, groaning softly as you lift up and sink slowly back down on him, digging his heels into the mattress. “If I can’t do it, I still wanna see it.”

Your mouth twitches at the thought.

“Yeah, you want to watch me get off?” You grin, kissing across his cheek and finally at his mouth. He whines softly, watching you rocking your hips into his gently, grinding yourself into him.

“You have to stop talking or I’m gonna cum.” He mutters with a stiff shake of his head, his eyes flickering up to you as you giggle above him. You purse your lips and lean forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose and then sit back.

He watches, every muscle in his chest and arms constricting as he watches you sit back on his thighs, all full of him, lifting your fingers and miming a zip across your lips, and then a lock at the corner of your mouth. Finally, even though all of his focus is on trying not to bust, his lips stretch into an amused grin.

You settle back into the rhythm of bouncing on him, bracing one hand back against his thigh as the other dips between your own legs.

The angle is just right, your orgasm ebbs closer but remains just out of reach as he watches helplessly, dazed by the glow of you.

From the first day he saw you, he’d never imagined he would be as lucky as to be at your mercy like this. The thought dawns him and his hips twitch, snapping up to meet yours.

“Christ— wait, slow down, wait— oh, fuck.”

You gasp sharply as he drives himself into you just once more from below before he’s spilling hot and fast into you, groaning and gasping out loud with little regard for who might hear him.

His deep groans are music to your ears as your fingers work feverishly at your clit to keep up. His mouth hangs open, still buried inside of you as he watches you come apart in front of him, your eyes closed and your chest heaving, his name on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, you collapse forwards against his chest, lifting off of him and kissing at his neck.

“Fuck…” He breathes out.

“You feel better?” You whisper, catching your breath as your nails rake along his stomach. He hums in response, kissing softly at your temple.

He sighs in relief as you pull the belt apart and free his wrists, stretching out his arms and rubbing at the reddened skin.

“I can’t stay, Taylor’s getting dropped off home at nine.” You kiss his mouth softly, already starting to push off of his chest. He just groans and rolls onto his front, disgruntled by the idea of not having you in his bed tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six?”

“Right. What should I wear?”

“A little more than you’re wearing now, preferably.”

He chuckles tiredly and considers grabbing his boxers, opting to instead just press his face into his pillow as he listens to you getting dressed again.

“Should I bring them like… a gift or something?”

“It’s a little early for bribery.”

He sighs and sits up swiftly, resting his elbows on his knees, his mouth creasing into a worried frown. “What are we going to do if they don’t like me?”

Really, there’s only one answer; you’d never put him before your kids and he knows that.

Pulling your shirt down over your body, there’s only one thing to do. You lean forwards and kiss his lips tenderly. “They’ll love you.”

Once you convince him to get dressed again, Bradley walks you down to your car. Jake and Coyote say their greetings and goodbyes swiftly and politely, not making you stop for small talk.

Then, as Rooster heads back upstairs with a reddened face and even more reddened wrists, they meet him in the living room, beaming.

”Don’t start.” He groans, trying to dismiss them and head back to his room before the ridicule starts. It’s a little late for that. It’s been a little late for that since they heard Rooster practically crying your name twenty minutes earlier.

As you return home to reunite with your children, you’re greeted with an onslaught of texts about how — to quote — ‘those idiots heard everything’. It should bother you, but the thought of Bradley all red-faced and squirming at their comments just makes you chuckle.

Meeting at a neutral place always seemed like the best option, until you’re sitting in the parking lot, staring at your kids in the backseat — feeling like you’re introducing cats. Well, it has been quite some time since your children got over their interest in scratching and biting, so hopefully this will go smoother than that.

”How are you guys feeling?” You ask them, turning in your seat finally. Dylan can see the worry on your face. Your brows are raised, your eyes are round and fleeting between them each, lips pursed.

”Yeah, fine, mom.” He offers you a polite, sincere smile. It’s the best that he has to give. He knows this means something big to you. He knows that you’ve started singing in the kitchen again, and reading Taylor the stories with the voices, laughing with him until you’re doubled over and crying.

”Do you think he likes cats better or dogs?” Taylor perks up, tucking her feet up onto the seat and quirking her head at you. Your lips twitch as your son rolls his eyes at her.

“You can ask him.” You decide, and she seems to accept this as good enough of an answer. She settles back in her booster seat, crosses her arms across her little knit sweater and smiles back at you. Poor Rooster doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for with this little chatterbox — but you know he’ll be glad to not have to sit in silence.

A beat passes as you look between their faces. They both smile back at you, for different reasons entirely.

“Okay, are we ready to go inside?”

After quick agreement, Taylor watches her shoes cast purple neon shadows across the puddles, flashing bright with each step as your heels clack across the ground ahead of her. A hand lands on her shoulder, guiding her along and making sure that she keeps up.

Swiftly, she looks up at her big brother, frowning curiously at him, ”So, do we have to call him Dad too?”

”Rooster.” You breathe out, lips stretching into a smile as you spot him walking over from his truck. He looks right past you as you wrap your arms around his neck. About five paces back, your kids are trailing you, deep in conversation. About him, no doubt.

Suddenly, his attention snaps back to you, his eyes going wide as you kiss his cheek. He untangles himself from you, aggressively platonic for a man who was begging to hold you yesterday.

“Hi.”

”Don’t be weird, they’re children, not the FBI.” You whisper to him, turning quickly as you hear the two of them approaching this. “Guys, this is Bradley. Bradley, this is my daughter, Taylor, and my son, Dylan.”

”Hello.” Bradley stiffens.

“Hey.” Dylan tries.

“You’re pretty tall. Women like that.” It would seem that you’re all caught off guard by your daughter’s comment. Luckily, it’s just enough of a surprise to make Bradley’s tight-lipped smile break into a wide-stretching grin.

He sits opposite her at the table, Dylan by his side and you opposite Dylan. She spent the afternoon with your mother and it would seem, the two of them spent their time preparing questions.

”So—“ Dylan manages to interrupt, earning himself a stern glare from the little girl who was just about to get into the favourite colours segment of her interview. Bradley turns his head and looks at your son. “What team do you follow?”

Bradley shoots a glance over at you, knowing full well that your son has been raised to be a die hard 49ers fan. He looks back to the thirteen year old and inhales— he can’t pretend to like that team, he just can’t do it—

“The Eagles.” He rushes out.

“Huh.” Dylan quirks an eyebrow, turns his head and shoots you a look. He smirks softly, bringing the rim of his Pepsi glass to his mouth. “And… how’s that working out for ya, big guy?”

Bradley’s mouth falls slack, and he looks quickly across the table for support, finding nothing but you smirking back at him and Taylor giggling in response.

“Hey, buddy, I’ll have you know—“ And once again, that seems to do the trick. That’s the straw, right before the appetizers come out, that gets Bradley really talking, and after that it just doesn’t stop.

Taylor quickly gets him onto the conversation of cats versus dogs — he seems to pass her test. Bradley turns the conversation on you, and winds up grinning ear to ear with the insight of how your children perceive you to be, how they love you. You turn the conversation on Bradley, and reveal to the children that he not only enjoys rum and raisin flavoured ice-cream, but that it’s his favourite.

The betrayal on his face after that one will keep you laughing for weeks to come. It’s almost enough for the children to change their minds about him, but he quickly gets things back on track by revealing that he once met the guy who plays Captain America on a flight.

That wins him some serious brownie points.

You know that, just as easily as he had with you, he had won them over.

He grins at you as he settles the bill — despite your insistence to split it, his nerves seeming to have finally calmed.

“Mom, why do you call him Bradley when his work name is Rooster?” Taylor asks, slipping her hand into you palm as you head for the exit.

“Because we aren’t at work right now.” You answer with a shrug, checking over your shoulder to see Rooster talking with Dylan about something behind you.

“Can I call him Rooster?” She asks, peering up at you.

“If he says you can.”

“Bradley?” She cranes her neck as she calls back to him, capturing his attention instantly. “Can I call you Rooster?”

“Sure. Either works.” He shrugs, tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, walking to catch up with the two of you.

She looks quickly back up to you, approval plastered across her little face. She gives your hand a quick squeeze and smiles.

…

Tags: @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @khaylin27 @stoncms @shanimallina87 @cool-ultra-nerd @angelmavmurdock @gingerbreadandpaper @mizzzpink @whisperofsong @throwinsauce @perpetuelledaydreaming @n3ssm0nique @thedroneranger @abaker74 @marantha @ghxst-heart @diamond-3 @shawnsblue

[vitzi9]

Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 1 here.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I worked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 26: Making a Capture

Patience - and spy skills - pay off on Hosnian Prime. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-25 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 2.9K

The next day was much of the same. You watched diligently out the window as people went about their lives on the streets below, fighting the urge to play with the cooing, babbling baby that was only a few feet from you. 

You were starting to think you weren’t going to get anywhere with this when a young man - he couldn’t have been more than 30 - looked a bit cagey as he knocked on the door. It opened for him and he went inside. 

“Mando,” you said, keeping the binocs to your eyes. “Can you see the door from here with the helmet?” 

“Get something?” He asked, coming in close beside you. So close that his arm was pressed against yours. It took you a moment to remember what it is you were saying. 

“Young guy just went inside,” you said. “Don’t think it was the quarry but…” 

“But?” He asked after you were quiet for a moment. 

“But I think he’s one of his buddies,” you replied, still watching the door. “It’s been a few years but he’s definitely familiar.” 

Din tensed beside you. 

“No, you can’t kill him.” 

The man came out a few minutes later, still looking around cautiously. 

“Not our guy,” Din confirmed. “But he’s the right age.” 

“Can you track him from here?” You asked, keeping an eye on where he was going until he was out of sight. 

“Tagged him,” he confirmed. You lowered the binocs. “What’s next.” 

“We follow.” 

Din stashed the kid - who was half asleep already - in his bag and put him on his back this time, closing him in totally as you scrambled to gather the few things that had made their way out of your bag. 

You were rushing, going down a street parallel to the one the man had gone down, hoping he hadn’t turned. 

“I’ve got him tracked, Doll,” Din said, voice steady. “Remember your resources.” 

“I might need to ditch you though,” you said, starting to cut over to the other street. “You’re too noticeable.” 

“No,” he said sharply. “Safety risk.” 

You ground your teeth but kept going, stopping at the corner of a building and scanning the crowd as the lights of the storefronts around you turned on. The man passed you, not noticing you lurking. You smiled, giving him some time to get ahead of you a bit before slipping into the people behind him, Din at your heels. 

He made his way through part of the city, you and the Mandalorian trailing him for a full hour. You’d sometimes grab Din and pull him into a shadow before falling into another cluster of people, trying to find other men who were at least close to the same height as Mando as you went. It didn’t help that he had a tendency to be a few inches taller than even the tallest people in a crowd. The man hadn’t seemed to notice the wall of armor stalking him, however. You almost scoffed. What a fucking amateur. You noticed him shift how he was moving before the Mandalorian did, quickly grabbing Din and pulling him to the side, tucking him fully into the shadows as you watched the man go into a building, apartments from the look of it. 

“What next,” Din asked without asking, your hand still against his chest as you looked out on the street around you. 

“Want to see all the ways in and out,” you said. “Then see if we can find a place where I can watch them all.” You looked back to him. “Can you stay put for just five minutes? I’d rather a Mandalorian not be seen prowling around outside the place. I promise I won���t go far.” 

He considered it for a moment. 

“Fine,” he said. “But com link on.” 

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, flipping the link on with dramatic flair. You could feel him glare at you. 

“What, you’re paranoid.” 

“No,” he replied. “I’m experienced. Five minutes, Doll, then I find you.” 

You glared at him for a second but started out. You tried to look unobtrusive, though you highly doubted the man you’d been following was looking for you. He hadn’t noticed you following him before, he wouldn’t notice you now. 

In a happy bit of luck, the building only had two exits and a few units. Judging from the timing of lights coming on in the corner unit on the third floor up, that’s where he was. At least you doubted he’d be sneaking anyone in and out through windows. You made your way back to the Mandalorian. 

“Where to.” 

“Haven’t quite figured that out yet,” you replied, looking around you. Mando watched you, leaning against the wall. After a moment, you sighed. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Your hunt.” 

“You want to say something.” 

“If you want help you have to ask for it,” he replied. 

“You know, this is a lot easier when it’s just me and not two meters of beskar just hanging out in the background,” you glared at him. He laughed once. 

“Figure it out or ask, Doll.” 

You glared at him for a moment before looking back to the building. The apartment across from the man’s lights were off. 

“Stay put,” you ordered him. “Five minutes.” You turned to leave and then looked back. “Maybe 10.” 

“Don’t push it.” 

You went back to the building and tried the door, but it needed a code. There was a panel next to the door with unit numbers. You loosened yourself up for a moment before buzzing a unit that you were pretty sure had a light on and didn’t have the quarry’s suspected friend. 

“Yes?” 

“Hi, I’sorry,” you slurred, leaning against the wall beside the panel like you could barely hold yourself up. “I jus’ moved in and I can’t ‘member the code, would you mind letting me in?” 

The man on the other end sighed. 

“Don’t make a lot of noise.” 

The door slid open. 

“Thanks s’much!” You stumbled to the door. “I’mma buy you a beer…” 

You didn’t wait for a response, finding your way to the lift and heading to the third floor, keeping up the drunk act. You stumbled your way to the unit you hoped was empty. There was no indication of anyone living there from the outside, so you took a guess at the key code - just four zeros, simple for people coming by to look at the place. The door slid open. Totally empty. You ducked inside and quickly closed and locked the door behind you, changing the code and bringing up the camera from the other side of the door on the panel. Perfect. 

“Found a spot, Mando,” you smirked into your com link, couldn’t help it. “Go to the entrance, press the button for 3B and I’ll let you in.” 

There was a pause. 

“How did you do that.” 

“Amazing what people will do for you if they don’t think you’re a threat,” you replied. “Much easier without all the armor…” 

There was an almost exasperated sigh. 

“On our way.” 

If secrecy hadn’t been paramount, you’d have made him wait longer at the door of the building but, instead, you let him up and inside immediately, closing the door behind him. 

“Good job, Doll,” he said, sounding frustrated about it. You smiled. 

“I’ll watch the panel,” you said. “Should see him come and go from there. Feel free to nap.” 

You could feel him glare at you. 

“What?” You were trying not to laugh. 

“You’re doing this like a spy,” he said. 

“So?” 

“It’s working.” 

You smirked. 

You watched the panel overnight, having a hard time keeping your eyes open but pushing through. When you’d trained, you’d stayed awake for three solid days once. Yes, you were a teenager then, back when sleep seemed like a choice more than a necessity. But you could do that again. 

It was easier said than done now, though, and you had to focus to keep your eyes from crossing. You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been sitting there when Din came and sat beside you, resting his back against the same wall as you. 

“You should sleep,” you said, not looking at him, keeping your eyes on the panel showing the empty hallway. 

“Don’t need it,” he said. 

“Kid still out?” You glanced at him this time, picturing how his body looked below his armor in spite of yourself. He gave a stiff nod and you looked back at the panel. 

“Bored yet?” 

You laughed a little. 

“I did think bounty hunting would be a bit more exciting,” you replied. 

“Can be,” he shrugged. “Sometimes it’s this. Thought you’d be used to it with spying.” 

“When you’re spying, the information is the goal, not the person,” you replied. “Can’t get away with watching from a distance for long, you have to be closer than this. At least, with the kind of work I did, anyway.” 

Din was silent for a moment. 

“Just how…” he paused. “Close did you get.” You frowned, confused. “To the people you were spying on. Did you have to…” 

You frowned, actually turning your head to look at him this time. 

“Din, are you asking me if I fucked the people I was getting information out of?” You half smiled. He didn’t say anything. You looked forward again. “No, never had to fuck information out of anyone. Definitely flirted it out of a fair few people but that was usually plenty to get them alone to capture them. Or get me closer to the person who needed interrogating.” The hallway was still empty. 

He was quiet beside you. 

“Why?” You asked eventually, staring at the monitor in the panel. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him and have this conversation. 

“I just… don’t know anything about that aspect of your life,” he said, voice hesitant. 

“The interrogation work or my sex life?” You teased. You felt him glare at you and you sighed. “Yeah, I know. You’ve seen some of the interrogation work.”

You were quiet for a minute. 

“I mean, do you really want to know?” You asked, glancing at him. “I don’t know anything about yours, either.” 

He shrugged. 

“Not much to know,” he said. “Usually just a physical release when there’s a woman who’s interested.” 

You nodded slowly, a sharp pain gnawing at your stomach. Well, you were a woman who was interested. Probably why he said he wanted you to stay. You were convenient. You could live with that. Better than any other option you’d had in years, in all honesty. You fidgeted with the seam of your pants near your knee and chewed the inside of your cheek. 

“Not much to know for me, either,” you said, pulling harder at the seam. “Dagres was my first everything. And I was married to Kann, so…” `

“No one else?” He asked after a moment. 

“I was a little busy trying to keep my best friend alive and then try to lay low enough that the Empire thinks I’m dead,” you didn’t mean to sound harsh but you did. You sighed. “But no. No one else until… well…” 

You shrugged. 

“Doll, I…” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Really, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “I don’t want your pity, Din.” 

There was a move on the monitor and you both focused on it, watching as the man emerged, looking around hesitantly before going down the hall. 

“What time is it?” You whispered. 

“Almost three,” he was just as quiet. You nodded once. “Grab the kid?” 

You got up and reprogrammed the lock to all zeros again, like you were never here, and waited until you were sure he’d made it onto the lift before going into the hall. 

You took the stairs down and watched him leave the building from the stairwell, following about 10 meters back. He went into a bar about two clicks away and you stayed in the shadows outside, watching from across the street. 

“This is weird, right?” You asked, glancing up at Mando. “He was home, leaves in the middle of the night to go to a bar…” 

“Good for meeting someone who doesn’t want to be seen,” he replied. 

You weren’t waiting long when someone who - from behind, at least - looked like he could be your quarry. 

“Think that’s him?” You asked, looking at the door he’d just disappeared into. 

“Try the tracker,” he replied. “If it’s him, he’s close enough that it should work.” 

You nodded once, pulling it out of your bag, pointing it toward the bar and flipping it on. It beeped and flashed. You glanced at Mando. He nodded once. 

“Good work, Doll,” he said. “That’s him. How do you want to handle capture?” 

You thought for a second, pocketing the tracker. 

“We go in separately, me first,” you replied, meeting his eyes below the helmet. “I’ll see if I can get him outside. If I’m not out in five or you hear a commotion then you come in as backup.” 

“You’ve got the com,” he said. You nodded once. He sighed. “Keep it on. I’ll go silent, at least then I can step in sooner if there’s a problem.” 

“It’s going to be fine,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m armed and it’s probably not going to be four against one this time….” 

“Doll,” he growled. “Safety. Com on.” 

You pulled the com link from your pocket, made a show of flicking it on, and then put it back. 

“Thank you,” he replied. “See you in five.” 

You steeled yourself and headed for the bar. 

It was quiet inside, only a handful of patrons left. Chellen and his friend were sitting at the bar, talking quietly to each other. You took a spot a few seats down from them, turning your head enough that they couldn’t see much of your face but sitting so they would see your figure. And the electrostaff strapped to your belt. 

It didn’t take long for him to do exactly what you expected. 

“Nice weapon,” he said, sliding up beside you. “Don’t see many of those around here.” 

“I know,” you turned to face him, smiling. “I took this one a few years back, figured it was due for a visit.” 

His eyes went wide and he stepped back from you. 

“No…” he shook his head, looking over his shoulder to the man you’d spent the last day tailing. 

“Didn’t I tell you to behave yourself?” You slipped off the barstool, one hand drifting down toward your blaster, the other setting the puck on the bar, the man’s face rendered in holographic light. “You ignored me, Chellen. I told you what would happen if you didn’t listen. Now, I’ve come to collect.” 

The other man ran for the door and you let him go. You were pretty certain it was his vibroknife that had burned on Dantooine. He was hardly worth the trouble. The quarry’s eyes were wide and wild, weighing his options as you prowled closer, a hand close to your blaster. He decided to risk it, but he was slow, his blaster not even fully freed of its holster when your shot landed on his shoulder. You holstered your blaster again. The bar went silent beyond the man’s shout of pain. 

“Guild business,” you said, still watching him, his weapon abandoned on the floor. “No need to be concerned.” 

Chellen, to his credit, was still on his feet, a hand clutched to his injured shoulder as he looked for a way out. 

“Running is a stupid move,” you warned him. “You’re worth more to me alive and I could use the credits. Make it easy on yourself.” 

He ignored your advice, darting for the door. You sighed, about to give chase, when he ran smack into the Mandalorian’s armored chest. He fell back a step before grabbing Din’s arm. 

“Please,” he said, words spilling from him so fast they were barely intelligible. “Please, kill her, I have credits I can hire you…” 

The Mandalorian just looked down at him. You could feel the anger rolling off him. The quarry must have felt it, too, as he stepped backwards, closer to you. You resisted the urge to glare at Din. How was it that the Mandalorian became the bigger threat when you were what the guy was running from to begin with? A big man in shiny armor is apparently all it took to intimidate some people. 

“Now Chellen,” you sighed, coming up behind him. He turned to face you, backing up as he did until his back was against the Mandalorian. “That was stupid. He wants you dead way more than I do. He wasn’t too pleased with the condition I was in the last time we met. He’s an eye for an eye sort of person…”

His head swung around to look at the Mandalorian as you pulled out the cuffs, slapping the first one on him while he was distracted. 

“Lucky for you,” you said, grabbing his other wrist and quickly cuffing it before you started patting down his pockets. “I’m the one leading this hunt. Don’t try anything too stupid and you live. Break one of the rules Mando’s made up for you and you die.” 

He gulped. 

“Let’s go,” Mando growled, grabbing the man by the collar and hauling him from the bar. You retrieved the puck and put a few credits on the bar top. 

“For your trouble,” you said with a nod to the bartender before leaving the bar, watching the Mandalorian haul the man you’d captured together toward the ship.

A/N: I did promise the balance between plot and smut would even out again eventually and that time is now! I hope you enjoyed Doll's version of hunting - and Mando's version of trying to not run the show all the time. And while we got no Din POV this time, next chapter opens with some so, for those who love to read from our stoic hero's perspective, he's coming back quick.

I'm super excited about the next big arc in their story. We're going to have a short, off shoot next chapter or two and then it's into a longer arc with higher stakes and very big moments. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Thanks for being here! Love you!

[bringthekaos]

Im 98% sure their first kiss was after a big breakthrough on a project that had kept both of them overworking for the last 32 hours and Jayce was just SO exited he grabbed Viktor's face and gave him a big Smooch and then they continued as normal and went home. But later at 1:26 am Jayce wakes up in cold sweat with his heart racing, totally panicking and realizing what he had done (and he very much liked it too)

Haaaaaaa I’m sorry all I could think was this

But FR that so sounds like something Jayce would do. Like… he gets so excited over their current project, and he’s been harboring feelings for Viktor for so long, has fantasized about telling him for so long, that at this point he doesn’t even realize he hasn’t actually told him yet. So he just grabs him and kisses him silly.

And Viktor had been feeling the attraction between them, but hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to jeopardize what they had going on by complicating it. But when Jayce kisses him, he’s like… well okay then, guess we’re doing this. But Jayce just moves on, so Viktor does too, and they don’t even talk about it. Until the next day, when Jayce comes in all bashful and awkward, and Viktor just sighs,

“You remembered what happened in the middle of the night, didn’t you?”

And Jayce bashfully nods. “It honestly felt so natural that I didn’t even notice… until later… that it wasn’t something we’d… done yet.”

Viktor grins, very aware of the “yet” and that it means Jayce had been thinking about kissing him for a long time.

“You’re right, it did feel natural,” he says confidently, beginning to erase yesterday’s work from the chalkboard.

Jayce inches closer. “So… I can… do it again?”

Viktor’s grin widens, taking on a mischievous tilt.

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

EDIT: I just remembered an artist totally drew this!

[dramione-fanfiction-forum]

𝙳𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚜

This year we’ve totaled 89,400+ words and counting across 14 stories - including four (4) works in progress with 26+ chapters to be released - and an art submission (!!). These Deflower Draco submissions are sure to spice up your week!

🌸 Read the collection here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DeflowerDraco2023

🌻💐🌹🌺🌸🌼🌷

🌸 As The Full Moon Rises - KiraAnn (Know_It_All_2008)

At the height of the full moon's power, they're desperate to get a leg up on Lord Voldemort. The ritual should give them just that.

🌸 a cure I know that soothes the soul, does so impossibly - @king-geets [ART]

OT3 shenanigans 😈

🌸 Broken Arrow - Fictionismyescape [@justforme2023]

This wasn't the time, not when there was a war happening. But it might be the only chance they had.

🌸 Expect the Unexpected - @starboygrove

A humiliating moment at the beginning of Hermione's Eighth year at Hogwarts leads her to an unexpected scenario. Draco Malfoy, a reformed Death-Eater who she has become fast friends with, makes an impossible request. Hermione battles her feelings while helping Draco with his odd predicament.

🌸 F*** the Pain Away - @damsel-in-mistress

"Three things happened simultaneously: His left hand shot out to grasp the intruder’s wrist in a death grip, he realised who the intruder was, and the Stupefy died on his lips. Brown eyes open wide with surprise, brow furrowed, mouth ajar in a soft gasp, Hermione Granger stood before him." When Draco's world is misery and dread, Hermione happens upon him in Myrtle's bathroom. None of them could have forseen what this would lead to.

🌸 Growing Sideways - @inadaze22 [WIP - 1/20]

For years, Draco has been complacent. His career is on track, his future is arranged, and he's adapted to the darkness plaguing his restless nights. When paired with Hermione Granger on a top secret project, he begins to question if the comfort of familiarity is enough. As long nights dwindle and their connection grows, she shines a light on possibilities he's never imagined.

🌸 Last Nite - shaparecium [@dinkycharlie]

Draco is sentenced to five years in Azkaban. On his last night in freedom, Hermione Granger visits him and he confesses that he is still a virgin.  [Oneshot written for Deflower Draco Fest 2023]

🌸 Lessons from Professor Granger - JCOBryan1990

“You are drunk, sir.”  She laughed out as he continued to stumble forward, his hands clasped the frame; his face landing inches from hers. “I may drink a of had.” Laughing she gathered him closer into the room, “Really?  And what pray tell has you drinking so much on a Tuesday?  Testing the potions from your students again?”

🌸 Lovegood's Love Cure - Saberspooky [WIP - 3/6]

After being abruptly dumped by her boyfriend and abandoned by her best friend at the Hogwarts train platform, Hermione vows to make the most of her final year at Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood provides just the opportunity when she attempts to cure her friends' broken hearts by matching students up with their soulmates based on an extensive compatibility quiz, but everything goes awry when Hermione Granger is paired with the last person she would expect.

🌸 Magically Bound - @acanadianmuggle

Hermione has written a novel and in the magical world, a handbound copy without a spark of magic must be used as the master copy from which all duplicates are made. In a workshop in Wiltshire, she will find the artisan who will make her book and to who might bookbind them together.

🌸 Summer Skin - @echoofpromise

Her skin is warm and glowing beneath his touch as he glides his thumb across the rigid edge of her collarbone, and Draco thinks this is heaven. This is what God wanted for his children, for them to feel just as weightless and defying and cosmic as he feels in this moment thanks to Hermione Granger and her cinnamon tongue.

🌸 The Perks of Dark Magic - @o0sarena0o [WIP - 1/6]

Two decades after the war, Draco Malfoy is an innovative, renowned Grand Master Potioneer. His draughts are sought-after and often aid the DMLE with their most difficult cases. Hermione Granger, a highly acclaimed curse breaker for the Ministry of Magic, encounters a curse she's never seen before. Reluctantly, she approaches Draco Malfoy for assistance, not knowing that his profession's darkest secrets come with a life-changing price. Written for the DeflowerDraco2023 Fest 🌺.

🌸 The Promise Of A Parent - @kryskrosszee [WIP - 1/?]

After the death of his mother, Draco finds out that the Blacks and the Malfoys both had high hopes and great expectations for him - and now at the tender age of twenty-three he has only two years to find someone to help him produce the next Black heir or he will be punished, severely, for his failure.

🌸 virgin violets in bloom - @riddikuluspuff

Throughout their time at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had hidden away the fact that he was actually sexually inexperienced and was actually a massive virgin. Two of his closest and best friends, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, had helped him to spread rumours throughout the school that were the total opposite of who he truly was. They spread rumours around the school that Draco Malfoy was the most sexually experienced Slytherin they had ever been with and that he hasn’t actually been a virgin since late in their fifth year. But, once leaving school, the inexperience he truly had followed him and his unlucky strike with girls was running thin with his self-esteem. He hated it. However, one night, Draco drunkenly stumbled into Hermione Granger and she slowly informed him that she was willing to teach him everything he needed to know to pleasure women. Hermione Granger was fully prepared to deflower Draco Malfoy. A one-shot for the 2023 Deflower Draco Fic Fest

🌸 White Lilies, Sweet Peas and Hellebore - @ceilidhchaos

A Darker Language of Flowers Story For Deflower Draco Fest White Lilies mean purity and commitment Sweet Peas mean blissful pleasure Hellebore mean scandal

🌻💐🌹🌺🌸🌼🌷

🌸 Read the collection here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DeflowerDraco2023

[lcstinfantasy]

okay but older maybank sibling? did some time, roughly about 6/7 years, for dealing and assault (though he totally justifies both. they needed money and the dude he beat to an inch of his life had touched one of his friends without consent). prbably about 26 post seaons 3.

[theterribletenno]

Can’t draw so I’ll just write

Reclaimed Helminth Technocyte Testing.

Test site: Orokin Tower ship designation EUPHRATES, geosynchronous high-orbit above Pluto.

Overseer: Lady Chamis Muderole, 2nd daughter of Muderole family.

Staff: 14 Archimedean scientists (9 Technocyte specialist, 5 general biologist), 26 Dax, 31 Bridge crew, 109 Service crew, 19 prisoners.

Mission details: Experimental use of reclaimed technocyte from feral samples.  Former technocyte lab on surface of Pluto experienced un-planned release of specimens, resulting in colony infestation.  Contamination spread prevented by quarantine, feral infested unable to survive Plutonian surface climate.  Dax special force squadron collected samples before cauterization of compromised site.  Collected “Post-Helminth” samples have been extensively tested and modified for attempted re-integration into Helminth project.

Lady Chamis Muderole Personal Notes: I am repeatedly cautioned by my Archimedeans that the post-Helminth strains are unstable and unpredictable and that results cannot be guaranteed.  Executor Ballas has made it clear that more warframes are needed urgently, and that quantity supersedes quality.  Batch three testing will begin in less than an hour.  Archimedean Philias has been selected to fill one of the empty specimen tables after her unseemly outburst during my last lab visit.  My Dax guard’s sword came within an inch of her neck when she grabbed my wrist.  Speaking of the Dax, with only six of our seven tables filled I chose two of my Dax soldiers - Imugi and Pliamet, two of my best - and gave them a simple command.  Fight to the death, the survivor gets the honor of becoming a warframe.  Pliamet Dax began to speak, I did not bother to heed his words but I believe he intended to disregard my orders.  Imugi Dax had no such compunctions.  His sword struck true in the blink of an eye, and Pliamet’s head tumbled to the ground.  With Archimedean Philias and Imugi Dax filling the last of the seven specimen tables we can begin as soon as the injectors are loaded.  To stifle Philias’ incessant screaming I instructed my Dax to gag her with one of my golden bracelets.  It did so amuse me how perfectly that heavy golden bead fit in her whimpering mouth.

Post-Helminth Batch 3 test results

Specimen 1: Total failure, tagged for incineration.  What a mess.  It was sickening to behold.  Specimen 1 (John Doe, convicted of heresy) was an immediate failure.  The flesh at the injection site began to boil immediately, deforming into a raspberry-like mass of tumors that hung from naked bone.  The subject’s body continued to degrade until catastrophic failure of multiple organs.  What’s left of him wouldn’t even look like it had ever been human if it weren’t for the bloody skull visible on the left side of what was once his head.  The right side of his body was less affected, as he died before the infestation could spread thoroughly throughout.  Initial prognosis for failure is over-mutation of technocyte sample.  No further testing is required, the sample will be atomized.

Specimen 2: Success.  Unique phenotype, tagged for further study.  I had high hopes for this specimen (Son Nguyen; convicted of aiding and abetting rebel terrorists) and I was not disappointed.  The Archimedeans are right, the helminth strain does more with what’s inside a person than their flesh alone.  His flesh changed rapidly, the technocyte covering his arms, legs, and head with a smooth shell of gleaming steel.  Across his round iron carapace a multitude of pockmarks emerged, a pattern of sunken recesses that glow with unnatural blue light, a long thin needle rising from the very middle of each one.  These pocks and needles emit a tingling electric hum.  He will need to be inspected by experts on sacred Lua to determine if he is a new type, or a variation of the golem they call Volt.

Specimen 3: Final-stage failure, tagged for autopsy.  Specimen 3 (Dorian Mastiff; convicted of armed assault, murder of the first & second degree, and three other crimes) responded well to initial injection.  Very little screaming.  Plate-like extrusions of dull gray metal emerged across his skin, dermis underwent full replacement.  Musculoskeletal augmentation appears successful, pending autopsy report.  However, after protracted convulsions the subject’s belly collapsed inwards and then ripped open, spilling pink, red, orange and yellow entrails across the table and floor while the subject’s vitals flatlined.  Cause of failure to be determined during autopsy.

Specimens 4 & 5: Unqualified success, recommended for immediate deployment.  I had no particular expectations for our last two criminal specimens (Torres & Sia Fallon; convicted of possession of illegal firearms and conspiracy to commit treason) and so I was pleasantly surprised by the results.  It all began with the usual howling and thrashing as bone reshapes and skin turns inside out but imagine my shock when each of the two managed to wrest an arm free of the clamps, only so they could hold each others hand as they endured holy metamorphosis.  Beautiful to behold, as the shapes of their bodies deformed into haunting curves bulbous and hollow, hand in hand as they sang into the walls of the transmogrification lab.  Seeing them now I nearly feel a tear in my eye, the shapes of their curves, their peaks and valleys seem perfect to fit against each other like the pieces of a puzzle.  Two halves of a whole; balancing each other in both shape and color.  If Executor Ballas allows, I would very much like to keep these two for myself.

Specimen 6: Success.  Unique phenotype, tagged for further study.  Our Archimedeans are chosen for the prowess of their minds, not for their ability to withstand even the slightest amount of pain.  With the golden ball from my bracelet muffling her screams Archimedean Philias squealed and whimpered throughout the entire process.  If I had not gagged her I’m sure her screaming would have drowned out all other noise in the room.  And oh how I chuckled when I saw that gleaming golden bead trapped permanently in the angular beak that had replaced Philias’ mouth, clenched and frozen.  A precious little momento of her final moments as a human being.  Oh, I do adore her now.  How her research vestments gave way to streaming silken ribbons, how her features were completely hidden by the shining metal mask that grew from her skull.  She is so beautiful now, and so quiet.  I think I wish I could keep her most of all.  No telling what powers this new form of yellow gold and red silk could possibly possess, but that is what tests are for.  I wish I could see that perfectly chiseled beak of hers clutching that golden ball every day.

Specimen 7: Unqualified success, recommended for immediate deployment.  (Imugi Dax, volunteered)  In retrospect, I admit that subjecting Archimedean Philias to the transformation was impulsive and emotional, and doing the same to Imugi Dax was pure whimsy.  The only things aboard this ship that are allowed to second-guess me are myself and my cephalon.  I won’t express regret for my decision, but I will admit its shortsightedness.  With that said, I now ask myself why we do not use the Dax soldiers for more of our warframe projects.  The technocyte grafts with their flesh and bone so easily, Imugi never once screamed.  While the others howled, cried, and gurgled, Imugi was silent as stone.  The nanomachines rushed through his veins and arteries, turning his whole body a noble blue.  How calmly his shape changed.  The quiet re-ordering of bone and muscle.  Thick yet slender, powerful yet elegant, the stately helmet of the Dax fusing to his skull to give him a most commanding silhouette... and that beautiful slate blue all over him accented by dots and streaks of noble jade glow.  A perfect warframe.

Additional notes: We are squandering a great deal of potential using criminals as our primary test subjects for the Warframe Project.  The Helminth technocyte is best when it has good material to work with: individuals of exceptional quality.  Results from tests conducted on subjects with superior skills, knowledge, and physical condition like the Dax have such a high success rate while wasting test batches of degenerates and reprobates leaves me with tables full of mangled corpses.  The criminal fodder is much more suited for use in controlled mass-production cloning of archetypes.  This research is no longer just my assignment.  It is my passion.  It is my art.  We should not be wasting time and resources on reclaiming technocyte clay from the feral mud, we should be culturing strains of the finest porcelain for our masterpieces!

[laurelnose]

@heartoferebor OOF okay so I technically started with PawPaw Studio’s pattern because it nails the square little face, but it doesn’t include any ventral fins and the body shaping is weird, so ... well, the pattern definitely inspired me, we’ll leave it at that. I didn’t anticipate ever wanting to replicate my own hubris so I uhhhh didn’t take notes. fortunately (?) for you I finished a lot of the details Yesterday so I have written up my mods from memory. I think what’s under the cut is everything I changed. Maybe. Good luck?

I used a super bulky chenille and an 8mm hook. Use whatever you need to get an appropriate stuffie gauge. I did everything FLO except working into the sl st stripes which I also did BLO.

Worked the mouth insert about 15-20 rounds longer, with final round being blue/white before starting increases (this is not structurally critical, make yours however deep you want)

I approximately doubled the number of rounds in the head section. Just keep adding rows of dots until you feel the head is sufficiently long.

Work two sections after the head straight w/o decreasing, then work eleven following sections with decreases. For decrease rows work [sc1 blue, dec, work to last 3 blue scs, dec, sc1], rep in white for belly. The second and sixth rounds of each section (sl st rounds not counted) are decrease rounds (dec by 8 sts total each section).

Work the fourteenth section with decrease rows on the second, fourth, and sixth rows.

Final section: Work no spots. Work two dec rows immediately after sl sts. Work two rows dec’ing every st around, then close up hole.

Sections 10-12 I worked flat (cutting yarn and restarting from right side every row to preserve in-the-round texture) and rejoined to work in round on the following sl st round; this let me install an invisible zipper so when he’s five years old and his stuffing’s gone flat he can be restuffed. This also helped make final stuffing easier.

I offset the 2×2 spots from section to section rather than lining them up. The repeat is [4 blue, 2 white], so on the next section it’d be [1 blue, 2 white, 3 blue].

Work all fins with joined rounds, NOT spiral rounds. At this scale the row offset produced by spiral rounds is almost half an inch and 100% matters.

Upper caudal fin lobe: Rounds 25-26 should be worked including spots following established pattern; work 8 additional rounds after r26 increasing as established: three solid, two spot, three solid.

Lower caudal fin lobe: Rounds 20-21 should be worked with spots; work 3 solid rnds after this, increasing as established.

Anal fin is exactly like second dorsal fin but all in white.

Pelvic fins:

MR 6

[Inc, sc 2] x2 (8 sts)

Inc 8 times (16)

Sc 6, inc 4, sc 6 (20)

Sc around

Do not cut working yarn. Sk 7 sts, join new length of yarn w/ sl st in next sc, inc 2, sl st, f/o new length of yarn.

Continuing with original working yarn and working over top of added sts in r6, inc, sc 8, inc 2, sc 8, inc (36)

Sc 11, inc 2, sc 11 (38)

Inc, sc 11, inc 2, sc 11, inc (42)

Sl st 6, sc 8, inc 2, sc 9, sk remaining scs and join to first sc of this row

Sl st 3, sc 15, sl st. F/O

Fold the fin in half and seam the lower section of the fin together. Leave rows 10-11 unseamed. Stuff gently.

Claspers (optional):

Make fsc row with a smaller hook if necessary to avoid flaring.

Fsc 14.

Sc 14.

Sc 14.

Make turning chain, sk first sc, sc 9, turn.

Sc 8, sl st. F/O.

Fold short part of claspers over and seam into a tube, stitching final row to base of fsc and closing the tip. Jam the ends inside the tube but leave unstuffed otherwise.

Anal fin should be attached to belly directly underneath second dorsal fin. Posterior tips of the pelvic fins should be level with or slightly past the end of the first dorsal fin. Seam only the open parts of the pelvic fins to the body, leaving the tips free. Once pelvic fins are attached, take the claspers and flatten the single-layered portion against the base of the pelvic fins, towards the center of the belly. The opening to the folded part of the claspers should be up against rws 10-11 of the pelvic fins. Seam the single-layered portion to the pelvic fins as flatly as possible so it blends in, closing up the opening of the tube as you go.

[muscle-gods-only]

This is Eric. He was a tiny little guy when he first started helping out in my office. When I asked around the office if anyone would come to work early and leave work late, little Eric was the only person who volunteered. When we started, Eric was 5 ft 2”, 102 lbs and had 11” arms. I was 6 ft 4”, 205 lbs of toned muscle. 18” arms.

We worked out together for 3 months, then I got news that I would be transferred to open the company’s new office in Dubai for 8 months. I told him not to worry because I hired a personal trainer to come out twice a day and he would provide Eric was a full supplement regimen. Before turning him over to the new trainer, Alan, we measured ourselves. Eric was 5 ft 3”, 128 lbs, 13” arms. He’d grown an inch taller and 2 inches on his arms in only 3 months! Eric thought he was done growing, but at 19 you can always have a growth spurt. I measured 6’ 4”, 210 lbs, 18.5”.

Alan the trainer was a lot more expensive than I expected, but Eric liked him. 8 months later, I found out why Alan cost more: the picture at the top of the post is of the 7 ft 4” giant that greeted me at the airport. I almost missed him, he looked totally different, but I recognized Eric’s face. Eric drove me and my luggage home. As we pulled into the driveway, he said, “Can I help you bring in your luggage? It’s a lot of luggage and I’m really strong now!” Then he flexed his chest, then one arm. Then he continued, “Besides that, maybe you want to be inspect what Alan and I built while you were away.” I said that I can see and that he looks amazing… Then he says, “Maybe you want to inspect me without clothes on?” I finally got the hint and soon the gigantic muscle boy was spread out over my bed as I bred the shit out of him. He asked if he could top me, I was nervous because I’ve he more than a few guys fist me, then I saw his hormone enhanced, 16 in long, 10 inch diameter tool. He fit me like a glove. It was weird this tiny guy being so much bigger than me suddenly.

Monday morning we met Alan at the gym and we had already measured ourselves. Eric was now 7 ft 4”, 800 lbs, 26 inch arms. I was 6 ft 4, 199 lbs, 17.5 inch arms. I was absolutely puny next to Eric. I sure do like watching him grow!

[harrisonstories]

Above: George Harrison in a wheelchair after injuring his foot at Friar Park in March 1979. Photographer unknown. The brake wouldn't work on the small tractor he was riding, so he put his foot down on the path, only for the back wheel of the tractor to run over it. Below: Laurie Fidler's version of the story I typed up for this post. It's much shorter and the details are a little different. [click to enlarge]

From the WALH Beatles fanzine - Issue #26 - April 1979.

George in L.A. - March 1979

I came home from school at about 3:30 (step one), which is real early for me. It was hot, so I just peeled off some clothes and switched on the TV. It just happened to be on CBS (step two). Because it was so hot I just sat on the couch and relaxed, when all of a sudden I hear "These are the stories we are working on for the 4:30, 5:00 and 6:00 news..blah blah…and Pat O'Brian will have an interview with former Beatle George Harrison." That was all I had to hear to take me out of a nice state of relaxation. A hundred thoughts began to run thru my mind: call the gang, get my camera ready, get a tape recorder, where was the interview taking place, when, was it in L.A.??? -- etc., etc., etc.! I called Laurie…no answer. God! She's not home from work yet. I called Sandi...she had to work late...again I get on the phone to call Selita. Yay! -- she's home! "Selita, get on over to my house, George is going to be interviewed, bring your camera!" (I have a big color TV.) I kept trying to call Laurie but still no answer. Where the hell was she?? By then I had tried to work all the tape recorders in the house (3) and of course not one of them worked. I was so mad.

Finally, Laurie called saying she went to see Sandi at work and she told her to call me right away, something about George. I told her about it and she said: "While I come over, call the station to first find out if it's live." Needless to say at hearing the word live, I went slightly mad. I then began to make calls -- I think about 6 of them -- each time getting closer to his whereabouts. As I was talking I kept thinking to myself, "God! I work well under pressure." I was very calm and professional on the phone. My final call was to Warner Bros. where I found out that George was holding a press conf. at that moment. After telling her some far-fetched story (what's funny was that she believed me), she told me where the conf. was being held, bless her.

Called Laurie back up to tell her to forget about the show, we are going to go see George at Warner Bros. She made it up to my house in a few seconds flat. I hardly had time to grab my camera and film and a photo for George (I prayed) to sign.

We hear her honking and we run out to the car in near panic (since it's now about 5:00pm and full rush hour), we get in, and WE'RE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF....

Laurie, I think, if she were in competition for the world's fastest driver would have won hands down. We made it to Burbank in about 20-25 minutes. A miracle in itself, not to mention when the freeway is bumper-to-bumper. Laurie always was good at dodge-the-cars.

After parking the car and walking towards the front entrance, a quiet fear began to come over me. I'm not sure if it was fear of not being able to finally meet him face to face after so many years, or the fear of actually meeting him. From a total state of nerves I found myself totally calm and at peace with myself (isn't there something that says the calm before the storm??).

Then I began to notice a lot of people walking down the street with George's new LP and some press releases, and as we approached the gates, more and more people began to file out. "Oh god, it's already over, maybe he left" was my first thought, which saddened me considerably. I proceeded to ask some reporter if he knew if George had already left. "He left a long time ago," was his answer in a rather shitty tone. I again felt sad but there was no way I was going to budge an inch, at which time Laurie's friend comes and says that the conf. went great and that George was funny and very nice. After asking if he was still in, she replied she was pretty sure he was because he went in (after the conf.) to talk to Mo.

All that was left to do was wait. So we did. We went to the parking lot to see if we could spot one of his cars but nothing looked right, however the first car my eye caught sight of was a gorgeous bronze Bentley, brand new and very classy. We wanted (or at least I did) to go and check it out but then someone else would walk out the doors of Warners. Every time those doors opened I felt I would die. Finally, a security guard (sweetest man you'd ever want to meet) came outside because at 6:00 Warners officially closes, so he was there (I'm not sure why). We asked him if he knew George was still in there, at which point he turned to look at the cars in the lot and said, "Yeah, that's the car he came in this morning", pointing to the Bentley. Me: "Do you know if there are any other exits?" Guard: "No, he'll have to come out from there, he'll be carrying a cane, he was limping."

Limping?? What does he mean, limping, how, why, when, where, who...We thanked him for being so nice and just began to talk amongst ourselves trying to implant the assurance that yes, this was it, and yes Virginia there really is a Santa Claus.

A few seconds later, the guard says to us, "HERE HE COMES!" I turned to see him coming towards us expecting to see that wonderful lively bounce, but instead I saw him limping and quite badly at that. He was so lovely I don't think I'll quite be able to put in words what my feelings were at that point. All i could think of was how beautiful and young he really is. Pictures are really a very false representation of him.

We started to walk towards him and stopped (since he had to pass us to get to his car). When he reached us my first concern was to ask him what had happened to his foot. He replied with a gorgeous smile, "Oh, I just hurt my foot." Thank you George, but that's a bit obvious since his foot was all bandaged. He was wearing beige cords, a printed shirt (white/blue and blue flaps). He was also wearing his big Dark Horse necklace, the blue one, and no wedding ring. I'm usually not so observant but I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Ah! That man is BEWITCHING.

The best part however was his hair, it's short and sporting and it suits him wonderfully. Lovely, just lovely.

Laurie asked him to sign a couple of autographs (ala Beatles) and again with an enormous smile he said, "Oh, sure!" What a sweetheart, you should have seen him trying to get comfortable with his cane before signing. However, he was enjoying it or so it seemed. As he signed I asked if I could snap a couple of pics, and to answer he looked right at me (I know now that I can live thru anything, his looks are the ultimate test) and said: "Sure, if you can be quick." As I was taking some shots I heard him say, "Oh, where'd you get this one?" I looked to see that he was checking out my photo of him, really interested, and I said "I got it out of a Japanese calendar." He seemed so pleased. God! I wanted to hug him (let's keep it clean). Every once in a while he would stare at me so that I could take a photo, well, needless to say I never did manage to get one whenever he did that because I couldn't do anything but look back. He was so cute. I bet he knew his affects on me because he seemed to get a kick out of doing it.

He then began to walk towards the Bentley which was a few feet away. As he was getting into the car (hopping in so as not to put weight on his hurt foot) I told him (I think, or was it Laurie) that I loved his new album. It was light-up time again, his whole face was a warm grin. "Do you really like it then?" "Of course," I said. "Do you have the album?" He again seemed interested -- ah, such a gentleman! Laurie then said, "I love 'Blow Away', come on George, knock those Bee Gees off the charts!" (as she thinks of it now, she can't believe she said that -- I can't either!) After hearing that he just about cracked up and made a gesture like, oh well, we try. He was getting ready to go (he had a driver, a nice guy who was enjoying the whole thing nicely) so I asked how Dhani was. This question brought about the biggest smile yet (after George nirvana) and the reply, "Oh, he's just fine!" "And Olivia?" "She's fine too." He then said he had to go and said bye. At the second he left, already I couldn't believe what had happened, all I could remember was how beautiful, young, happy and gentle he was. He has absolutely no airs about him at all. He makes you feel more like a friend, asking you questions. I could have not have dreamt of a more totally terrific meeting with George. I thought I'd be very nervous but instead I was calm with a kind of inner glow. Absolutely mind-blowing. My last thought was, God, it was worth the waiting, and how much I do feel for him...Stefania Catone.

[hypnoswap]

The ring of essence, part three

After transforming our friends Tim and Chad who both look like young studs now, they couldn’t thank me enough for the transformation. It really changed their lives. People treat you different when you look so good. Financially, their lives were way better off. They still worked their jobs, but they had an only fans page they both have thousands of followers they probably didn’t even have to work anymore. John my boyfriend was 26 years old, but loved looking 17 now and a young stud. And I on the other hand I still have my great body but going from 25 years old to 45 years old by giving my youth away to my boyfriend and I only had a 5 inch cock and only 3 inches in circumference I have to figure out what the next step is.

John and I started to discuss what to do next I thought maybe just taking a little bit from a lot of people would be the best way of going about getting my cock size back like a half an inch here half an inch there, but taking someone’s youth away, was a totally different story, I feel like I’d have to get permission or maybe trade like six months of life for an inch of cock. John looked at me and said that’s enough of this right now , let’s go fuck as he gave me that cute little grin that melts my heart away so I said I’m right behind you. I told him to lay down and let me ride him. I love looking at his body and face with his hard huge cock up my ass. As I was riding him I had forgotten to take the ring off. I grabbed his ears. As soon as I touch both ears a strange sensation came over me. I could sense everything that John wanted his innermost thoughts I could see that he loved his body and wouldn’t want to change anything. That sensation of me being in his mind was stimulating I could tell he wanted me to ride him faster I could sense everything what he wanted me to do to him which I continue to do. I drove him crazy He started shooting rope after rope in record time. As soon as John came, I stopped, and told him what just happened. He hesitated and said let’s test this out, then put your hands on my ears and tell me what I’m thinking I proceeded to do so and his first thoughts were he wish my cock was back to being huge again and to get my youth back. I told him what I sensed and he said I was right. Then he told me to put the ring on my left hand and see if it made a difference. I proceeded to do so, and touched his ears and it was reversed. John can sense everything I wanted and John started to tear up I looked at him and said, what is it, he told me he felt all the love I have for him. Seeing John so emotional brought tears to my eyes we both felt so loved the feelings were indescribable. needless to say, we both made love to each other all night long.

Well, the next morning still thinking of the best way for me to get my manhood back would be to go to a gay bathhouse and there would be plenty of man to take a inch here a half inch there or they probably wouldn’t even notice. I’m sure there will be plenty of guys lined up to play with and I had John come with me to attract more guys, now that he look like a 17 year old bodybuilder. That night we go to the bath house, we go in they give us a key to a room and a bath towel, we go to locker room take off our clothes and start walking around completely naked with a towel over her shoulders, John showing off his huge dick, hanging down with his big balls. No one can resist and I’m still sporting my little wiener but at least I had a plenty of muscle to attract some men. I put the ring on my right hand as our first victim walked in. an older guy probably around 45 he started hitting on John, I looked at him and said, let me warm you up for him he was soft, so it was hard to tell how big he was so I grabbed his cock and balls with my right hand.right away he went into a daze and started moaning. he started to get hard. He was probably 6 inches, but he started to shrink quickly as I started to grow since he was only average I was only going to take an inch or two I can feel my cock starting to grow a little bigger went from 5 to 6 inches, I pulled my hand away and he begged me not to stop and grab my hand and put it back on his cock,I coupled his balls I could feel my sack starting to grow. He started shrinking a little more, I was up to 8 inches and 5 inches wide, my balls were almost back to normal. He was half the size I finally pulled away again he was already ready to come. John reached over and played with his nipples with one hand, ,his cock in the other and he came right away I proceeded to put both my hands on his head. I could feel the energy from his body flowing into me. I felt I was getting stronger and stronger I only held onto him for 5 seconds or so probably took a year or two of his youth. he looked really weak by the time I was done but he was in such ecstasy. He hadn’t realized what had happened and went on his way. next came in a young 18-year-old. Totally hitting on John but he had a small really small penis, I asked him what his name was he replied, Pete. He only had like a 3 inch penis I asked Pete if he would like to be a little older around 23-year-old, but with a big 9 inch thick cock with balls to match would he trade. he looked at me a little funny and said it would probably be worth it, but I told him I was serious and would prove it to him, so Pete said go ahead, prove it, so I reached down I put the ring on my left hand. I grabbed his cock and his balls as soon as I touched him, he started to moan. He looked down at his cock and it started to grow from 3 to 4 inches to 5 and got about an inch thicker. His ball sack was double the size and I then stopped, oh my God I can’t believe this is happening, and I said do you still wanna make the deal but you will be giving up five years of your life. He looked at me and said how about for three years and I agreed I said would you give me another year if I give you a muscular body and he said yes so I put my hands back on his cock. He started to instantly moan again as he grew and grew my cock getting smaller and smaller his ball sack was inflating. It was pretty impressive size this cock was up to 9 inches I gave him an extra inch, 10 inches long and probably 7 inches thick. Then I started to rub his muscles and I can feel mine starting to dwindle away, as he started to turn into a young stud I rub down his whole body, probably giving him 25 to 30 pounds of muscle and at his age he looked amazing but now it was time for him to pay ,so I put both hands on his head and started to count I sort of figured every 5 seconds, was like one year so I held my hands on them for 20seconds and let go. I could feel so much energy flow into me. I could tell he was getting drained.

He still looked magnificent with that big hung cock of his, and that young muscular body, Pete got up and looked at the mirror, putting his hands all over his body and started playing with his cock. I asked him if he was happy Pete replied oh my God yeah , I told Pete if he knows any younger guys that wanna get bigger, cocks, or more muscles that would trade, send them our way he agreed so I gave him my phone number and he said when I show my friends my new body I’m sure they’ll wanna trade., so we waited for a few more guys to come in to or room to get what I had just lost ,after couple of hours of playing my body was huge and my cock was 22 in by 14 inch thick, and so much muscle I was two and a half times bigger than John. I figured that’s enough muscle, and cock to trade the young Twinks to get my youth back

The next morning 7 AM we get the first phone call a young guy, named Tim wanted to come over and talk about trading I think more so to see if it was actually true. At 10 a.m. we hear a knock at the door. And actually three kids showed up. They all looked around 17 years old.

Well, the kids were average size one was a little chubby , one skinny twink, The third had a average built body, they started, asking me a lot of questions all we’re in doubt I asked the one kid that was a little overweight what he would want. He said his cock was average size. He had small balls, and he wanted to get rid of his fat and add some muscle and a huge cock so that when he walked around, everyone would notice the bulge , I told him he could have, all of that or four years of his youth. he agreed but first he wanted proof that it would work I said I’ll add some muscle to your body and that the fat would disappear, I told him he’d have to strip naked in order for me to make this work that I had to touch his bare skin and I also told the other boys to stay and watch so they would have the proof that they wanted. he introduced himself as Tim. We talked yesterday on the phone I told Tim to strip which he did, and I put the ring on my left hand and started to massage his body right away he tensed up as I slowly massaged his body, you can see his muscles starting to grow, the two other friends just had their jaws drop as they stood and watched as more muscle grew, his fat, started to disappear, his cock was standing, straight up in ecstasy, as he was getting bigger and bigger and ripped, he started feeling his own body rubbing his hands over his abs and biceps. I wasn’t quite finish yet, and he had a hands-free orgasm ,that was a first I stopped, handed him a towel. He cleaned himself off., I said boys do we have a deal and all three of them at the same time said yes. After I was finished, all the boys were very happy with the results. Well, I got my youth back now I had to go back to the bathhouse to get my body back and replenish my cock size will the cycle ever end. I enjoy changing people so much below are some pics of the boys before and after 

Tim,Chris,Tom. Tim,Chris,Tom a After

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 5: A Perfect Disaster

The throbbing in his head wakes Dean up. He groans and turns over in bed, away from the sunlight attempting to sear his eyeballs through his eyelids. Every muscle in his body hurts. Christ, he’d forgotten what hangovers as a thirty-something did to him.

And Cas, normally the voice of reason, was all too happy to match him, drink for drink.

Before each new round came to their table, Dean kept thinking he’d wake up with maybe a mild headache and some nausea. A totally fine price to pay to keep the two-man party going. He’s such an idiot. It’s been a decade and change since he felt that good after drinking that much.

But why not go all in? He was back in Vegas, and he felt younger than he had in years, not thinking about work; not thinking about how he hasn’t been in a relationship in two years; not thinking about how full-time lawyer Sammy doesn’t need him anymore.

The last time he went this hard was the Winchesters’ last sacred annual pilgrimage to Vegas. That morning, 26 year-old Dean woke up single and ready to mingle and hit the tables by noon sharp, while Sammy prayed to the porcelain gods and regretted all his life choices.

32-year old Dean squeezes his eyes shut, just trying to breathe.

Oh, shit.

He doesn’t smell the crisp, hotel-friendly scent of newly-washed sheets. He smells sex.

One of his legs mostly hangs off the right side of the bed, so he tentatively feels around the other side, his stomach (not entirely metaphorically) lurching as he feels a warm, slightly hairy forearm beneath the covers.

Okay, so, he slept with a man last night. His ass actually isn’t as sore as it would be if he bottomed, so they probably didn’t go all the way. Probably too drunk.

Time to face the music.

Dean opens his eyes.

“Cas?” he gasps, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. He winces; he has always been pretty vocal during sex. God, if only he could remember it. 

Cas’s eyes fly open. He yelps in surprise, does a full-body recoil, and nearly falls off the bed, but Dean tightens his hand around Cas’s upper arm and keeps him anchored.

“Dude, quit freaking out, it’s just me,” Dean says, trying to speak calmly while also trying not to throw up on Cas’s face.

Cas mumbles something along the lines of, “That’s what I was afraid of,” which can’t be right since Dean is his best friend, not a creepy weirdo with a fetish for computer system administrators who think bulky trench coats are the height of fashion. Plus, Dean’s a hot piece of ass. Cas would be so lucky.

Cas throws his free arm over his eyes. Without looking at Dean, he gripes, “Are you as hungover as I am?”

“Depends,” Dean says as he rolls over on his back in a poor attempt to stop the building nausea. “Do you want to die?”

“It depends,” Cas volleys back, “Can you do it painlessly?”

Dean’s temples pound like competing bongo drums. “Nope.”

“I guess I’ll live to see another day.” Cas shifts in bed, inching away from Dean, which, ouch. “So we slept together,” Cas says out of nowhere, since he never saw the reason in beating around the bush when he can barrel straight through it.

“Seems so.” Dean chances a glance in Cas’s direction, but Cas is staring up at the ceiling, not looking at him. “Do you remember it?”

“Flashes.”

“Same,” Dean lies. He grunts, half-raising himself onto his elbows. They’re in his hotel room, not Cas’s. “How about I get room service while you shower?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me I smell?”

“I figured you wouldn’t want to put on yesterday’s clothes over yesterday’s stink while doing the walk of shame,” Dean retorts, “but, if you want, I can kick you out, hog the shower, and eat all the bacon. ’S up to you, sunshine.”

Cas makes a scoffing noise as he pushes himself to a sitting position. “I can’t believe I forgot how much of an ass you are without caffeine.”

“Damn right. And proud of it.”

Cas's chuckle gets cut short as he raises a hand to his head. “You’re not the only one who needs coffee.” He gets to his feet with a groan more suited to an arthritic 80-year-old than a 35-year-old in the prime of his life.

Dean lunges for the phone, and thank god for room service speed dial. He orders two lumberjack platters.

From across the room, Cas makes a strange, strangled noise.

Goddamn peanut gallery. Dean flips him off without looking and orders an extra side of bacon for the Meat Man and a single cheeseburger for when the Hamburglar gets out of the bathroom. He hangs up.

“Dean.” Cas almost runs back to the bed.

Dean throws him a bemused look. “What now? Do you want a side of fries too? Or is my shower too good for you?”

“Shut up about the shower,” Cas says impatiently as he grabs a piece of paper off the top of the minibar. “Look.”

Confused, Dean takes the paper. Clark County, Nevada is stamped on the top right hand corner, with Certification of Vital Records in all caps at the top of the page. And on the next row down –

“State of Nevada Marriage Certificate?” Dean reads incredulously. His already-unstable stomach turns over at the familiar signatures at the bottom. “Is this real?”

Cas throws up his hands. “I have no idea! I’ve never gotten married before, and I’ve definitely not gotten drunk-married in Las Vegas before!”

“Well, I haven’t either –” Dean’s sentence stutters to a halt because he knows someone else who got completely shitfaced and hitched in Vegas. Someone who has his own notarized Clark County marriage certificate. Someone who Dean mocked endlessly about living the cliche.

Son of a bitch.

“This a perfect disaster,” Dean groans.

Cas’s mouth snaps shut, his face reddening. “It is?” he asks, and Dean has no idea how he maintains that imperious tone while this hungover.

Dean flops back down on the bed with a wordless noise that foretells a solid year of karma coming back to bite him in the ass.

Cas crosses his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t call this a ‘disaster’.”

Despite himself, Dean smiles at the finger-quotes. “You sure about that, buddy?”

Cas scowls. “Annulments happen every day.”

Dean goes cold all over. “You want to get an annulment?” He has no idea what’s happening to his face, but it can’t be good, judging by the way Cas’s eyes go wide. 

He’d always written Cas off as a possibility. They’d shared a few drunken kisses to ring in at least two new years, but they’ve never gone further than that. 

And, sure, their friends joked about them being that old married couple, especially as Dean’s second year dragged on without any new girlfriends or boyfriends in the picture. Cas, of course, never had a significant other in the entire time Dean’s known him. But Dean always figured they meant his friendship with Cas was like a boring, sexless marriage of old geezers in their 80s.

Evidently not.

For one, Dean’s pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who jizzed all over these hotel sheets. 

And B, Cas has always held his liquor better than Dean, and he's always been a bit anal about big life decisions. He spent a month deliberating over which new couch to buy. He weighed the pros and cons of this trip to Vegas for practically a year. Even three sheets to the wind, he wouldn’t have married Dean completely out of the blue.

Cas’s jaw practically drops to the floor. “You don’t want to get an annulment?”

Dean shrugs, his face heating uncomfortably quickly. “Haven’t given it a lot of thought to be honest.”

“Right,” Cas says, looking away. “In that case, we should definitely end it.” 

“I mean, I’ve thought about us together,” Dean amends. “Just not, y’know, all the way married.”

Cas stumbles forward to sit on the side of the bed. “You have?” he asks, his voice weirdly hoarse.

“Sure,” Dean says, “Haven’t you?”

“Of course – I mean,” he backtracks in a calmer tone, “Yes, I have.” As Dean chuckles, Cas glares at him. “You are a very strange man, Dean Winchester.”

“All part of my charm.”

“I’d say so,” Cas says quietly. He picks up the marriage certificate Dean left on the bedspread and smooths it out to read it again. “Why did you never say anything?”

Dean purses his lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think you’d react favorably to the news,” Cas says delicately.

“Same.”

Cas squints at him. “How could you possibly think that?”

“You don’t date!” Dean grabs a nearby pillow and hits him with it, grinning at Cas’s squawk of offense. “Every time I’ve tried to set you up, you’ve either bailed or cut it off after one drink saying you weren’t feeling it.”

“Of course I wasn’t feeling it,” Cas retorts as he yanks the pillow out of Dean’s hand and throws it to the other end of the bed. “Nothing I ever felt with them compared to how I feel when around you.”

It’s like Cas’s words light a miniature sun beneath his ribcage. Dean beams at him with a pathetic fraction of the heat crackling in his chest.

Cas taps the paper. “This could all be for moot, though. We’ll have to go to City Hall to confirm if it’s real.”

“We don’t need to do that,” Dean says grimly as he holds his hand out. Cas obligingly hands the certificate over, and Dean reaches for his phone.

Dean 10:55 Woke up and found this Is it legit

He attaches a picture.

“Who are you texting?” Cas asks, leaning in.

“Sammy,” Dean says shortly as he sets his phone back down on the nightstand. “He’s gonna go fucking nuts.”

Cas’s brow creases. “Why? Was he expecting to get married before you?”

Dean bursts out laughing, wheezing and choking on air until he gets his breath back.

“Not the case, I take it,” Cas says dryly as Dean recovers.

Dean wipes at his watering eyes. “As if,” he gasps. “Last time we were in Vegas, Sammy drank an entire bottle of tequila, ran into one of his law school classmates – one who had a gigantic crush on him – and took a long walk down a short aisle.” He grins at the memory. “He was Mr. Becky Rosen for three months before the annulment paperwork went through.”

Cas leans back until he lies on top of Dean’s legs.

“I’ve never let him forget it,” Dean adds wistfully. “So this,” he gestures between them, “is a fucking disaster, as far as I’m concerned. He’s gonna lord it over me forever, the jackass.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of him so often for one drunken mistake.”

Dean snorts. “You try selling any older brother that shit.” His phone dings, and he triumphantly shows the screen to Cas.

Sammy 10:59 HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

“He’s still gonna be bringing it up ten years from now,” Dean says mournfully.

“Well,” Cas says, twisting in place to stare at him, “Ten years would be our first big anniversary, so that’s more than understandable.”

“I had no idea why I ever thought you weren’t a romantic,” Dean says as he bends down to kiss him. “You’re so gross.” 

A minute later, his phone pings with new texts.

Sammy 11:01 Yes its the real deal! If you need a lawyer for the annulment, that’ll be $750 an hour. How hungover are you?

Dean 11:01 Fuck you For that, you’re not getting invited to the ceremony back home

Sammy 11:02 WAIT ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Dean snorts as Sam’s next texts come in.

Sammy 11:03 Dean!!!!! ANSWER ME

Dean silences his phone as it vibrates wildly with Sam’s incoming call. He turns to Cas instead, his expression thoughtful. “D’you think I can suck you off before the food gets here?”

Cas smiles, delighted. “In my experience, there’s only one way to find out.”

[fluffytriceratops]

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐚. 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 [chapter three]

chapter three: "𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚛. 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊."

notes: i too really want to take a fat nap with kuroo. 😭👌💕

chapter two: "bootymeat."

chapter four: "i want some lettuce."

««•◦ ✪ ◦•»»

Saturday, 2:13 pm.

y/n

hey bo, does your practice

still start at 3 today?

Saturday, 2:26 pm.

tetsu

lmao- i think it does.

y/n

i can't believe he ignored me ehu– 😭

queen keiji

he's probably just distracted

why'd you want to know?

tetsu

ik how rude

y/n

i wanted to see him play today! i just finished my homework and thought it'd be fun.

tetsu

finished or gave up on? 😏

y/n

shush.

kendoll

do you really want to see him play or is this about seeing if atsumu is the guy you groped?

y/n

...

can it not be both?

tetsu

it's totally the latter. tho i must admit, i'm curious too.

queen keiji

same here. did you need a ride, y/n?

y/n

don't team up on me! and if you're offering, yes, i'd love that.

queen keiji

if you're ready we can leave in five. unlike you i actually finished my homework.

y/n

low blow keiji, low blow. but yeah im good to go.

wait, are you home rn? i thought it was just me?

queen keiji

ive been here the whole time...

y/n

you have? wait where is everyone rn?

tetsu

kenma and i went out for food. and kei is out with family.

y/n

WHAT!? WITHOUT ME?? RUDE!!!

kendoll

the second we walked into your room to ask if you wanted to come you threw your stuffed animals at us and told us to get out.

y/n

i was trying to study and you guys always distract me!

tetsu

she has a point.

queen keiji

well if you're ready y/n, we should go.

y/n

okie, im coming

if you have leftovers i will forever love you guys

kenma

we'll bring you back something tasty

y/n

ahh thankies!! 😊  

━  

Y/n slid off her bed, bare feet hitting the cold hard wood floor. She scrunched her nose and moved towards her sock drawer. She pulled on the thickest pair of knee highs she could find, grabbed a scrunchie so she could tie her hair up and walked out her room.

Akaashi was waiting for her in the living room by the door. When Y/n entered, she was holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she tied her hair up into a unkempt bun. "I thought you said you were ready?" Keiji said, slipping his own phone away as he glanced her over. Y/n pouted, "I am." She took her phone and shoved it into the pocket of the hoodie she was wearing. Why she didn't just do that in the first place, she didn't know. That's what happens when you work with half a brain cell.

Akaashi arched a brow. Y/n was in nothing but her pajamas. She wore an black t-shirt that said "sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come", followed by a pair of sweats he was sure belonged to Bokuto. Lastly she wore a sweater he knew to be Kuroo's, she had it unzipped at the moment, but he knew it wouldn't be long till she zipped it up. Y/n was always complaining about being cold.

Y/n's face burned at the sight of him looking her over and she crossed her arms over her chest subconsciously. "Don't look at me like that! I'm comfy!" Akaashi chuckled to himself lightly and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't say anything else as he opened the door of their house and went outside. Y/n pouted to herself as she shoved her feet into her outdoor slippers and followed after him sluggishly. "Meanie." She mumbled as she opened up the passenger side door and hopped inside.

"Baby." He teased, sticking the keys into the ignition and waiting for her to be buckled in before backing out of the driveway.

"It's too cold to dress up, besides we're just going to see Bo's practice so it's not like I have to look good or anything." She reasoned, leaning back in her seat, face inches away from the window to allow her breath to fog up the glass. She drew a little smiley face with her finger, her own lips quirking up.

"I thought you were going to see if the guy you hit on was Atsumu?" Keiji stopped at a red light and peeked over towards her, shaking his head in mild amusement at her antics. Y/n blushed and shot him a look, "I didn't hit on him, I just hit him, accidentally." She didn't miss the light roll of his eyes and she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. "And I was- am? I don't need to dress up for some guy."

Keiji smiled, "No, you don't." And they left it at that. The rest of the drive was relatively silent. They didn't live far from the university, so it didn't take long for them to get there. It was cloudy outside, with a chance of (meatballs) some light rain. Y/n didn't mind such weather, she had always liked the rain.

Once they were inside the building, Y/n stood beside Akaashi as they looked towards the court. Practice should be starting soon and most of the teammates were already here warming up. The h/c haired female spotted Bokuto almost immediately and rose her hand in a wave to try and catch his attention. It didn't take long for Bo to spot them and he grinned nearly as wide as Cheshire cat. Returning the wave vigorously.

"Come, let's go find a seat." Akaashi said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards the benches.

Once they had taken their seats, practice had basically begun. Y/n's eyes roamed the room to see if she recognized any of the other players. Leaning close to Akaashi, she whispered, "So which one is Atsumu?"

Keiji started looking for him, humming to himself softly. "I don't see him. I don't think he's here yet. Practice technically doesn't start for another ten minutes, so I'm sure he's just taking his time or got distracted by something."

Y/n nodded in understanding. The male from before wasn't here either, which meant that it was a good chance it could be this Atsumu guy. She began to feel nervous. What exactly was she looking for here? Another chance to embarrass herself? It wasn't like she was planning on asking him out or anything. She was just curious to know who he was. Unfortunately, Y/n had always been too curious for her own good.

Her knee started to bounce anxiously. Akaashi glanced down at it, noticing she was starting to fidget. This normally meant Y/n was in her head too much. She tended to overthink and stress over nothing. He had known her since high school, it was something he had managed to pick up over time. He placed his hand upon her knee and gave it a reassuring pat. Y/n blinked out of her thoughts and peeked up at him. Offering the dark haired male a thankful smile. Keiji sent her a small one in return. "Try not to think about it too much, just focus on Bo's playing. You know he'll want to talk to you about it afterwards."

Y/n nodded in agreement and turned her gaze onto the court. As if by some miracle, her phone dinged with a text notification. The perfect distraction.  

━

kurooo

hey, you guys there yet?

is atsumu the one??  

y/n

yeah we're here

and idk, he isn't here yet.

probs on his way tho-  

kurooo

ahh

kenma brought you back a slice of pie

and i have some leftover onigiri if you want it?  

y/n

ooh yummy!

yes please!!

thank you~! 🥰🥰

wait- are you guys back now?  

kurooo

you're welcome!! 😋

and yeah, we just got here a few mins ago  

y/n

we could have wait for you if you wanted to come  

kurooo

ye- but kenma wanted to play video games

and honestly i didn't even think about that lmao  

y/n

oh lmao

well it's not too late, you could always drive by yourself?  

kurooo

true

but i'm so full-- i could really use a nap  

y/n

LOL

well you certainly deserve it you do work really hard, tetsu ^^ i'm sure bo wont mind, as long as you come see him play sometime soon, or buy him some meat, he'll forgive ya haha  

kurooo

stop.

you're gonna make me blush

and yeah, i'll probably just go another time and buy him something to eat afterwards  

y/n

but it's true!! you do work really hard!

and okie, i'll let him know so he's not too dissapointed  

kurooo

haha thanks.

and okay- let me know how it goes!

i wanna know if tsumu is the one. 🤗  

y/n

lol otay, i will

have a good nap~  

kurooo

the very many thank yous.

tell akaashi i said hi.  

y/n

i will!

night tetsu~~ 😊  

kurooo

i mean, it's not night but-

night y/n~~ 😊  

━  

Y/n looked up from her phone towards Akaashi. "Kuroo says hi."

Keiji turned his gaze away from his phone, "Is that who you were texting?" She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "Yeah, he wanted to know what was going on. I told him nothing happened yet. He and Kenma just got back."

Akaashi nodded, "They probably could have come if they wanted. I wouldn't mind waiting for them."

"That's what I said! But Kenma wanted to play video games and Tetsu's taking a fat nap. He'll be out for a while I'm sure."

"Sorry I'm late! Ran into a little trouble on the way here."

"Oh, Atsumu's here."

Y/n turned towards the voice, eyes widening a fraction at the guy who walked in. He looked extremely familiar. Probably because she had at least one class with him and he was the one she slapped. Gasping quietly to herself, Y/n grabbed Akaashi's arm to gain his attention. Not really noticing that she already had it. "That's him! He's the guy I hit!"

As if he had known they were talking about him, Atsumu suddenly looked over towards them. His eyes locked with Y/n's and a sultry smirk crawled onto his lips. She could feel heat rise to her cheeks, and she found herself being unable to tear her gaze away. What was with this guy!? It felt like he could knock the air out of her by looking at her alone. Her grip on Akaashi's arm tightened unintentionally.

It was a mistake coming here, wasn't it?

Oh what she'd give to be napping with Kuroo right about now.

[grumpygreenwitch]

Fanfiction 17-18-19

WARNING FOR IMPLIED BODILY HARM. Fortunately, when you're very, very, very old, you tend to have very, very, very old friends, too. About ten chapters to go, so maybe 2-4 weeks.

Buy me a Ko-fi?

1-2-3 + 4-5 + 6-7-8-9-10 + 11-12 + 13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21 + 22-23 + 24-25 + 26-27

17

"They're moving him to the Refuge tomorrow," Evie told them all when she came into the meeting room of her Boston offices. "Which tells me he was telling me the truth. They've not been able to get anything useful out of him."

"I don't want to sound the asshole," Gevaun rumbled quietly. "But the sunflower's an angel, he's not even three centuries old. How, in the name of every place under the sun, is he standing up to an archangel rooting through his brain?"

"He's probably not." Jean was coiled in a seat, staring out the window at the snow-clad Boston Common grounds. His jaw was clamped down so tightly the muscles of his jaw made his face look even leaner than it was. "Raphael’s likely pulling it all out of him. And all of it is numbers." He shook his head minutely, flicking his fingers at his own temple. "Angel accountant. A secret language no one else in the world knows."

"They'll fry him for trying to, the rest of them," Gevaun realized.

Jean buried his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Jean."

"Not as sorry as I am," the older vampire said roughly. "I should've known this was what he was doing. I should've seen it. I should've trusted him. I should've -"

"Should've what, gone with him?" Evie cut him off tartly. "To Archangel Tower, crawling with Guild Hunters? So someone could recognize you and collar you?"

"I'm his Second!" Jean sprung to his feet and shouted at her. Evie and Gevaun both stared; never once in all the time they'd known the vampire had he been able to so much as look an angel in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But there was no fear to Jean at the moment, only rage. "I'm his safety. I'm his shield. I don't care what it cost me, I should be there with him."

"See, this is why he locked you up."

"Aside from the obvious issue, Jean, they would've just used you against him," Gevaun pointed out.

"He can't stay there. He can't - They can't take him to the Refuge. I won't let them. If they hurt him, I hurt them."

"One, don't go feral on me, "Evie said calmly. "Two, actually, we want him taken to the Refuge." When the vampires stared at her in disbelief, she went on impatiently. "There are no Hunters in the Refuge! There are no humans! No one to ID Jean! Do you think Kliman hasn't been thinking about how to fix this already?! How can you both be this dense, you're supposed to be good at your jobs!"

"Can Kliman get him out?"

"Not alone. You're both going to the Refuge."

"When?" Jean was already out of his seat.

Evie offered him a thin smile. "Now."

18

Alyss woke up and immediately curled up into a ball under his wings. Every inch of him hurt and the roar of the nearby engines wasn't helping. It throbbed in the tattered marrow of his bones, it pounded through the shattered remains of his skull, it left his heart dancing erratically, each piece to its own tempo. He felt as if he might be sick but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up.

He was in one piece, for the most part, though it didn't feel like it. There had been nothing kind about his interrogation at Archangel Tower. It didn't surprise him, really; he was technically guilty of the second most heinous of crimes within angelic society. He'd expected to be treated as a criminal. He'd expected to be killed out of hand once Raphael had what he wanted. He'd never, in his wildest dreams, expected to be right.

But he had been right. The pipeline did not exist in his mind as locations and names; it was numbers. Expenses against inflow, laundering processes, spikes of statistical activity. Mileage measured not by the mile, but by the cost of fuel. Safehouses tallied not by their location, but by the sum total of the bills when it came to their upkeep. Supporters kept not by name but by donations, taxes, net sums, expected interests. He'd surrendered everything, he'd been a wisp of breath before the storm that was the Archangel. Alyss doubted Raphael had even noticed the meager fight the young angel had put up.

But the Archangel understood nothing of what he'd gained from Alyss. And that understanding, he couldn't force from the angel's mind. It was instinctual, a thing as true to Alyss as his breathing or the beating of his heart. He'd always known numbers; it was human languages he'd had to learn.

"Here," a man's voice said. Alyss peeked through the ruin of one wing, and saw a gloved hand holding a bottle of water to him.

"I don't think it'll stay down," he admitted in a hoarse little groan. "But thank you."

The man walked away and Alyss stared after him. He'd never been on a plane, there had never been a reason for him to fly under anything but his own power. But his parents were technically under the oversight of Archangel Michaela. And apparently when Raphael had contacted them with news of his treachery, their immediate reaction had been to call the steward for Michaela's lands.

Aegaeon was an Ancient, his idea of judgment and justice very different from that of the Archangel who was holding Alyss. The young accountant was entirely unaware that Raphael had flatly refused to execute him; further, he’d refused to give Aegaeon access to Alyss, calling his motives suspect – a very reasonable accusation but one that had further inflamed the Ancient’s temper. Aegaeon had demanded access by proxy; Raphael, for the sake of diplomacy, had agreed. By the time someone had realized the vampire had been sent to savage Alyss’ wings so he couldn’t escape, the damage had been done. It had been another good reason to move the young angel to the Refuge, under the watch of someone less entangled than the two Archangels.

The man returned, combat boots coming into Alyss' line of sight a moment before he crouched down. He was an older man, powerfully built, some salt in the close-cropped pepper of his hair. He had a square face and seemed to find nothing particularly enthusing about the world around him. He wore urban fatigues and was one of a dozen men and woman settled at regular intervals around the angel. Not a vampire; there were no vampires on the massive cargo plane. Raphael would not risk potential sympathizers helping Alyss escape.

Which meant, the young angel knew, that there were sympathizers. That others knew the system was broken, and since no one who could was stepping up to fix it, Alyss had. And so they'd come to this impasse. It was a small relief, to know the pipeline would survive, that others would pick up the fight. It was terrifying to think that it would do so without him. And it was heartbreaking to know that, where he was going, he was alone.

"Not gonna die on us, are you?" the man asked.

"Oh, is that an option? I didn't realize," Alyss replied wearily.

The man chuckled a bit. "You've got heart to spare, angel, I'll give you that."

"No, no. I'm a coward. Very much not a fighter, me. If I were I wouldn't be here."

"If you were you'd still be here," the man clarified ruthlessly, but without malice. "Just in more pieces."

Alyss couldn't deny that. "Is it very long to the Refuge?" he asked. "No offense, I'm sure your plane is very nice but it's rattling my bones right out of me."

"You don't run out of manners, do you." The man shifted a little. "A few hours still." When his prisoner moaned, he couldn't help a little grin. "Want that water?"

"Do you have a blanket?"

One brow went up. "You're cold? I thought angels didn't get cold."

"Someone neglected to pass that memo along," Alyss said tiredly. "But I think I'll take the water, thank you."

After that, under a plain and scratchy blanket, he dozed, exhaustion making up for comfort. He snapped awake a few times, when the ragged places where the vampire's knife had gone right into the meat of the wing smacked into the plane's structure, but otherwise Alyss slept, his nightmares full of words he didn't want to hear and couldn't escape.

Do you trust me?

I thought I could!

The landing roused him to a panic, and his heart was still beating a harried march when he was escorted out of the plane. There were people waiting for him on the ground, none of whom he recognized. An angel, red-winged and dark-eyed, gasped when he saw Alyss. "What did you do to his wings?!"

"Us, nothing. This was done on orders of Archangel Aegaeon back in New York. He sent one of his own people to do it, too. Forbade any sort of medical attention to be tendered." The man who'd offered water, a blanket and a bit of kind conversation, offered the angel the transfer documentation. "Take it up with him, god knows I want to."

The angel yanked away the paperwork, scowling. Alyss was taken, on winding and well-hidden paths, back to the only place that had even come close to being a home, though it had never fully felt like one. No place ever had, not until Maine. Not until the lodge.

No place anymore.

He walked until he nearly fell, light-headed with pain and exhaustion. Someone caught him and he mumbled an apology. He was carried to a spare, empty room, and he frowned at the open balcony of it, trying to figure out why his mind balked at it. It took his weary, aching brain a long time to figure out why: the view was completely unfamiliar. "This isn't Michaela's ward."

"No," the red-winged angel replied, his expression guarded. "It's Elijah’s."

Alyss couldn't even begin to figure that answer out, and he shook his head against the tide of questions. He regretted the gesture immediately. "May I have water, please?" He gripped his temples, trying to convince the pain to go away. "To wash up."

The red-winged angel hesitated visibly. On the one hand Aegaeon's dictum left no room for doubt: he'd commanded no succor of any kind be offered to the traitor. On the other hand the young angel looked like someone had gone at him with a hacksaw. It hurt Mateo to even look at him. Add to that the fact that no one was entirely clear on who the young angel looked to. Yes, his parents in theory dwelt with and answered to the Archangel of Central Europe, but neither they nor Alyss had ever sworn such a vow regarding the young angel’s service. And with Michaela in anshara still, Aegaeon was enforcing his will based on rights-by-proxy that were in and of themselves coasting on parentage, not actual fealty. On the other hand Alyss' crimes, if they could be proved, had mostly happened within Raphael's territory. The Archangel of North America had already contested before the Council Aegaeon's right to summarily pass judgment on Alyss. The ensuing squabble was another reason neither of them was holding onto Alyss. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Alyss said. There was a shelf, wooden and bare, affixed to the wall on one side of the room. Otherwise there was nothing. It had been darkened and polished by age and use, and Alyss laid down on it and slept. There seemed to be little else he could do, and in the dreamless darkness Jean's accusing words and the doubt in his green gaze couldn't chase after the angel and break his heart a little more.

He woke up to very quiet, gentle whispers. He turned on the shelf, banged one of his battered wings on it, and fell right off with a cry of pain.

"Alyss!" It was a familiar voice, that much he knew at the moment, but everything else was a wash of white, ringing noise. Strong arms picked him up, helped him sit on the shelf.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered inanely. "I must look a fright, I'm sorry."

"What you look like, that's what worries you?"the same familiar voice asked in disbelief, and Alyss finally roused out of pain and shock to recognize it.

He looked up into eyes of of violet and indigo to match the angel's wings. "Kliman!"

"Oh, sweet child." When he clung to her, the old angel wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, rocking him lightly as he wept like a youngling. "Oh, shh, shh. It's alright. It's alright."

Once the storm of his emotions was spent, Alyss pulled away, rubbing fretfully at his face. "Ah, yes. You put me in a little bit of trouble and I turn into a toddler once again."

"All things considered, I think you're allowed," Kliman told him dryly, taking his hands in both of hers and cradling them close. "You'll be alright, Alyss. I'll make sure of it."

"I forgt you were here in the Refuge," he said tiredly. "And if they start asking questions... Maybe you should leave. Or Sleep. Everything else is safe, it's just me on the line. So that's alright."

"That is absolutely not alright," Kliman told him sharply. "What happened to your wings?"

"Oh, my parents look to Archangel Michaela. And I never took an oath to any Archangel, any Court, so with her gone, um... When Raphael followed up with my parents I guess they called Aegaeon. He decided if I couldn't be killed out of hand I was a flight risk. How did you even know I was here? How did you find me?"

"Alyss, everyone knows you're here. I don't know who leaked the story out but you've torn us in two. I never would have thought so many angels would be on our side; I always thought I was a rarity, as were you. As for how I got to you," she glanced to the other angel in the room. "I asked an old friend for help."

Alyss turned to look at the other angel, and gasped. She'd kept as much distance between herself and them as she could, giving them what little privacy a few steps could afford. But angel or not she was unmistakable, the indigo wings shimmering when she moved, the rich gold of her eyes startling in a face so delicate it seemed spun glass, tinier even than Alyss himself. Sputtering something unintelligible between a greeting and an apology Alyss tried to stand up and bow, simultaneously. Bereft of the counterbalance of his plumage and entirely unable to do so many things at the same time, he nearly went down on his face.

The two angels caught him. "Child, one angel does not bow to another. We hardly even bow to Archangels."

"My lady Hummingbird, if I don't bow to you there's no one to bow to," Alyss stammered.

Sharine offered him a wry little smile. "Do you know me or of me, young one?"

"Doesn't everyone know of you? What are they even teaching children these days?" he protested wanly as they led him back to the bench.

"Ah, I'm sure they're learning all sorts of things and having all sorts of adventures, as one should at that age, but I'm not a creature of the Refuge these days. Now." She sat before him on the shelf, catching his hands in hers. "Kili brought a few things she thought you might need -"

"… Kili?"

"- and she's going to clean your wings."

"But Archangel Aegaeon said -"

"I don't care," Sharine said with rather more energy than Alyss expected of anyone with the Hummingbird's reputation, "what Aegaeon said. He is not your Archangel. She's going to clean your wings, and if he doesn't like it he can bite my whole ass."

From the look Kliman was giving her it was obvious to Alyss this was very un-Hummingbird language, too. Sharine beamed at them both. "I've made new friends since I took charge of Lumia. They're quite delightful. They’re teaching me all sorts of exciting things. In any case. She's going to clean your wings, and to distract you from it you're going to tell me everything."

Alyss looked at Kliman over one shoulder, and the angel nodded at him. Alyss turned to face the Hummingbird and drew in a deep breath. "I never meant to be anyone important," he began.

19

Alyss would have been mortified to know that some very important people were discussing him and his work that day and night. A little pleased, perhaps, to know that a few of them agreed with him. But mostly mortified.

Raphael's compound was still reeling from the shouting match between him and his Consort, even though it had happened electronically. Titus, who'd been content to remain neutral on the matter, had grown increasingly less so after hearing from the Hummingbird. Aegaeon had made no friends among the Cadre with his outdated beliefs, even less with his behavior, and though no one could fault him for passing judgment, no one approved of the way he’d gone about it. The rest of the Council had not had much interest in the matter until details had begun to surface, questions begging to be answered, facts to be acknowledged. Too many of them were Ancient, yes, but none of them were the sort to hide from the truth. Or to take kindly to others trying to hide that truth from them.

"We've bought a little time," Hannah told Sharine and Kliman when they met in a small den in Elijah's compound, a room appointed for small, cozy meetings and for lingering over a good book next to the vast, sunny windows cut into the stone. "But the Council's very torn. They don't want to hear him out." She spread her hands. "Elijah pointed out that it would be different if they were Archangels of our time. But too many Ancients sit at Council. In their time the cruelty your young man helps the vampires escape would have simply been their lot."

"Caliane has voted to hear him out," Kliman protested.

"Caliane has private reasons for wanting to hear him out. As does, I suspect, Raphael," the Hummingbird told her gently before turning to Hannah. " And Titus tells me Alexander is torn. He was never once for casual cruelty. He never saw a problem with how vampires were handled, but I don't think he realized the sheer scope of the problem. I don't think most of the Ancients do. The world was a much smaller place when they were awake last. He and Zanaya have asked Titus for advice, and I think they will vote to listen."

"If they do, that would be a majority vote. But we won’t know until they do." Kliman rubbed her face angrily, shoving her pale blond hair back. "Well, if you'll excuse me, and against everything we're hoping to achieve here, I'm going to go punch a vampire." When Hannah gasped a little Kliman told her tartly, "Oh, believe me, he earned it." She stalked out of the room.

Sharine gave Hannah a timid, wary look. "Elena?"

"Incredibly angry. She's taking this as a personal offense against her, against the Guild." When the Hummingbird made a tiny, unhappy sound, Hannah sat by her. "This is the crest of her emotions, Sharine. She will move past it. She might not want to, but she will listen to what Alyss has to say. And his story speaks volumes."

"He's just one voice, though." The Hummingbird tapped the tips of her fingers to her chin, looking thoughtful. "Do you think... Could we possibly... How hard would it be to give him allies?"

Hannah's eyes went very wide when she understood. "I think we lose nothing by trying. What did you have in mind?"

Sharine smiled. “I know just the person.”

Kliman, meanwhile, barged into her own quarters within Raphael's ward. She knew she was incredibly lucky that the Archangel was not looking at her too closely; she didn't know if it was kindness or indulgence but she also knew it wasn't going to last. Alyss might not give her away by name, but his association with her was very likely to damn her.

At the moment she wasn't overly concerned with that. She was very, very concerned with the fact that the young angel's heart was broken and bleeding worse than his wings had been. Aegaeon's man had known exactly what he was doing: the damage was not enough to merit amputation and regrowth, but just enough to make recovery painful and long.

She couldn't punch the Archangel.

She could absolutely punch Jean.

Long, angry steps carried her into the inner chamber where her tiny court was waiting for news. Everyone sprang to their feet as soon as she threw the door open, but by then she was already before Jean. Her arm shot out, her fist connected with his jaw and he staggered back, tripped on a knotted rug, and went down.

"You neglected to mention a few things from your last meeting with Alyss," Kliman growled at him.

"Kliman -" Gevaun began.

"Oh, bugger his delicate sensibilities!" she snapped. "No one here could be soft on him even though he deserved it. He bought kindness with each and every one of those scars, I absolutely agree. And none of us could give it to him, none of us were in a place where we could give it to him. And then, when he finally finds someone who can, who does," she whirled around to glare at the fallen vampire, "you can't even be bothered to trust him?!"

Jean's stunned expression went to shame. "I don't have an excuse," he strangled out.

"Find one!" she shouted at him. "Because the idiot down there still loves you! Still trusts you!"

"Oh, god, no." Jean sat up and buried his face in his hands. "No, he can't."

"He does. And he's hurting so bad it makes me wanna wring your neck."

"I just... I heard him say one thing and it all went wrong from there. I've always known he's not a fighter, that I'd be the one to do all the fighting for him. So I thought..." Jean couldn't catch his breath. He didn't even feel the sting of the punch; everything else hurt too bad. Worst of all was the knowledge that he'd failed after all. "The only reason angels leave is when they're running," he managed to say at last.

"I bloody wish he'd run!" Kliman's wings worked restlessly with her anger. "Evie asked him to run! He knew they'd tear the pipeline apart looking for him if he did. He chose to stay, and they might well kill him for it!" Her voice broke. "They might kill him!" Gevaun caught her then, and though she swatted him angrily for the daring, in the end she clung to him. "Gev, they're gonna kill the little goldfinch," she wept.

He kissed her forehead and held her, knowing better than to lie to her for the sake of empty comfort.

Jean ran his hands through his hair, the words hammering against his skull, against his heart. He could feel his heart beginning to gallop in a familiar, erratic pattern in his chest, he could feel his nightmares rousing, trying to drown him in darkness. The vampire found he didn't care. What, out of all his memories, could be worse than knowing Alyss was dead and he hadn't stopped it?

The voices of his past turned into unintelligible whispers and faded to a background, dim hush. He felt someone draw close and didn't have the energy to flinch. Lilah crouched by his side. "I can't do anything, can I?" His voice was lost, his face haunted. "I can't do anything to help him."

"I don't honestly know," she admitted. "But I'm not giving up just yet. Are you?"

"No," Jean stared sightlessly at the room all around him. "No, I'm not. You tell me what you need, Lil, and I'll do it." He gave her a hollow, wounded look. "No matter what it is."

"It won't come to that," she assured him.

"Can I see him? Please. Just to apologize, just to tell him that I was wrong, just to -."

"Oh, like you're the only asking that question," Kliman said dryly when Lilah was distracted by a ping on her phone. "Half of the Refuge wants to see him. The other half isn't asking because they're not here yet."

"Did he really say that he... That he..." Jean couldn't get the words out.

"Say it? No. He didn't have to." She reached into a pocket of her comfortable pants and offered him a single feather, no bigger than her palm. Though it wasn't the real thing, it was flawlessly amber-colored, only the tip dipped in blood already dry. "He sent this for you instead."