#it's like they went from being chained to opposite corners of a room to being chained to each other

[marc--chilton]

i love the idea of adam not being an apprentice but still slinking around the warehouse bc after he finally found out about lawrence's apprenticeship, he put all the panicked energy that would otherwise feed into separation anxiety into essentially being lawrence's guard dog. literally baring his teeth and growling at anyone who comes too close. if he gets too testy the duty falls on lawrence to settle him, as he would be furious with himself if adam got hurt again because of him, especially for something as preventable as picking a fight with hoffman

[agathasfamiliar]

hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit. 

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

  Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed. 

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly. 

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms. 

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

 “Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even. 

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

 “One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually. 

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it. 

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again. 

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually. 

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either. 

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully. 

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech. 

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear. 

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands. 

That’s when you see it. 

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard. 

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty. 

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury. 

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times. 

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement. 

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.  

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

  “I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip. 

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it. 

“Leave them.” 

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need. 

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste. 

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing. 

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process. 

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience. 

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more. 

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess. 

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing. 

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her. 

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process. 

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off. 

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is. 

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words. 

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly. 

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest. 

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place. 

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon hunts Nik. Nik toys with him.

cw: Nik gets off on being prey.

The wind whispered faintly past broken panes and rusted steel as Simon picked his way through the skeletal remains of the high-rise. Debris and shattered glass crunched underfoot, every step careful, calculated to leave no trace. Like a ghost.

The building he’d chosen was once a corporate tower, now a concrete husk, gutted and abandoned. No different to any other war-torn hellscape, except the vast majority of the city was still populated, even if the building itself was too fragile to trust as shelter. It offered the perfect vantage for Simon's purposes though; an unimpeded view of the fire exit at the back of the building opposite, and minimal risk of counter-sniper exposure.

He reached his chosen spot by stairwell, avoiding the elevator shaft, which gaped like an open wound through the building's spine. He cleared every landing as he went. The last thing he needed was some street kid hopping on his back and getting a knife to the gut. Room by room. Corner by corner. Cleaning house. Johnny would be proud, Simon thought wryly.

He built his nest in the remains of a corner office; half its outer wall gone, wind whipping tattered blinds over jagged concrete edges. Simon set his pack down silently, using his knee guard to shuffle some glass away from where he'd lay prone. He chucked out his thermal mat, laid out his MCPR-300, and aligned it with muscle memory. Scope caps off. Suppressor attached. Wind meter clipped to the edge of a twisted beam. As he hunkered down, his core bracing, knee lifting a little, he tilted his cheek inwards and surveyed the street.

The rifle's scope brought the street below into razor-sharp focus. Cars rusted in place. A burnt out bus near a derelict park. There were a few civilians wandering the street, but they'd vanish the moment the sun set. It was too dangerous to be out at night, when vicious monsters hid in shadows.

Given who he was hunting, he updated his mental map of the operation: hostile QRF likely. He'd taken leave for this. Couldn't get the idea out of his head. The niggling feeling under his ribs that he had to do something. Anything. The only tools he had were violence and death, so that was where he had settled.

He stabilised his position, using his backpack as a makeshift tripod, and hunkered down for the wait. A spotting scope lay beside him, laser rangefinder synced to his wrist display. Heart rate: steady, despite a subtle tremor in the back of his mind. Breathing: shallow, controlled. He was built for this.

He watched. And he waited.

Eventually, the door opened as he had predicted. A tall, familiar figure with jet black hair stepped into the street. He wasn't in his trademark flight suit, nor the brown leather jacket Simon had become accustomed to over the last year and a half since the task force had formed. He was in a sharp black suit; no tie, gold chain glinting in the dark curls of his chest hair. Simon's tongue flicked out over his lower lip, catching the worn material of his mask. The bastard was so bloody arrogant.

The easy swagger was still there. The way he walked with his hips first, his shoulders back, like he owned the fuckin' place. Knowing Nikolai, he probably did. But it was harder, meaner. The broad, jovial grin he wore for Laswell and Price was gone. The man taking up the end of Simon's scope looked as austere and dangerous as any Russian mobster. And that was the truth of it, weren't it? That was why Simon was here. He'd seen through Nik to the reality of him. He was bad fuckin' news. Price didn't realise, not yet, but Simon would open his eyes.

Simon jammed his ear piece in and tapped the green icon on his phone. He watched Nik reach inside his jacket, the cross hairs hovering over his head, and the international dial tone cut short as he answered. "Da?"

"Bang."

Simon wasn't sure what he expected. Shock? Panic? Stupid, really. He should have known better. The smirk that uncurled over Nik's face was infuriating, and Simon's finger pressed hard above the trigger guard. "Lieutenant," Nik said, "how did you get this number?"

"State secret." Simon tried not to let the fact that Nik had identified him by a single syllable get under his skin.

"Of course." Nik was scoping out his perimeter. Simon could see his eyes scanning the streets, the doorways. "Can I buy you dinner?"

"Where? We're in a bloody warzone."

Nik rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "You know already where my Black Hawk is parked. Allow me to take us somewhere more... suitable."

Simon ground his teeth. It irked him that Nik wasn't more... alarmed. "'m not 'im, not so easily charmed, Nikolai. Came to warn you off."

"Warn me off?"

Simon swallowed. Hard. He drew in a slow breath; measured, so that Nik couldn't hear the tremor. "He's mine. I don' like sharin'. Never 'ave."

"I see." Nik was looking at the rooftops now, but his posture remained casual, relaxed. Like he didn't much mind being at the end of a sniper's scope. Like his life didn't balance in Simon's palm. "Is he aware of your claim?"

The true answer sat in the pause before Simon growled. "Don't matter."

"So that is no."

"Soon as he finds out what you are, really... You put on the act. Loyal pilot. But yer standin' there in yer posh suit, sellin' guns to people who'll use 'em on us later. Yer a crook, not even worth the shit on his shoe."

Nik huffed a laugh. His gaze turned towards Simon's building. "He has known me for twenty years. He knows what I do, who I sell to. He has seen me in all states of dress, and..." Nik's eyes travelled up the building and drilled right down the channel of Simon's scope as he said the next word, "...undress."

Simon's breath caught in his throat. His hesitation was like blood in the water to a shark. It was impossible for Nik to see him at this distance, but Simon felt pinned by those dark eyes none the less.

"Does it bother you, lieutenant? That he knows all of me and yet still opens his heart and his legs for me."

"Shut up..."

"Do you worry that if he were to know all of you, he would not do the same?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Or perhaps, you are worried he would."

Simon's heart felt like it was trying to fight its way out of his plate carrier. The way Nik damn purred down the phone, his low voice unhurried, almost playful. Simon shifted his finger and for a heartbeat he was going to do it. Spread the contents of Nik's brain over that fire exit door.

Nik's eyes never moved, his posture relaxed, his smile light. He was damn handsome, with his dark stubble and broad shoulders. The way he took up the space around him, completely at ease in a devastated city riddled with the worst criminals, targeted by the scope of a veteran SAS sniper. "Are you still there, lieutenant?"

"Could do it and no one would ever know."

"If you were going to kill me, you would have done it the moment I left the building. You could not do that to him. You are too loyal. Sweet, like a puppy."

Simon hated that he was right. Again. "You ever get tired lookin' over your shoulder all the time?"

"I realised a long time ago that I did not have to look over my shoulder for my enemy's next move if I controlled the board."

"Don't seem like you do this time."

"The pawn is not privy to the strategy of the player."

"You arrogant cunt."

Nik's smile broadened. "You feel my confidence is unearned?"

Simon chewed on the inside of his cheek, shifted his hips against the gravel. Fuck, was that a...? Christ. Every year he found new levels of 'fucked in the head' to sink to. "Yeah."

"Hm. Shall we find out?"

No way. No fuckin' way did that bastard hang up. Simon watched him kiss the damn phone and wave it in Simon's direction before tucking it in his jacket. And then he walked away. Simon's hand creaked on the grip of his rifle and he seethed into his wrist.

He punched the concrete three times after pushing up from his chest, and then dropped his head into his stinging palm. Fuck. Fuck.

***

Nik dropped into the driver's seat of the low profile sedan he had rented for the occasion and groaned. His hand slid down his belly and over his belt to grasp the hard bulge of his cock, squeezing longingly. "Blyat..."

Simon was a wild thing. Barely tamed. Nik had taken a gamble and it had paid off, while confirming everything he had deduced since first encountering John's stoic lieutenant. The encounter had left Nik a little breathless with want. Simon was begging to be brought to bear; his gnashing teeth, his barking, it was all a show. A challenge.

Nik tapped the ignition and shifted the car into first, adjusting the rearview mirror to capture the building where the eagle had made his nest.

It would take patience, but Nik would have Simon as well as John. They yearned for each other anyway, trapped by and fearful of the parts of themselves they saw as broken. They were raw, vulnerable, so desperate to feel safe, to let their guard down and have someone take control. They just needed guiding in the right direction. By winter, Nik would have them both on their knees at his feet.

[sundrop-writes]

if ur taking requests then how about female reader being a bau member and is receiving unwanted attention from the local cops but she cant pick up on social cues very well so it’s extra stressful for her to naviagte

Then enter protective and somewhat jealous jj that tries to protect her and shows her what true love and respect is with soft softdom!jj

I really like this, but I like the idea of it more as a short then a full fic, so... here we go.

JJ Being Protective of You - (Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader)

Warnings: some harassing behaviour from a random male cop towards the reader; the man uses condescending pet names toward the reader; JJ goes full boss mode; use of the term L/N (as in 'Last Name') to refer to the reader; she reader uses she/her pronouns; the reader experiences a small accidental injury; pre-established relationship. Idk what else. Not proofread.

Paperwork. This is where you thrived. Much like Spencer, you loved a good paper trail.

You were currently in the back room of the police station, going through their old case files, looking at every case from the last forty years that had yet to be digitised. You were looking for previous murders that matched the signature of the killer the team was currently after, since the working theory was that the UnSub had 'taken on' the work of his father or another older figure in his life.

So you had to dig through all the files of unsolved murders and see if you could find a pattern stemming back - to see if you could find more killings that this father might have committed.

It was stuffy and dusty in the file room, but you were finding it to be the kind of work that you did best - your brain churning on all cylinders as you looked through the many files for all the markers in the killings that would have aligned with his killer. You put some files aside and closed the lid on a box, and then moved to a new stack, going to take down a box from 1973 - it was rather heavy and awkward to lift, but you could manage it.

"Oh, little lady, let me help you with that,"

Suddenly, someone appeared beside you, as if out of nowhere, and a second pair of hands began tugging on the box.

"I got it." You grunted out, tugging the box back in your direction, trying to get a better grip on it.

"Trust me, doll, someone like you shouldn't be lugging this crap around on your own." The man's voice argued, becoming slightly strained - angry?

Was he frustrated because it was too heavy for him to lift? Did he feel like he had to help because you looked weak and he was frustrated because of the social obligation?

"It's fine." You assured him, tugging on it again. But - he still wouldn't let go. "I'm stronger than I look, trust me."

That was something that Emily and Derek often joked about. You had used a shovel to break a double welded chain in order to get into a basement when a child was in danger. The police had been arguing about getting a warrant and talking about how they would need heavy duty bolt cutters to get through the chain away, and you were down there in minutes - and from then on, the team all agreed not to mess with you. Especially not in an emergency.

"Sweetie, just let go of it-"

His grip slipped off the box, and it went flying in the opposite direction then, and one of the sharp corners smacked you on the head - a piercing pain went through your whole forehead and and papers came flying out of the box, spilling across the floor and fluttering everywhere.

"Oh my god, ow!" You exclaimed loudly, stepping backward, raising a hand to your forehead toward the throbbing pain. You were alarmed when you felt wetness, and you quickly drew your fingers back and saw blood.

"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, darlin'." The man appeared in front of you, and soon, completely unprompted, he put his hands on both of your cheeks, trying to lift your head to better inspect the cut. "See, that's why you shouldn't-"

"Don't touch me!" You screamed, reaching up inside of his forearms to shove his hands off you. Your skin was crawling with a terrible, icky itch where his hands had been touching you.

He became slack-jawed with shock at this.

"There's no need to shout." He chuckled. "Calm down."

"Ugh, no!" You shouted back.

You were suddenly feeling terribly trapped in the small, stuffy, dusty room, and though you knew that the papers needed to be cleaned up and you needed to finish your fishing expedition for the trail of murders - you had to leave. You needed air.

You needed JJ.

You shoved past the man and your feet carried you as fast as you could go, frantically looking for that head of blonde hair.

"Listen, babydoll, just calm down-"

"Woah, woah, her name is not babydoll."

That voice. Your hero.

You blinked past a haze if tears you hadn't even noticed was forming, and saw the pale blue shirt and blonde hair that you knew was her - you ran to stand behind her, grabbing her hand tightly, which she gripped back, grounding you, letting you know that she was right there.

"I'm not sure what kind of slack operation you people run around here, but we are professionals. You are going to refer to her by her full title, Special Agent L/N - or you won't talk to her at all. You won't even look at her. Do you understand me?" JJ barked at him.

The pure authority dripping from her voice made you feel so utterly safe.

"Listen, m'am, I'm not sure-"

"It's not 'm'am', it's Agent." JJ corrected him, now straining through her teeth, absolutely seething. "We are here representing the FBI, trying to catch a very dangerous man to help keep your town safe. We're not just little secretaries skittering around to get you your coffee and clean up after you. Just because we're women, we're not here to wipe your ass!"

You heard a chuckle from behind you, and you thought it was Emily's voice. This was followed by a low whistle - probably Derek.

"Is that clear?" JJ finished off, daring the man to talk back to her.

The man sighed and turned around to leave, finally defeated. This is when JJ turned to you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice much softer now. "Oh my god, what happened to your head?"

"There was... a box..." You mumbled quietly, still feeling shaken up.

"He hit you with a box?" JJ snapped, looking back in the direction he had walked off.

"JJ, please." You begged, quietly, squeezing her hand, directing her attention back to you.

She knew what her priority was right now.

"Come on,"

JJ walked you to the bathroom, and as she was cleaning up the cut with a damp paper towel, she was still huffing hard through her nose, the anger still pumping through her.

"I'm going to find that guy's supervisor, I'm going to put in a report about him, I'm going to-"

"It's okay, JJ." You said, reaching out to run a gentle hand along her lower back. "I'm pretty sure he's not gonna come near me again after what you said."

She let out a snort of laughter, and half her mouth upturned in a smile. You both knew that she could be incredibly intimidating despite her looks, and she always protected you - just one of the many things that had attracted you to her in the first place.

"Yeah, well... nobody comes near my girl and gets away with it."

[cafecourage]

Speaking of sleepy, caring for sleepy Chain

-Softie

We worked on this on stream long ago. I also made this also one bed. Part 1 has Time, Twilight, and Warriors

_____________

There was a common issue among some of the chain where most all of them have the fatal flaw of not being able to sleep. Some had issues waking up like Sky, Wind, Four and Wild. You quickly found that Legend was among that group but given the incident he went into the latter issue. Which was annoying when dealing with. It was completely opposite problems.

Time:

It was always hard to tell if the Old man was tired as he seemed to be always absolutely exhausted. Which was fair enough since he was dubbed the dad friend in the group thus making him the main person to go to for everything. It’s a wonder how he hasn’t just slept for 7 more years yet.

Still the Hero of Time was probably 3 days in without sleep and thats what you observed. Granted you should have stopped him by day 2. But you weren’t sure if he slept on the days you seen him take first shift and wake up with him being on last shift.

The other boy’s notice it too and while they all appreciate the extra sleep it’s unfair for Time. Warriors is typically the only one that speaks up about it since he isn’t phased by the Older Link’s tough exterior. While it would be embarrassing in hindsight you had to drag Warriors aside to push for you and Time to be in the same room. “I have a plan” is what you tell the captain not letting him know that you in fact, dont have a plan.

Truly the plan is fist fight the old man until he actually sleeps, or lecture him whatever you feel like. At least you will be here in town for a few days to gather supplies and information. So you can at least fix Time’s sleep schedule.

You’re plotting came to an extreme halt as you step into a room with one bed. “This can work.” You say out loud as you dropped your stuff in a corner of the room. “We can share the bed.” It’s not even up for debate at this point.

“Can we?” Time asks as he closes the door “wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” That wouldn’t be the word you would use. “Nah. Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Then I can take the floor.”

The hero gives you a look, one to even dare you to say that again. “If you don’t mind, then I don’t see why fight over it.”

“It I am being real.” You stand up and stretched “you do need it more.” It has been decided. You are lecturing him. “When is the last time you slept a full 8 hours? Heck 6 hours I would accept.”

An eyebrow was raised as he heads inside “I have been fine with the sleep I’ve been getting.” He takes his armor off putting each piece down carefully before finally sitting on the bed. He pats the spot next to him.

You follow his lead as you prepare a long argument. “Ah, yes the zero hou- Ack!” What you didn’t expect was Time to drag you into his lap and lay down.

Your face exploded in a blush as you were now basically his teddy bear. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you also have trouble sleeping.” He whispered as he was already in the process of wrapping the both of you in the blankets. “Let’s take a nap for now…”

Well… This backfired successfully.

Twilight:

Twilight was one of these Links which, made sense but also didn’t when you found this out. He tries to older brother everyone, he makes sure everyone is asleep before he does. Which takes forever to do and your patience for this man is thinning.

After stopping in a town from a long trek. The group decides to go to the Inn to set up shop. You were already on Twilight to take a nap before dinner. “No. We are going to eat in like 30 minutes.”

Ok.

No.

He isn’t getting out of this and you don’t care you’re in the middle of the lobby. There was something that the chain has yet to learn about you.

You might be short.

But you are strong.

So you marched up to Twilight and despite his struggling you throw the hero over your shoulder and went directly to the room angrily. “Let me down!” Twilight demands of you. However you couldn’t care about it as you open the door kick it close and threw him on the bed. “That was unnecessary.” He said getting up.

“It was very necessary!” You argued back crossing your arms. “When is the last time you properly slept?”

Twilight stays quiet and looks away. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I get enough.”

“According to who? Because everyone else can make an argument that you’re barely getting any to function.” You let out a huff as you should probably be more lenient with him because it’s not really like he is doing something bad. You know from experience that the body could function with little sleep if it’s used to it but it’s not healthy! You didn’t go through classes with a clear mind but you should have! “We are just worried about you.”

The Hero stays quiet but sighs “ok. I understand.” He seems to give up at this point. But he reaches out to take your hand finally letting himself looked exhausted “but… can you stay with me?”

Your eyes soften as he seemed to be more tired than you thought. “Of course I will. Someone has to make sure you stay put.” He teases you.

Warriors: 

After a long day of traveling an inn was a welcoming sight. Since there were ten of you now each room had to have 2 people. Which was sometimes unfortunate for some, but for you in this current moment?

You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity since you (forcably) asked to be Warrior’s pair, only to have there only be one bed. 

Perfect.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

It was instant that you had grabbed Warriors tunic and almost thrown him on to the bed. “Didn’t know you wanted me on the bed that badly, doll.” He was laughing. This man was laughing and he looked like hell. Probably felt like it too as the ever polished captain was showing dark circles under his eyes. His smile was sluggish and his eyes weren’t as sharp as they normally were.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards him again to help him out of his armor. “You should take better care of yourself. 3 days of barely any sleep? What were you thinking?!”

“That the other boys need some sleep.” There was no hesitation as the stubborn man is proud of himself for killing his sleep schedule. “It’s fine.” “It is not fine.” You didn’t mean to throw his shoulder plate on the carpet. “You better take your chainmail off before I do it for you.”

“What if I rather you do it for me?” The captain fire back without missing a beat. Instantly his face paled “wait-“

“Nope to late come here.” You take his tunic and just… thew it off of him. “Do you want to continue?” This was a threat.

“no…” Warriors voice was silent as he finally got out of what armor he had left. “I should sleep on the floo-“ that suggestion was instantly silent as you glared at him.

Finally when both of you were ready for bed you had put your self on top of him. Cuddling but also if he was going to escape he will have to wake you up first. “this is so you don’t escape.” You said.

“I wont. I wont.” Warriors was a bit hesitant to wrap his arms around you “Thank you.” He whispered as he finally started to relaxed.

“Don’t rely on me to fix your sleep habits.” You said poking his cheek “good night Captain.”

“Good Night Sweetheart.”

[anystalker707]

triplicated [1/2]

Pairing: Zoro x [gn, amab] Reader x Law Kinktober prompt: Monster fucking + Hierophilia + 3some Tags: AU / Demon Zoro / Priest Law / man has 3 cocks and manages to bottom / not proofread ! PART TWO

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “Do you know how to deal with those?” You sighed, playing with one of the little crosses that hung from the chain attached to your belt loops. They were pure silver, like the ones that hung from your neck and from Law’s, like the rings you used. It was never too much.

Law raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, sighing. “I’m sure it won’t be the worst we’ve gone through.”

Silence filled in for a moment as you two walked. Only the sound of the dry leaves and sticks crushed under your feet filled the ambient, with the sporadic call of a bird or another. It was always places like that. Random houses or mansions—even abandoned churches—had terrible cases regarding demonic presence, needing you and Law to check. The priest and deacon of the local church in a small, gloomy town that had more cases of supernatural occurrences than it should. How fortunate. If the silver at least meant wealth instead of protection, you’d be happier to receive it.

“It’s been a while since the last demon case, though,” you said, spotting the old mansion in the distance, between the trees. The last missions mostly involved ghosts or basic exorcisms. “And you know what happened.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Law shrugged, adjusting his grip on the suitcase, while his free hand held his coat closed through a gush of wind that sent leaves flying. “There was no death.”

For a moment, you considered it, but it was still uncertain. “Maybe,” you muttered with a sigh.

          It was a simple house of a wealthy person, an average thing. Since the owner had left it recently so that you and Law could save the problem, there wasn’t any dust over the furniture. There was a presence in the house, of course, making a shiver run down your spine the moment you stepped in.

The soft clicking of Law’s suitcase being open resonated through the dining room before he threw the lid open, letting it hit the wooden table with a muffled noise. He removed the stuff he needed from it.

“Strong presence,” you said with a soft sigh, scratching the back of your neck as you looked around the room.

With the lack of response as Law went through his stuff, you just started walking around the dining room, inspecting the expensive and delicate dining sets exposed behind glass by the back. You narrowed your eyes, observing the intricate details, but… a small movement made you notice there was a figure reflected in the glass, opposite Law’s side. When you looked back, there was no one in the room aside from you, and the reflex was also gone.

“Yeah,” you muttered, walking out of the room and into the living room, checking the corners, shadows, and reflexes. Maybe it was going to manifest somewhere else or guide you somewhere.

Something moved down the hall, so you walked down to it, seeing one single door was open. It led to what seemed to be an office. Shelves of books were lined along opposing walls, and a wide desk with a big armchair sat by the back. It was wide. Some frames hung behind the desk, and you approached to check the images on them when something moved from the corner of your eye.

“We got comp— Ghh!”

A strong grip around your neck made the words die in your throat as you gasped for air, feeling someone right behind you. Their warm torso pressed to your back, breath suddenly fanning over your neck; you shuddered.

Despite needing a moment to recollect, you brought a leg up and kicked behind you as strongly as possible. The demon probably didn’t see the silver shoe clips coming.

Your neck was sore when you turned around to take a good look at him, holding the skin in an attempt to ease the pain, and it would be no surprise if the demon’s sharp nails had pierced through your skin.

The demon was confusing. There was a main figure, but also two others, though they weren’t solid like the middle one. All of them shared the same body from the waist down, and the same appearance from the waist up—the same protruding teeth, chest scar, earrings, and shiny green eyes that glared at you, though each figure had a scarred eye. Strong presence. The white kimono was lowered, only leaving his bottom covered, and there was a small tattoo along the middle figure’s collarbone, in old symbols. Zoro. Fuck, you swore you’d read that name before in those demonology books. Class unknown.

You were about to reach into your pocket when there was a hand around your wrist, followed by a couple on your waist, one around your other wrist, one on your shoulder, and the last tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Something about his—their?—gaze made a shiver run down your spine, stirring some warmth in your lower stomach. It was mesmerizing.

Your throat went dry. Fuck, you could’ve at least put on the silver bracelets today. Nothing would be too much against an enemy like that. Where was Law, even? Well, it didn’t matter now. There was a metallic smell on the demon’s breath as he leaned in, filling your lungs as the hands around your waist tightened to pull you closer, but it failed. You slowly let his hand guide yours but changed the trajectory so that you’d at least reach your chest.

Zoro cut through your clothes with his sharp nails instead of having you closer, and sank them into your skin the moment the silver cross touched his forearm. Along with the sound of a triplicated groan, a soft hissing sound came from the skin as the silver burned into it, leaving behind a cross-shaped burn when he finally stepped away, but you didn’t give him time to react.

Your chain with the cross pendants was yanked from your pants and wrapped around Zoro’s neck—the main one, it is—, keeping him a safe distance away from you by an elbow pressed to his chest. The silver in it wasn’t pure, so it didn’t do a lot of direct damage. Either way, it kept him at ease. Controlling the main one kept the other two under control, it seemed.

Soft huffs came from Zoro as he swallowed tightly against the chains, feeling them burn into his skin more with the motion of his throat. His breath was heavier, the main one having his eye closed, but the other two looked at you in anticipation.

“How’s that feel? Not so good, huh?” You clicked your tongue, still feeling the ache around your neck when you swallowed, though your breath hitched a little. Only now that you were cooling down that the pain in your torso was starting to manifest; it sharpened when you exhaled too fast while trying to catch your breath. You tightened the chain around his neck, and… he moaned?

Zoro’s hands shakily wrapped around your wrists again, loosely holding them as he whimpered, keeping his eyes pressed shut.

“Goddammit,” you whispered. Was he a succubus? An oni? Calamity? Sin? It’d help a lot if you knew what you were fighting against.

Your grip loosened on his neck, though you kept the chain there, ready to tighten it again in case he tried anything. With a deep breath, Zoro opened his eye again and looked at you with that same gaze from earlier; what was up with it? Fuck. His fingers took your chin again to keep your gaze on him, and then his breath was fanning on your neck—one of the two extra copies had his face right next to yours. When did you get so close to him? Why did it feel so… so hot…?

Two hands were under your shirt, pressed flat to the skin. His nails scratched a little, but they didn’t hurt this time; it actually felt good, sending a shiver down your spine. The way his hands pressed to your chest even snatched a quiet sound from your lips, which seemed to encourage him to keep going, pulling you closer by pressing his hands flat to your back. Were you supposed to feel like that? It was hard thinking about anything other than him, the way he pressed closer, one of the three faces pressing to your neck.

As the chain tightened around his neck for a few seconds, Zoro let out another moan, confirming your assumptions. Maybe, this would be good.

Zoro’s nail pressed lightly to your skin, right in the middle of your chest—the pain it caused on the way down sent sparkles down your body, and you couldn’t help how your hips twitched when his nails reached the hem of your pants. You gulped, keeping your hands in place, but his hands were everywhere. He just palmed you through your pants straight away, with a big and warm hand that squeezed the growing bulge.

          Law hadn’t gotten lost in the mansion this time, but he presumed you did. He simply hated when you did that, just disappearing when he blinked, and either getting in problems or leaving him to deal with everything all alone. Goddammit. He tightened his hand around the handle of the silver bayonet as he carefully walked down the mansion.

Living room: empty. Halls, bathroom, bedrooms, reading room, kitchen: also empty. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing you, but he paused when he heard something. It was a faint sound, which would’ve easily gone unheard if he hadn’t paused and held his breath. Was that a groan? A cry? He cursed under his breath as he walked down the hall, to the last room. So that’s where the sounds were coming from.

“…that much, huh? I’ve just put it in. Shameless,” your voice reached Law’s ears followed by a chuckle as he opened the door, and he paused, widening his eyes at the sight.

There was a big demon over the desk—he laid back on it. The main version had his hands down the desk, sharp nails sinking in it; the second one seemed propped up on an elbow, off to the side, and the last was covering its face. You were there, holding the thick legs up by their thighs while standing between them, with your pants halfway down your thighs. Aside from all that, Law couldn’t help but notice the thick smell that filled the room.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you squeezed your hands, watching another triplicated moan come from the demon. “Tight,” you whispered with a groan, moving your hips shallowly, but still enough to make the demon gasp.

The creaking sound of a wooden tile made Law’s presence known, but you were the only one to notice that, looking at Law with a grin.

“‘Found him,” you said with a grin, which just intensified Law’s confusion. “Zoro. Pretty thing.” You looked at Zoro again and moved your hips, receiving a chorus of sighs that eventually turned into moans as you started trying to find a pace for your thrusts. It was a little messy at the beginning, your hips stuttering until you managed to start fucking him at a steady, slow pace.

One of the copies seemed especially sensitive, covering his face and squirming around more than the other two. Cute. You found it hard to focus on all of them, all the pleased expressions, even more so when his cock—well, cocks—kept stealing your attention.

Law didn’t know how to react when he saw the three cocks standing hard, flushed, and leaking a lot once he approached enough. Despite all of it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, observing the triplicate chain of reactions of the demon as you kept fucking him.

“Mmph, tight,” you moaned with a gasp, moving your hips forward particularly sharply. “Such a good boy, so good for me…” The way Zoro clenched around your cock felt absurdly good. No human could compare to that. His ass clenched around your cock as if depended on it, wanting to take it in deeper, to have it keep pleasing him so deliciously. The praising had effects, of course; such strong, sharp nails were leaving back scratches on the wooden table.

Law stuttered. He didn’t know what to say or do, even if it wasn’t the worst nor weirdest situation he’d walked into—or participated in—, but he couldn’t drive his eyes away from the two of you. He observed the way your cock sank deep into Zoro, making Zoro’s thighs tremble and cocks twitch, leaking more. A shiver ran down Law’s spine, and his own cock throbbed inside his pants.

You bit your lip, letting go of one of Zoro’s thighs to press a hand to his chest. His leaked in your hand as you squished it, making you twitch inside Zoro. He clenched so tightly when you pinched his nipple, fuck…

“Law, don’t just stand there,” you said breathlessly, glancing at him. “Fuck his throat, I don’t know. He looks like he will like anything. He’s a good boy.” You grinned as you praised Zoro again, and he clenched around you almost immediately.

Okay. Law took a deep breath before he set his bayonet aside, letting it drop to the ground beside him, just in case. He stood by the other side of the desk, opposite to you, about to say something when you reached forward.

“Easy, baby,” you whispered as your hand wrapped around Zoro’s neck, and Law noticed your chain adorning the demon like a choker.

As you pushed Zoro’s head back, it hung from the edge of the table, looking at Law upside down. Law’s eyes were glued to him, watching the long tongue lick his lips and teeth before it opened. How could Law resist? He gulped. He was still opening his jeans when two of Zoro’s hands wrapped around his thighs to pull him closer; Law barely had space to do it, but he could lower his underwear.

Zoro’s tongue already found Law’s cock as soon as it was free—it licked along its length as Law slowly guided it into Zoro’s mouth, already snatching a few moans from the priest, even more with the soft vibrations from Zoro’s moans as you kept fucking him.

As Law’s eyes averted back to you, he noticed your gaze following his cock entering Zoro’s mouth, slowly. It made his cock twitch; he observed you for a moment longer before he looked down at Zoro again, making sure he could start moving his hips. He hissed softly at the feeling—the demon’s mouth was hot and wet around his cock, his tongue did such a fantastic job running along his veins, and the light friction of his teeth… Fuuuck. Law gasped, slowly starting to fuck Zoro’s mouth.

It was such a sight, honestly. You could see where Law’s cock was inside Zoro’s throat, and your cock twitched at that, thrusts growing sharper for a moment. Zoro hissed, one of his copies whimpering as he covered his face.

“My, my,” you whispered with a soft groan, letting go of both Zoro’s thighs this time. “I didn’t know such a powerful demon could behave so well, so— Nnghh, tight— Such a good boy,” you gasped, hips stuttering at the way Zoro clenched tightly around you. “Do you want my cock that badly? So needy,” you mumbled, holding on to his waist before your hands slowly slid down.

Your hips kept a steady, intense pace while your hands wrapped around Zoro’s cocks. You held only two of them at once, grazing their tips. He leaked so much that you’d easily believe he’d come already if you hadn’t been here all the time. You had a different idea, holding all three cocks with both your hands, making sure it was tight as you started jerking him off, feeling the cocks twitching in your hands. Hot. Deliciously hot.

It made Zoro go wild, holding Law tighter to encourage him to fuck the demon’s throat more, as one of the copies leaned back with a hand on his head, and the other rolled his eye back, with a hand over his mouth. All while he tightened more around you. Your thrusts were so sloppy already, Zoro was so tight.

“Fuck,” you gasped, managing to get the cross off around your neck. Only God knew what Zoro would do if he decided to show his real strength. The bottom edge of the silver cross ran along Zoro’s skin, burning it to leave behind a containment sigil. For some reason, Zoro liked that, with more moans coming from him as he clenched around you. It drew a louder, breathy moan from you as you returned your hand to his cocks, jerking him off along with your pace, and your gaze fell back to Law.

Law’s cock sank into the demon’s throat at a steady pace, making him moan as he pleased himself, with a hand pressed to Zoro’s chest. Your gaze averted to Zoro’s throat, and it didn’t take you a lot to fucking cum, gasping as you thrust deep inside Zoro, spreading your cum along his hot walls while you rode down your high. It felt so good, so draining, weakening your legs.

Your hands continued their motions, of course, and your attention drove down to Zoro’s cocks with the thought of what it’d be like when he came. Law turned into detail in the back of your mind while you focused on making Zoro cum, tightening your hands around him, and there it was.

Zoro came a lot, making a whole mess against himself as his three cocks came in spurts of sticky, hot cum. Meanwhile, he clenched around you so tightly—you hissed, squeezing his cocks a little more just in case.

Law also seemed to finish, taking a step back and adjusting his clothes, but the demon didn’t move. He and his copies just sat there, processing the session or maybe catching their breath. With a sigh, you shared a look with Law, also trying to catch your breath.

“I think I’ll keep this one,” you said as you held Zoro’s waist. “Just in case.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO

[guardiandoll]

First Contact

{ This story takes place in the world of my original Guardian Class Combat Dolls post https://www.tumblr.com/guardiandoll/772673862516260864/have-you-ever-heard-of }

“Alright, you lot know the drill.” Roared Captain Witch Augustina Starscraper, her face aglow from the breaching-spell she was currently building between her fingers. “Group one, sweep for nodolls and bring them back to the ship. Group two, begin the retrieval of their cargo. Group three, watch over group two. I’m going to check the ship’s system logs for other possible target. Am I clear?”

“YES MISS CAPTAIN!” Roared back the loyal crew of dolls in front of her. Groups one and three were relatively small, made up of combat dolls of the clockwork variety. The second group was far larger and far more mixed however, composed of wooden, cloth, ceramic, and even a few rodolls-turned-dolls. The anticipation in the air was palpable, nothing made their witch more excited than a raid, and so nothing made them more excited either.

Augustina’s grin widened as her dolls reflected her own exhilaration back at her. So it continued, a bubbling, broiling static to the air as the Captain Witch energized her dolls and they energized her back. It was a self fulfilling cycle of exponential energy, the perfect source of fuel for the spell building ever larger between her hands. Most witch pirates still had to manually hack away at the hulls of the ships they raided with magic or machines or tools. But not her~

“BREACH!” Yelled Augustina as she turned from her dolls and pressed the compressed sphere of magic into the technocrat vessel’s hull. In equal measure both she and the hull were blown back, the only difference being she was caught the soft arms of her First Doll while what remained of that segment of hull ricochetted inside the ship. “How was that for a breach Precious?” she asked, still catching her breath from the casting and subsequent blast.

The doll holding her laughed softly, “You were amazing as always Miss Captain. Truly no other Captain Witch could compare.”

Augustina’s exhilarated grin twisted into a satisfied smirk when Precious replied, “ALRIGHT CREW, TO YOUR DUTIES.” She roared, still in her First Doll’s arms. “DOUBLE TEA FOR THE LOT OF YOU FOR A WEEK IF THERE ARE NO INJURIES!”

Another resounding cheer from her dolls followed as they all began to rush through the breach and into the ship. There was work to be done.

-

Shortly thereafter, Augustina (with Precious in tow) made her way to the bridge of the vessel. The real money was in the cargo, yes, but the flight and communications logs of these vessels often contained information that lead to future targets. This vessel had been no such exception, as the nodolls aboard this ship had recently exchanged a ping with another nodoll vessel headed in the opposite direction. Not something she could capitalize on, but certainly something that could be sold to another pirate witch for a share of the-

“Miss Captain, group one have missed their scheduled rendezvous.” Precious’s voice interrupted Augustina’s thoughts, causing the Captain Witch to turn to her First Doll.

“That’s strange…” with a flick of her wrist, a pocket watch on a chain tumbled from her dress sleeve before yo-yoing back into her hand and snapping open. “So they have.” Unconcerned, she chuckled and dropped the watch back into her sleeve. “Do you think they accidentally sealed themselves into a safe room again?”

“Who’s to-“ Precious’s voice paused as the power suddenly went out and the bridge became pitch-black. “say.”

A darkvision spell was a simple matter for Augustina, but not all of her dolls would be properly equipped for such an environment. What was going on? “We need to move, now. I don’t like this, I’ve never seen the nodolls do-“

Now it was her turn to get cut off, this time by the heavy crash of the bridge’s blast doors sealing. Several similar sounds, albeit much more faint could be heard in the distance. For the first time since starting this raid, there was worry on Augustina’s face.

-

“Breach” said Augustina, her voice firm but her volume fading as she was blown back into Precious’s arms for the 5th time today. The blast doors all across the ship had been opening and shutting unpredictably, clearly trying to block her path. When they refused to open, she’d had no choice but to blow through them. It was much easier than blowing through the ship’s hull… but it still wasn’t easy. The inside of her dress was getting uncomfortably sweaty, and she could feel herself getting weaker as she ran to where she was tracing group one to.

That had been the last one though, the last one before the room they were sealed in anyway. Heaving herself off of Precious, she walked up to the blast door and placed her palm flat on it. “Stand clear for-“ but before she could blast, the door opened itself.

-

Precious didn’t see what Augustina saw, instead only seeing its witch clutch a hand over her mouth and stumble backwards before turning and sprinting back to Precious.

“WE NEED TO MOVE, NOW. STRAIGHT TO THE CARGO HOLD.” The witch’s eyes were wide as she yelled, and Precious froze for a moment, utterly unaccustomed to such a look in its witch’s eyes. “GO” yelled Augustina, starting to run down the hall.

Without hesitation, Precious ran after its witch. What had she seen?

-

“BREACH”

“BREACH”

“BREACH”

Augustina was running herself ragged, slamming her hands into door after door. Each time Precious would catch and push her forward, allowing the pair to proceed at a strong pace. There had been a close call while falling through an elevator shaft, but a well timed double-breach had taken them through the top and out the bottom of the elevator car. Breach after breach, her mana dwindled, but she couldn’t stop, not until she reached

The cargo hold.

Like the rest of the ship it was pitch black, hard to make anything out. She’d long since dropped her darkvision spell, instead relying on Precious’s eyes in the name of conserving mana. “Precious, details please.”

“Group three is… down. Group two, unconfirmed.” Replied Precious, each word tumbling out of its mouth just a little slower than usual as its gaze rolled over the broken bodies of the combat dolls. “There was a fight, one damaged nodoll body in the rafters. Nothing else of note.”

“Fuck!” Wheezed Augustina between labored breaths. She was drenched in sweat, her mana reserves were low, she couldn’t keep this up much longer. “When we find who did this, I’m going to rip their heart out!”

-

Precious winced, the anguish in Augustina’s voice was palpable. But what could it do? The situation was truly dire, and it could not fault its witch for mourning the loss of her dolls. But now wasn’t the time, and so it turned to face Augustina, prepared to advise a full retreat.

-

“I’m going to rip out their heart and-“ Augustina’s threats were cut off as Precious grabbed her by the front of her dress and swung her around behind it. “Precious what the hell are you-“

She could only see its eyes, two glowing blue orbs. Thoughtless, calculating, it observed her back. Whatever it was, Precious had undoubtedly just saved her life. “What are you?!” She screamed at it.

But it did not reply. It just stared at her, with those accursed, unfeeling eyes.

“We’ll be leaving now. You’ve destroyed the crew. We surrender.” Interjected Precious calmly, and while Augustina attempted to voice a rebuttal, the eyes in front of her spoke first.

“You will never threaten this ship, this cargo, or this crew, ever again.” Its words were flat and emotionless, but delivered with absolute certainty.

“Never aga-“ Precious began to agree before the thing dove at it.

Augustina bit the bullet and reupped her darkvision spell just in time to see it lunge. It looked like a nodoll, but was nearly a full foot taller. Its frame was slightly bulkier, sturdier and well armored. Soft bursts of light betrayed the microboosters on its body, providing the terrifying speed at which it moved. Whatever it was, she’d never seen anything like it.

All of these observations happened in a moment, but they were not all that happened in that moment. Precious’s mangled body fell to the ground in the next. Though it had drawn its blade to defend the Captain Witch, the thing had swept aside Precious’s sword with one hand before smashing its mace down on Precious’s head with the all the ease of someone sweeping aside a blade of grass and then smashing an egg.

One moment, that felt like a million, as Augustina watched the first doll she’d ever brought into becoming fall upon the floor.

Destroyed in one blow.

Crushed between the physical, spiritual, and emotional exhaustion, Augustina’s knees wobbled and threatened to cave beneath her.

And then it ended her anguish.

-

The ship was guarded

The cargo was guarded

The crew was guarded

[darksturnioloqueen]

TreeHouse Chapter 5

"We are not family."

Summary: Chris' first day in public school.

"First-day jitters are real, and they're not exactly butterflies, more like a swarm of angry bees."

⚠︎ This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse. ⚠︎

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎ Trigger Warnings: mention of a previous cut, panic, yelling, crying, slammed into lockers, smacking, threats. ⚠︎

Chris' POV:

It was my first day of school. I had a fresh cut on my arm because Matthew came home upset after the game. Nick held me down, and Matt relieved his anger issues. It wasn't as bad as other times, only because our mom came in and reminded him I was going to be around other people today. She didn't care about me. I was wearing my long-sleeved shirt to cover the fresh wounds and jeans to hide the old burn marks. I had my book bag, and I felt more nervous than anything. Matt and Nick have already left. I had to take the bus, which wasn't bad. The bus was going to be time away from all of them. I was slowly walking to the bus stop with my hoodie over my face. Nick hit me in the mouth and split my lip last night when I squirmed from the pain. I tried my best to clean it up and make it not noticeable, but some things just were no matter what I did. I saw a group of kids ahead of me at the bus stop, so I waited, unsure of how to join the group without questions. None of them have ever seen me before. I spent years in my room chained to the wall with nothing but a shred of hope.

"Why won't you tell me what happened?" A guy asked his girl friend.

"Because I don't want to talk about it without Julia." The bus pulled up, saving her from the conversation for just a moment. I started walking to file in at the back of the line of students.

"Never seen you before." The driver said as I stepped up the stairs. I slowly lifted my head to look at him, not sure what kind of response he was looking for.

"I'm new." I whispered. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I shuffled my feet down the skinny aisle slowly.

"Take a seat." The attention directed at me started pounding my heart. I looked up to see what seats were open. I locked eyes with a girl with brown doe eyes in the back of the bus. She was the girl who didn't want to talk to her friend at the stop. She stood up fast upon seeing me. I looked back into her eyes, trying to understand why she was standing. She was beautiful. "Please take a seat!" The driver yelled a little harsher. She sat down with her mouth slightly agape. I sat randomly beside some strange kid and kept my head down. As the bus pulled into the parking lot drop-off, I started to regret being excited about school. I flowed off with the kids and went to hide in a corner away from everyone until the first bell rang. I wasn't sure how anything truly worked for public schools. I was bound to mess up, and one mess-up was all it took.

I looked around and saw Matt and Nick talking and laughing. I felt a tingly sensation in my gut. Matt caught me looking his way and glared at me. I quickly looked in the opposite direction and saw the girl from the bus with her friend and another girl. The two were laughing, but she wasn't. She was staring off into space. She snapped out of it because the bell rang in everyone's ears. I had to stop off at the office to get my schedule. Luckily, no one in the office questioned why I didn't start school with Nick and Matt. They just handed me a few used books and a schedule. I stared at it, trying to figure out how to read it. I desperately wanted to ask them for help or directions, but the lump in my throat burned my words before they could surface. I started walking down the halls aimlessly.

"Need help?" I turned around to see the girl's friend. He was tall and sporty.

"Yeah." I hesitantly handed him my schedule, and he peered over it.

"Ah." He boomed. I jumped and gripped my books tighter. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You have the first period here. And then after you'll go back this way and head to the first door on the left. There." He pointed around the hallway we were standing in.

"Thanks." I snatched my papers back and started in the direction of my first class. I slid in just in time for the bell to go off.

"Late. No hoods in class. Sit." I avoided eye contact with the teacher as I followed every direction. I could feel them looking at me harder. "Christopher, right?" They moved to be standing in front of my chosen desk. I slowly lifted my head. "Nice to have you in class." They said softer than their initial tone. I jumped back into my seat when she moved her hand in front of me. She eyed me. "What can anyone tell me about The French Revolution." She continued waltzing around students. I was just pleased I didn't have this class with Nick or Matt. I listened and tried to understand every date, name, and piece of information being said, but the truth was that none of this made sense.

I didn't learn much growing up. In the basement, I was allowed to watch a few movies and read books, even though I wasn't sure how to read some of them. I tried my best to learn what I could from Matt and Nick whenever they were around me. It was always hard because they were never hanging out with me or being nice to me. They played with me, but never in a childish manner. The bell rang, and I dropped my book. "Try to relax." The teacher picked up the book for me. "I know it's your first day, but it'll get better." She handed me the book with a smile. I examined her face for a moment, trying to see her intentions before accepting the book back in my hand. I started walking down the crowded hallway to my next class. It was gym, so I was hoping I'd be able to get away with not wearing a school uniform, at least for today.

"You can watch today if you'd like. The school is aware of your condition."

"My condition?" I started panicking. If they knew and called my parents, it wouldn't end well. My parents would think I told someone something and blame me.

"The germ thing. It said it sometimes makes you a little weaker, so I thought today you could just watch. Get to know the class a little." They were super accommodating. "You can put your bookbag in the locker room." They nodded me in the right direction. I followed their instructions and walked into the doorless room and saw everyone laughing, changing, and putting their things away. I walked around looking for a locker to claim. It wasn't until I saw him that I froze.

"Woah, you guys look like -"

"Brothers." Nick finished.

"No way, there are three of you?" Someone else said. I felt my body heating up.

"Yeah, but he is younger." Nick looked angry all the attention was on us. I was frozen. My eyes looked around the room for an escape, but all I kept finding was a new pair of eyes watching us.

"Sup, Little Nicky." Someone tossed something at me. I dropped down to my knees and started sniffling.

"What -"

"Everyone out!" Nick yelled. People started scattering. I stayed on my knees with my head out of sight. I knew this wasn't going to end well. The chattering noise stopped. "Stand the fuck up!" He yelled. I slowly rose, my knees shaking violently once I was all the way up.

"I'm... I... I'm sor-" I stuttered, my tears at the corner of my mouth.

"Shut up." He demanded, and I jumped. He grabbed my arms before I had a chance to come back down from my jump and slammed me into the lockers with a loud bang. I whimpered, scared of the beating that was coming. "You will not fuck anything up for me. Do you understand?" His question was rhetorical. "Now everyone knows we are brothers because you are in school, but we are not family. You don't talk to me. Got it?" He screamed so close to my face I could feel his lips brushing my nose. "I asked if you got it?" He smacked the side of my face with his palm. I could feel the sting lingering.

"Yes, Nick." I whimpered.

"Don't fucking talk about me to anyone either." He said, walking out of the locker room. I knew then no matter what I did, my second-period class was always going to be the worst.

[jackiestarsister]

"Tangled" Rewatch Reactions

I first saw this movie when it was first released, and have watched it a couple times since then; but I had forgotten just how delightful it is!

~ It seems strange for the tower to be located so close to the castle that it only takes a day or two to travel between them on foot. Surely the king and queen would have sent search parties scouring every corner of their kingdom after the princess went missing.

~ Pascal probably inspired/taught Rapunzel to use her hair the way he uses his tongue and tail, like for grabbing things or moving through space.

~ Letting Rapunzel know the date of her actual birthday seems like a serious mistake on Gothel’s part, since Rapunzel could then figure out that the floating lanterns had something to do with her.

~ Rapunzel’s books are all works of nonfiction about subjects that don’t have much to do with people. It makes sense that Gothel would only give her such books to read, because if she read biographies or novels, it would widen her perspective on the world, increase her empathy for other people, and undermine the fear Gothel is trying to instill in her.

~ The “camera” doesn’t show what Flynn sees when he takes in the view from the castle. I’m quite curious!

~ Gothel was seemingly able to break into the castle and kidnap Rapunzel easily, but the king and queen must have beefed up security as a result. Do they always have so many soldiers guarding her crown, or is it just for public viewing on her birthday?

~ So many subtle ways that Gothel’s personality and priorities are shown: she makes Rapunzel do the heavy lifting instead of making the effort to climb up the tower; she caresses Rapunzel’s hair when she talks about keeping her safe, clearly referring to it instead of her; she kisses Rapunzel’s hair rather than her face.

~ Light imagery is used throughout the story, but especially during the “Mother Knows Best” scene. Rapunzel opens the skylight to let in light, but Gothel shuts it. Rapunzel lights candles, but Gothel extinguishes them. She wants to keep Rapunzel in the proverbial dark.

~ Did Rapunzel throw the tiara in her chamber pot?!

~ Gothel shifts from “Soon, but not yet” to “You are not leaving this tower, ever!” That seems to be the moment when Rapunzel realizes Gothel will never agree to let her leave, even if she shows that she incapacitated an intruder. But she now knows that Gothel is wrong about her not being able to handle herself. Those two realizations are what make her decide to deceive and disobey Gothel.

~ Rapunzel emerging from a cave while singing “Now’s when my life begins” is very symbolic: she is being (re)born!

~ At what point did Gothel wall up the stairs in the tower? Did Rapunzel ever know about them? I feel like she would have tried to use them to go outside at a younger age!

~ Rapunzel had to resort to a frying pan for lack of weapons, but apparently Gothel kept a knife/dagger in her own room!

~ I want to know how that accordion player in the Snuggly Duckling ended up chained to a ball!

~ Killer is only shown for a split second during “I’ve Got a Dream,” but his costume design is hilariously brilliant! And he’s sewing up a wound!

~ “I’ve Got a Dream” definitely pulls inspiration from “Gaston,” Disney’s other famous tavern song; but it has almost the opposite theme/message. Gaston is obsessed with himself, and his “dream” of marrying Belle is essentially about his own self-image. Rapunzel, Flynn, and the folks in the Snuggly Duckling do sing about themselves, but it’s sharing their aspirations, not bragging about their accomplishments. They actually acknowledge their flaws, and they are all pursuing dreams outside of themselves. Whereas everyone in the village sang about Gaston alone, the Snuggly Duckling patrons sing about each other and encourage each other in their dreams.

~ Many of their “dreams” involve creative hobbies

~ The way Rapunzel and Flynn help each other outside the dam shows how they are starting to trust each other, even taking “leaps” of faith!

~ I’m confused about why the dam burst. Was it just because Maximus knocked down that support? How embarrassing that he almost killed the princess!

~ Another symbolic rebirth moment is when they emerge from the flooded cave and rejoice at being alive!

~ Gothel visibly ages in just a matter of hours; her hair becomes grayer the longer she is away from Rapunzel.

~ The vocal power displayed in “Mother Knows Best (Reprise)” has me wondering why this movie hasn’t been adapted for Disney on Broadway!

~ The way Rapunzel stands up to Maximus shows two things: her courage and confidence have increased, and she is willing to face danger for Flynn’s sake.

~ I feel like if this were a novel, several chapters could be devoted to the day that Rapunzel and Flynn spend together at the festival! What did Rapunzel think and feel when they visited the library and she saw a map of the world for the first time? Did she have any idea of how big the world is?

~ Where did Rapunzel learn to dance like that? Gothel taught her how to sing, but had she ever heard musical instruments before?

~ Flynn may not have wanted to go on this trip initially, but when they get to the city, he goes out of his way to make it the best experience it can be for Rapunzel! He gets the girls to braid her hair, buys her a souvenir, joins in all her antics, and, at the moment she’s been waiting her whole life for, procures a boat, prime seating, and lanterns for them to launch. He really goes above and beyond what she required of him!

~ By the time they go in the boat, Flynn lets Pascal ride on his shoulder!

~ Gothel must have de-aged either during their journey back to the tower or immediately after returning, probably while she unbraided Rapunzel’s hair and took out the flowers.

~ If the tiara was the only thing Rapunzel’s parents had to remember her by, it makes sense that they would want to harshly punish the thief who stole it.

~ So much symbolism in Gothel’s mirror shattering at the moment when she truly loses her hold on Rapunzel’s power!

~ I want to know how Rapunzel and Flynn approached the castle and got an audience with her parents! Flynn had just narrowly escaped execution, after all. The way the guard wordlessly nods to the king and queen makes me wonder if other girls have falsely claimed to be the princess, like in Anastasia.

[mudhamster]

CHWHWN: 28. December - " 4 days left"

The holidays were a whirlwind of Kacchan's snarky relatives with lots of opinion, way too much food, and mulled wine in the backyard.

It was nothing like the quiet atmosphere he used to share with his mother in the days between Christmas and New Year's. They usually did puzzles, watched TV reruns, or went for walks in the snow. At no time did he feel the urgent need to leave the room to catch his breath.

But with Kacchan, from the moment he set foot in the kitchen as the new odd guy, it was a state of exception. Kacchan fit into the picture like one of a dozen noodles in a pot, but he stood out like the only spinach-flavored fusilli, if you knew what those looked like. Izuku didn't really know why, but it seemed like everyone in this house wanted to meet him. He could tell the difference between Masaru's side of the family and Mitsuki's side of the family by the sheer ferocity with which his hand was shaken. Regardless of the eyes.

At the of the first day, he felt like an over-announced surprise guest who was nothing but a disappointment in the end. (Even if everyone kept telling him how sweet he was). And the uncle, the 'useless' uncle who slept in the guest room, was not useless at all in his opinion. Sure, he didn't design designer clothes or coach the upper class on the latest superfoods or diets… he was 'just' the boss of a giant fast food chain...?!

On the second day of Christmas, when the atmosphere was a little quieter because it was mostly Masaru's relatives sitting around the campfire, Izuku thought for the first time how it would be to actually be here together. How it would make him feel. To be a fully accepted part of the family. To sit around the fire and roast marshmallows as Kacchan's partner every year. Not to burst with emotion when Kacchan brought him a second pillow from inside, seeing that he was cold despite being so close to the fire. He was ready to go all out if the slightest chance presented itself.

Today was Thursday, the second day that the house was empty because everyone was back at work. The uncle had left as well… but the futon (which didn't smell like death, by the way, but rather like antique lavender oil) was still lying next to Kacchan's bed. They could have put it away, but it made sense to sit on it in the evening and watch all the All-Might interviews Kacchan's parents had recorded over the years. And whether it seemed possible or not, there had been two so far that Izuku hadn't known.

At the moment, Izuku was sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper when he heard Kacchan stomping down the stairs. He had a training appointment with Eijirou in a little over an hour, as exemplary as he was.

He heard the classic groan of the handrail as Kacchan skipped the last few steps and jumped straight into the hallway outside the kitchen door, pushing an empty cup next to the coffee pot. Kacchan burst through the door and shot him a smirk when he spotted him at the table. "Anything interesting?" With a hidden smile, Izuku watched as Katsuki poured himself a cup of coffee and slid into the chair opposite him. "Nope. But they've published a calendar of events for New Year's." The newspaper was snatched out of his hand and turned once. While Katsuki skimmed over the listings, Izuku lowered his face into his hand and silently watched as he burned the tip of his tongue on the fresh coffee. Another tiny memory that would burn itself into the corners of his brain forever. Just like the time they spent together in the evening. Or when Mitsuki burnt the crème brûlée at the last moment and kicked them both out with far too much money to buy a replacement dessert. It had been a turbulent few days, but he had never been as happy as he was here with Kacchan. "So, Shrine?" Kacchan asked across the table, turning back the newspaper and marking the shrine he had obviously chosen with a tiny burn mark, "You and me?" He let his eyes wander over the display and took a deep breath. The shrine he had chosen was much more traditional than the one on the outskirts of the city center. They would have to travel some distance out of the city and into the mountains. "What about the rest of your family?" "They come too. Someone has to drive, or do you think I'll take the train in this outfit? Tch." Ah, the outfit. Izuku had thought it was some kind of advertisement… but in fact, the people in front of the shrine among the snowy trees and mountains were exceptionally… colorful. "Do you even have a kimono?" "N-no," he replied, and Kacchan sank back into the chair, his lips curled into a thoughtful pout. Izuku flipped a page, back to the local shrines, and handed the paper back to Kacchan, "I've only ever been normal…" "You've never been inside, to the altar?" …To the altar. Ugh. "No." "Hm." Izuku was burning with curiosity. What kind of altar? But Kacchan closed the newspaper, dumped the rest of his black coffee into the sink and saluted him before leaving him to wonder alone in the kitchen.

[thetoplinecb]

halloween at the topline

usually, halloween at the topline didn't cause any changes. a few decorations here and there, and of course, the club goers would come in costume. this year, though, there was definitely a change.

jisung shoved the heavy metal door to the staff room open, grinning as he looked at chan and minho. "what d'you think?" he did a little twirl. jisung was in a vampire costume, fake teeth glued on and all. he smiled widely to show off his new sharp teeth, adorned with two little diamond tooth gems on either one. he had a smoky eye done, his lips a bloody shade of red to match the fake blood smeared at the corner of his mouth. his outfit was simpler, a baggy black graphic t-shirt that was way too big for him, and tight black jeans with a few silver chains, plus his regular black platformed boots.

"i'm a vampire!" he exclaimed, as if it wasn't obvious. "yeah." minho mumbled, more focused on fixing his own costume. jisung couldn't stop himself from bursting into a fit of laughter upon seeing minho, flopping onto the couch and writhing around as he laughed loudly. "shut up." minho growled and jisung did, after a few moments.

minho was dressed as a bunny, two fuzzy white ears pinned into his hair, a sharp juxtaposition to his black hair and sharp eyes. he wore a white sweater, one that was baggy enough to expose his collarbones, the knit of it being slightly see-through. a small, round white tail accompanied his ears, pinned into the back of his tight, form-fitting black jeans. his eyes were lined with thin black eyeliner, and his lips and cheeks were lightly colored. it was softer than anything he'd usually go for.

he stood in front of the full body mirror, blinking a few times at himself. he wouldn't say he felt insecure, but maybe a bit uncomfortable.

"i feel stupid." minho mumbled, fixing the fluffy white ears upon his head. "you kinda look stupid." jisung grinned wolfishly, the smirk getting smacked off of his face when minho hit him in the back of his head. "no one asked you." he glared, and jisung giggled to himself.

chan was busy, fixing his own ears, a pair of dark gray, almost black wolf ears. he wore his usual uniform, a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, accompanied by black slacks. the only addition was a tail on the back.

chan turned around, arms crossed across his chest. "be nice! this is supposed to be fun! plus, we're charging an entrance fee, so we're all getting paid good. it's just one night, right? don't be all dramatic." chan huffed to the both of them, glaring at minho who was standing awkwardly and jisung, who was splayed out on the couch.

it wasn't long before felix and hyunjin came out, dressed as two opposites. felix looked angelic, which was appropriate for his costume. an angel. he wore a silky white button-up with way too many buttons undone, light wash denim jeans on his lower half. he had a little fuzzy white halo above his head and feathery wings to match. silver glitter adorned his face, all the way down his chest, with more concentrated amounts of it right under his eyes and cheeks. his cheeks were blushed sweetly, and his lips were sparkly and glossy.

hyunjin was the opposite, which was a bit ironic, considering hyunjin definitely had the more reserved personality of the two. he had two little red horns pinned to his hair, his own long black hair pulled up into a half ponytail. he wore a wine colored button-up and a simple, velvety black choker around his neck. he had a tail in the same shade of red attached to his tight, black faux leather pants, long with a little sharp tip. he had reddish eyeshadow around and under his eyes, a black liner emphasizing the sharp corner. he wore a natural cherry lip that went well with the theme.

the aura shifted as soon as they walked in, so confident in themselves. it made everyone feel a bit better soon. "how do you guys feel? gonna become like us for a night~" felix preened, hyunjins arm wrapped around his shoulder as they walked in.

"don't remind me." minho muttered, fixing up his lipstick. "it does pay well, though..." chan trailed off with a shrug.

it was a decision they had collectively made. that for this halloween party, they'd all be available, and their boss would be managing the rest of the party.

they thought it might be an effective way to make extra cash, especially considering this party was going to have only the most important of guests, the most high paying. the entrance fee cost basically guaranteed that they'd all be going home with a stack of cash.

"don't stress, really. it's not so bad." felix reassured, splitting off from hyunjin to sit down with jisung.

their special halloween menu was lined with their usual options, from the more simple and innocent ones to the ones that warranted a private room. the first cost was who you wanted to be with, the second being the amount of time, and the third being the action. a date, a kiss, a lap dance or performance, and the options only went further.

"well... are we all ready?" chan asked quietly, tilting his head, his artificial ears flopping as he did so. "i think we're ready as we'll ever be." jisung grinned.

the club was packed, filled with individuals in expensive outfits that could barely be described as costumes, throwing on one or two accessories at most. there was decor all around, and the lights were dim, a reddish hue cast across the club.

the boys made their way to the back part of the club where the workers would typically wait to be chosen. jisung made himself comfortable on the couch, kicking his feet up. chan sat next to him, while felix and hyunjin were already on the dance floor. minho leaned against a wall, drink in hand. at least tonight would be fun.

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

Okay, but this quote:

"When love becomes sufficient in and of itself, the lover does not have to exhaust himself chasing or sit inanimate in a corner. If the lover loves well, there is no need for imprisonment. The beloved is bound by love and will want to stay nearby of his own accord. The Little Prince's friendship friendship with the fox is quite different to his love for the rose. It renders love as a particular level of domestication. As a wild animal without a collar or chain, the fox could leave him at any point. He is not a pet, but stays with The Little Prince because he wants to. This is Khalil Gibran's notion that the beloved can only prove to the lover that he or she also loves if possessiveness is relinquished. Love returns like a boomerang." ~ Roland Barthes (via this post)

This quote just strongly reminded me of the difference between John's love for Jamie and Percy's love for John.

John's love for Jamie is very much a self-created prison, one that he's built for himself brick by brick chasing any connection to Jamie he could manage to secure (using his influence to get Jamie's parole served out at Helwater to keep him where John could see him, marrying Isobel just so he could serve as surrogate father to Jamie's son, moving to America just so he could be nearer to Jamie, and all while simultaneously putting his heart away on a shelf so as not to "betray" his feelings for Jamie).

In the process of his pursuit of Jamie he's deserted the very cornerstone of his life - his desire to live a life of purpose in quest of honour and justice - to "sit inanimate in a corner" awaiting every opportunity to swoop in and save the day like his primary reason for existence is now being guardian angel to the Frasier family.

Regardless of my personal opposition to the very practice imperialism and slavery, I at least respected John's strength of character in his devotion to his duty because HE believed in the integrity of his office, and that his actions were for the ultimate security, and therefore betterment, of society. But NOW? What's he even doing with his life anymore? The man hasn't had a real job since 1768! o.O (Good thing he's rich. Must be nice to retire at 39 years old. xd)

I don't know about you, but that is not the Lord John Grey I knew and loved. The John who once went, "For an instant, he fantasized the possibility of securing Percy's freedom, whether by lies or bribery, then going abroad, the two of them together. He had money enough. To live a pointless existence of idleness with a man whom he could not trust. No, it would not serve." (BotB, Ch 28) I guess a near pointless existence of idleness in service to a man who doesn't love you and barely pays attention to you unless he needs something from you is somehow a life worth living to him? Okay then. smh

But it's the contrasting nature of Percy's quietly abiding love for John versus John's desperate fervour for Jamie that I find most intriguing. While John's chased after Jamie at nearly every possible opportunity over the years (even when he knew his attention was vehemently unwanted), Percy...hasn't.

Only on THREE occasions did Percy actually purposefully set out to see John. The first time they met again after 18 years when John returned to his hotel room to find Percy waiting for him -- though that occasion was primarily motivated by Percy's work (though I'm sure he was quick to volunteer his services when it gave him a reason to see John again xd). And the time(s) Percy turned up at John's tent looking for him after he'd recognized John disguised as an enemy soldier, no doubt because he feared John being hanged for a spy.

And Percy was quick to try and leverage his own realm of influence to safeguard John's life when he asked to take John to meet the Marquis de Lafayette. He knew the young nobleman would heed his counsel as his adviser if he convinced him John was too valuable to be executed and that he should advocate on John's behalf to General Washington (since he held Lafayette in great affection and regarded him like a son). Through Lafayette's influence Percy could've ensured John was permitted to serve out his parole in safety and comfort (if only Jamie had consented to let him go!), maybe even in the French camp where Percy was. (And, hello, there's fanfic idea for anyone looking for one! ^.^ lol)

And the third and final time Percy sought John out was on Richardson's boat (somewhere he was quite likely forcibly brought in the first place or else deceived into coming), when he came to apologize to him and admit he still loved him because he thought he might never see him again. 😢

But the thing that stands out to me is just how much Percy, in fact, never actively chased John at all during all those years. All the other times they only encountered each other incidentally. And sure, Percy flirted a bit here and there, but mostly he maintained his sense of purpose and did his job. The only time he really went out of his way to seek out John outside of his work was when he feared for John's life.

Percy felt no need to chase John on a personal level because his love for him had long become sufficient in and of itself. He felt no desperation to pursue John the way John did Jamie (despite both of them being aware that their romantic affections were unwelcome), no need to cling to any mementos of John (like John's done with Jamie's sapphire all these years) to remind himself of his feelings for him, and he didn't feel the same depth of insecurity to use the other to fill the void within himself as John did with Jamie.

Yet it can't be denied that Percy loved John greatly all that time in his own far less overtly displayed way. Even while doing his job his desire to safeguard John was ever-present. Even in the months when he never saw or spoke to John he was still keeping abreast of where he was and what he was doing, and most importantly, investigated Ezekiel Richardson and figured out the threat he posed to the Grey family and warned John about him years before Richardson even closed in for the kill. If only John had given Percy's warning the credence it deserved! T_T

(I also can't help but be amused by all the times Percy's straight out known more about everything's that going on than John. And Percy took a mere six months to figure out "Buttercup's" secret identity, but apparently John never figured out that "Beauchamp" and "Monsieur Citron" were in fact the same agent until 1780. John may've been the more experienced soldier, but it looks like Percy has always been the better spy! LOL And you know what? Good for him! <3)

I also can't help but feel that Percy's is ultimately the more selfless love, too. I mean, sure John cares about Jamie's welfare but it's a very self-serving sort of selflessness he demonstrates regarding Jamie a lot of the time. How many times has he talked about doing something for Jamie's greater welfare but in the same breath also expressed that it's because it's something HE (John) needs for sake of himself? Not to mention that by so doing he also at least gained Jamie's gratitude and a modicum of his attention.

Whereas Percy continually acts out of care for John even though John barely offers him basic civility in their interactions, let alone anything else. At least Jamie still offers John friendship (somewhat warped though it is). Percy is motivated by love of John alone, knowing perfectly well he has nothing whatsoever to offer Percy in return -- not even the basic dignity one human being ought to afford another, if John's apathetic treatment of him near the end of Bees is any indication. ~ 😔

(Honestly, just...*hurls John into the sea again for being a f*cking class A idiot* Jamie doesn't deserve John's love, and John barely, if at all anymore, still deserves Percy's.😑)

[yeehaw-in-magic-space]

Session 14 Recap: Part 1/4

The pirates, Simon, Isabel, and Poly, moved through the gory scene as if they didn’t notice it—as if their fallen comrade was all that existed in the universe. They surrounded Hugh, and rotated his body around to face them as if there was anything they could do to help. Blackjack went with them. He inspected the wounds and confirmed that a human being couldn't have made them (nor was it likely that any commonly known humanoid alien could have). The wounds were uneven, vicious, and deep, but there were no signs of a weapon being used. Whatever did this used teeth. 

Dolly began investigating the area for traces of the attacker, and found dents and scrapes in the air vents that indicated signs of a struggle. The creature must have attacked Hugh at the grate outside and dragged him through. He fought it as best he could, but eventually, it had struck him down and brought him here to feed. The bodies in this room had clearly been at least partially eaten. Both Blackjack and Dolly noticed a lack of blood and guts coming from any corpse but Hugh's, which indicated that whatever attacked these people had also been feeding on them.

Geraldine excused herself from the room out of shock and disgust. She had gotten her fill of gore for the day. She moved down the hall, where she found Charles and Tanner returning to their efforts to force open the large metal door. Geraldine went to retrieve Prometheus, who had never entered the scene of Hugh’s murder, and the two of them went to confront Charles. 

When they returned to the door, it was already open. Charles had moved into the room and positioned Tanner behind him to block anyone else from approaching. Geraldine didn’t let this stop her: she drifted forward in the low gravity conditions and knocked right into Tanner with her shoulder. She offered a disarming smile and an “oh, I’m so sorry” as she blew past him and grabbed a journal off of the table before Charles could lay hands on it. 

Prometheus slipped in while all eyes were on Geraldine and got his hands on a series of file folders on the corner of the table in the center of the room. The two of them had successfully pried all nearby documents from Charles’s hands, preventing him from gaining any secrets he could keep from the others. 

Blackjack and Dolly entered the room around this time, with Blackjack loudly complaining about the group splitting up. He went dead silent as he began to take in the room, which appeared to be some kind of scientific lab. Dolly moved towards a couple cases that had once been protected by glass (which was shattered on the ground). There were cracked vials and beakers inside that had traces of a sticky purple substance around the rims. Blackjack began rifling through the nearby lockers inspecting the scientific equipment and space suits, quietly taking the gloves so that the suits weren’t able to be used by anyone who might decide to pursue them. 

Charles moved to the other side of the table in a huff, poking at another set of vials inside a small supply crate half opened. The placement of the crate was odd, but everything about this makeshift lab was odd, so no one raised any complaints. Brynhild had also entered the room silently at some point, and was investigating the door on the opposite side of the room. It had been chained shut, likely to prevent anyone from moving deeper into the ship to discover anything more sensitive than what this lab might be hiding. 

Geraldine began to read the lab notes out loud in a gesture of solidarity and sharing information with all parties involved in the salvage mission. They described the discoveries of a scientist who had been developing something at the test site. The scientist boasted that his creations had been growing in size with each new batch, and that they’d achieved the intelligence of an animal in recent tests. He also praised his creations for their ability to camouflage, which became particularly relevant when specimens had started going missing. 

Before she could get to the end. Charles let out a cry of pain. The crate he had been investigating had snapped shut on his fingers. Tanner rushed over and jammed his knife into the hinges to pry the box open, but recoiled when it began to bleed at the touch of his blade. 

All around the room, objects began shifting and rattling as the crate ripped back from Charles (taking two of his fingers with it) and shifted into its true monstrous form. One of the lockers, the chains attached to the door, and a collection of beakers and broken metal revealed themselves as living things, and sprang to life. They began circling the party with violent intent, and a battle began. 

[the-laughing-lie]

Session 28

And here we are again, halfway to confronting Vordakai himself. Our dear protagonists’ first hurdle in getting there was finding a way across the canyon his island was in the middle of. After much brainstorming, they determined that the best—and perhaps only—way to cross would be to summon a drake and have it fly half the party while Ozzy flew across with Ella. Kalikke was left to guard the road leading there, incase there were any more undead monstrosities lurking in the Valley of the Dead.

As the party flew across the gap, they spotted two potential entrances to the stone tower. They also spotted a clutch of wyverns, swooping out of their cave to confront these trespassers in their territory. The party made it to the island just in time to prepare for the lesser wyrms to descend upon them. They held their own, and came out victorious, albeit a bit battered.

After healing and absconding with the wyverns’ treasures, the party decided which entrance to examine. Ella took her rope and climbed down to a hidden entrance halfway up the pillar. Then into the unknown they went.

Our dear protagonists found themselves in a foul smelling tar pit, with only a few outcroppings to get out of the boiling ooze. On one of these outcroppings, guarding one of the doorways out, was the undead form of Varnhold’s emissary. That makes two places with an undead emissary now. Well, it would have, if the former wizard hadn’t been overwhelmed by the party the moment they entered the room. With the biggest hazard out of the way, Ozzy took up ooze form and began breaking off stalactites to create stepping stones across the boiling pit. The party then decided to backtrack through the opposite door, to make sure nothing came up behind them. And for no other reason.

The first room they found had four Soul Eaters, which were drawn to Ozzy, as he was the only one who had given Vordakai his name. Despite this, they had to dogpile Ella to try to get to him. Still, one scrappy fiend got to him and clouded Ozzy’s mind with its mind-numbing touch. This forced Irena to burn their only restoration spell once the fight was over, or risk Ozzy not being able to spellcast when they needed it most.

Ella uncovered a chain of secret rooms, and within one mysterious room there were pictures of eyes on all the walls, all looking at one large eye with an indent in the pupil. They party determined it was magic, but currently had no idea how to activate it or what it would do.

The party also found a room with a number of frescos depicting different scenes of cyclops life, centered around a cyclops with a red orb for an eye, whom Ozzy suspects is Vordakai himself.

Further back, the party entered a room with two alters, and imagery of Charon, the Horseman of Death. Not even I have something fun to say about the Horsemen. Absolute mood killers.

Unfortunately, our dear protagonists did not notice that the door between these alters was trapped, set to flood the room with stygian fires should it be opened without a blood offering. The party bundled out of the room, dragging along Tristian who had gotten the worst of it.

Their troubles were far from over, however. They only got a small respite before they confronted the guard of these rooms, a Piscodaemon who demanded to know in whose name they entered this room. Ozzy tried to talk them into a better position, but upon refusing to speak a name the Piscodaemon attacked the intruders.

After recuperating from the encounter, the party entered the jail, and found the dreadfully still form of a centaur laid out in one corner. Thankfully, Irena identified her death-like state as a particularly bad paralysis. With a song of freedom, Ozzy was able to break the magical paralysis, returning Xamanthe to her senses. The young centaur thanked the party for their help, and told them what she could about the tomb and its inhabitants. The party left her to recover with a weapon in hand incase any of the tombs’ inhabitants find her.

The party then returned the way they’d come—triggering the stygian flames yet again, so Tristian returned the favor for Irena helping him last time. He also disabled the unholy magics powering the trap, rendering it safe for when they return to get Xamanthe.

And with nowhere else to go without backtracking all the way to the other entrance, the party crossed the tar pit once more and passed through the hall the undead wizard had been guarding. Down, down, down a long hall, to horrors unknown.

And now we join them once again, as the curtain opens, and the players take the stage.

[plugrick]

It was indeed a long night in the best of ways, the culmination of years of yearning giving way to the fulfillment of deepest desires. Mandibles wrapping around sensitive mandibles in an erotic dance of sensuality, raised ridges on chitinous exoskeleton hooking together in just the right places, words becoming unneeded as blissful chittering and insectizoid purrs took over…

But while the two long lost lovers were busy rekindling old flames between the sheets, Rick on the other hand… Well, he was having quite the opposite experience.

Shaky hands lit cigarette after cigarette as the human anxiously paced, the red cherry on the end serving as the only pop of color in the otherwise featureless room. He should probably try to relax and recouperate for a while, but Rick found it impossible to stay still. The sad steel box that he was locked in against his will was frankly oppressive, and it served as a constant reminder of their former imprisonment. It made him feel more paranoid than he did that one time he tripped balls on way too many hits of Gorgon acid and became convinced there were giant bats trying to eat him. At least Amy was still around to passively rant to about how fucked up everything was—

Until she started complaining about how “obnoxious” his chain smoking was and excused herself on account of the thick cloud of harsh tar irritating her lungs and making her cough. Hmph. Being alone was the very last thing Rick wanted to be right now, but he wouldn’t be caught dead asking her to hang out with him or something. So…

Here he was, by himself. Waiting.

A rapidly growing pile of cigarette butts haphazardly tossed on the floor served as a testament to his state of restlessness and worry. They burned away one after the other, turning to ash between his fingertips as the time ticked by with agonizing lethargy. When was Mike coming back, anyway?

RRRRRRUMBLE

Oh, sweet glob. The vibrations rocking through the ship were noticably worsening as time went on, and definitely becoming more frequent. At times it felt as if the Outpost itself were bellowing like some great deep space whale, the shaking underfoot threatening to throw him off balance as he wore a rut into the small space he was allotted. Or maybe it was the intermittent weakness in his knees that was making his footsteps occasionally falter. There was only one thing that could be making that much noise, after all. And it was hungry.

Fuck! It felt like it had been hours now. Where the hell was Mike?! It was painstakingly lonely without the assassin around, even if he had tried to kill him bare handed. Rick shuddered just thinking about it, but quickly pushed aside the mental image of Mike’s features twisted up in full Berserk rage. He said his absence wouldn’t be long, but that obviously wasn’t the case and the ship kept rattling like a flimsy tin can. What was even happening out there?!

He was practically helpless here, at a severe power disadvantage under Federation rule, all while danger and death stalked around every corner. Damn it all! The unsureness of what was to come was a fucking mental torture—!

Rick finally got sick of wearing a path into the floor like a zoo animal suffering psychosis from being trapped in a too-small enclosure and bit clean through the end of his smoke in frustration. He curled his hand into a fist and banged on the door, ready to rip into the guards outside and demand answers.

The guards didn’t seem to think much of him, given their vague responses and eye rolls that Rick received as response. That stupid video of him suffering at his lowest had left an impression, and it wasn’t one that made him respectable in their eyes. No matter how much he barked demands for an explanation or raised his voice as he fought tooth and nail to be let out, they brushed his concerns aside like it was nothing. Eventually, they began to ignore him entirely no matter how hard he tried. They would tell him what was going on, they wouldn’t tell him where Mike went, they wouldn’t let him out - UGH!

Fine. Fine! Fuck it! He would just figure it out by himself!

In his irritated state, Rick found a swell of determination and set about to the task of attempting to repair his broken portal device with the extremely limited materials available to him. Something must’ve happened to Mike. He was sure of it, and doubly sure that he needed to fix his tech and rescue him before it was too late. It wasn’t like his ex-boyfriend, someone he knew like the back of his hand, would just up and disappear on him all night with their unfinished argument and associated feelings still on the table unless something happened… Right?!

To his frustration, the device was nearly irreparably damaged, crushed and bent and glass cracked from being roughed up by Federation goons. Even with the help of internal machinery in his hands that allowed fingertips to be switched out with screwdriver heads and various other small tools, it was nigh impossible to perform necessary repairs. He was able to get it apart, sure, but finding the entire extent of the damage and putting it back together in a way that fully worked? Without portal fluid?! That was a different thing entirely. Was it even possible?!

Damn his stupid hole-ridden brain! What good was a Rick if he couldn’t pull a rabbit out of his hat and portal away?!

Soon enough, the place was scattered with pieces and parts much in the same way it was littered with cigarette butts and empty flasks, and Rick was thoroughly enraged.

“S-stupid fucking thing! UuuuUUUUGH!”

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands for a while after that, despair leeching into his worried thoughts. Lizardperson was closing in, he didn’t have enough brain cells alive to put together a portal gun on the fly, and Mike was going to get hurt again. And it would be HIS fault. Fuck fuck fuck.

Maybe… maybe some Galax would help clear his mind and calm his nerves. Maybe it would help him focus, or give him just enough of an edge to figure something out.

….Or maybe it would at least numb the yawning chasm of hurt inside of him.

It was like a ritual. He drew up a vial of the dark pseudo poison - one of the precious few directly on his person - found a vein and…

In truth, it didn’t make him feel any better. But then again, it didn’t really make him feel much of anything at all. The worlds edges were smoothened out, his thoughts subdued. Comfortable, but in the same way that liquor was comfortable to an alcoholic. It made everything feel alright.

And that’s when it came to him.

Rick frowned. He honestly didn’t want it to come down to this, but it just might work. There was a chance that he might be able to use a portal fluid powered component from his cellphone to power the portal device for a precious use or two, although it would be unstable and therefore risky. A risk that he was willing to take.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out the device, of which had seen better days. The front of it had been thoroughly smashed in the process of being captured by Federation soldiers just the same as the portal gun, but it was somehow still functional.

There was just one problem.

Rick chewed his bottom lip, his brow furrowing as he swept a thumb over the spiderweb cracked screen. He had owned this thing for a long time, faithfully upgrading and maintaining security measures to protect its contents. He was an intergalactic drug dealer at the end of the day, and it was important to keep his personal business ventures under close wraps.

But it wasn’t the clientele list that could take out universal leaders or the detailings of extremely illegal deals that could send him away for several lifetimes that he was concerned about losing once he scrapped the device for parts. No, what he prized was far more important than all of that…

He opened the photo album and swept to a very special file. One that contained all the special pictures, the ones of him and Mike.

Bright smiles from better times illuminated the stress-roughened and Galax-ridden features of Rick’s face. They both looked so happy here, arms thrown over each others shoulders and laughing drunkenly with beers in hand, a bar setting with a game of darts in the background. Mike had looked good in his charcoal colored power suit that he had picked out for him. They’d had such high hopes for the success of their mission…

He swept a thumb again and again and again, sifting through oh so many stills from wild nights and assassination missions wherein they had combined the best of debaucheries - killing people and partying. It was funny how well the two activities paired, on par with fine wine and cheese or sex and chocolate. It had been their thing, their lifestyles easily going hand in hand.

Things had been simpler then.

Dramatic poses and coy kisses and candid shots; in night clubs and dizzyingly bizarre dimensional scenery and and beaches and more than a couple raunchy photos of them in bed that made Rick blush. A sweet snapshot or two that Mike didn’t know he took, when he was just doing something in a lighting that made him look particularly handsome. Or, in the case of a couple photos, that he was probably too high at the time to remember being taken. Even he didn’t remember taking a good chunk of these…

And then. There it was. A play button.

The video to end all videos, downloaded on his phone. He nearly forgot that he still had it on here.

The Xandia tape.

Rick felt a pang of guilt. He probably shouldn’t watch it. Mike had been awful touchy on the subject of the love pills - erm, orgasm enhancers when they had been brought up. And they were in the middle of a fight. A huge, ugly fight.

But there was no telling if they would make it out of this. There was no telling if Mike was even alive right now.

Why shouldn’t he reminisce on better days? It might be the last time he ever did.

Rick laid down on the bottom bunk and curled up in the thin military issued blanket with a heavy heart and pressed play. The inappropriate sounds coming from the crackly speakers just loud enough that he wouldn’t hear the door opening…

“Uhn~! Fuck, Rick~!”

“Ahn~! Ah~! Oh, M-MIKE!”

X

[ilikeyoualive]

Yet another idea for Shifter AU idea because self-restraint isn't a word in my vocabulary... but I have no regrets. And if you're interested in looking into this AU, here's a link to my Main Masterlist!

Warnings: Drowning, Mission Gone Wrong

Word Count: 692

Soap and Ghost are on a mission together, just the two of them. Ghost is meant to infiltrate a base for intel and Soap is on overwatch with a sniper in order to give him cover. Things are going well until they have to exit the premises and Ghost’s voice comes over comms and it sounds like he’s running as he tells Soap that things went sideways and that he’s going to come out from the north side of the building. Soap gives his affirmative and readjusts his aim, only having to wait a few seconds before Ghost practically explodes out of the exterior door, wildly firing behind him as he goes. When the door swings open behind Ghost once again, Soap gets to work picking off anyone that comes out after him, giving the other man ample time to make his way to the fenced perimeter. 

Ghost radios Soap a second time to warn him that he’s compromised and that hostels have breached the building that he’s in. Soap lets him know that he’ll meet up with Ghost in the agreed-upon spot, but stubbornly stays put until he sees Ghost reach the fence and scramble up the chain link with his own two eyes before quickly and efficiently packing up his gear. He leaves the room just in time to see the team that had been sent after him come out of the elevator, Soap firing his side arm as he runs in the opposite direction until he turns a corner and moves out of view. He hauls down the stairs two at a time and makes it out of the building in one piece before making his way to their meet up spot. 

He arrives and slows his pace when he hears unfamiliar voices, being careful to stay out of sight as he takes stock of the situation. Ghost had been shot in the thigh and taken hostage by a group of ten men, one of whom had the muzzle of a gun placed against the skull mask, Ghost calmly on his knees with his hands held placatingly up on either side of his head as he stared up at his executioner. Soap is sure to check his weapons -taking note of the ammunition, homemade bombs, and knives that he currently had on his person- before making a move. 

It wasn’t even a question of whether or not he would intervene -because he was going to, whether Ghost liked it or not- but rather his likeness of getting them both out the shit situation alive. 

Soap starts by immediately taking out one of the guys at the edge of the makeshift circle they’d formed around Ghost’s prone form, trusting that Ghost will take advantage of the ensuing distraction in order to disarm the man standing over him. Soap draws as many of the hostiles to his position as he can before leading them away from Ghost, who was up and fighting his own battle with an injury. 

Soap is tackled from behind by one of the men following him and they fall down a steep ravine and into the water, Soap begins to wrestle for control with his attacker in the hopes that the other men wouldn’t risk taking a shot at him due to his proximity to one of their comrades, though the fight quickly spirals out of control and the man begins attempting to drown him. In a burst of adrenaline, Soap manages to slip free of the other man’s grip and flip their positions, pinning the enemy beneath his weight and forcing the hostile’s head underwater.

One minute the man is flailing desperately flailing under him and the next there’s an insanely strong tug on the body below him, yanking the man from his grasp and sending Soap tumbling face first into the frothing water. He comes back up with a gasp and blinks the water out of his eyes just in time to see the very same massive platinum crocodile begin to roll in the water with the screaming man’s leg firmly clamped between its jaws, blood turning the water around the commotion a deep red.