#my last post flopped like a suffocating fish

[binglepringle]

A really bad sketch I did in my art class today

Barda and Cass as Olympic athletes

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

[ageoldamateur]

Introduction to my OC (Full story release!)

I think I should at least try to post the entire story now that I finished writing it.

While this is my first story posted here and my very first G/T story I have ever written, I have to apologize anyway for the way this story is set out as I do not know enough about Tumblr to formulate them into the same style as other writers here (Canadian policy, I must apologize to keep my citizenship). I don’t know how to bold letters or put symbols up, so I will just write as I would normally.

Also, while this is the first introduction of my Tinysona until Pixie draws me, this does not mean that I will not change anything later when I grow more comfortable with my Tinysona.

TW: Pre-vore, Safe/Soft Vore

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I guess I need to introduce myself, should I?

You can call me Spartan and 2 months ago, I was a normal person. Just about to turn 22, I was thin and healthy and should have been happy with my life.Then I meddled with magic and ended up as small as the average finger. However, that spell also granted me strength, agility, and endurance many times that of my previous self, which I believe is a good enough trade off. Still, I needed food and safety, so I went looking for a place before getting taken in by Rose, another human who seemed to be completely fine with having a tiny living with her. I will later find out why later...

Rose sat at the table, a large hardcover book sitting in front of her. One hand held her chin while the other lightly wrapped around Spartan, who was using her fingers as hand holds so that he could see the pages. This was the third book of the series and both of them were concentrating, leaving the air still in the morning rays.

Standing on Rose’s shoulder with one of her fingers pressing against his collarbone, Spartan finished the page and set his head down on the finger. He had only known Rose for 2 months now, but it felt like a lifetime. He only had to live a life alone and shrunken for a few days before he found comfort in Rose. Of course, he had scared the daylights out of her when he first got her attention, but the bruise faded the next day and he was able to talk to her as an equal after that.

Now, they lived as a couple, or as much as you can when one of the people was the size of a finger and thus couldn’t work a job or around the house. It infuriated him, but Spartan tried to make it up by working on her computer and organizing everything there while Rose did her job. There were only sparse moments where she would read with him, so he treasured them and hoped that she didn’t mind that he couldn’t handle the books she owned.

Spartan spared a glance towards Rose, her green eyes steadily following each line on the page. If he was regular size, he highly doubted he would have landed anyone like her and even now still wondered why she let him stay. Sure, he did some tasks around the house, but nothing she couldn’t do faster and more effectively than him. Maybe there was something he wasn’t seeing.

Looking back down, his eyes focused on the finger that was closest to his head. Spartan was no stranger to the weird impulses that he got (autism never made anyone normal), but he took some time to ponder what the impulse was before acting on it.

Rose just finished the last paragraph of the page when she felt a soft pressure on her finger that held Spartan. Confused, she glanced down, using her freed hand (the one not holding Spartan) to brush aside her hair. Sure enough, Spartan was gently biting the side of her finger; in no way close to hurt, but much life how a dog holds something in his mouth. Rose was close enough to notice how Spartan’s eyes were unfocused, a sign that he was dissociated from the world around him.

“Are you biting me?” Rose asked skeptically. Snapping back into the real world, Spartan quickly let go.

“No! No, I wasn't biting you. I was just resting my mouth on …” His excuse died on his lips as he realized that he really did not have one other than an impulse, which sounded as hollow as the one he just said. Rose just stared at him for a moment longer, Spartan blushing and looking away, then slightly shrugged and turned the page.

***later that same day***

Spartan woke up the phone and checked the time.

7:37. He still has over half an hour until he expects Rose to leave work. Perfect.

Spartan quickly unlocked it and picked his playlist: a collection of sea shanties and folk songs. While Rose knew about the playlist, he never played it for her; different music tastes were perfectly fine in a relationship as long as they understood what the other wanted to listen to. Spartan usually listened to the playlist while working or in this case when he was finished and wanted to belt out songs.

As he picked out a song to start the playlist on, he mentally checked the list again, even though the physical copy was lying on the table in the kitchen, marked by himself. He did all the preparations for Rose’s taxes, organized the cabinet and the food within, and made sure Rose’s makeup was up to date. He had also given Chilly some exercise even though that wasn’t part of his list; though the cat understood Spartan’s place in the household, it still didn’t stop the kitten from chasing him around the house whenever she got the zoomies.

Spartan finally settled on a classic; “Home Boys Home,” by the Skullduggers. Pressing play, the music blared out of the bluetooth speakers; not loud enough to cause a noise complaint, but probably too loud for his ears health. Spartan sprang onto the coffee table and began to sing at the same level of the music, arms singing by his side as he paced around and followed the music.

As the song changed, Spartan would take a moment to recall the lyrics, then bounced to the beat. He didn’t know how long he sang for (he knew almost all of them by heart), but he had eventually grown tired enough to sit on the table, hands behind him and legs outstretched. He couldn’t see the clock, but suspected Rose to arrive home at any moment. When he heard the door open, he would turn off his music.

Spartan felt the warmth before the teeth met his chest. He flinched out of fear, letting out a manly squeak as they gripped his torso and lifted him off the table. Rose held Spartan sideways in her mouth much like a cat would a fish she caught and flopped down on the couch, turning off the music with a tap on the phone.

“Jeepers, Rose! I didn’t hear you come home!” Spartan said, his free left arm keeping Rose’s lips from suffocating him. He wasn’t necessarily stuck, he was much stronger than he appeared to be, but he still didn’t know how much his augmented endurance could endure should Rose bite down. “When did you arrive?”

Rose loosened her mouth, letting go of Spartan so that he tumbled off her chin and landed on her chest. “About an hour ago, before you began to sing your songs. I had a short day today, but decided to climb in through the window cause I didn’t want to deal with Gabe’s smoking in the hallway again.

“You really didn’t notice me gathering snacks and getting ready for movie night?” She asked. Spartan blushed, noticing now that Rose’s arms and hands were full of treats. That would explain why he ended up in her mouth, though the way she did grab him (sideways so that his head wasn’t in her mouth) meant she would have had to have craned her neck at an awkward angle in order to grab him.

“Sorry Rose, I guess I was quite invested in my music.” Spartan said, stepping a little closer to her collarbone, if only to get away from the potential awkwardness of being sandwiched in her breasts. “What movie did you pick?”

Rose grinned and pointed towards the TV where the DVD was sitting. Spartan bounded over and took a glance. “A Sizable Matter”, directed by Rogers Phill <fictional, don’t need to look it up>. It was advertised as ‘safe and fun for the whole family with stunning action and a romance of unusual proportions’. Ratings appeared good, but Spartan knew not to trust those. Before he shrunk, he had seen the critically acclaimed “5th Element” and thought it was terrible and sexist in a modern standard.

But, this was another one of those times where he could hang out with Rose, so he popped it out and slid it into the player. He hopped back as Rose began working on some gummies. Spartan chose one for himself and began munching; he wasn’t much into sweets on the regular but hey, he could treat himself if he wanted to.

The movie was actually really good, alternating perspectives between the race of Giants and humans. The main character was known as a Shifter, which meant they could alternate between the size of a giant or a human. It was their duty to solve the conflict between the two races with the help of several side characters.

Both Spartan and Rose were invested, Spartan resting on Rose’s throat, only slightly distracted by her swallowing. Eventually, the movie reached a close, the Shifter and their friends having almost finalized a treaty before a full fledged war happened. However, the main villain triggered a trap that sparked the war to happen in earnest. Just as the Shifter and their allies were about to head off again, the movie ended.

“Oh, are you kidding me?!” Spartan shouted, falling off of Rose in the process of reacting to the abrupt ending of the movie. Rose didn’t react to the same effect, she wasn't as invested in films like Spartan; yet she did utter a grunt of annoyance.

Rose watched as Spartan fell off the couch, thudding onto the ground and lying there splayed right beside some fallen Gummy bears. “I don’t know about you, I really enjoyed the movie.”

“Same here, but my goodness, there needs to be a sequel made immediately!” Spartan said, grabbing one of the gummies and hugging it to his chest. “The Shifter was the best character! They were so wholesome and adorable; the moments where the movie decides to slow down and let us watch them just cuddle their friends were perfect breaks in between all of the combat scenes!”

“I agree,” Rose said, reaching down to grab the gummies around Spartan, “they were the ideal hero. Though if I am to be honest, I grabbed the movie because of one scene shown in the trailer.”

“What scene was that?” Spartan extended his arms towards Rose with the Gummy in hand.

Rose smiled. From the floor, Spartan suddenly got worried as he saw his friend from a very different perspective. “This one.” She said.

Her fingers reached past the extended Gummy and grabbed Spartan’s chest, wrapping gently around him. Popping the other Gummy bears into her mouth, she raised Spartan over her head and gave him a good view of the inside of throat. She swallows, Spartan watching as they disappear down her gullet. He dropped the one he was holding, it landing on her tongue and then joining the others in her stomach.

Spartan knew the scene of which she was referring to. A giant monster had nearly eaten one of the Shifters' friends much like the predicament he was in currently. However, Spartan assumed that no hero was going to be saving him from this maw.

With no more gummies to eat in her mouth, Rose closed her mouth and locked eyes with Spartan. She smiled at him and Spartan returned it, though a bit confused as to what was happening. She lowered him down towards her mouth, still smiling. Spartan closed his eyes.

And Rose gave him a kiss, her lips almost sucking his face off before she pulled him back. “Oh, don’t worry yourself, I won’t be doing anything to you. After all, you are the only man who has ever cared about me.” She set him down on the coffee table and let her arm hang off the couch.

Spartan, still a little confused at the sequence of events that had just happened, sat up and watched Rose settle down and cover her eyes with her right hand. He crossed his legs and listened as Rose spoke.

“Before you scared the living daylights out of me, I hated my life. My job felt like it was draining me of energy and there was only Chilly at my home which felt more like a burden than a blessing. I had no one who I felt like cared about my interests, checked to make sure I ate, and accompanied me when I went out. I honestly felt like there was no reason for my life.

“Then you appeared, asking for my help. And once I got over my shock of your appearance, I realized that I could help you, I had a purpose again. Now whenever I get home, I can look forward to hanging out with you to read my favourite book or play chess or just talk and chill. It was like having a boyfriend that never demanded sex or asked for favors. It was like a dream come true.

“In more ways than one…” Rose mumbled.

“You are into vore?”

Judging by the silence of Rose, Spartan thought right, though her example kind of gave it away as well. Spartan stood up and hopped back onto the couch, crawling onto Rose’s stomach. Rose raised her arm to look at him.

“Rose, I have been so blessed to have been able to meet you. It boggles me to think that if I didn’t cast this spell I would not have met you or even be able to get to know you. I wouldn’t have been able to know that you enjoy mystery and steampunk stories, or that your favourite colour to wear is red because it reminds you of Autumn. I wouldn’t know that you were mistaken for a boy all the way up till grade 11 and you learned how to cook from your older brother.” Spartan said, walking up towards her head.

“You said your life got a purpose once I entered it. Well, I didn’t know what I was missing until I began to live with you. I found that I was capable of love and was worthy of affection. I was allowed to be weird and helpful and now that I have learned that I have helped you? I feel like I have actually done something for you now.” Spartan allowed himself to fall forward onto Rose’s cheek, giving his giant friend a hug to the best of his abilities.

Rose closed her eyes, feeling the closure of her tiny friend. She allowed her mind to wander and thought about a scenario where she could have met Spartan when he was the same size as her. Rose probably would not have spared him a second glance at a man just going through the motions. But because of a happy little accident, she had a person who shared feelings with her sitting on her face.

“Soooo… this vore thing.”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing! Forget about it!” Rose said quickly, picking up Spartan and setting him down on the couch, sitting up as well.

“No, no, I am sorry if it is too awkward to talk about it!” Spartan said as he was set down. ‘It’s just… I also might be into it.”

Rose froze, mouth slightly opened. Spartan continued, “Of course, I have only used my imagination, so I have no clue if I would actually enjoy being swallowed, feeling the warmth of someone I love surrounding me.”

Spartan looked up at Rose, a flush creeping across his cheeks. “I never thought there would be a chance for me to make it a reality. Actually, that sounds quite selfish. I never thought I would be given the opportunity to experience it. Er, or that you would offer. Wait, you didn’t offer, I was just rambling, or am rambling, or just talking to myself-”

Rose poked him in the chest, pinning him down with her hand and her finger covering his mouth. It covered most of his face, leaving just one eye to lock in on hers as she leaned down towards him.

“You’re so lucky you are cute,” Rose said softly, “or else I would never be able to stand you.” Rose smiled and Spartan could see the warmth in it; despite the teasing, she really did care for him. Adjusting her grip, she picked up Spartan, holding him up towards her face.

She sighed, “I am actually going to do this, aren’t I?” she said more to herself, looking Spartan up and down. ��Do you consent to being swallowed up by a hot and beautiful girl?”

Spartan looked around. “I don’t see one around, is she hiding?” He smiled at his joke as Rose scoffed. “I consent to be swallowed up by a hot, beautiful, intelligent, and amazing girl.” Spartan said slowly and clearly, locking eyes with Rose.

“Well, since I’m the only girl in the room, I hope that means me.” Rose said nonchalantly. Taking a steadying breath, she put Spartan into her mouth feet first. He fit without too much difficulty, squishing comfortably past her teeth as he was pushed all the way in.

Rose didn’t know what she expected to taste, but it certainly didn’t taste as exhilarating as the fics she had read led her to believe. Also, he was quite large now that he was in her mouth; normally she wouldn’t notice but because she didn’t dare chew, all she really did was move Spartan back and forth in her mouth.

Spartan was holding his breath just in case he realized that he couldn’t breath in there. Other than that, he absolutely enjoyed his time, rolling over and over again across the sticky surface, occasionally bumping into the teeth. He could feel that Rose was trying her best to get comfortable with him, but was struggling.

“Ugh, ‘ow ‘o ‘hey ‘ake it ‘ook so easy?” Rose said, opening her mouth to speak and give Spartan some fresh air. She let her tongue rest and felt her throat relax as well. Getting a spike of courage, she started to tilt her head back.

“That’s the same question I would expect some newly weds would ask.” Spartan said, his voice barely making it out of her mouth.

Rose snorted, then gagged as Spartan’s bare feet hit her tonsils. Still chuckling and coughing, Rose spat out Spartan into her hand and turned away to cough into her elbow. Spartan sat on Rose’s hand, curled up with his knees to his chest now that he was out of the warm environment.

“*cough* You really said that at the *cough* worst time, Spartan.” Rose said, starting to recover. She looked back at Spartan sitting in her hand, worrying that she had hurt him when she convulsed. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, though I feel like I just got out of a nice warm hot tub.” Spartan said honestly. “I don’t know if you are comfortable with this yet, though. I might be too big for you to go all the way with, no offence.”

Spartan stood up on Rose’s hand, eyes towards the ground to hide his disappointment. “I did enjoy being in your mouth, though. It was exactly as I imagined it to be; warm, comfortable, and the closest I’ve been to you bef-”

Rose, in a surge of frustration, shoved Spartan not too gently up and then down, effectively overriding her natural gag reflex through sheer speed. She swallowed hard, feeling Spartan slide down with ease before catching her breath. Then she realized what she had just done.

“Oh heck… I really did just eat him,” Rose said softly, looking down at her stomach. She jumped up, rushing over towards the bathroom. Just as she opened the door, she heard Spartan.

“Rose? You sound panicked, is everything okay?” His voice was muffled, but clear enough to understand. The voice was definitely coming from her stomach and Rose could feel Spartan shifting around to get comfortable. Rose sighed, leaning up against the sink and looking at herself in the mirror.

“Yeah, I am feeling better now that I can hear you.” Rose paused. “How do you feel?”

Silence. “Like I am safe and secure. I feel like I am getting a full body hug. Though, the Gummy bears in here kind of ruin the moment…” Spartan said.

Rose laughed. “Sorry about that. Next time, I will make sure your cuddle buddies aren’t as sticky and sweet. I wasn’t exactly planning for this when I got home from work today.”

Rose closed her eyes, feeling Spartan’s movements and a surge of parental protection. She could feel his limbs against her abs and could picture him in her stomach. She had been looking at the entire idea of vore the wrong way; She felt more protector than predator and it was amazing.

“As much as I would love to stay like this forever, I feel like we should think about how I will be getting out; I don’t know how safe this is. I think it’s because of my heightened endurance from the spell that has allowed me to breath so far, but I don’t want to press it.”

“Well, I think there is only one way for you to exit,” Rose stated, leaning back over the sink.

“Technically, there are two…”

“Shut up.” Rose said, then tried to trigger her gag reflex. After a while of trying, Rose felt Spartan shift around and reach up and suddenly it became a lot easier. She deposited Spartan into the sink and turned on the faucet for him.

“That was an amazing experience, Rose,” Spartan said, sticking his head in the water. “I just hope that you enjoyed it as well.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Just got out of me and already jumped to the initiative in taking care of me.” She reached into the drawer beside the sink and pulled out a washcloth. She set it down next to Spartan, then stepped out of the room to give him some privacy.

“Well, did you? You asked me how I felt when I was in you.” Spartan said. There was a moment of silence as Rose thought about her answer. “I just realized how much of an innuendo this can be seen as. Should we pick a name for this experience? Something tamer?” Spartan added.

“Maybe later,” Rose sighed, putting her back on the wall and letting herself slide down until she was sitting on the floor. She rubbed her eyes, the memory of the experience still quite vivid in her mind. “To answer your question, I don’t really know yet.

“I went into it with an expectation, as most people do, and had those expectations quite subverted by reality. It was scary and surprising, but after I committed to it, it felt… comforting. I liked the feeling you gave me; it was as if I had hidden you away from the entirety of the world, all of the harm and hardships couldn’t reach you anymore.”

Rose rested her hands on her stomach, remembering Spartan cradled within her. “I already miss it, even though it hasn’t even been 2 minutes since you were there.”

“Well, you can always look forward to the next time those cravings hit.” Spartan said, strolling past the door wrapped up in the washcloth and viciously rubbing his hair. “Though, maybe without having eaten a ton of gummies beforehand. I think I have turned permanently sticky!”

Rose laughed, then scooped him up. “Come on, sticky boy, it’s almost 12. I need to get to sleep so that I can make it to work tomorrow.” She put him in his alcove, then disappeared into her room with Chilly.

Spartan got settled down and thought back on his day. He smiled. It was a pretty good day.

--------------

I think I need a break from vore, I don't know how I will top this for a while. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my… interesting writing style compared to the other writers on this website.

[violetnotez]

One Dance

Kaminari x Dancer! reader

Genre: Fluff (lots of pinning for each other ^w^)

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: None!

Summary: When you begin to lose your chance of winning a dance scholarship for college, none other than Kaminari comes to save the day!

One Shot

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

Small rewrite of one of my older stores I posted ages ago :)

Even without your partner, you weren’t giving up on your choreography, even if that meant practicing by yourself without hope of every getting it done. You were a dancer, new to the whole community of dance in your town and the world, but you loved it. You loved being able to express yourself through music, become a different person through your dances, and show off what you’d been learning in the last year. So when you heard there was a scholarship online that would give you some serious cash for college, you couldn’t resist. The only catch: you needed a male partner. And the partner you had, after a full month of finding the perfect song and working on the choreography, sadly broke his leg two weeks before the submission date.

So now you were practicing, trying to calm your ticking nerves as each day came closer and the hope of finding a partner dwindled away slowly.

Right as you prepared for your pirouette, you began to think about your impending dilemma, making your body wobble and fall from the flood of anxiety. You closed your eyes, expecting the impact of hardwood floor. Instead, your body was enveloped in strong, yet soft arms, your head on their chest. You looked up, shock on your face until you realize it was your adorable best friend, Denki Kaminari.

“I guess you ‘fell’ from me, Huh, y/l/n?” Kaminari smiled, a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Hey Kami”, you said breathlessly with an embarrassed smile.

You always thought Kaminari was stupidly funny, and extremely attractive, so him seeing you fumble a simple turn wasn’t amazing. But his face was inches from yours, his hands holding your elbows up for support. You couldn’t help but notice how cute Kaminari’s hair looked flopped over his eyes slightly from looking down on you, and that devilish smirk he wore whenever he saw you were embarrassed. Realizing he had been holding you for longer than he should have, you pushed off him, pretending to rearrange your messy ponytail as your blush began to set in.

“Hey-um, uh,” he replied, fumbling over his words, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” you said, brushing off his worry,”just a slip, that’s all.”

You grabbed your water bottle, taking a swig and rubbing your eyes from the heaviness of thinking of your situation. “I’m just kinda stressed.”

Kaminari’s face took on a concerned look, knowing too well that you push yourself hard and when things don’t go well, you work yourself to your max to make up for it. “What’s going on?”

“Well, remember that scholarship I was doing, and the only way to do it was if I had a partner?” You asked him.

Kaminari nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How could I, that's all you have been talking about for weeks!” he said with a smile, knowing how excited you were to create that choreography. 

He loved that you liked dance- he saw the passion you had for it and it made him smile and feel fuzzy just watching you and listening to you ramble on about what knew trick you were able to do for a new routine you created, or a new workout outfit you got, or what new class you found to go and try.  And, as bad as he knew it was to think about it, it was nice seeing you in  tight workout leggings and breezy tops that exposed your sports bras. When you invited him over to practices, it was one heck of a trip for him- half the time he was practically squealing inside from seeing you look so beautiful, watching your curves moves to the beat of the music, but the other half desperately wishing he could join you in those duets you were always doing.

“Well..” you continued, “my partner broke his leg- and he’s completely out of the routine.”

Denki sucked air through his teeth, scrunching his nose up. “That bad?”

“Yep,” you agreed as you breathed out, laying your aching body against the cool mirror on the wall, “so I’m a little screwed at the moment.”

You smiled sadly at Kaminari, looking down as you rested your arms on your legs.

Kaminari walked over, sitting down next to you. He knew how excited you were for this opportunity, so he felt terrible for you and what you were going through.

A few moments of silence went by, Kaminari not knowing how to help you and trying to calm his slightly racing heart. He had had a huge crush on you ever since you two began to hang out, and he would do anything for you and your passions. He was a sucker for you and he knew it.

He sighed. “I’m sorry y/n…I wish I could do something to help you…”

You smiled at Denki’s sweet reply, thinking how he caught you from a bad trip a few minutes ago. The embarrassment was still there, but you knew Kaminari could care less. It surprised you how much you missed his hands on your body, the feeling still tingling where he had touched you. You thought of how close you were to him, and how strong his body felt against yours…Your head shot up, a clear light bulb going off in your head.

“Kami- I got an idea!!” You exclaimed happily.

Kaminari jolted, not expecting you to move so quickly.

“Um-that’s great!”he smiled, confusion set in his brow. “But what is it?”

You rolled your body on top of his, sitting on top of his abdomen, the excitement rushing over.

Kaminari’s face erupted in red, his eyes wide with confusion and your sudden intimacy.

“Okay- Denki- please, remember that one time I did your English essay and got you an A and you told me ‘I owe you one, y/n’”? You remember that?” You asked, the excitement making you smile wide and your voice hasty.

“Yeah…” he confirmed, wondering where you were going with this as he tried to avoid eye contact. All those times he wished you two would be close….he was taking it all back- not because he didn't want you close, the complete opposite- he just felt like a WRECK. Sweat seemed to be pouring out of him and he couldn't seem to breathe or think correctly.

“Well, now I need that favor. Pleaseeeee Kami?” You pleaded, giving him puppy dog eyes.

Kaminari looked at you in confusion, not understanding what you were asking until he realized it- you wanted him to be your new partner.

His eyes widened as joy raised in his stomach and he just stared at you like a dead fish from shock! Even though he felt like a wreck, he had wishing for this day for MONTHS! And a chance to be your Prince Charming, to help you out and save the day- he would be a COMPLETE IDIOT to say no to that!

You saw Kaminari’s shocked face and registered it as panic, and just as he was about to open his mouth, you covered it with your hand.

“You can do this Kami!” You cheered him on, thinking he was having doubts. “I’ll teach you everything, every step, every move-it’ll be-

You felt something slimy on the back on your palm, and you pulled your hand off his face in disgust.

“AH YOU BRAT!” You yelled, unable to hold back a grossed-out smile as Kaminari laughed.

“Why’d you lick my hand?!?” You protested as you wiped your hand on your legs.

“Because, he laughed, “you wouldn’t let me talk!”

“Well you could’ve done something else than do that.” You replied with a fake pout, folding your hands over your chest.

 “Sorry,” he smiled, giving you a toothy grin, “Let's do it!”

“Ahhhh!” You screamed in happiness, suffocating Kaminari in an impulsive hug, “Thank you!”

You rolled off his stomach, standing up and offering him your hand.

Kaminari was overloaded by your touches, and was missing you on his stomach and that tight hug you just gave him. Secretly, he wished he could have this all the time- being close, intimate, laughing-but he always just thought you weren’t “in” to him like he was with you. You guys were best friends, and really close, so he was afraid to ruin it if you didn’t feel the same way.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” you smiled, leading him over to the middle of the room.

You hit play through your phone, a heartfelt, future-soul song filling the room.

“You know Khalid, right?” You asked, Kaminari nodding.

“So- this is what I was thinking for this song- it’s basically about a couple whose going through a bunch of problems, but they can’t decide if they want to be together, even though they still are crazy about each other….”

“So just pretend you are in love with me for a second,” you laughed, trying to make a joke as you grabbed Kaminari’s hand in prep for the first move.

“If only you knew I wasn’t pretending,” Kaminari thought, his heart jolting, not anticipating you to hold his hand. He didn’t know if he could survive all this touching.

“So, all you’re gonna do,”you instructed, “is hold my hand and when I pull away…”

You stretched your body away from Kaminari’s. “Pull me back in when the beat comes back- like I’m trying to leave and you don’t want to let me go.”

“Ready?”

“Hopefully,” Kaminari smiled nervously, still flustered by your hand in his.

You played the song back, giving Kaminari a reassuring smile. For as much as he pretends he's some player or fuckboy, he was really nervous being around a girl- it was kinda cute in your opinion.

You stepped back into your position, avoiding Kaminari’s eyes as you turned the music on. Even though you had been holding his hand, and pretending to be confident, you weren’t. Every move you make with Kaminari, every touch of skin, made your whole body feel with like jelly. Your stomach was filled with butterflies, and you didn’t know if you could keep being this brave and holding his hand.

You pulled your body back as you said you would.

You began to shout over the music “Don’t worry about hurting me, just pull-“ Kaminari pulled your arm back just at the right time, taking you off guard. Your hand instinctively went to Kaminari’s chest, forcing yourself to look into his eyes. You got lost in that electric yellow, the blonde hair flopping down on his forehead complementing them perfectly. Your heart went into overdrive, the blood pulsing in your ears as you both stared at each other, both surprised how intimate that got.

You smiled breathlessly as Kaminari’s cheeks grew with a tint of red.

“This is gonna work.”

————-

Hope you all are having an amazing day or night wherever you are at!!!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN MA DUDES

[twisted-broth]

Princess of Hell- Jack x reader

Reader gender: female

Warnings: greif, nightmares, death

Requested by anon on tumblr: can I get a jack x reader where the reader is Crowley’s and jack begins to like her the more time they spend together in the bunker. (Reader is there because Crowley left her instructions on where to go in case he ever died.)

A/n: so I guess when I posted this a few months ago it didn’t work so it’s here again yay

Word count: 1483

You could feel the second that he left you. Your heart twisted in pain and you screamed until your throat gave out. You told him not to go.

Why did he have to go?

You could only pray that the Winchester’s had survived, even if he couldn’t.

“If one day I don’t come back,” he told you, “you have to go here.” He slid you a piece of paper with an address on it. “This is where the Winchester’s live. They’ll take care of you.”

You were sure many of dad’s demons wouldn’t stay loyal for long after they learn about his death, so you had to move quickly. You threw together a suitcase and fished out the paper from a desk drawer.

You read over it a couple of times before willing yourself to appear there.

Due to the many layers of wardings coating the bunker walls, you appeared outside the door. You tried the doorknob of the metal door, only for it to not budge.

Sighing, you sank down next to the door and pulled out your phone.

You scrolled through the list of contacts before finding Sam’s name and giving him a call.

“Hello?” He answered after a few rings.

“Sam Winchester? My name’s Y/n. I’m Crowley’s daughter.” You explained.

“Crowley, yeah he’s mentioned you. Listen, Y/n, what happened to him, that was-”

You cut him off, “It wasn’t your fault, I’m sure. But, he told me that if he were to ever… pass, I should come to your bunker. He said I would be safe here.”

“Crowley helped us a lot. The least we can do is protect you. I think- yeah, the key is under the doormat.”

“The best hunters in the world keep the key to their bunker under the doormat?” You sighed.

“You gotta admit, it’s not an obvious choice.” He defended.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

You hung up and stood, brushing yourself off. You kneeled down next to the doormat and lifted it up, revealing the key underneath. You grabbed it and inserted it into the knob of the metal door. The knob turned and the door swung open with ease.

You entered the bunker and marveled at the size of it all. Hauling your suitcase down the stairs, you admired the vast library. You wandered aimlessly through the cement building before arriving at a hallway which appeared to house bedrooms.

Opening the door to the first one, you saw a messy bed with trash and beer bottles littering the floor. Dean’s room, you assumed.

The next had a neat bed with lore books scattered everywhere. Sam’s room, most likely.

The next was very similar, only with a messier floor and bed, but not nearly as bad as Dean’s. You figured it was probably Mary’s.

The next room looked almost untouched. The only sign that it was in use was the two lore books on the foot of the bed and a few creases in the blanket. Castiel’s room, without a doubt.

The second to last room you came across was empty, dust still coating the furniture. You entered, immediately taking it upon yourself to personalize it.

You unpacked your clothes first. You then pulled out the posters and other things you had shoved into your case and hung them up around the room. You made your way over to the bathroom which connected with the room next to yours. Searching through the cabinets, you found cleaning supplies and set to work on the untouched room.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you collapsed on the bed, alone with your thoughts. Finally able to relax, your mind drifted to your dad. You took a shaky breath, realization hitting you like a sack of bricks. Your eyes quickly filled with tears. You silently mourned, nothing left to distract you from your harsh reality.

You spent the next three days in solitude, waiting for the arrival of the legends. You managed to finally understand the layout of the complicated building after pacing the hallways so many times. You ended up sleeping most of the time, despite not needing it. It was a good way to pass the time, and you didn’t have to think when you slept.

Near the end of the third day, you were scanning the library books when the door swung open. You froze as three people entered.

“Y/n?” The first one asked when he saw you.

You nodded, slowly placing the book in your hand back onto the shelf you pulled it from.

“I’m Sam.” He said, coming down the stairs with the other two following behind him. “This is Dean.” He pointed to the person behind him. “And this is Jack.” He finished, gesturing to the last person.

“The nephilim?” You gasped.

“Unfortunately.” Dean muttered, briskly walking passed you and to the kitchen.

“He’s not in the best mood.” Sam sighed, trailing after him.

The room fell silent, you and Jack standing in front of each other in awkward silence.

“Are you like me?” He asked, finally breaking the silence between you.

“I guess so. My mother was human and my father was a demon. I’d be hunted relentlessly if I stayed on Earth. So, dad brought me down to Hell and kept me under his protection.” You shrugged, not wanting to go into too much detail.

“Quite similar to my situation.” He acknowledged. “The Winchesters brought me here to keep me safe.”

“Do you want me to… show you around?” You offered.

He nodded, signaling for you to lead him through the hallways you had come to memorize.

You gave him a quick tour, attempting to sound like you knew what you were doing.

“So, this is some sort of science room. Most of this stuff looks radioactive, I wouldn’t touch anything.”

“This is like a torture room or something. I try not to spend too much time in here, seeing as almost everything in here could kill me.”

“I have no idea what this is supposed to be.”

Once you were finished, you led him down the hallway of rooms. You pointed out who you thought each one belonged to. Finally, you showed him to the last room in the line; the one he would have.

“This room will be yours. My room is right next door, feel free to come over if you’re bored. I’m almost always bored so it’ll be appreciated.” You finished.

“Thank you. I enjoyed walking with you.” He told you.

“Oh… thanks.” You shrugged and turned to your room.

Jack quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving. “I’m sorry about your father. I didn’t know him, but Sam and Dean thought very highly of him. I… I made a mistake, but he fixed it. If not for him, Lucifer would still be here.” Jack said, consoling you.

“I… thanks, Jack. I guess I really needed that.” You sighed.

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” He released your arm and brought his hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. You turned and entered your room, a small smile resting on your face.

It was a relief to know that there was someone you could talk to in the cement prison. You had always lived in Hell where hallways seemed to go on forever, and you found a new room on every adventure. Everything felt so small, so suffocated here. You flopped onto the bed and willed yourself to sleep, attempting to avoid the whirling thoughts in your head.

—-

You awoke with a start as metal banging echoed through the room. You quickly realized what you had heard was knocks on your door. You turned on a light and walked over to the door. Once it had swung open, you saw Jack before you.

“Hey Jack. Can I help you?” You asked him.

“You know the sleep thing that the humans do?” He asked innocently.

You laughed at his phrasing, “Yeah I know it.”

“Well, I tried that and when I went to sleep I saw these pictures in my head like I was awake except I wasn’t.”

“That’s called a dream, Jack. It happens when you sleep sometimes.” You explained as you led him from the doorway to your bed.

“I didn’t like it.” He said quietly. “I watched my mother die while Lucifer stood in the corner and laughed. I tried to go to her but I couldn’t move. I just didn’t want her to be alone when she died.”

“She wasn’t alone, Jack. I was told that Mary was there. And so were you.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you, Y/n. I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep again for a while, though.”

“That’s alright. I don’t need to sleep either so I’ll stay with you.” You smiled.

“I would like that.” Jack said, smiling up at you.

You gave the neifilem a hug. “I think we’re gonna be good friends, Jack.”

Jack leaned into your embrace. “I think so too.”

Tag list:

@kirstentheineffectiveemo

@mistypancake10666 @thatshellfiredean @all-hail-supernatural @fand0maniac @draiela @bisexualdolphinthings @consultingpals @justasmalltownsuperwholock @lostnliterature

[monstersandmaw]

Submission to Ghosti - Merman x female character (sfw)

I did edit this a little, but only the title, and adding in a ‘read more’ so that it’s not a super long post.

I would just like to add that normally it'd be polite to ask if someone is ok with posting a long story by someone else on their own writing blog first before submitting it, but since the story was one I felt my followers would enjoy, I decided that this time I would post it. Please, in future, if you have something you'd like me to post for you, come and talk to me in chat first. This is, after all, my own platform for my own writing, and if you want to write your own stories, then it's easy enough to make a side-blog for that.

Thanks, Ghosti

a captured merman befriends a bandit girl caught by a pirate crew and they both escape together

Escape.

It was the only thought I harbored in my mind as I laboriously dragged myself to the steps of the cargo hold leading up to the deck. I was a truly pitiful sight, a powerful, graceful, and (to the wrong people) deadly creature, now feeble, helpless, outside my element.

If only I could make it up to the deck, I thought, as I reached the bottom step of the stairs and placed a webbed hand onto the wooden rung. None of the crew were probably awake at this time.

All I’d have to do was to scale the short flight of steps, up to the deck, drag myself across the ship, haul myself up over the railing and leap overboard, to freedom.

Which was easier said than done, when you’ve got no legs and holding your breath the whole time.

With great effort, I tried to pull myself up the few steps, my wet, slippery hands trying to find purchase onto the steps while my tail dragged uselessly behind like dead weight.

Damn, this was humiliating.

If only the rest of my pod could see me now. They, who spoke of how dreadful the landwalkers were, with their woven traps and spears of death, who killed and plundered the ocean’s inhabitants without mercy. Who would pay dearly to get their dirty scaleless hands onto one of our kind.

I had been too arrogant, and now I paid the price.

“Going somewhere, eh, fish-boy?”

I barely had enough time to register the voice before a heavy blow connected with my face, sending me sprawling across the floor. I turned, barely catching a glimpse of the captain’s ugly mug before a boot-clad foot landed heavily onto my back and pinned me to the floor, knocking the breath out of my ‘lungs’.

(Well, not exactly lungs. I have no lungs and cannot breathe air. They were more like gills within my chest, openining out through four pairs of slits in my ribs out of which I exhaled water–ah dammit. I’m no educated scholar and no place to explain how my lungs, or gills, or whatever they were, functioned to help me breathe…)

But I did know that they needed water.

Water that I’d coughed out from the breath I was holding, now spilled out onto the floor and of no use to me.

My panicked gasps only drew the stinging, unfulfilling air into my chest, choking me with its emptiness. I struggled feebly against the captain’s unrelenting boot while he, with his one green eye and cruel, crooked grin, gazed sadistically down at me.

“Well, well, well,” he growled. “Looks like our catch of the day is trying to make a getaway, eh?”

I flopped helplessly under his weight, turning my head desperately toward the bucket in the cargo hold and the life-giving liquid it contained. They’d locked me into the hold with only that bucket to keep me alive, with just enough water to breathe out of.

Water that was hopelessly out of my reach.

Two crew members, probably roused by the noise of the fiasco, entered the hold to take a look and bellowed in laughter, cruelly mocking my torment. “Looks like the little fishy wants the water,” guffawed one.

The captain cackled, “Listen here, fish-boy, do as I say, and maybe we’ll let you live once you hit land. You’re gonna be worth a fortune once the merchants get their eyes on a real, live Mer,” he gloated, greedily eyeing me from the top of my pale-haired head to my crimson tail fin. “But of course, if you refuse to cooperate…" 

He threateningly laid a hand onto my precious bucket.

Oh no.

”…then we could just let 'cha dry up and die so you’ll finally shut up, eh? I’m pretty sure your smelly carcass would still be worth some gold, heh heh heh. You know the folks by the southlands say that eating the flesh of a mermaid will make you live forever?“

I gagged at the thought, in addition to my gags of suffocation.

"That is, unless you wanna live, eh fish-boy? So what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep still quit thrashing about?”

I hated to comply to the disgusting man’s wishes, but I had no choice. Begrudgingly, I nodded in approval.

“There’s a good fishy,” he crooned. “They’ll find a nice home for you at the freak show or somethin, heh heh.”

He released his foot from my back and at once I struggled toward the bucket, frantically gasping for air. My chest burned, my throat ached, my skin itched, my entire body was violently begging for water.

Water.

The captain and his crewmates still said something as they walked up back from the deck, but their words were drowned out in the dizzying haze that clouded my mind, seconds away from losing consciousness. I squirmed and wriggled and flopped frantically toward the pail of salvation, with but a single thought racing through my mind:

“waterwaterwaterwaterwaterWATERWATERWATERWATER–”

With a loud splash I dunked my head into the bucket, inhaling convulsively as water rushed into my gills again. Despite my dire situation I at least felt slightly more safe now, now that I wasn’t suffocating anymore.

It felt good to breathe again. 

It wasn’t long before the last of my strength left me, and I passed out. I was a pathetic sight, pale like a drowned corpse with my head dunked in a pail, my graceful fins all slopped limply onto the wooden floor like wet rags, lying motionlessly upon the floor and barely alive.

But nonetheless, still alive.

————————–

I had no clue how many hours had passed when I was awoken by a loud scuffle above on deck. Taking a deep breath of water, I lifted my head out of the pail to see what was going on, just as the captain’s crew tossed a heavy, struggling bundle into the hold, which landed next to me with a loud thud.

“Why don'tcha stay down there with the man-fish, you thieving whore of a sea rat!” yelled a crewmember from above.

“Do you think it’s gonna eat her?” whispered another.

Her?

Holding my breath, I cautiously crawled toward the thrashing, wailing bundle and pulled off the tattered dirty cloth covering it, taking my first look at what was going to be my new room-mate for the next few days to come.

It was a human girl.

Her dark, curly hair covered much of her face, but I could see the surprise and terror in her big, brown eyes as she quickly looked at whatever had pulled the bag off of her head. She stopped struggling against her bonds and stared at me, a faint, terrified whimper emerging from the back of her throat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen a merman before.

Pulling myself back to my bucket to take another breath, I gazed upon the newcomer. She was a brown-skinned little one, clad in colorful fabrics and with strange, shiny stones dangling from her ears, and her hair, though messy, beautifully crowned her narrow, elegant face.

Beautiful.

Maybe I was going mad from the lack of water, but somehow this accursed, monstrous landwalker was beautiful.

A pain in my chest suddenly snapped my mesmerized gaze from her and I dunked my head back into the bucket to take another breath. Her frightened gaze turned into a sort of horrified fascination as she struggled into a sitting position to get a better look at the strange flopping, gasping, scaly creature before her.

“W-w-what are you?” she stuttered.

Peering up from my bucket, I met her gaze and nodded, pointing to myself.

“You-you can understand me?”

I nodded, eager to make a connection with this fascinating being, sure, one of those landwalkers, but still, company after being alone for way too long.

“Can you-can you talk?”

I shook my head in slight dismay. Of course I was able to speak- underwater, that is. But I couldn’t speak without water, or even breathe, for that matter, so for now, some nods and shakes had to do.

She looked down at me, at my dry and flaking scales and at the numerous bleeding cuts I had sustained from flopping about on the splintery floor. Her face turned into a wince of pity.

“Those bastards,” she muttered. “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor…thing.”

Poor thing, eh.

She was just as much a 'poor thing’ as I was, her ankles and wrists bound in ropes, bruises and cuts blemishing her face, her clothes tattered and torn, and locked up in a cargo ship bound for prison or death.

They’d treated me with unspeakable cruelty, but it seemed that they treated their own kind no better. Those bastards, indeed.

“Say,” she whispered, after a moment. “You couldn’t be one of those Mer-people I’ve been hearing about, are you? You look an awful lot like what the old sailors spoke of, one half handsome lad, one half scaly fish, hmm?”

I nodded.

“Eh. I wonder how a creature like you somehow ended up in this shithole of a boat.”

I wished I could tell her, how I was hauled up in a net, tied up by the crew, how I chewed through my binds with my sharp teeth and whacked them around with my tail, taking almost half the crew to subdue me. Boy, that would have been a tale to tell, if only I could speak to her, outside of the water–

Wait.

Ropes.

Sharp teeth.

Taking another breath from my bucket, I dug my hands into the floor and pulled myself toward her, my tail scraping painfully across the wooden floor. She inched backwards slightly, as I grabbed her bound hands, causing her to whimper uneasily.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she cried, as she saw a flash of my pearly white pointed teeth.

I raised a finger gently, trying to tell her that I meant her no harm. I didn’t know if she understood, but I started getting to work.

She held back a muffled scream. Perhaps she thought I was going to devour her?

Her terror quickly vanished though, as the ropes around her wrists snapped. Suddenly, a look of joyful realization crept across her face.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You’re helping me escape.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t long before my sharp teeth made quick work of the bindings around her ankles. She stretched her legs in relief, as I retreated to take another breath from my bucket.

I couln’t help but gaze at her legs. They seemed so strange, so alien, almost like a pair of extra arms where a tail should be, but with stubby little fingers that were useless for grasping. They were so bizarre and yet strangely enchanting, and I couldn’t help but gaze in awe as she rose to a standing position, her unwieldy limbs supporting her weight in this choking emptiness of an atmosphere.

She headed up the steps of the cargo hold, up toward the deck. My heart sank as I realized she was leaving me.

She looked back and met my gaze once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She started to head up the steps but suddenly hesitated, and she turned back again and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sorrowfully.  “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.”

But as she took one long look around the cargo hold, he stopped in surprise.

“Or can I?”

———————-

It was a stupid solution.

A novel, but utterly stupid solution.

She had located two other buckets in the hold, and had filled them with water from one of the barrels. She placed one at the foot of the stairs, and another one out onto the deck. Fortunately, the crew were all asleep at this point, and there was none to witness the strange sight of a girl hauling a bucket out onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the night.

“Well, here goes nuthin’,” she groaned, as she stepped back down into the hold. “You’re clearly too heavy for me to carry, so you’ll have to crawl there on your own. But at least I helped, a little. It’s the best I can do.”

I smiled and nodded back at her.

“It’s the least I can do for the merman who saved my life.”

And with a swift step she was gone, heading up onto the deck to freedom.

Slowly I began to drag myself toward the bucket at the base of the stairs. It was actually a pretty clever idea, I couldn’t get past this point without suffocating and having to head back. She’d given me a couple of rest stops to breathe from.

Taking a deep breath from the bucket below the stairs, I headed up the steps one rung at a time. It was still difficult with my tail weighing me down, but with a gillful of water from the second bucket I had the strength to haul myself upward, step by step until i flopped exhausted onto the deck.

Before me was the third and final bucket. One more stop and I was almost there to freedom.

Having taken a breath, one last breath before my escape, I headed toward the railing of the ship. The sound of the waves was tantilizingly close, the salty smell of the breeze, the splashing of the water onto the deck…

I was almost free.

Suddenly, just as I was a few drags away from the railing, I heard a loud scream behind me. I turned and looked, and to my horror, I saw the landwalker girl, caught in the iron grasp of the evil, bloodthirsty captain, screaming in terror as he seized her by one arm.

“Well, if it ain’t the little bitch, trying to make a getaway in one of our lifeboats!” He gazed out at me, laying upon the wooden floor. “And you’ve freed our little fish friend too, eh? I won’t get a bag of gold for him now, but your blood would make a pretty neat consolation prize, you wretched whore!”

He lifted up a curved blade and pointed it at her throat.

Damn it, was I ever in a dilemma.

On one side, the freedom of the ocean just a few feet away.

And on the other, the life of a landwalker girl.

And never have I thought I would make such a decision.

In the biggest twist in all my life I found myself turning away from the sea, giving up my chance at escape for a landwalker girl I’d barely even known for a day.

And yet somewhere in my flopping, suffocating, water-deprived heart I knew I wouldn’t regret that decision.

——————-

With a terrible unearthly cry I launched myself at the captain, pinning him to the floor. I never even knew how I managed to make such a horrible sound outside the water, but I didn’t even care at the moment.

I was way too fucking pissed off.

I viciously tore at the captain with all my hate, with all the torment and suffering I had endured at his hand for the past few days, with all the brutality he had inflicted onto this poor landwalker girl I didn’t even have a name for, clawing and biting at his face with the ferocity of a furious shark, thrashing about wildly on deck…

“ARGHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!” he cried out, muffled. He dropped his blade, but he still had the landwalker girl in his grasp, his horrid, disgusting grasp…

…and in one final act of hateful cruelty, he shoved her overboard.

With a loud scream she plummeted into the ocean and hit the surf with a splash. I snapped out of my bloodthirsty rage and looked out at where she had fallen.

“Heh heh heh…” laughed the captain, pinned to the floor and bleeding all over his face. “If I can’t have a merman to sell…then you can’t have your slimy little slut either!” He cackled evilly, his green eye gazing at me, mocking me, tempting my rage…

And in a fit of fury, as a little parting gift, I sank my clawed hand into his face and ripped his damn eye out.

Pity he only had one.

Gasping for air, I flopped after the landwalker girl, hauling myself over the railing and leaping into the safety of the ocean just as the blinded captain’s screams of terror began to rouse the rest of the crew.

—————-

She was alive, but barely.

She drifted limply down as she sank, and I caught a glimpse of her dark mop of hair just as my body hit the surface.

It felt wonderful to be in the ocean again.

But I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy it.

For the very same water that gave me life, that breathed and lived in, was slowly choking the life out of her. Oh the painful irony.

I pumped my tail as fast as I could, with my usual speed and grace that I was denied of on land, and in the blink of an eye I grasped her around her waist and began to pull her up.

She broke the surface gasping and choking, desperate for the air as desperate I was for the water, clinging onto me as tightly as she could  as I held her above the surface, allowing her to catch a few breaths. She clung onto me tightly, sputtering, as we swam away from the wretched boat that had been our prison, and the captain’s screams of pain and rage faded away into the distance.

Once we had cleared enough distance we stopped at the shallows, next to a small island that jutted out from beyond the reef. It was small and deserted, but it was a place for her to be safe until she was rescued.

As we bobbed in the clear green waters, she spoke.

“Thank you for saving me. Again.”

With a smile, I gazed at her and pointed downwards. She seemed to get the message, taking a deep breath and dipping her head below the water.

And now that I was under water, now that I could breathe once more, I was finally able to speak again.

“Thank you,” I told her.

[frodos-bizarre-adventure]

Merman x Bandit Girl

A little thing I originally posted on @monstersandmaw (and also to @monsterkinkmeme) and while they were nice enough to share it on their blog, they did say that their site was exclusively for their own works and and for prompts.

So again, apologies to you guys to any inconveniences I might have caused. I'm just rather new to Tumblr and still trying to get the hang of stuff, and I just wanted to share a little thing for you guys' viewing pleasure. Feel free to share it from here instead if you wish, and hope you enjoy it :)

⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫

Escape.

It was the only thought I harbored in my mind as I laboriously dragged myself to the steps of the cargo hold leading up to the deck. I was a truly pitiful sight, a powerful, graceful, and (to the wrong people) deadly creature, now feeble, helpless, outside my element.

If only I could make it up to the deck, I thought, as I reached the bottom step of the stairs and placed a webbed hand onto the wooden rung. None of the crew were probably awake at this time.

All I’d have to do was to scale the short flight of steps, up to the deck, drag myself across the ship, haul myself up over the railing and leap overboard, to freedom.

Which was easier said than done, when you got no legs and holding your breath the whole time.

With great effort, I tried to pull myself up the few steps, my wet, slippery hands trying to find purchase onto the steps while my tail dragged uselessly behind like dead weight.

Damn, this was humiliating.

If only the rest of my pod could see me now. They, who spoke of how dreadful the landwalkers were, with their woven traps and spears of death, who killed and plundered the ocean’s inhabitants without mercy. Who would pay dearly to get their dirty scaleless hands onto one of our kind.

I had been too arrogant, and now I paid the price.

I wanted to see for myself just how dreadful these creatures were, and see it I did.

“Going somewhere, eh, fish-boy?”

I barely had enough time to register the voice before a heavy blow connected with my face, sending me sprawling across the floor. I turned, barely catching a glimpse of the captain’s ugly mug before a boot-clad foot landed heavily onto my back and pinned me to the floor, knocking the breath out of my ‘lungs’.

(Well, not exactly lungs. I have no lungs and cannot breathe air. They were more like gills within my chest, openining out through four pairs of slits in my ribs out of which I exhaled water–ah dammit. I’m no educated scholar and in no place to explain how my lungs, or gills, or whatever they were, functioned to help me breathe…)

But I did know that they needed water.

Water that I’d coughed out from the breath I was holding, now spilled out onto the floor and of no use to me.

My panicked gasps only drew the stinging, unfulfilling air into my chest, choking me with its emptiness. I struggled feebly against the captain’s unrelenting boot while he, with his one green eye and cruel, crooked grin, peered sadistically down at me.

“Well, well, well,” he growled. “Looks like our catch of the day is trying to make a getaway, eh?”

I flopped helplessly under his weight, turning my head desperately toward the bucket in the cargo hold and the life-giving liquid it contained. They’d locked me into the hold with only that bucket to keep me alive, with just enough water to breathe out of.

Water that was hopelessly out of my reach.

Two crew members, probably roused by the noise of the fiasco, entered the hold to take a look and bellowed in laughter, cruelly mocking my torment. “Looks like the little fishy wants the water,” guffawed one, watching me gasping feebly and reaching out deperately for the old wooden pail.

My head began to spin as my vision started fading. I needed water very soon, or else... or else I would die.

The captain cackled, “Listen here, fish-boy, do as I say, and maybe we’ll let you live once you hit land. You’re gonna be worth a fortune once the merchants get their eyes on a real, live Mer,” he gloated, greedily eyeing me from the top of my pale-haired head to my crimson tail fin. “But of course, if you refuse to cooperate…" 

He threateningly laid a hand onto my precious bucket.

Oh no.

He knew I couldn't survive very long without water, and now he was using it against my mind, to break my will.

Please. No.

”…then we could just let ‘cha dry up and die so you’ll finally shut up, eh? I’m pretty sure your smelly carcass would still be worth some gold, heh heh heh. You know the folks by the southlands say that eating the flesh of a mermaid will make you live forever?“

I gagged at the thought, in addition to my gags of suffocation.

“That is, unless you wanna live, eh fish-boy? So what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep still quit thrashing about?”

I hated to comply to the disgusting man’s wishes, but I had no choice. Begrudgingly, I nodded in approval.

“There’s a good fishy,” he crooned. “They’ll find a nice home for you at the freak show or somethin, heh heh.”

He released the crushing weight of his foot from my back and at once I struggled toward the bucket, frantically gasping for air, dry, scorching air that stung my parched gills and choked me from within. My chest burned, my throat ached, my skin itched, my entire body was violently begging for water.

Water.

The captain and his crewmates still said something as they walked up back from the deck, but their words were drowned out in the dizzying haze that clouded my mind, seconds away from losing consciousness. I squirmed and wriggled and flopped frantically, desperately, toward the pail of salvation, with nothing, none but a single thought racing through my mind:

“waterwaterwaterwaterwaterWATERWATERWATERWATER–”

With a loud splash I dunked my head into the bucket, inhaling convulsively as water rushed into my gills again. Despite my dire situation I at least felt slightly more safe now, now that I wasn’t suffocating anymore.

It was a relief from the pain of drying out.

It felt good to breathe again. 

It wasn’t long before the last of my strength left me, and I passed out. I was a pathetic sight, pale like a drowned corpse with my head dunked in a pail, my graceful fins all slopped limply onto the wooden floor like wet rags, lying motionlessly upon the floor and barely alive.

But nonetheless, still alive.

————————–

I had no clue how many hours had passed when I was awoken by a loud scuffle above on deck. Taking a deep breath of water, I lifted my head out of the pail to see what was going on, just as the captain’s crew tossed a heavy, struggling bundle into the hold, which landed next to me with a loud thud.

“Why don'tcha stay down there with the man-fish, you thieving whore of a sea rat!” yelled a crewmember from above.

“Do you think it’s gonna eat her?” whispered another.

Her?

Holding my breath, I cautiously crawled toward the thrashing, wailing bundle and pulled off the tattered dirty cloth covering it, taking my first look at what was going to be my new room-mate for the next few days to come.

It was a human girl.

Her dark, curly hair covered much of her face, but I could see the surprise and terror in her big, brown eyes as she quickly looked at whatever had pulled the bag off of her head. She stopped struggling against her bonds, thick and heavy ropes knotted firmly around her ankles and wrists, and stared at me, a faint, terrified whimper emerging from the back of her throat.

I don’t think she’s ever seen a merman before.

Pulling myself back to my bucket to take another breath, I curiously inspected the newcomer from a distance. She was a brown-skinned little one, clad in colorful fabrics and with strange, shiny stones dangling from her ears, and her hair, though messy, beautifully crowned her narrow, elegant face.

Beautiful.

Maybe I was going mad from the lack of water, but somehow this accursed, monstrous landwalker was beautiful.

A pain in my chest suddenly snapped my mesmerized gaze from her and I dunked my head back into the bucket to take another breath. Her frightened glare turned into a sort of horrified fascination as she struggled into a sitting position to get a better look at the strange flopping, gasping, scaly creature before her.

“W-w-what are you?” she stuttered.

Peering up from my bucket, I met her gaze and nodded, pointing to myself.

“You-you can understand me?”

I nodded, eager to make a connection with this fascinating being, sure, one of those landwalkers, but still, company after being alone for way too long.

“Can you-can you talk?”

I shook my head in slight dismay. Of course I was able to speak- underwater, that is. But I couldn’t speak without water, or even breathe, for that matter, so for now, some nods and shakes had to do.

She looked down at me, at my dry and flaking scales and at the numerous bleeding cuts I had sustained from flopping about on the splintery floor. Her face turned into a wince of pity.

“Those bastards,” she muttered. “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor…thing.”

Poor thing, eh.

She was just as much a 'poor thing’ as I was, her ankles and wrists bound in ropes, bruises and cuts blemishing her face, her clothes tattered and torn, and locked up in a cargo ship bound for prison or death.

They’d treated me with unspeakable cruelty, but it seemed that they treated their own kind no better. Those bastards, indeed.

“Say,” she whispered, after a moment. “You couldn’t be one of those Mer-people I’ve been hearing about, are you? You look an awful lot like what the old sailors spoke of, one half handsome lad, one half scaly fish, hmm?” she laughed dryly.

I nodded.

“Eh. I wonder how a creature like you somehow ended up in this shithole of a boat.”

I wished I could speak.

I wished I could tell her, how I was hauled up in a net, tied up by the crew, how I chewed through my binds with my sharp teeth and whacked them around with my tail, taking almost half the crew to subdue me. Boy, that would have been a tale to tell, if only I could talk to her, in the air and outside of the water–

Wait.

Ropes.

Sharp teeth.

Taking another breath from my bucket, I dug my hands into the floor and pulled myself toward her, my tail scraping painfully across the wooden floor. She inched backwards slightly, seemingly alarmed by my sudden approach, as I grabbed her bound hands, causing her to whimper uneasily.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” she cried, as she saw a flash of my pearly white pointed teeth.

I raised a finger gently, trying to tell her that I meant her no harm. I didn’t know if she understood, but I started getting to work.

She held back a muffled scream. Perhaps she thought I was going to devour her?

Was that what the old sailors had taught her about merfolk?

Her terror quickly vanished though, as the ropes around her wrists snapped. Suddenly, a look of joyful realization crept across her face.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You’re helping me escape.”

I nodded.

It wasn’t long before my sharp teeth made quick work of the bindings around her ankles. She stretched her legs in relief, as I retreated to take another breath from my bucket.

I couln’t help but gaze at her legs. They seemed so strange, so alien, almost like a pair of extra arms where a tail should be, but with stubby little fingers that were useless for grasping. They were so bizarre and yet strangely enchanting, and I couldn’t help but marvel in awe as she rose to a standing position, her unwieldy limbs supporting her weight in this choking emptiness of an atmosphere.

She headed up the steps of the cargo hold, up toward the deck. My heart sank as I realized she was leaving me.

She looked back and met eyes with once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She started to head up the steps but suddenly hesitated, and she turned back again and I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sorrowfully.  “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me.”

But as she took one long look around the cargo hold, she stopped in surprise.

As if having a sudden grand realization.

“Or can I?”

———————-

It was a stupid solution.

A novel, but utterly stupid solution.

She had located two other buckets in the hold, and had filled them with water from one of the barrels that had been placed on a high shelf. She placed one at the foot of the stairs, and another one out onto the deck. Fortunately, the crew were all asleep at this point, and there was none to witness the strange sight of a girl hauling a bucket of water out onto the deck of a ship in the middle of the night.

“Well, here goes nuthin’,” she groaned, as she stepped back down into the hold. “You’re clearly too heavy for me to carry, so you’ll have to crawl there on your own. But at least I helped, a little. It’s the best I can do.”

I smiled and nodded back at her.

She smiled back. “It’s the least I can do for the merman who saved my life.”

And with a swift step she was gone, heading up onto the deck to freedom.

Slowly I began to drag myself toward the bucket at the base of the stairs. It was actually a pretty clever idea, I couldn’t get past this point without suffocating and having to head back. She’d given me a couple of rest stops to breathe from. I could only hold by breath on land for a couple of minutes, and her little trick here was a lifesaver.

Literally.

Taking a deep breath from the bucket below the stairs, I headed up the steps one rung at a time. It was still difficult with my arms doing all the work and my tail weighing me down, but with a gillful of water from the second bucket I had the strength to haul myself upward, step by step until I flopped exhausted onto the deck.

Before me was the third and final bucket. One more stop and I was almost there to freedom.

Having taken a breath from it, one last breath before my escape, I headed toward the railing of the ship. The sound of the waves was tantilizingly close, the salty smell of the breeze, the splashing of the water onto the deck…

I was almost free.

Suddenly, just as I was a few drags away from the railing, I heard a loud scream behind me. I turned and looked, and to my horror, I saw the landwalker girl, caught in the iron grasp of the evil, bloodthirsty captain, screaming in terror as he seized her by one arm.

“Well, if it ain’t the little bitch, trying to make a getaway in one of our lifeboats!” He glared out with his one eye at me, laying upon the wooden floor. “And you’ve freed our little fish friend too, eh? I won’t get a bag of gold for him now, but your blood would make a pretty neat consolation prize, you wretched whore!”

He lifted up a curved blade and pointed it at her throat.

Damn it, was I ever in a dilemma.

On one side, the freedom of the ocean just a few feet away.

And on the other, the life of a landwalker girl.

And never have I thought I would make such an unexpected choice.

In the biggest turn of events in all my life I found myself turning away from the sea, giving up my chance at escape for a landwalker girl I’d barely even known for a day.

And yet somewhere in my flopping, suffocating, water-deprived heart I knew I wouldn’t regret that decision.

——————-

With a terrible unearthly cry I launched myself at the captain, pinning him to the floor. I never even knew how I managed to make such a horrible sound outside the water, or how I'd covered such a distance in just a few flops, but I didn’t even care at the moment.

I was way too fucking pissed off.

I viciously tore at the captain with my claws, teeth, and all my hate, with all the torment and suffering I had endured at his hand for the past few days, with all the brutality he had inflicted onto this poor landwalker girl I didn’t even have a name for, clawing and biting at his face with the ferocity of a furious shark, thrashing about wildly on deck…

“ARGHHH! GET THIS THING OFF ME!” he cried out, muffled. He dropped his blade, but he still had the landwalker girl, who had fallen to the floor in the tussle, in his grasp, his horrid, disgusting grasp…

…and in one final act of hateful cruelty, he shoved her overboard.

With a loud scream she plummeted into the ocean and hit the surf with a splash. I snapped out of my bloodthirsty rage and looked out at where she had fallen.

“Heh heh heh…” laughed the captain, pinned to the floor and bleeding all over his face. “If I can’t have a merman to sell…then you can’t have your slimy little slut either!” He cackled evilly, his green eye leering at me, mocking me, tempting my rage…

And in a fit of fury, as a little parting gift, I sank my clawed hand into his face and ripped his damn eye out.

Pity he only had one.

Gasping for air, I flopped after the landwalker girl, hauling myself with great effort over the railing and leaping into the safety of the ocean just as the blinded captain’s screams of terror began to rouse the rest of the crew.

—————-

She was alive, but barely.

She drifted limply down as she sank, and I caught a glimpse of her dark mop of hair just as my body hit the surface.

It felt wonderful to be in the ocean again.

But I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy it.

For the very same water that gave me life, that soothed my parched scales, that I breathed and lived in, was slowly choking the life out of her. Oh, the painful irony.

I pumped my tail as fast as I could, with my usual speed and grace that I was denied of on land, and in the blink of an eye I grasped her around her waist and began to pull her up.

She broke the surface gasping and choking, desperate for the air as desperate I was for the water, clinging onto me as tightly as she could as I held her above the surface, allowing her to catch a few breaths. She clung onto me tightly, sputtering, as we swam away from the wretched boat that had been our prison, and soon the ship, and the captain’s screams of pain and rage, faded away into the distance.

Once we had cleared enough distance, after several hours or so, we stopped at the shallows, next to a small island that jutted out from beyond the reef. It was small and deserted, but it was a place for her to be safe until she was rescued.

She clung tightly onto my back, visibly exhausted but elated to be alive, and free.

As we bobbed just above the surface, in the sunlit clear green waters, she spoke.

“Thank you for saving me. Again." she whispered into my ear.

With a smile, I looked toward her and pointed downwards. She seemed to get the message, taking a deep breath and dipping her head below the water.

And now that I was under water, now that I could breathe once more, I was finally able to release my feelings that had been trapped in me for so long.

I was finally able to speak again.

For the first time to her.

“Thank you,” I told her.

[its-love-u-asshole]

as long as you come home [fic]

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Kuroo Tetsurou

Summary: Tsukishima wasn't afraid to admit he got scared, everyone did. He just didn't think he'd ever come this close to experiencing his greatest fear, waiting for Kuroo to come home hours after he should've been back. 

Rating: E

Tags: fluff and smut, established relationship, protective tsukki

Note: yoooo, alright I did kintober last year in much the same fashion (one fic a week or so), and hopefully I can do it again? I already have 3 done so I'm almost there! This one is by far my favorite of the bunch though, because I'm a sucker for sappy kurotsuki, so I wanted to post it first! I hope you enjoy, I really enjoyed writing this <3 Thanks @emeraldwaves for reading this over!

Read on AO3! 

It's late, it's storming outside, Kuroo should've been home hours ago, and Tsukishima is definitely not worried.

It's what he tells himself as he paces the floor of their shared apartment, wrapped up in one of Kuroo's old hoodies from high school, one he's grown out of in his quest to be "as ripped as Bokuto," like such a thing is even possible.

Just the memory makes him smile as the scent of his boyfriend envelops him, subtle and sweet, almost faded because of Tsukishima's own.

His not-worry grows stronger.

Another lightning strike illuminates the sky from where Tsukishima left the window open, and he flinches. A bad sign. The rain is usually his favorite kind of weather, soothing, cleansing. Now each trickle, every hit against the window pane makes him bite his nails further down to the nub.

He regrets not getting the phone number of Kuroo's friend, some guy from his chem class who invited Kuroo out for drinks. It's not an uncommon scenario.

Kuroo is a popular guy, and despite his usual preference to stay home and drown in blankets along with Tsukishima, he values his social connections. Plus, apparently this guy takes good notes.

He'd promised to be back before midnight, before their ritual snacking time. Tsukishima was going to make s’mores.

Yet, Kuroo had not kept his promise.

Tsukishima never minds when Kuroo goes out; Kuroo never fails to come home to him, on time, or with notice.

It's what makes tonight extra concerning.

Tsukishima isn't dramatic. He prefers the rational side of things, but well...even he's seen those soap operas. The ones where the fretting spouse waits and waits, only for the police to show up instead of their significant other, only to reveal--

No.

Absolutely not.

Tsukishima flops onto the giant beanbag Kuroo impulse bought a few weeks back, ignoring the pain of his stomach and the restlessness in his limbs. It doesn't help, because it smells like Kuroo too.

It's been over an hour.

Tsukishima called him once already, and texted twice, because usually more wouldn't be necessary. This is not like Kuroo, and again Tsukishima wishes he could do something. He doesn't even know what bar Kuroo is at, and in retrospect, that was probably also a mistake.

Maybe Kuroo just got drunk, had a little too much fun. It's not impossible to think he might've crashed at a friend's, unable to remember to let Tsukishima know.

If such is the case, Tsukishima will see him in the morning, apologetic and panicked, with a lovestruck expression too powerful for the blond to not forgive.

But Tsukishima doesn't know if he can survive til the morning, he's barely lasted an hour.

If he just knew Kuroo was alright, it would be enough.

Twenty more minutes pass, and Tsukishima's nails have started to hurt, but his stomach is too up in knots for him to stress eat. Is he being ridiculous?

Maybe.

Kuroo will come home and have a field day with this, surely. "You worry too much baby," he'll say, and Tsukishima will ignore him for a few minutes until he can't harness the strength anymore.

He hopes. He hopes and hopes and hopes some more, lying in a ball and staring at his cellphone, checking the ringer every five minutes.

When there's finally a knock at the door, all the lead in Tsukishima's legs lightens and suddenly he's a teleporter, or an olympian, with how fast he is at the doorstep and throwing it open.

His heart stopped somewhere in that millisecond, and his lungs join in on the fun, as his mouth opens the door with one choked, simple name. "Tetsu, where have you--"

It's only somewhat relief which makes his words die. After all, it is Kuroo, not the police, or some other poor soul tasked with giving him bad news. It's Kuroo.

Tsukishima's shoulders slump, shaking.

It's surprise which hits Tsukishima alongside relief, and the initial anger and panic he feels dissolves away when he sees the state of his boyfriend. He doesn't look like someone who deserves to be yelled at; he doesn't look sheepish or relaxed.

No, Kuroo looks so sad the way he is now, shaking like he's experiencing an earthquake right on their cheesy doormat, completely drenched and teeth chattering to levels which make Tsukishima's ears hurt.

Frowns don't suit Kuroo, Tsukishima realizes. Neither does guilt, or the pained relief of finally making it home. Tsukishima's heart hurts for him.

Kuroo is alive though. Alive.

It kicks Tsukishima into gear.

"Are you okay?!" Tsukishima asks, stupidly, voice trembling with something so unlike him, he might gag later. It's not about him right now though.

He doesn't let his boyfriend answer.

He pulls Kuroo in, slamming the door shut to keep out the cold, and fuck the neighbors if they think it's too loud. Tsukishima cares about absolutely nothing else except Kuroo. He doesn't even know what to do first, so he does everything.

He turns on the heater, cranking it up to insane levels as he fishes for towels in the nearby cupboards, draping one over Kuroo's shoulders and getting another for his hair.

Kuroo had barely recovered from an illness, Tsukishima couldn't let him fall back into one, but god his skin is so cold.

Okay, new plan.

He takes Kuroo's thick sport jacket and his jeans off in record time, too fast for Kuroo to make a dirty joke about it. Not that he can, his teeth are still clacking while Tsukishima fishes him new sweatpants and a t-shirt.

The old clothes are sopping wet, and Tsukishima has so many questions as he takes them to the hamper, feeling how heavy they sit in his hands. Freezing.

Again, Tsukishima wonders if there might've been something he could've done to prevent this, despite knowing close to nothing.

What he does know is he's ready to push someone into the Arctic Ocean for this; it's the only just equivalent for how his boyfriend is shivering in the middle of their living room.

When Tsukishima walks back in, Kuroo spots him, and Tsukishima hates the guilt in his eyes. At least he's got his new clothes on. "Kei, Kei I'm so sorr--"

Tsukishima crashes into him and they fall onto the monstrous beanbag, and Tsukishima is thankful he was unsuccessful in talking Kuroo out of it. He almost feels guilty for how Kuroo chokes, but Tsukishima can't help it.

Kuroo is never this cold. He's usually unbelievably, unbearably warm. Enough to be Tsukishima's personal heater during the winter, enough to make Tsukishima wake up sometimes because he's too warm, having fallen asleep pressed up against him.

Kuroo's skin should not be so chilled to the touch, and Tsukishima is desperate to return him to normal. Even if he has to throw his pride away to do so, it's fine. His worry has taken him out of his right mind, and he rubs his face in Kuroo's neck, squeezes him tighter, and only somewhat lets up when Kuroo starts to reciprocate in full.

Ah, it's Tsukishima's favorite. Kuroo's strong hands wrap around him easily, but they seem even more desperate than usual. This time Tsukishima is the warm one, like fire spreading to Kuroo's fingertips.

Better.

He doesn't have to say how scared he was, how concerned, he's sure Kuroo can feel it in the way Tsukishima clings and breathes. The embrace tightens, close enough to be otherwise suffocating, like when Kuroo is joking around.

"Don't leave meeee," he'll whine, on the off chance they don't have the same day off from work or school. Tsukishima would roll his eyes and push him off, because Kuroo is all for theatrics.

This is not one of those times.

Kuroo's nose bumps into Tsukishima's cheek, pressing, and Tsukishima lets him leave a few featherlight kisses there before he finds his voice. Kuroo is a little warmer now, and that security helps. "Where were you?"

It's one of about a million more questions he has in his head, but it's the best place to start.

"I-I thought your friend was giving you a ride?" Tsukishima continues, because in his defense, he's not good at comprehending these kinds of things. Plans and schedules are weirdly set in stone for him, there's no room for flexibility where time commitments are concerned. When something deviates, it stresses him out, even when he's not involved.

But c'mon, this is his boyfriend. Tsukishima can act as annoyed as he wants with Kuroo sometimes, can blush and act like he's reasonable enough to see logic in any situation. It's simply not true.

If Kuroo is involved, Tsukishima is involved. That's how it is, because Tsukishima loves this fool more than anything and the prospect of Kuroo one day not being around only makes Tsukishima want to sink into the ground or maybe fight Satan himself to give Kuroo back to him (they'd had this discussion before, pillow talk you know? neither of them are getting into heaven).

Kuroo can totally sense his agitation, he doesn't pause to tease or prod or calm him. He answers; Tsukishima deserves it. Kuroo sighs loudly, pulling away from Tsukishima, his hands already rubbing soothing circles onto his back. "He bailed on me. I was supposed to meet him at the bar next to that sushi place you like? But I was running late, and by the time I got there he'd already found some girl he liked and...yeah. They ended up bar-hopping for a bit, I stayed put. Some of my other friends were there so I didn't mind."

Kuroo winces then, maybe because he can feel the beginnings of anger seething under Tsukishima's skin, and because it's the next part which he undoubtedly knows will make his blond livid beyond all possible belief.

"Then what?" Tsukishima asks. It's the most relaxed tone he can manage, and it's not good at all.

Kuroo's expression turns into annoyance, and it makes sense. Kuroo's a nice guy, but he's not that nice. He dates Tsukishima for a reason. Salt soulmates. "Anyways, he said he'd still come pick me up after he'd gotten her number or whatever but, he never showed. I must've waited under the bar awning for thirty minutes, but he let all my calls go to voicemail. My friends had left already, I was alone."

Shit out of luck.

Tsukishima will kill this guy. It's not a cute hyperbole or empty promise, he's going to do it. It's not gonna be gentle, or swift, or merciful either.

In fact, Tsukishima is already getting up, like he's going to go find this guy right then, but Kuroo is dragging him back down just as fast. Damn, he knows Tsukishima a bit too well.

"Kei, Kei no," Kuroo warns, wrapping his arms around the blond's trembling frame. He knows he's being a little ridiculous. He barely knows this guy's name, much less where he lives or where to find him. But he's upset, he's more than upset. He's on a warpath.

From the bar Kuroo is talking about, it's a good mile and a half at least back to their apartment. It's pouring outside, college kids aren't the best drivers either....

A number of things could've happened, and Tsukishima won't entertain them in his head.

The frustration drenches his tone as he turns to face Kuroo, glare colder than the rain. "He made you walk home in the worst storm ever and you're telling me to forget about it? No, what's his name?"

Number. Work. Whatever.

In reality, Tsukishima is not a fighter. But he'll be damned if he doesn't at least cuss this guy out.

"I-in his defense, I made the call to walk home," Kuroo tries, weakly. Ha. Maybe Kuroo is too nice, that or he's being selfish. Having Tsukishima end up in prison isn't ideal for either of them.

"Yeah, because he ditched you," Tsukishima replies, and he doesn't mean to make Kuroo flinch, he really doesn't. This isn't his boyfriend's fault, but god. "You wouldn't need to walk home if he'd just picked you up and...and..."

And brought you to me, brought you home.

He can dump the body in the lake nearby. He and Kuroo hike there often, it's very romantic.

Tsukishima's fists are clenched in the fabric of Kuroo's shirt, and as much as he does want his revenge...it's late, and this is where Kuroo needs him to be.

His boyfriend isn't shivering anymore, which is a good sign, and Tsukishima allows himself to settle into his hold, feeling Kuroo sigh before he speaks. "I didn't want to worry you, but I guess I ended up doing that anyways. I just wanted to get home faster, I knew you were waiting, and after being blown off I...I missed you."

And Tsukishima missed him too, painfully so, too much to let himself admit. But the fear of losing Kuroo loosens him up regardless, and he tilts his head up, stealing a kiss from Kuroo's lips.

Yes, he seriously doesn't know what he'd do without those, and it's horrible.

"Why didn't you call me?" he finds himself asking, in an effort to keep all those emotions bottled away. He's sure they carry through in his tone anyways, but oh well.

"After trying to get ahold of him for so long...my phone kinda died," Kuroo says, and for the first time that night he smiles, sheepish in a way which makes Tsukishima want to kiss him again. "And okay, I know you always nag me for forgetting to charge it, I'll be better."

Uh-huh, Tsukishima thinks, what a load of crap. But he's smiling back at his boyfriend, annoyance hardly there.

"Needless to say, I figured it wouldn't take me too long to walk but....the rain happened, and yeah," Kuroo finishes, trying to make himself smaller. It's not possible. He may not be Bokuto, but Kuroo is tall and muscular, and his presence is massive in more ways than one. Tsukishima shakes his head.

You can't hide from me.

He lets the quiet settle in between them, comfortable, mindlessly rubbing patterns into Kuroo's forearms. It seems stupid, but Tsukishima feels like he needs to cherish him a little right then. The fact he could've never seen Kuroo again makes his anger spike again, but it's vastly overpowered by the need to surround himself with everything Kuroo has to offer.

It's what's important, he thinks.

"I guess I can postpone the murder," Tsukishima says with a sigh sometime later, letting himself settle deeper against his boyfriend. It's cozy, and he feels his eyelids start to grow heavy. All his nightmare scenarios really did wear him out, not to mention the late hour. Maybe his body is finally letting him feel the exhaustion, now that Kuroo is safe and sound. "At least until I know you won't get sick."

If he's not here to bundle Kuroo up or force him to drink fluids, the fool will try to walk back out into the rain, Tsukishima knows he will. Kuroo thinks he's invincible, and it makes Tsukishima both extremely proud and extremely concerned.

Not that Kuroo knows about either. That's fine too.

Kuroo chuckles, lying back, and taking Tsukishima with him. They land in an ungraceful tangle of limbs, but it works for them. They've never been neat sleepers. It's not possible, with their heights, or their weird need to fall asleep huddled even though they will most assuredly wake up separated. It's a comfort.

They really should get to bed, their real bed, but...

This is nice, warm.

Kuroo rolls them over, tucking Tsukishima against his chest, and mouths gently at the back of his neck. There's a lot still to say, but they're tired and the rain has returned to being relaxing instead of terrifying, lulling them in the low light of their living room.

Good thing they were too cheap to buy the brighter lamps.

Tsukishima huffs a laugh. Ah, Kuroo is rubbing off on him in all the best and worst ways. It makes Tsukishima's smile grow, and he hides it in the beanbag.

Still....Tsukishima can't let one thing slide, no matter how relieved he is. It eats at him, whittling away at his heart and soul until the words tumble out of him, vulnerable and far too quiet.

"Please...don't do that again," he whispers, and he knows Kuroo gets what he means. It's not meant to guilt him, but...Tsukishima means it. If Kuroo can help it, he should never do something like this again.

Tsukishima will gladly do whatever it takes to get him home as an alternative, but just...not this. Never this.

His boyfriend tenses behind him, but then presses in tighter, like he never wants to let go. He won't, all night. Tsukishima knows it.

He blinks away some wetness in his eyes, because it's uncalled for and childish, but Kuroo must sense it anyways. He grabs the nearest blanket, throwing it over them, and kisses Tsukishima again on the back of his head.

Kuroo tends to know what he needs, whether Tsukishima admits to it or not.

"I promise," Kuroo replies, and the last thing Tsukishima registers is a hand wrapping over his, sealing the deal.

--

The next day, Tsukishima still feels like murdering someone, but it's subdued. Basically, he's not going to go out and look for this guy, but so help him, if he ever sees him in public...

All bets are off.

Tsukishima sighs into his tea, letting the rest of the tension fade away as he fixes Kuroo something for his immune system. It's citrus flavored, and Kuroo hates it, but if Tsukishima insists enough he'll have no choice but to force it down like a little kid taking his medicine.

When Kuroo wakes up, he does just that, because Tsukishima is often right about these things, and it's about as amusing as he expects.

"Goddamn," Kuroo curses, gagging on the last gulp, and Tsukishima has to look away. He's not a fan of the flavor either, and just the thought of it sends the memory of the taste back to his own tongue.

Blegh.

Kuroo rinses it down with a piece of chocolate cake, the last piece, but Tsukishima must still be feeling overly affectionate, since he doesn't feel like making a fuss.

He'll make another one later.

Besides, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't made the cake a little healthier this time around, purely for Kuroo's sake. When had he started catering to Kuroo like this? Without minding or second guessing it?

Probably around the same time Kuroo started folding Tsukishima's laundry the way he liked, or buying Tsukishima's favorite cereal.

It's the way things are, and Tsukishima's happiness is amplified when he feels Kuroo's arms wrap around him from behind.

"You're not still mad are you?" Kuroo mumbles into Tsukishima's shoulder, it's then Tsukishima realizes his boyfriend isn't wearing a shirt. Kuroo's chest is firm, and Tsukishima leans back into him. He knows if he turned around, he'd get a nice view, his fingers could graze every ridge of his abdomen...

The thought is tantalizing, more so than he expects.

A familiar heat coils in his stomach, a tingle travels up his legs and makes his skin itch for touch, and he's almost embarrassed for his timing. After such a scare...

He blamed Kuroo's influence, even though he knows he's just as guilty.

He's hyper aware of his clothes, his body, and most importantly, Kuroo pressing back into him.

And okay, maybe this is what Tsukishima needs. A different kind of relaxing, but the best kind. Asking for it is not usually his way, but it doesn't mean he denies it or keeps it hidden. It's just...Kuroo can often tell.

Tsukishima hums, shaking his head as he spreads his legs, letting Kuroo's thigh rest between them. It's the easiest way to communicate his desire, to let Kuroo feel it. He needs to communicate other things to Kuroo too..."I was never mad at you."

"I know," Kuroo says, but Tsukishima feels him sag a little more, the relief palpable. As if Tsukishima could be mad at Kuroo in this situation. The fondness surges again, egged on by the lust clouding up his brain. "But you know what I meant."

Yeah...

"I just hope for your sake I never see that guy in broad daylight," Tsukishima answers, like it's nothing, and he shivers as he presses the cleft of his ass against Kuroo's groin.

He usually hates wearing these shorts, they're too thin and kind of ratty, but right now he's more than grateful. Easy access.

He hears Kuroo take a sharp intake of breath, and he knows his goal has been reached. Tsukishima bites his lip, suppressing a smug smile.

"And why--why is that?" Kuroo says, a bit lost as he rests his hands on Tsukishima's hips, more to steady himself than anything. The waistband of the shorts is a little loose too. Kuroo's breath is warm where it ghosts over his neck, and Tsukishima sighs, tilting his head.

The heat coils tighter, his toes are already curling, pathetically wanton.

"I don't think you'd appreciate having your reputation ruined because your boyfriend punched someone in the middle of the quad," Tsukishima replies, though the idea sounds very enticing. Not as enticing as Kuroo carrying him over to the couch, but he'll get that soon enough.

"I don't know, that sounds pretty hot." Kuroo's laugh is about as magical as his hands, washing over Tsukishima, heavy and purposeful.

They're at his thighs now, squeezing the flesh there, because unlike Kuroo, Tsukishima has not felt the need for such an intense workout regimen. If he felt subconscious about it before, which he didn't, all thoughts would certainly be dashed with the way Kuroo is groping him, hands traveling up his stomach and over the beginnings of love handles.

"Guess I should be thankful anyways," Kuroo begins, and Tsukishima can feel the smirk, razor sharp and threatening to eat him alive. "I have such a loving boyfriend, one who deserves to be spoiled."

Tsukishima's whimper, yearning and in time with the roll of Kuroo's hips, ends the conversation.

--

It's not uncommon for Kuroo to feel extra...giving. Most of the time it's when they're sitting on the couch, lazy, watching some movie they've seen twenty times before and are only half paying attention to.

Kuroo will send him one of those looks, the kind which drips sex and authority, one which only Tsukishima can decipher. Then, Kuroo will lie down on his back, not breaking the eye contact, and beckon Tsukishima over to sit obediently on his face.

Tsukishima doesn't have to admit it delights him; he's sure Kuroo can fucking tell, like he can tell now, as Tsukishima moans shamelessly while holding the couch's armrest for dear life.

"O-oh, oh shit," he whines, and it's becoming increasingly harder to keep his legs from trembling, from resting his hips down completely on Kuroo's face. He doubts Kuroo would mind, with how eagerly he's applying himself to making Tsukishima come from this.

Getting eaten out by Kuroo is a spiritual experience, truly.

Tsukishima's nails dig into the couch fabric, and Kuroo's hands are busy spreading his cheeks apart, tongue diving deeper into Tsukishima's hole.

Kuroo is so determined at everything he does, even taking Tsukishima apart. At the thought, Kuroo's hand draws back to deliver a harsh slap to Tsukishima's ass, and Tsukishima jumps. He wonders if the last handprint is still visible, refusing to fade away...

Thinking is becoming increasingly difficult.

He grinds his hips down, helping Kuroo go deeper, reaching every part of him. "Tetsu...mmm..."

His head is swimming; all he cares about is coming, but in this position he has to work for it. They both do, and maybe that's why Kuroo loves it so much.

He's being obscenely performative this time, slurping loudly, uncaring of the drool or jaw ache, his thumb teasingly circling Tsukishima's entrance every now and again. It's like he's having the time of his life, pushing Tsukishima to his limits.

It's maddening. Tsukishima falls for it though, his hips rolling, searching, and one of his hands fall to tug at Kuroo's hair. He's rough about it, and Kuroo moans, the vibrations making Tsukishima's legs spread wider.

Curse this stupid couch, it's too small.

Eventually, Kuroo makes him do most of the work, stilling himself so Tsukishima can bounce and twerk his hips as he pleases, using his tongue like one of the many toys in their drawer. Not enough, Kuroo knows it's not enough, but he likes seeing Tsukishima hunger for it.

Asshole.

Yet the insult, even in his head, is hardly powerful. Tsukishima writhes, and doesn't care how he sounds. He's so damn keyed up, his muscles tight, he just wants and wants and--

He cries out, garbled, untangling his fingers from Kuroo's hair to reach up and tug at one of his own nipples, the sensation sharp and intoxicating. It's too hot, his skin is burning, aching, he needs more before he does anything truly humiliating.

Any other day, Kuroo might push him to that point, until Tsukishima is crying or babbling, but Tsukishima can sense something different about him today. Kuroo is impatient, and Tsukishima can't help but feel a little proud. By now, Kuroo's cock must be begging for release, untouched...

"Tetsu...c'mon...please." Tsukishima punctuates the request with an unsteady jerk as Kuroo's thumb dips into his entrance, and he knows at that point Tsukishima can't take anymore. Fortunately, neither can he.

Tsukishima manages to catch the glint of ferocity in Kuroo's eyes before he's being moved, manhandled willingly until he's turned around, face to face with Kuroo's leaking cock.

Oh, so this is how he wants to finish things. Tsukishima can't say he disagrees.

His mouth waters instead. The tip of Kuroo's cock is an angry red, precum dripping down along the veins of the shaft, and Tsukishima moans, taking it in his hand. Always so heavy, so filling. Kuroo's hips jump, and Tsukishima's own determination blooms.

He blushes as he spits onto Kuroo's cock, slicking it up in the stereotypical, porn film way Kuroo likes for whatever reason. Kuroo mutters a curse at the action, and Tsukishima gives his cock a few firm pumps before he's taking it into his mouth, the bitter taste coating his tongue.

"Shit, yes," Kuroo groans, squeezing Tsukishima's ass before giving the blond's cock some much deserved attention. Tsukishima feels hot breath hover over him, a teasing prelude of his reward. Showing his appreciation, Tsukishima takes Kuroo deeper, fisting the parts he can't reach. If it makes some extra, wet noises, so be it. He can give Kuroo a show too when he wants.

He hears Kuroo growl, stilling Tsukishima's hips, which he hadn't realized were shaking so much, and utters his final command. "Make sure to come in my mouth, okay?"

Who is Tsukishima to refuse?

He moans, loud and a bit too purposefully around Kuroo's cock. They can last a good amount of time if they try, but that's not what Tsukishima wants. He wants Kuroo to come hard and fast, to completely fall to pieces because of Tsukishima's mouth...his touch...

Tsukishima hollows his cheeks, his other hand cupping Kuroo's balls as he takes Kuroo in feverishly, but he's past feeling ashamed about it. Not now, after all this time. Not when Kuroo's hips are straining to push further into Tsukishima's mouth, so needy.

All for me...

Tsukishima pulls back to gasp; Kuroo is just as gifted, and just as determined to make Tsukishima come first. He has Tsukishima's cock stuffed fully down his throat, and Tsukishima wishes he could see his teary eyes. Show off.

It's not gonna pay off for him though. Tsukishima knows this as he tries not to smirk, taking Kuroo's cock in just far enough to choke. The sound is filthy, but he's sure it reaches Kuroo's ears, another thing which drives him up the wall.

It's the perfect prelude to Tsukishima's last move, the kill shot. Or in this case, the money shot.

He moans as Kuroo swallows around his cock, his toes curling, and it takes everything to not get lost in the sensation, to chase his orgasm and push back.

Kuroo's mouth feels so amazing, so attentive.

Everything about Kuroo is so attentive...

"I just wanted to get home faster. I missed you."

And suddenly, Tsukishima feels twice as generous.

He takes his mouth away, letting the mixture of spit and precum in his mouth drip out and onto Kuroo's cock, making each stroke bounce off the space around them. Kuroo's hand grips his ass, and Tsukishima laughs, too sex drunk to be entirely smug.

He's been lewd all morning, no harm in adding to it at this point. He rubs his cheek against the head of Kuroo's cock, having enough sense to push his glasses away before he kisses the tip, words hot and tickling against it. "Make sure to come on my face, okay?"

He tricks himself into thinking the words are mocking, as if that gets rid of his blush or the fact he will hide his face at his own boldness later, but it's genuine. Kuroo knows it's genuine too, and he succumbs to Tsukishima's game instantly.

Kuroo pulls his mouth off Tsukishima's cock, throwing his head back. "Ah, Kei, f-fuck."

The splash of Kuroo's cum against his cheek and chin is enough to push Tsukishima close to the edge, and he moves to his side frantically, reaching down to give himself a few strokes.

Then, his vision blacks out, so deliciously, like it always does, his mouth open in a silent scream.

It's perverted of him, he knows it, and he'll never admit it aloud, but he thinks he could chase this feeling forever. It travels up his legs, his spine, like a shot of pure ecstasy that only lasts a few seconds. It's not fair, but it's so worth it. His brain short circuits, his legs twitch; he loves it.

Love it enough to not mind the mess on his face as his body finally relaxes, letting him flop unceremoniously.

He thinks his foot is close enough to kick Kuroo in the face, but he's too boneless to care. He's as light as air right now, and Kuroo's cum has started to drip from his chin down to his neck, and he doesn't mind in the slightest.

Out of habit, his tongue flicks out to catch some of the cum beading on his upper lip, and he feels Kuroo scramble to sit up, like he doesn't want to miss a second of it.

What an idiot.

Yet, Tsukishima doesn't stop his dazed little show. This turns Kuroo on like no tomorrow, and it's rare Tsukishima allows it...

So he figures he can indulge Kuroo a little before he wipes it all off. Tsukishima's own mess is splayed out over Kuroo's torso anyways, so it's only fair.

Still, with the air of sex dwindling away, replaced by a heavy wave of sleepiness and affection, Tsukishima avoids Kuroo's piercing stare. Instead, he busies himself with trailing his fingers through the drops on his cheek, bringing them to his mouth afterwards.

From the way Kuroo shudders, Tsukishima wouldn't be surprised if he was ready to go again.

Maybe later, for now...

Tsukishima sits up, making no effort to right his hair or pull on some clothes. This is something he is comfortable with, and he picks up his glasses, welcoming clarity once more.

When he finally looks up, Kuroo's smile makes him want to either crawl under blankets for two hundred year, or kiss it away.

It's a weird combination.

Kuroo's eyes are lit up with something far too loving for Tsukishima to have ever deserved, but there's fire in there too, like his desire has only been somewhat sated, and is building again. Tsukishima bites his lip as Kuroo rearranges them, and it makes Tsukishima snort. Their heavy limbs are not making things easy, but they eventually end up face to face, Kuroo half in Tsukishima's lap, his smile edging closer to smug.

Okay, so it pisses Tsukishima off a little.

Not enough to do more than lightly shove him though.

Kuroo laughs, but the obnoxious quality of it is made softer by the way his hands intertwine with Tsukishima's. "Well, if I thought you were tense before, you definitely aren't now."

You...

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. "Someone's arrogant."

"Because that someone is one hundred percent right," Kuroo says, and...he is, but it doesn't make it tolerable. "Judging by this anyways." Kuroo's other hand dips into the cum drying on his chest, Tsukishima's, and the blond blushes up to his ears.

He hates Kuroo, but it's nothing compared to how much he loves him, and Tsukishima will probably never figure that ratio out.

He doesn't break their connection though; if anything, his grip on Kuroo's hand tightens. This had been what he needed, he knows Kuroo can sense it, can tell from his expression alone.

So, Tsukishima lets Kuroo be proud and overconfident for now; and if there ever comes a time where he's lost and alone, physically or mentally, Tsukishima will be there to pick up the slack.

And...relax him, in whatever way Kuroo pleases.

Whatever keeps him from murdering those responsible...

In public anyways.

[lizaguilar]

REWRITING TIME - Chapter 1 (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/I63mSlFEcQ Written for the Mystery Party hosted by @earnestycommunity

Running most of the way from the subway to his home, Sebastian barreled through the door of his apartment like the very devil was hanging onto his coattails.  He couldn't believe how wrong this day was turning out to be. It was bad enough that his meeting with his publisher didn't go the way he wanted it to, but to have a guy die on him in the subway?

Okay, that wasn't really his fault. But still!

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Sebastian walked to the minibar, poured himself a shot of scotch and finished it in one swift gulp, his frayed nerves getting much needed relief. If Lizzie could see him now, she'd be livid. Sebastian mentally kicked himself for going there again. With a shake of his head, Sebastian flopped down on the couch and raised his feet on the coffee table.

Murdered! That man was murdered! And right after telling him those...those insane things! Was he trying to warn him? Why? He didn't even know the man! Frustrated, Sebastian threw the tumbler against the wall where it shattered into a million pieces.

"Sebastian, you're a mystery writer, try to analyse this objectively!" he chastised himself. Swinging his feet off of the couch, he grabbed his trusty notebook and scribbled down the facts, or what he thought to be facts.

Name: Unknown

Age: late sixties - early seventies

Appearance: Middle-Eastern, salt-and-pepper beard, dark eyes and hair, height about 5'10"

Clothes: '20's style (?), well-tailored, expensive-looking

Significant details: Pursued and shot twice in the chest by unknown men, passed along an old pocket watch to a complete stranger.

He'd almost forgotten! Slapping a hand to his forehead, Sebastian fished out the mysterious object and placed it on the coffee table. He flipped the lid and removed the pocket watch, placing it on his palm. He knew enough about pocket watches, especially those from the '20's and '30's, so he could safely say that this one was heavier than usual. It's front and back covers were almost identical, both etched with intricate patterns, except for the engraved S.C. initials adorning the front. Gold Roman numerals ran around the mother-of-pearl dial which was cut out at the center to show off the complex inner mechanism of the watch. What made Sebastian conclude that this was no ordinary, store-bought timepiece, however, were its matching opal-tipped sidewinder and gold encased opal Fob attached to the double Albert chain.

It was an exquisitely crafted piece, made especially for...whoever S. C. was.

Of course, one could argue that S.C. - with the 'S' being 'Sebastian' (as the dedication on the lid of the box indicated), born on the same day as he , October 3 - was too much of a coincidence.

And he was not a big believer of coincidences.

The only conclusion that his analytical mind could reach was that someone was playing a prank on him. Someone who knew about his obsession with anything related to the 1920's.

Unfortunately, two things easily debunked his theory. First, only Lizzie knew about his obsession. Second, no one would go as far as murdering people just to play a prank on him.

Okay, so no one in his right mind would pull a prank this elaborate, he conceded. What else could explain the bizarre events of today?

It still could be a prank, his stubborn self insisted. Huffing in annoyance at his inner voice, Sebastian grabbed the crystal box, determined to squeeze it dry of information.

Bingo!

At the bottom of the case, under the white cushion, was a small card declaring the item had been 'Designed and crafted by Toledano Jewelers, Pearl Avenue, Beachcastle'. Whispering a silent thanks to the gods of technology, Sebastian typed the name of the shop onto his phone to check if it actually existed. It did! And it wouldn't close until 8PM! He glanced at his watch and punched the air with glee - 7:30! Pearl Avenue was a couple of blocks away, he'd be there before closing time if he walked fast. Returning the pocket watch to its crystal case, Sebastian stashed it inside his hoodie and jumped to his feet, eager to solve the mystery that had been hounding him since he bumped into that old man.

It took him 15 grueling minutes to reach Pearl Avenue. His long legs were screaming in agony by the time he jogged up the five steps leading to Toledano Jewelers. The shop was small, but it exuded class and affluence, the brass signage plastered to the side proudly announcing its pedigree - 'Expert Jewelers since 1798' - a subtle warning to the uninitiated. In plain talk, its message was simple - If you don't have a house in the Hamptons or Beverly Hills, you can't afford us. Sebastian would've been intimidated by the place any other day.

Today wasn't any other day.

The liveried doorman lifted a brow when Sebastian walked up the door, his thin nose crinkling with distaste at Sebastian's rugged clothes.

"May I help you, sir?" the man said, voice dripping with disdain.

"I need to speak with someone inside," Sebastian replied, craning his neck to peek into the inside of the shop.

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" said the doorman, moving to block Sebastian's view.

Sebastian pulled out the small card from his pocket and shoved it at the man's face.

"I have this. It's inside a box I...recently inherited. I want to verify its worth."

The irritating look on the doorman's face tempted Sebastian to resort to violence. He had to remind himself why he was here.

The doorman plucked the card from Sebastian's fingers and smirked, "Please remain here and wait for me. Sir." The last was added with blatant sarcasm.

Several unflattering epithets were muttered as Sebastian thought of ways he would kill the doorman in his next novel. That brought a smile to his lips. Sebastian was so absorbed in his sordid plotting he failed to notice the doorman returning to his post, looking sheepish and penitent.

"I-I apologize for the misunderstanding, sir.  Mr. Toledano will see you now. Please, follow me," the doorman said in a rush before spinning on his heels to lead the way.

Sebastian was intrigued by the drastic change. Was my card that powerful?

Once they were inside a small, but luxurious office, the doorman bowed to the man standing behind an ornate desk and left without a word.

"Tobias Toledano," the man said, extending a hand in greeting.

"Sebastian Chase," Sebastian replied, shaking the proffered hand. He couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between Tobias and the old man in the subway, despite the absence of the beard.

"Please, have a seat," Tobias said, gesturing to one of the plush, black leather chairs before his desk.

"Thank you," Sebastian almost sighed in content when he sank into the chair. It was more comfortable than his bed!

"Tea?" Tobias asked, though he was already pouring into two cups.

Sebastian took the cup his host was offering him but didn't sip until Tobias had done the same. No harm in being extra cautious.

"May I please see the watch?" Tobias said.

"How did you know that it's a watch?"

"The card," Tobias said. "There's a holographic number at the back telling us what item came with it and to whom it was registered."

"Interesting," Sebastian said, pulling the case out of his pocket. He hesitated, unsure if Tobias could be trusted. His need to know if someone was just playing him won out. Deciding to put a little faith in the man before him, Sebastian placed the case on the table and pushed it towards Tobias. Had he not been looking intently at his host, he would've missed the painful anger that flashed in the other man's eyes.

Tobias gingerly took the case, silently tracing the engraving on the silver lid. Sadness seemed to overshadow Tobias, yet when his eyes snapped to Sebastian, it wasn't what he saw. Resentment and fear. Those were what Sebastian saw.

"Did you know that my father personally engraved these words for Elizabeth? He believed because she was so sure about you," Tobias said, his voice barely above a whisper.

A cold chill ran down Sebastian's spine. What's he talking about? Danger,  his mind screamed. Self-preservation kicked in, urging him to flee, but his body remained still and unresponsive. He was paralyzed!

"We'll see if they were right," Tobias continued, his fingers turning the sidewinder in a counterclockwise motion.

The next thing he saw was Tobias' face looming over him, his hand clamping painfully around Sebastian's arm.

"Let's find out if you're worth it, Sebastian Chase. See you on the other side," Tobias sneered.

Cold, cloying tendrils swirled around Sebastian, squeezing him tight, forcing air out of his lungs, and blood rushing to his brain. He was suffocating. He was dying!

Sebastian's last thought before everything went black was that dying was a horrible experience not worth repeating.

[gaaragirl22]

Chapter one

Posting it here till I can buy a new laptop. Then it's off to AO3! Any mistakes are mine and my phones! Notes: I'll integrate Gil in more later. And yes I did still the name of my OC from tinker bell💁 Anyway enjoy!! The morning air nearly suffocates Uma as she throws open the doors to her mother's restaurant the smell of rotten fish mixed with high tide, strangely comforting as it floods her nostril. Turning the sign of the daily special menu she looks up to see what she could of the sun as It fought the grey clouds. The ever present chill causes Uma to tighten her coat as she heads back inside. Sighing, she grabs a broom and begins to sweep the dining room. Her mother Ursula was hard at work in the Kitchen finishing her prep for the lunch rush. As one of the few restaurants on the isle they made a sizable sum not to say they were rich but Uma didn’t sleep on the floor or have to steal...constantly. “Edna!!” Ursula shouts from the kitchen. She got it wrong...surprise, surprise. Tossing the broom to the wall Uma walks into the kitchen. To see her mother standing over a boiling pot her white hair sticking out in all directions, Her makeup perfected. Glancing at her wheelchair she wonders if she would come out this time. “Come here, girl!” She urges. Walking over Uma sees the boiling grey mass in the pot. “I need you to taste this-don't make that face brat. It tastes fine!” As Uma opens her mouth to voice her opinion Ursula shoves the spoons in. The grey goop seems to stick to her mouth the texture reminding her of oatmeal while the taste...fish sticks? Her stomachs rolls as she struggles to swallow the mush. “Hmm, needs more ‘insert magic item here’, that's enough Judy.” She mumbles turning back to the pot. Grabbing a cup Uma rushes to the sink frantically filling the glass and chugs it contents down leaning against the sink gasping for air she stares at her mother. Unconcerned, as she gasps for air, adding more spices to her dish. Huffing she stands straightening her coat she informs, “I opened the shop...the others should be here soon…” Silence her only answer as the thump of the spoons echos in the room. With a groan she shouts, “Mother!” “Yes...yes I heard you, Harriet.” Stirring the pot she waves her off. “I'll be there once this is done.” “Fine…” Uma walks back into the dining room. Surprised to see Gil sitting at one of the furthest table from the entrance his notebook out as usually. Walking closer she sees some of the other servers setting up for the rush. Nodding in silent greetings she can't help but chuckle as she takes in Gils elaborate drawings. For someone who can't read he's pretty good. He gets so sucked into them that he forgets to keep his wits about him. Not a smart idea on the isles. Slamming her hand on the table she cackles as Gil jumps into the air. His hands coming up to protect his head. “Hahaha, poor Gilly why are you hiding out in my lovely little restaurant?” She giggles as he tries to right himself. “My dad's on a rampage,” He explains as he tucks his book away. “Took the triplets on a hunting trip. Made him think I was riding with the supplies,” He leans back balancing on the back legs with a smirk. “When he got back and saw me and mom working on your outfit...well, he flipped. Slipped out the window while he was ranting.” “Hmm...where's it at?” Uma asks offhandedly taking a seat across from him watching as her words take root. “Where's what?” He asks tilting his head like a dog. She should have known better then to use pronouns on him. “My outfit. Gil.” Uma rolls her eyes as he nearly falls over. “Oh right...My mom's working on the last of it. Don't worry I'll drop it off by tonight.” “You'd better. I didn't hide you from your pops for a whole week for nothing.” As she finishes her threat the rumble of the lunch crowd grows closer. Rising from the table Uma heads to the hostess stand looking over her shoulder she gives him a wink. Cackling as Gil face turns a bright shade of pink. “Harrys’ gonna want something, too.” She tosses over shoulder as she wraps the acorn around her waist. “You know how he gets.” “Yeah!? I had a idea for a great hat/coat combo-” His notebook out again as he frantically searches for his sketches. As the thumping grows louder her stomach twists with anxiety. “Great. Gil. That sounds great.” Patting his chest her focus on the door and the whine growing in her ears. “I'll see you later.” She offers with a tight smile. She was gonna have to deal with this crowd on her own...in her own way...a chill of excitement rises as she realizes that she had the opportunity to showcase her worth. To show her mother that she was worth more than a spare scurry maid. As she opens her mouth to greet her partons a gust of sea salt tinged air comes from the kitchen. Silently she turns to see her mother approaching in her chair. A large almost maniacal smile on her face. “So sorry it took so long gentlemen but you know how brats are.” Snapping her mouth shut Uma watches as her mother enthusiastically greets the crowd. “Dear, why don't you take them to their seats.” She offers over her shoulder. Rolling her eyes Uma pulls out two stained menus, “Two seats for two lonely idiots.” They growled at her greeting. “Right this way.” So went her day she watched as her mother all but floated her way through the crowd cackling and entertaining. Offering spells to lessing their dreary days. While she seated and worked tables giving slide commentary as she went. Till finally the rush ended the last customer left and Uma could finally sit. Her back to the door she doesn't see the slinking form slide into the room. As she stares at the dully colored screen the images flashing, the sound of metal scraping along the table reaches her ears. Rolling her eyes she turns to see him slowly approaching his shirt ripped to shreds. A large grin on his face as he slides up to her. She can feel his body heat travel up her side so close to his chest she can almost hear his heartbeat. The heat of his stare causes a shiver to go down her spine. Even after all this time she can't help but feel a thrill at his attention. She can't help but want more. “What happened to you?” She asks picking up a cleanish rag. looking up into his wild eyes she begins to wipes his face careful of the small cuts. “I've got something to show you.” He singsongs his voice quivering with barely concealed laughter. His eyes sparkling with excitement as Uma stares she can't help but be infected. “Oh really?” She asks leaning against the table. “Dear old bore-adon has made a royal decree...about us.” Pulling out a wrinkled scroll she sees the seal of Auradon as she scans it the words jumps out ‘select few children of the isles ’ and ‘a semester off the isle’. She jumped out of her seat looking down at the decree in her hands. This was it a way out! A way to prove her worth! Looking at Harry his eyes glued to her face a look of wonder in his eyes. “Do you know what this means!?” She shrieks her heart in her ears. “This could be are way off the isle and once we're in Auradon...we can bring down the barrier.” Her hands shaking as she reads it again, Afraid that she was dreaming. A hand touched her face jerking her out of her musings. Harry looked down at her with a kind of reverence that shook her to the core. “If anyone can free us it's you,Uma.” He whispers his accent thick as he drags his fingers through her braids. Heat rises in her gut as he draws closer. Stopping mere inches from hers. “I know...I will.” She agrees her voice tight in her throat as the moment stretched on. His heat causing her heart to beat faster, Her hands begin to sweat as she focuses on his aqua blue eyes. Slowly she watches as he licks his lips. The scent of the sea mingles with the scent of sandalwood, making her mouth water. Just as the moment seemed to reach its climax as she leans into him. “Bernadette come and wash these dishes!” Ursula shouts from her tank her voice bouncing in the small ship. The moment shatters. Grinding her teeth Uma looks away slamming her hands on the table. Harry groans raking his hand through his hair flopping onto a stool. Their arms touching a reminder of what could have been. With a sigh she looks again at the scrap in her hand memorizing the date. All she has to do is wait...they would pick her. She was the most deserving of any on the isle. It only makes sense! Four months later Four months. Four hellish months. Since Mal and the others failed and betrayed them turned their back on the isles. Left them to waste away! Forgotten in the Glamour of their new lives! Looking to the dimly lit screen she sees Mal smile, her punk purple tresses now bubble gum blonde. Her ever present jacket replaced with a trendy princess perfect pastel dress glittering as she stands beside the somewhat handsome king. Living her perfect little life...That traitorous Witch! Grabbing a the nearest dish she flings it at the screen with a roar. It slams into the wall crashing into a thousand pieces. The room falling silent as she stalks into kitchen. She had no right to steal this from her! She had only had one job steal the wand lower the barrier and finally set them free. Instead she allows a weakness to sway her heart. The memory of watching her tearfully hand the wand to fairy Godmother and hug the others causes her forcefully clean the countertop. Suddenly a large tentacle comes out of the back room knocking her with a grunt flat on her back. “Break another one of my dishes, Sue! See how fast I get out of this tank!” Her threat falling on deaf ears as Uma is struck with a revelation staring at the filthy roof. If she wants off this cursed isle it would have to be though her own will and power. And if she didn’t have it she would take it. Getting up Uma walks back out to the dining room to wipe down tables. Ignoring the snide comments from some unsavory patrons she clears her crew's table. She needs a plan, a way in. The doors give way to Gil with a girl she's sure she's never seen before but something about her was familiar. “Hey, Uma! Idrissa was telling me about this great recipe for sea eel and kelp chips!! You've got to let her make it!” Gil exclaims his eagerness irritating her as she tries to place her face. “No one goes in my mother's kitchen and do I know you?” eyeing them both as they walked closer. Idrissa as Gil calls her wears an outfit of silver and red, chains hang from her waist with metal roses of different sizes dotted along. Her silver hair in large twists lay on her shoulders a sharp contrast to her dark skin. Why didn't she recognize her? “Uhh, Uma! It's Iridessa one of the best chefs on the isle and one of the best fighters in our crew. Duh! Did you hit your head or-oh, fish sticks!” He exclaims running to snag some off someone's plates causing a small scuffle. Leaving Uma and Iridessa alone. Crossing her arms she stares her down, not a small feat considering her size. She felt like she should know her but something wasn't adding up. Suddenly, Idrissa smiles widely as she takes a seat in front of Uma. “I should have known you wouldn't be swayed by a simple glamour spell.” She says pulling out a small pouch sitting it on the table. “No, you're much too smart for that.” “Glamour spell? You think I'm going fall for that. Everyone knows magic doesn't work in the barrier...especially now that they've strengthened it.” Uma scoffs taking a seat across form her. Noticing her crews slowly trickling in waving or nodding in her direction not reacting in any negative way towards Iridessa. “True...Magic with the intent to harm has been damped to nearly nothing but...magic with the intent to save or even uplift...now that is still viable.” She whispers leaning closer her eyes intense as her hands massage the bag. “Right...So what is your ‘glamour spell’ doing saving me from a boring evening?” Uma can't help but smirk at her wit. Whatever she was might be useful to her...maybe even able to crack the barrier. Maybe even little in a bit of magic and maybe- “My spell got me close to you.” She retorts. Flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Giving me the chance to offer you a way off this island.” Uma froze there's no way she heard her right. A way out? Was she hallucinating this whole thing? Maybe she did hit her head too hard? “My mother helped in the creation this barrier, she worked to protect the ideals of Auradon. She thought that she was helping set up a way to properly rehabilitate your parents but they lied to her.” Maybe she wasn't the only one who bumped her head. “If you let me help you Uma...I can right the wrong done to you and my mother.” A chance to get off this island...a way to finally prove her worth…and all she had to do was trust someone else to make the right choice...again. “What do you get out of this?” Uma asks tilting her head. It doesn't make sense that someone would wash up on shore and just happen to have a way out. She maybe a Villain and desperate for a way out but she wasn't stupid. “A chance to fix the balance,” She whispers her voice near a growl as her eyes lower focusing on the bag. “A chance to make them pay.” There it was. Anger. That she knew...that she understood. With a smirk she leans back, “I'll accept your offer...if we follow my lead. No ifs. no buts-” “No coconuts.” She interjects rising her eyes to Uma the purple glittering with amusement in the firelight. “Of course, Captain. I am your humble consult on all things Auradon.” “Right...Let's keep it that way.” With a raised brow Uma extended her hand. As Iridessa took her hand a vision appears in her mind. Mal holding out fairy Godmother's wand, the king hanging from Harry's hook. With a gasp she took her hand back. Iridessa look down in shock at her hand a smile slowly forming. “It seems….I made the right choice.” She whispers her smile wide. Taking a step back Uma feels something that only her mother had made her feel....fear. Trying her best to hide her feels she turns away clutching her fists at her side. “Don't do that again!” She tosses over her shoulder walking towards the kitchen.eager to put some space between her and the strange woman. “Hahaha that wasn't me, Dear Captain, that was all you.” She laughs causing a chill to go down her spine hurrying into the kitchen she slams the door shut running to her room. As she lands on her bed a foreign heat begins to build in her chest the warmth spreading through her top. Almost searing. Tearing off her jacket she looks down to see her necklace glowing the heat coming in waves. A thought comes to mind her mother's words playing on a loop. ‘When I had my powers that shell would glow like a white hot ember and no inch of the sea wouldn't sway under my call.’ With a gasp she takes holds of it. Focusing on the feeling of the metal and warmth in her palm she stretches out her other hand as she seen her mother do a thousand times. The sound of the waves and smell of the sea helping her focus. Slowly but surely the ocean outside rose to her window. Her blood seeming to burn her very skin as she took a breath. This is what her mother could once do! No wonder she clings to the sea, to the remnants of her past. The power was mlrr then intoxicating it was life changing. With a cackle she let's it fall listening to the gasps and yelps outside. The warmth begins to fade as she lays on the bed leaving her with a chill and headache. Iridessa must have done this! Giving her a taste of the magic inside her to make her weak! To sway her to whatever she decides! ‘That was all you,Dear Captain.’ Her parting shot echoing in her head. She had magic in her blood nothing like her mother's but...it was enough. Her door swings open as Harry breezes in. Eyes sweeping over the room before landing on her a wide smile spreading as he walks over Kneeling at her feet. “Uma,I heard the new girl caused some trouble.” His voice low as he takes her hand. She rolls her eyes of course he realized she wasn't part of their crew. “Want me to take care of her?” He offers flashing his hook was an even wider grin. “No.” She mumbles taking a pillow to stuff under her head. “She's proving to be very useful. I need you to watch the floor...I need a nap.” “Are you sure I can't join you?” He asks slowly standing to hang his body over her’s. His hook trailing down her side. “It's been said I'm a great cuddler.” “I'm sure it has…”Uma whispers looking directly in his eyes trailing her hand up his chest grasping his lapel, “but someone has to watch the floor. As first mate that duty falls on you.” Groaning he lays his forehead to her collar taking a breath of her scent. Rolling her eyes she pushes him lifting her brow as he snaps to attention saluting her with a “Aye, Aye,Captain.” Giggling under her breath she watches him slink out. She had at max one hour before mayhem broke below and her mother snaps. Clutching her pillow she wills her headache to fade as she closes her eyes. When she wakes up next it would be to setting into motion a plan to free her crew and the entire Isles from this prison and making sure the entire world feared the name Uma

[ageoldamateur]

Introduction of my OC (Part 1)

Made out for @dragonpro809 and dedicated to @pixiethesizeshifter.

While this is my first story posted here and my very first G/T story I have ever written, I have to apologize anyway for the way this story is set out as I do not know enough about Tumblr to formulate them into the same style as other writers here (Canadian policy, I must apologize to keep my citizenship). I don’t know how to bold letters or put symbols up, so I will just write as I would normally.

Also, while this is the first introduction of my Tinysona until &Pixie draws me, this does not mean that I will not change anything later when I grow more comfortable with my Tinysona.

Also, I am going to be posting this in a few parts just so that I can get at least one of my stories out there! Keep an ear on the ground for more!

TW: Pre-vore, Safe/Soft Vore

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I guess I need to introduce myself, should I?

You can call me Spartan and 2 months ago, I was a normal person. Just about to turn 22, I was thin and healthy and should have been happy with my life.Then I meddled with magic and ended up as small as the average finger. However, that spell also granted me strength, agility, and endurance many times that of my previous self, which I believe is a good enough trade off. Still, I needed food and safety, so I went looking for a place before getting taken in by Rose, another human who seemed to be completely fine with having a tiny living with her. I will later find out why later...

Rose sat at the table, a large hardcover book sitting in front of her. One hand held her chin while the other lightly wrapped around Spartan, who was using her fingers as hand holds so that he could see the pages. This was the third book of the series and both of them were concentrating, leaving the air still in the morning rays.

Standing on Rose’s shoulder with one of her fingers pressing against his collarbone, Spartan finished the page and set his head down on the finger. He had only known Rose for 2 months now, but it felt like a lifetime. He only had to live a life alone and shrunken for a few days before he found comfort in Rose. Of course, he had scared the daylights out of her when he first got her attention, but the bruise faded the next day and he was able to talk to her as an equal after that.

Now, they lived as a couple, or as much as you can when one of the people was the size of a finger and thus couldn’t work a job or around the house. It infuriated him, but Spartan tried to make it up by working on her computer and organizing everything there while Rose did her job. There were only sparse moments where she would read with him, so he treasured them and hoped that she didn’t mind that he couldn’t handle the books she owned.

Spartan spared a glance towards Rose, her green eyes steadily following each line on the page. If he was regular size, he highly doubted he would have landed anyone like her and even now still wondered why she let him stay. Sure, he did some tasks around the house, but nothing she couldn’t do faster and more effectively than him. Maybe there was something he wasn’t seeing.

Looking back down, his eyes focused on the finger that was closest to his head. Spartan was no stranger to the weird impulses that he got (autism never made anyone normal), but he took some time to ponder what the impulse was before acting on it.

Rose just finished the last paragraph of the page when she felt a soft pressure on her finger that held Spartan. Confused, she glanced down, using her freed hand (the one not holding Spartan) to brush aside her hair. Sure enough, Spartan was gently biting the side of her finger; in no way close to hurt, but much life how a dog holds something in his mouth. Rose was close enough to notice how Spartan’s eyes were unfocused, a sign that he was dissociated from the world around him.

“Are you biting me?” Rose asked skeptically. Snapping back into the real world, Spartan quickly let go.

“No! No, I wasn't biting you. I was just resting my mouth on …” His excuse died on his lips as he realized that he really did not have one other than an impulse, which sounded as hollow as the one he just said. Rose just stared at him for a moment longer, Spartan blushing and looking away, then slightly shrugged and turned the page.

***later that same day***

Spartan woke up the phone and checked the time.

7:37. He still has over half an hour until he expects Rose to leave work. Perfect.

Spartan quickly unlocked it and picked his playlist: a collection of sea shanties and folk songs. While Rose knew about the playlist, he never played it for her; different music tastes were perfectly fine in a relationship as long as they understood what the other wanted to listen to. Spartan usually listened to the playlist while working or in this case when he was finished and wanted to belt out songs.

As he picked out a song to start the playlist on, he mentally checked the list again, even though the physical copy was lying on the table in the kitchen, marked by himself. He did all the preparations for Rose’s taxes, organized the cabinet and the food within, and made sure Rose’s makeup was up to date. He had also given Chilly some exercise even though that wasn’t part of his list; though the cat understood Spartan’s place in the household, it still didn’t stop the kitten from chasing him around the house whenever she got the zoomies.

Spartan finally settled on a classic; “Home Boys Home,” by the Skullduggers. Pressing play, the music blared out of the bluetooth speakers; not loud enough to cause a noise complaint, but probably too loud for his ears health. Spartan sprang onto the coffee table and began to sing at the same level of the music, arms singing by his side as he paced around and followed the music.

As the song changed, Spartan would take a moment to recall the lyrics, then bounced to the beat. He didn’t know how long he sang for (he knew almost all of them by heart), but he had eventually grown tired enough to sit on the table, hands behind him and legs outstretched. He couldn’t see the clock, but suspected Rose to arrive home at any moment. When he heard the door open, he would turn off his music.

Spartan felt the warmth before the teeth met his chest. He flinched out of fear, letting out a manly squeak as they gripped his torso and lifted him off the table. Rose held Spartan sideways in her mouth much like a cat would a fish she caught and flopped down on the couch, turning off the music with a tap on the phone.

“Jeepers, Rose! I didn’t hear you come home!” Spartan said, his free left arm keeping Rose’s lips from suffocating him. He wasn’t necessarily stuck, he was much stronger than he appeared to be, but he still didn’t know how much his augmented endurance could endure should Rose bite down. “When did you arrive?”

Rose loosened her mouth, letting go of Spartan so that he tumbled off her chin and landed on her chest. “About an hour ago, before you began to sing your songs. I had a short day today, but decided to climb in through the window cause I didn’t want to deal with Gabe’s smoking in the hallway again.

“You really didn’t notice me gathering snacks and getting ready for movie night?” She asked. Spartan blushed, noticing now that Rose’s arms and hands were full of treats. That would explain why he ended up in her mouth, though the way she did grab him (sideways so that his head wasn’t in her mouth) meant she would have had to have craned her neck at an awkward angle in order to grab him.

“Sorry Rose, I guess I was quite invested in my music.” Spartan said, stepping a little closer to her collarbone, if only to get away from the potential awkwardness of being sandwiched in her breasts. “What movie did you pick?”

Rose grinned and pointed towards the TV where the DVD was sitting. Spartan bounded over and took a glance. “A Sizable Matter”, directed by Rogers Phill <fictional, don’t need to look it up>. It was advertised as ‘safe and fun for the whole family with stunning action and a romance of unusual proportions’. Ratings appeared good, but Spartan knew not to trust those. Before he shrunk, he had seen the critically acclaimed “5th Element” and thought it was terrible and sexist in a modern standard.