#should i continue this?

[thevoidstaredback]

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

Listen. It was an accident. He didn't mean to! It just kinda happened.

So maybe he brought a drink with enough caffeine in it to kill an elephant within a few minutes, and maybe he forgot to put the sleeve on his cup so he could tell it apart from the others, but it's not his fault! He didn't think anyone else was going to have the exact same Yeti cup as him! It's not like he'd seen any of the others carry one before. Besides, he worked with superheros. They should be smart enough to check before drinking someone else's drink.

Danny had been summoned by the Justice League Dark a few years back in order to help with a world ending crisis and he just didn't leave. It's not like he could go anywhere anyway. His ghost half hadn't grown past fourteen and his human half had stopped visibly aging at eighteen. He'd had to leave town as Danny Fenton, but he'd stayed in Amity Park as Danny Phantom. When his parents died of old age, thank god, he'd closed down the portal, stuck around for a few more years, before traveling the world as Danny Fenton.

Anyway, he'd taken up residence in the House of Mysteries after the JLD had summoned him. Constantine, at first, had been wary, but he and the rest of the JLD had grown to accept him. He was an honorary member of the team.

At some point, just after Robin had become Red Robin, Danny had been introduced to the Justice League. He liked those guys, too, and worked with them sometimes. Though, he usually only went to bug them.

Red Robin had been very interested in the fact that his was fourteen and working with grown heros, like he was one to talk, but Danny hadn't explained anything other than saying that he had died and come back. The following conversation was an interesting one that lead to Danny knowing that Nightwing was the Batman he'd met and that Batman was lost somewhere. He'd confirmed that the man was not dead, but he hadn't offered to help look for him. He probably should have, in retrospect.

Back on topic! Everyone in the JLD knew not to touch Danny's drink. They'd all seen him make it before and had been horrified on varying degrees. It's not like it could kill him. He's already half dead! So long as he only drank this specific brew as Phantom, he'd be fine.

The Justice League, apparently, didn't get the memo. He blames Constantine because Zatanna and Raven can do no wrong. No, John, he's not biased.

The point is, Red Robin just had a sip of Danny's drink. The horror he now felt was akin to the fear he held when he'd told his parents he was Phantom. (An interaction that had gone very well, thank you very much.)

Danny knew the exact moment that the vigilante realized he grabbed the wrong drink. His eyes widened to an astonishing degree, and, if he'd been able to seen his eyes behind the mask, Danny knew that the man's pupils would've completely overtaken the irises. His hands started shaking, too. Oh, no. The man's already addicted to hellish amounts of coffee. This is only going to make it worse!

Quickly, and without drawing any attention, thank the Ancients, Danny rushed over. "You, um, you okay, man?" Obviously not, but he tends to talk when he's anxious and he was certainly anxious right now. He could've possibly just killed a man via poison!

"What the fuck is in this coffee?" Red Robin asked, going to take another sip.

Danny pulled the Yeti from his hand and gave him the proper one. "Enough caffeine to kill an elephant."

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm still alive."

"Yeah, I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."

"Excuse me?"

"I-I mean-! I didn't-! You know what I mean." Caffeine is poisonous in excess, and his drink was way beyond excess, but it's the only thing that works for him as a ghost! Superpowered metabolism and all that.

"Do I?" The laugh in his voice answered for him. He took a sip from his drink and frowned at it. "I don't think any coffee will ever be enough again."

"And that's my cue to get my drink very far away from you." Danny turned, fully intent on moving to the other side of the room. Besides, the meeting was going to start as soon as the Flash and Kid Flash arrived, which would be soon. Something about one of their Rouges getting out?

"What?" Red Robin asked, "Why?" If he was a little desperate to get another sip of that coffee, he'd rather not acknowledge it.

"Because you don't need anymore lethal coffee," he muttered, "The sip you took will already keep you awake for three days at least, and it probably jump started an addiction. Best to stop it now. Besides, I need to go have my crisis on how the hell you're still alive after even a sip of this stuff."

"Again, rude." The bird themed vigilante crossed his arms as best he could while holding his cup. "If it's so dangerous, why do you drink it?"

Danny took a deliberate sip as he locked eyes with the technically younger man. "I'm dead. I don't need to worry about my heart stopping or having a seizure."

"Excuses."

"No, it's not 'excuses'. I'm saving your life."

"You're a kid. If I can't have that coffee, then you shouldn't be having it."

"First, I'm older than you. Second, I already told you: I'm dead. This isn't going to hurt me. Third, you can't tell me what to do."

"There's no way you're older than me. You're like, ten."

"I'm thirty-eight!" He balked, "I only look fourteen because I died when I was fourteen. We've been over this."

Neither noticed the entire Justice League looking at them. The two they were waiting on had arrived a few minutes ago and everyone was ready to start the meeting, but they'd been distracted by the two's conversation. Was that true? Had Phantom really died so young? They'd all been made aware he was not living, but they didn't think he'd died so young! Though, that was probably the denial speaking.

The Justice League Dark had been fully aware of this and didn't really bat an eye. Though, someone should probably get this meeting started. A potentially world ending threat was the topic, and that was a pretty important thing to discuss.

Captain Marvel was the first to pull himself together, though that was only after Atlas and Zeus had mentally slapped him out of his stupur. "As, ah, riveting as this conversation is," he stepped between the two boys- er, boy and man? "we really need to start this meeting."

Batman did not clear his throat because he'd not lost his voice in the first place. "He's right. Everyone take your seats."

Storyboard Part 2

[insanekatlady]

Loop joined the party… ???

Kinda continued here? In a way (spoilers I suppose)

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

Twst x Obey me!AFAB!reader

(Reader is Ob's MC)

CW:

•NO APPEARANCE SPECIFIED FOR READER.

•Poly.

•Cursing.

•Reader is referred to as "you" or they/them and even "he/him" because NRC boys refer to any living humanoid in the school as a male by default.

•Crowley.

•It's my first time writing a fanfiction, pls tell me if I should continue writing this.

(Random pic go brr—)

What will happen when a perpetually hungry-for-cuddles and tired-of-this-shit hooman gets kidnapped by a motherfucking horse and decides (kinda? Yeah nope. This wasn't by choice.) to enroll in a school full of problematic kids and their irresponsible af headmage?

Chaos. Pure and utter chaos with a lot of high-end simping in the mix (Along with the slightly unhinged urge to commit arson and burn a bitch to crisp)

So read as [y/n] tries to run away from the school-life while trying to just get back to their goddamn harem family (God saw this thought and decided that giving y/n more harem members is the appropriate course of action), all while juggling the harsh responsibilities of being a guardian, babysitter, therapist, healer, protector, local crush and celebrity for poor Yuu and the entirety of NRC.

("Pls send help" — y/n)

• • • • •

Disclaimer: You may have been kidnapped to a whole 'nother world and you may be on the verge of a mental breakdown, but you're sure as hell gonna look hot and serve cunt while you go through all your problems.

Prologue: 1

IMPORTANT: Mc will be referred to as they/them in this story, but in these beginning chapters a lot of people will refer to mc as a dude because y'know; NRC is an ALL BOYS school and nrc students came to expect that those in the school are all boys.(this'll change dw)

In order to avoid confusion, every time that the MC is addressed by others as he/him or more; I will color it blue. why blue? I find it easier to read.

Sample; 'He turned to them.'

The "He" in this passage is referring to MC because the character referring to them thinks that they're a guy.

REMINDER: This is Fanfiction! Not everything will be the same as canon because of this thing called the 'butterfly effect'.

• • • •

The Dorm Leaders + lilia were just about to call this Opening Ceremony over.

So close to getting out of this hall and finally being able to go on their merry ways to escort the new students back to their respective dorms before the hectic-ness of preparing for hours starts to catch up to them.

Though, things are never quite that easy in NRC.

A commotion with the students quite far from them leaves the majority of them annoyed/disgruntled. (Kalim is just confused and curious)

The headmaster rushes to check what was wrong only for a student to point out that there is an unopened coffin floating in a shadowy part of the hall.

Armed with the desire to get this shit over with and to avoid embarrassment from missing a coffin when he was going around opening them and also, with Yuu waiting near the mirror, the headmaster opens the coffin to wake the new student inside.

The dorm leaders walked closer to be able to quickly usher the new student to the dark mirror only to notice that the headmaster froze up.

"...Headmaster? Are you alright?" Azul "Boutta-do-sumthin-devious" Ashengrotto asked with faux concern.

"Ah– Ah yes! I'm alright Mr. Ashengrotto."

Crowley the bitch cleared his throat and reached inside the coffin to wake the student up.

"Hmm..."

The dorm leaders subconsciously or not, peaked inside the coffin before getting gobsmacked by the sleeping student.

Sure, the student looked quite cute ("New potential apple locked in" — Vil.) even with half of his face obstructed but what really drew their attention were the jewelries that he was wearing.

Three luxurious looking earrings on each of his ears, all unique from each other, all with a respective color and design except for that one earring with two gemstones connected to it, orange and indigo. Seven gems, six earrings

An ornament on his forehead that looks to be a combination of a circlet and a Ferronnière made from gold, with intricate black bat-like wings surrounding the red gemstone in the middle.

And that's just the jewelry on his head.

There's also the sleek black choker with a golden sheen on his neck with a teal gemstone surrounded by small diamonds hanging in the middle.

They don't know if this guy has anymore but the jewels they can see for now is more than enough for them to make the deduction that this student has some alot of money on his hands.

No wonder the Headmaster froze up.

Azul subconsciously starts fixing up his appearance when he starts to wake up, wanting to make a good impression on a potential, rich victim client.

• • • •

"Mmh... What the hell.. Why is the bed so hard.."

You mumbled as you stirred, feeling someone lightly shaking you awake.

You opened your eyes, expecting maybe the brothers, solomon, dia, barbs, simeon or luke but you were instead met with a face obscured by a dark bird mask.

"..."

"..."

"You have two seconds to unhand me before you lose your hands." or your life. Depends on who I can summon first.

You made your voice as cold and unwelcoming as possible as the man with the bird mask squawked and backed away a bit in shock.

"H– How rude..! I'll have you know that I was only–"

"Where am I?"

You cut off the weird looking bird-man as you scanned your surroundings and moved to come out of the coffin why were you in a coffin? you were in, in fear of it closing and locking you inside.

You glance warily to the bird-man while keeping an eye on the huge number of robed individuals that you can see. are you in a cult? Damnit, did one of the Brothers' crazy cults decide to kidnap you out of jealousy again??

Especially the seven (reminder that lilia is there with the Housewardens) closest to you and bird-dude.

Some solomon-kinnie motherfucker is currently eyeing you down like he's about to sell your kidneys to the black market or something.. Hmm... Your fight or flight instincts are telling you to sell HIS kidneys instead.

*Ehem*

Burd-dude cleared his throat and addresses you.

"It seems that the teleportation magic has left you disoriented... No matter, I can forgive your offense of trying to threaten me for I am gracious!"

He then looked weirdly like a combination of preening peacock and a proud chicken.

"I repeat. Where in the unholy trinity of the three realms, am I?"

Now that raised a few eyebrows.

You feel for the necklace under your clothes that Thirteen gave you, filing the question of why you're also wearing the same robe as these people away, in your head.

While the guy that you now dub-thee as "bird-bitch" started gawking at you and going on a tangent of being disrespectful, you scan the big hall/room you're in looking for ways to escape.

• • • •

Hmm... This new student seems to be a knowledgeable individual.

Lilia kept his gaze on the student, studying how he took on a defensive stance the moment he got out of the coffin.

They need to calm this student quickly before something happens.

The student seems to be confused on why he's here and is looking for a way to get out.

If the way his eyes moved around the room in quick succession is any indicator.

Not the first time that something like this happens but add in the magicless student's appearance, he gets the feeling that something strange will occur once again.

Seeing him take out and grasp the palm-sized gemstone of a whole 'nother necklace hidden under his robe how many trinkets does this boy have??, Lilia got ready to jump in the fray should something happen.

There's a possibility that the student can use that necklace as a weapon if that was what he chose to hold in this situation and not his other shiny ornaments.

Lilia was proven right when the necklace and the gemstone glowed and formed into a fancy-looking staff that the student quickly pointed towards Crowley.

He looked at the dorm leaders around him to see if any of them will do something.

...

yeah no. If anything, they look like they're watching an amusing show. Especially Schoenheit and Kingscholar..

Though it seems more like Riddle is still assessing the situation before he brings out his infamous collar.

Haahh.. Youngsters these days..

Chapter list | → PROLOGUE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Elae: Sorry if my grammar is off, English isn't my first language.

Btw, Thanks for reading this far! Hope you enjoyed it😊

Srry if my format is also off, I've only been using tumblr for a few days now...

MOST IMPORTANTLY; Should I continue reading this fanfic? I wanna know if people still read Obey mexTwst stories here...

[jokeringcutio]

Innocence Lost - Sauron/Annatar x Reader - SMUT

Pairing: Sauron (disguised as Annatar) x Virgin!Reader Rating: EXPLICIT Summary: The evil entity known as Sauron claims a fair human maiden. You. Warnings: This tale contains SMUT, non-con, evil Sauron, Human Reader, afab Reader, loss of virginity/first time, painful intercourse turning into pleasureable intercourse, corruption kink, Dacryphilia, the famous 'not inside' kink, breeding kink, implied forced pregnancy, very dark, implications of reader wishing for revenge? Not beta-read.

The river’s cold bite gnawed at your fingers as you scrubbed the fabric against the smooth stone. The water rippled, catching the pale light of the sun, but it felt distant, like a memory you couldn’t quite grasp. Your hands moved mechanically, the rhythm of your task steady, unthinking. This was just a usual chore, something that needed to be done. Your mind was miles away, fantasizing about little fairies floating over flowery fields. Daydreaming, like your father would say. He was at home now, somewhere inside, probably busying himself with the wood he had collected. Next to you, the watermill kept turning, and in the distance, you knew the villagers were going about their daily business.

It was nice to live on the brink of the village, just beyond its outskirts, but still in walking range. You had your peace and quiet, and a wonderfully large house with ample space. Suffice it to say, you were happy with your life. Even if such mundane tasks were a bit of a pain, but then again, they allowed for daydreaming, for fantasizing. For being at peace.

A peace that did not last as long as you had hoped. Something prickled at the back of your neck—a weight, a presence. You paused, the shirt in your hands dripping forgotten over the bank.

You glanced toward the tree line, the shadows thick and looming. Nothing. Just the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint creak of branches. A deer perhaps? You were probably being frightened of nothing. Encouraging yourself with soothing thoughts, you turned back to do the laundry.

It was probably nothing, you repeated the thought to yourself. Don’t be paranoid. Strangers don’t usually come here. It was probably an animal watching you. A deer or a fowl.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, but beneath it, something darker lingered. The forest behind you hummed with life, but there was a stillness now, a hush that felt unnatural. Your shoulders tensed. You just knew you weren’t alone.

Annatar watched from the shadows, his golden hair catching the faint light filtering through the trees. His gaze burned into you, tracing the curve of your neck, the delicate slope of your shoulders. So fragile. So mortal. He could almost taste your innocence, sweet and ripe for the taking. It stirred something deep within him, a hunger that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with power. He wanted to see you break, to watch the light in your eyes dim as he claimed you. To corrupt something so pure. God, he could feel his cock throb. There was no greater pleasure.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, his voice low, carrying on the breeze like a whisper. But it wasn’t meant for you to hear. Not yet.

You froze. The shirt slipped from your hands, floating away on the current. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes scanning the tree line. Nothing. Just shadows and leaves. But somehow you knew. You felt him.

Well, no use in hiding any longer.

Sauron stepped forward, his movements deliberate, unhurried. His disguise as a fair elf, Annatar, would make him appear less intimidating. And he made sure to act the part, sauntering like a graceful elf, as if he had all the time in the world. The sunlight glinted off his fair features, but his eyes… His eyes were dark, endless. They pinned you in place, stripping you bare without so much as a touch.

“Who—” Your voice cracked, barely audible.

He smiled. A slow, predatory curl of his lips that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Hush,” he said softly, his tone soothing yet edged with something dangerous. He raised a hand, palm out, as if calming a skittish animal. “No need to be afraid.”

But oh, you were afraid. Fear coiled in your gut, sharp and primal. Like a hidden instinct that was telling you to run. Your danger senses prickling. You scrambled to your feet, your wet skirt clinging to your legs, weighing you down. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out the sound of the river. A stranger. Here. Near your house? And an elf on top of that?

You took a step back, then another, your eyes never leaving his.

“You need not fear me,” he said, again, as if by repeating it his words would suddenly become ture. As he stepped closer, his golden hair caught the sunlight, casting an ethereal glow around him. The perfect image of an elf—noble, otherworldly. “I am Annatar, the Lord of Gifts.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. His words were too polished, too deliberate. Something in his eyes didn’t match the serene façade. They held a hunger, a darkness that made your chest tighten. 

“Gifts?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You took a step back, the riverbank slick beneath your boots. “What need have we mortals for gifts?” From an elf, you wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out as somehow, you were afraid to offend him. As if the wrong word could trigger the elf’s torn.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. I bring knowledge, power, beauty.” His hand extended toward you, palm up, as if offering something unseen. 

Your heart pounded. His voice was hypnotic, pulling at something deep inside you, but your instincts screamed. This wasn’t right. His presence was too heavy, too consuming. The air between you felt charged, electric. 

“I… I don’t need gifts,” you managed, your voice shaking. Another step back. 

His smile faltered, just for a moment. Then it returned, sharper. “Oh, but you do. I can see it in you. The longing. The emptiness.” He tilted his head, studying you like a predator sizing up its prey. “Let me fill it.” 

Your stomach churned. His words slithered into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts. You shook your head, trying to clear it. “No. I don’t… I don’t know you.” 

His gaze darkened, the mask slipping. “You will.” 

He moved faster than you thought possible. His hand shot out, fingers brushing the fabric of your skirt. You jerked away, stumbling backward. Your pulse roared in your ears as you turned and ran, the ground uneven beneath your feet. 

“Wait!” His voice echoed behind you, no longer calm but sharp, commanding. 

You didn’t look back. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs burning as you pushed yourself faster. But you could hear him, his footsteps pounding the earth, closing the distance. 

Your heart raced. He was too close. Too fast. You glanced over your shoulder, panic clawing at your throat. 

His eyes met yours, and something in them made your blood run cold. Hunger. Determination. 

You weren’t going to make it.

The ground hit your back with a sickening thud, the air knocked from your lungs. His weight pressed down on you, crushing, unyielding. You twisted, clawing at his arms, but his grip was iron. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips trailing a path that burned like fire.

“Stop!” you gasped, voice trembling. “Let me go!”

“Running won’t save you,” Annatar murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “Not from me.”

His hands were everywhere—rough, insistent—fumbling with the ties of your dress. The fabric tore as he yanked it aside, the sound sharp and final. Your heart hammered in your chest, panic rising like bile.

“What are you doing?” you choked out, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. You knew about men like him, had heard the tales. You might be a maiden, but you were not ignorant.

But to be assaulted like this by an elf? It didn’t seem right. They usually didn’t lower themselves to humankind. Not unless they had properly courted them first. Something about emotional connection before attraction. You wondered who this being on top of you was to have bluntly ignored sense and to act solely on primal feelings.

He paused, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, endless, filled with something you couldn’t name. A smirk curled his lips, cruel and knowing. “I told you, I am the Lord of Gifts,” he murmured, his voice low, smooth, like honey laced with poison. “And I have something grand for you.”

Your stomach clenched. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He laughed, a soft, chilling sound. “Oh, but you will. I’ll gift you an experience. Something life-changing.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine and you instantly squirmed beneath him, desperate to escape. But he was too strong. Too heavy. His hand slid lower, fingers brushing your thigh, and you froze.

“Please,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “Don’t do this.”

He leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. “You’ll thank me later,” he purred, his voice dripping with promise.

Fear coiled in your gut, tight and suffocating. You knew what he meant. Knew what he wanted. And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

The fabric tore with a sickening rip, the sound sharp and final. Cold air hit your skin, and you gasped, your body instinctively curling in on itself. But he was relentless. His hands were everywhere—rough, possessive, unyielding. You twisted, trying to shield yourself, but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. The other slid down, fingers teasing the edge of your exposed breast.

“Please,” you choked out, your voice trembling, barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. “Don’t—”

He didn’t listen. His mouth descended, hot and wet, teeth grazing the soft curve of your breast. You flinched, a whimper escaping your lips as he bit down, sharp and deliberate. Pain lanced through you, mingling with something else—something shameful and electric. His tongue flicked over the spot, soothing it for a moment before he moved lower, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “So frail.”

You shuddered, tears spilling down your cheeks. His hand slid between your legs, fingers brushing past your folds, exploring you with a possessiveness that made your stomach churn. His skin was rough, his fingers not at all as delicate as you had expected of an elf.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation, but it was impossible. His touch was everywhere, invasive, claiming. You felt how he brushed his fingers through your folds, then dipped one tip inside.

“Stop,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, stop.”

He chuckled, dark and amused, as if your pleas only fueled him. “I told you,” he said, his lips brushing your ear. “I am the Lord of Gifts.”

And here, he pushed one finger in, uncaring that your walls were inexperienced. You felt how the digit wiggled inside of you and heard his displeased hum. “Not wet enough, but it will do,” he murmured against your skin. “It will have to.”

Before you could respond, his finger was gone and he shifted, his knees forcing your legs apart. You cried out, panic surging through you as you felt the weight of him settle between your thighs. Something pressed against your unexperienced opening. When had he gotten his cock out? The pulsing member throbbed at your folds, begging for entrance, and you arched your back in panic.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, please—”

You felt the treacherous tip against your opening, already slick with its own juices. The pre-cum leaking from the head brushed past your folds, slickening the way. He leaned in, his breath warm against your neck. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. “Just relax.”

But you couldn’t relax. Your body was rigid, every muscle coiled tight with fear. His hips pressed forward, the tip of him nudging against you, and you whimpered, a fresh wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Let me go,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, just let me go.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed your neck, his tongue tracing a line up to your ear. “You’ll thank me,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “You’ll see.”

Your heart pounded, each beat a frantic echo in your chest. You felt him shift again, his weight pressing you deeper into the ground, and you knew there was no escape. No way out. He was going to take what he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

His hips pressed forward, and you felt the blunt, unyielding pressure of him at your entrance. The tip of his shaft pressed against you, then slowly pushed in. You clenched instinctively, a feeble attempt to keep him out, but he didn’t stop. He pushed in slowly and the sharp, tearing pain made you cry out, your back arching off the ground. Your fingers clawed at the dirt beneath you, desperate for something to anchor you to reality.

“Just as I thought,” the elf above you hummed. “The sweet scent of innocence. Now corrupted.”

You gasped for air, not certain whether you had properly heard him. Your lower region was on fire. It burned, a sharp pain whenever he moved—and he moved a lot as he shallowly thrust himself deeper and deeper inside. You took in shallow breaths, trying to soften the pain as your walls were stretched without being given proper time to adjust. Why was your cunt slickening the way? Why was the throb of pain dulling and turning into something else?

“Shh,” his voice was low and honeyed, as if he were soothing a frightened animal. “It’ll pass. Just let me in.”

But god, it lasted too long. The ache was deep, raw, like fire spreading through your core. You gasped, tears blurring your vision as he sank deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitched, a soft groan escaping him as he felt the tightness of you around him. “Aren’t you a pretty little maiden,” he whispered, his voice thick with reverence. “Mortals are so tight. A little too tight, might I add. But I suppose that’s why I like your kind.”

And then he was fully inside, buried to the hilt, and paused. You wanted to scream, to fight, but your body betrayed you. Your walls fluttered around his shaft, begging him to move. He obliged, pulling out gently before pressing back in. He was long, you thought, for you felt the tip of his cock push against something deep inside of you. A place you had no idea you had until now.

A slow, deliberate thrust dragged a whimper from your throat. Your nails dug into the earth again, but this time, it wasn’t just pain you felt. It was something else, something that coiled low in your belly and made your breath catch. You hated it. Hated him. Hated yourself for feeling it.

He set a rhythm, steady and relentless, his hips driving into you with a possessive urgency. His hips moved against yours, his coarse pubic hairs tickling your skin whenever he buried himself to the hilt inside of you. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure mingling with the lingering ache, and you bit your lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. But they came anyway—soft, broken moans that only seemed to spur him on.

Slowly, the pain ebbed, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar warmth. Your muscles relaxed, unwinding beneath him as he filled you completely. You hated it. You hated how your body yielded to him, how it seemed to welcome the intrusion as your pussy slowly started to slicken the way.

You felt his lips against you twitch into a grin, felt his teeth against your skin. “There you go,” he purred, his lips brushing against your ear. He chuckled, low and dark, sensing the shift in you. “That’s it. Just like that.”

And since when had you started to move your hips along to meet his? You groaned, rolling your head to the side and urging yourself to lay still. A task very hard, as Annatar's hands traced your chest, squeezing your still clad breasts hard until you gasped and arched against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His hands moved from your breasts and then he gripped your hips, holding you in place as he took what he wanted, his pace quickening. The world narrowed to the sound of his ragged breathing, the slick, obscene noise of your bodies moving together, the heat building inside you despite your resistance.

His breath was hot against your ear, each exhale a promise of something dark and unrelenting. “You’re so tight, little mortal,” he murmured, his voice low and guttural, like the growl of a predator savoring its prey. His hips snapped forward, driving deeper, and you gasped, your hands clawing at the dirt beneath you. “I could stay here forever, buried inside you.”

You tried to twist away, but his grip on your hips was iron, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you still. “Don’t fight it,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a pure thing you were. And look at you now. Debauched.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but your body betrayed you again, arching into him as he filled you completely. You hated how good it felt, how your traitorous flesh clung to him, desperate for more. His rhythm was brutal, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you bit your lip to stifle the moans threatening to escape.

But he wasn’t having it. “Let me hear you,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. He reached around, his hand sliding between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves. “You’re wet for me,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “You want this.”

“No,” you whispered, but it was a lie, and he knew it. Your body arched into his touch, your hips moving of their own accord, chasing the pleasure he was so intent on giving you. He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin there.

“Liar,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. You wanted to deny it, to scream and push him away, but your body betrayed you again, shuddering as he hit that spot deep inside you. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. He laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s it,” he growled, his pace quickening. “Take it. Take what I give you.”

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed to the feel of him inside you, the heat building in your core, the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear. There it was again, that bump deep inside, that push of his weeping cockhead pressing against your cervix. You hated how good it felt, how your body responded to him, but there was no stopping it now. Your pussy pulsed as you came hard on his cock, your walls fluttering around him, milking him for all you were worth.

His thrusts grew harder, more urgent. The heat of him was everywhere—his breath on your neck, his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his hips driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping. You could feel the tension coiling in his body, the way his muscles tightened with each thrust. His voice broke through the haze, low and rough, against your ear. “I’m close,” he growled, his words sharp, almost feral. “Your little human cunt is too good.”

You shuddered, the sound of his voice sending a spike of fear and something else—something dark and unwanted—through you. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your clit with cruel precision. He flicked it once, twice, and you cried out again. You'd just come, your pussy was senstive. And he was fucking it raw. “No,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “Please, not inside—”

“Inside?” he sounded surprised, as if the implications had only just begun to settle in his mind.

“No!” The word tore from you, desperate, raw. “I don’t want—!”

He laughed, a cold, cruel sound that made your blood run cold. You could feel each calculated trust, felt your walls squeeze tightly around his cock, overstimulated, drawing him in. “Too late for that, little maiden.” His hips slammed into you, harder now, deeper. So deep it almost hurt. “I wanted to gift you something grand, your first time. But you have just given me the greatest idea.”

Panic clawed at your chest. “What are you—”

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “Let me give you something even more precious.” His thrusts grew erratic, his breath coming in harsh gasps. You could feel it—the moment he lost control, the way his body shuddered as he spilled himself deep inside you. The warmth was indescribable.

You tried to fight, to push him away, but he held you down with impossible strength. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he whispered against your skin, “A gift, my dear. One you can’t refuse.”

You felt a strange, searing warmth spreading through you, something more than just his seed. Almost like magic. Twisting, corrupting, claiming. Was he a wizard? Was his elf form just a deceit? Your stomach churned as realization dawned.

He wasn’t just taking you. He was marking you. Using his magic to do god knew what.

“No,” you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you felt his hot cum flood your womb. “Please, no…”

Slowly, the pressure against your cervix eased. He chuckled, low and dark. “I promised it would be life-altering,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. And then, with even less emotion, he announced, “It is done.”

He gave a few final thrusts, shallow but deliberate, as if sealing his claim. Then he pulled out, the slick sound of it making your stomach turn. His seed trailed down your thigh, warm and sticky, a grotesque reminder of what he’d done.

He sat back on his heels, his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths. His eyes—those too-bright, too-cruel eyes—never left yours as he reached for your torn skirt. He wiped himself clean with it, the fabric dragging across his length in a way that made your skin crawl. When he stood, he was pristine again, his clothes perfectly arranged, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just defiled you.

You tried to sit up, but your body betrayed you. Your legs shook, your muscles weak and uncooperative. A big glob of his cum seeped out of your folds, trailing down your thighs as a reminder of the deed that had just been done. A sob caught in your throat, and you sniffed, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. You felt raw, exposed, like he’d peeled back your skin and left you bleeding.

“You should be grateful,” he said, his voice smooth, almost tender. He loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. “I’ve given you a gift.”

Your breath hitched. “A gift?” The words tasted bitter, like ash on your tongue.

“Yes.” He crouched down, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “Something precious. Something to keep.” His lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And you can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.”

Surely, he didn’t mean...?

But what else could it be? You were pretty certain by now that he was some kind of wizard. Some kind of evil, twisted, monstrous wizard. Your hand flew to your abdomen, your heart pounding so loud you thought it might burst. He had come deep inside of you and you had felt the magic swirl there. Could it be…? “No,” you whispered, the word barely audible. “You can’t mean—”

“Oh, but I do.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was a hardness beneath it that made your blood run cold. “I’ve blessed you. Now thank me for it.”

You felt the weight of his stern gaze pin you in place, the expectation hanging heavy in the air. The words caught in your throat, a mix of fear and confusion swirling within you. You knew you couldn't win against him and so, with a trembling heart, you lowered yourself, crawling toward him, the cold earth biting at your knees.

As you knelt at his feet, you bent your head, a silent act of submission, a twisted reverence. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words laced with a sincerity you didn’t fully feel, but knew he demanded. “Annatar.”

Oh, his name passed your lips like bitter poison. The syllables dripped from your tongue, laced with venom, saying his name out loud so you would not forget.

You would never forget him. Didn’t want to. Because you needed to find out more about him if you were to survive this. Find out more about the man who defiled you and brought you to your knees.

And then seek your revenge.

A small smile curled at the edges of his lips, a flash of satisfaction igniting something dark within you. “It could be better,” he huffed, dismissing your gratitude with a flick of his hand, “but I’ll accept it.”

Just like that, he turned on his heels, the movement fluid and commanding, leaving you behind as he walked away. Your heart raced, confusion flooding your mind as you looked up to watch him go, the shadows swallowing his figure, stretching farther into the forest.

You remained kneeling, the cool ground beneath you grounding the chaos of your thoughts, still grappling with the reality of your situation. What had just happened? Had it been real, or a horrible nightmare? But one brush of your hand past your thighs confirmed the horrid truth. Sticky white cum, mingled with red traces of blood, a sign of your lost innocence, clung to your fingers and you closed your eyes.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

But the forest didn’t answer. And neither did he.

[xueyidweams]

rambling once again (aventurine x cat-person gn!reader) (this kind of pattern is what I’m talking about.) (read more bc this became quite long, sorry!!!)

Aventurine in his life of working for the IPC has come across a lot of stealers or kids trying to find their food for the day. he usually gives them some money and send them on their way. however, he really didn’t expect for someone to try and rob him in Penacony, in the dreamscape no less. Somehow he didn’t sense the man hurling himself towards him and grunted in surprise as he was pushed down, before he could even open his eyes the man was off of him and running away with claw marks all over him.

dumbfounded, he gets up and looks around, only to find two cat eyes staring at him… except they weren’t a cat… well.. half cat half person? He thought the species went extinct long ago. though, you were living proof of the opposite. you helped him sit up, he felt your claws brush against his knuckles and you felt the coolness of his rings on your paw-hand. observing his every move with utmost attention, your feline eyes following his every mimic and body movement.

“well thank you kind stranger—“ you accidentally cut him off as you smell him closely and realize who he is, he smells just like those bastards from the IPC! way too rich to be true smelling! your ears curl backwards and you pull yourself away hastily as you run away from him. He blinks as he sees you run, so fast… is this why the IPC hunts you all down like you’re all one of a kind? He yells after you, “Hey wait! just listen to me, please!“ you look back at him, your teeth snared and your pupils as slanted as they can be, “leave me alone IPC scum!”

you turn a few corners and your eyes widen in horror to see a dead end… what the hell, you know this place like the back of your hand! did they build this just now or have you been hanging in the unfinished part for way too long? the hairs on your tail stand up and your ears curl back as you hear his footsteps, taking a step back your back meets the wall with an oomph.

“Hey look— don’t be so hostile, we don’t have to be enemies. you can trust me.” yeah right. with those eyes? they’re unnervingly pretty and somehow frightening. your gut is telling you to run but your heart is hammering way too fast in your chest and the sound is drowning out his voice and you feel like everything you’ve had to endure to not fall into IPC’s slimy hands again has all been for nothing and—

you feel a hand on your arm, you look up and meet his eyes. then you feel the warm tears staining your cheeks, your tail hugs your leg as your ears droop, “look. please don’t give me up to them, i’ll literally do anything. do you want any dirty work done? i can do it! please just leave me alone, i don’t want to go back i can’t go back!” you see his eyes… soften somehow. to him, you’re a stark reminder of who he was, maybe still is. the way you fight so hard to protect the most precious thing to you, your freedom reminds him so much of the unsavory memories that he doesn’t notice he is squeezing your arm a bit hard and some of the fur is stuck on his rings. you flinch and grimace and he untangles your fur from his rings, he pulls his hands off of you.

he coughs in his hand and looks at you once more, voice softer yet firm. “im not going to hurt you or give you up. that’s not my job anyways. i just wanted to thank you, for helping even though it could put me in serious hot water. cats hate water right?” you half rolls your eyes at his teasing remark, “yeah yeah pretty boy, cough up some cash if you want to thank me. thanks for not turning me in but empty sentiments won’t feed me when i have to wake up from this dream.”

he smiles and takes off the ring from his index finger, he looks at you, “can i hold your hand?” you feel a slight warmness spreading through your face and squint your eyes, “fine but don’t try anything funny!” he chuckles and takes your hand in his gently, “wouldn’t dream of it.” he slips the ring on your ring finger, winking at you. “you can sell this for at least five hundred thousand credits, plenty to eat hm?” you look at your finger, the ring and at him as your heart does summersaults in your ribcage. you’ve never… even as a tease you’ve never been flirted with this is—

he takes advantage of your stupor and strokes your shoulder, squeezes slightly and gives you a smile. “you haven’t seen me and i haven’t seen you, yes?” you nod, speechless but thankful. he turns around and you finally get your voice back, “wait!” he looks back, his eyes watching you with interest. he raises his eyebrows, “thank you. i dont know what else to say but i’ll never forget this. and i wasnt’… joking when i said i could do your dirty work. so if you need something and i can get it done, i’ll do it free of charge.” you manage to tumble out as your voice trembles a bit, still shocked. his smile returns, “I’ll think about it, maybe fate will make us cross paths again huh?” he gives a little wave and starts walking, “oh also, do take care of your fur, it’s rather soft.”

you look dumbfounded, your face morphing from surprised to angry to flustered but he has already left. you look at your ring finger again and play with the ring, maybe the aeons have pitied you now?

‘he’s really pretty…’

you think to yourself as you pocket the ring and think of all the fish, meat and bread you’re gonna eat. and maybe you’ll try that soul glad thing.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Wu Yanzi has taken a dangerous job. Shen Jiu is sure of it.

It's the only time his 'benevolent' Shifu ever ensures he's prepared. Most jobs he doesn't even speak to Shen Jiu, simply giving him a quick glance to ensure he was following like an obedient dog.

Today Wu Yanzi ensured all of his supplies were full, all the knives sharpened, the blades and needles dipped in their worst poison, and, most damningly, he checked in on Shen Jiu's health.

Shen Jiu was tempted to fabricate some sort of illness just to observe the man's reaction. He didn't, in the end, his caution winning over his curiosity as it was oft to do nowadays.

"Shifu" Began Shen Jiu, "What's this job about? Who's the target?"

Wu Yanzi, with his shadowed appearance and scoundrelly demeanor, cradled his liquor, and looked down into the liquid pensively. The hairs on the back of Shen Jiu's neck raised further; Wu Yanzi in an introspective mood meant danger. The renegade Shen Jiu called Shifu barreled into most situations without a second thought, the man gifted in the art of survival to a degree that made him look reckless. Imagine how surprising it was for Shen Jiu to learn how calculating the man was. For him to take the time to carefully consider, to prepare? If the precariousness of the job was to the point Shifu stepped carefully, it meant Shen Jiu could very well perish. He had no delusions about the value of his life in the eyes of his master. If it benefited the man more to complete this job, even at the expense of Shen Jiu, his student, he would pay unflinchingly. Wu Yanzi left his seat at the dim, gritty bar, and motioned Shen Jiu to follow him to the inn they were bunking in.

When inside the spartan room, Wu Yanzi threw silencing talismans on every wall. "Shifu?" Shen Jiu said questioningly. "Listen kid, this one is big. And high-profile. It's the head disciple of one of the big four. Yue Qingyuan is the name, and he already has folktales about his power, his exploits, his virtue." Wu Yanzi's voice was low, and intense. His gaze pinned Shen Jiu to the spot. "There will not be a single misstep, not one."

Shen Jiu bent at the waist, his murmur of 'Yes Shifu' tinged with a sincerity, and obedience, the youth rarely felt. Destruction nipped at his heels, and he felt the familiar inferno's heat on his back as his Shifu took the time to teach him, perfect his stances, even his manners. He could almost smell the acrid smoke as his part in the plot, the assassination, was revealed. The possibility of death lit his nerves on fire, the thrill, the adrenaline blazing through him like molten mercury. Shen Jiu wasn't sure if it was just part of who he was, or if it was through his up-bringing, but the charge that brushes with mortality brought him were as addicting as the liquor and women his Shifu was a slave to. It was the true reason he kept to the side of Wu Yanzi. Shen Jiu had learned enough that he was confident in his ability to thrive without the man, and it wasn't as if Shen Jiu was particularly endeared to him. Wu Yanzi didn't afford Shen Jiu any sort of guarantee of safety either, their mere association endangering Shen Jiu. muchless so protecting him. However, in the roaring aftermath of slaughter, as Shen Jiu stood in front of his masterpiece of wrath and vengeance, as his blood still sung for violence, as his hands itched for destruction, a hunger was stoked within him. It was the type of hunger that came after starvation, unholy, ravenous, consuming the host as it consumes the world. Death had chased him for so long, to the point where Shen Jiu became addicted to the chase. Shen Jiu just didn’t like seeking the brush of death on his own. It grated against his higher faculties. He could justify his discipleship to Wu Yanzi though. It did benefit him. So master and disciple used each other to chase their own highs, the knowledge of the dance unspoken between them. The arrangement would work until it didn’t, and whoever was faster to draw was the one who would walk away. It was with this mindset that Shen Jiu walked into Cang Qiong’s Qiong Ding Peak, his footsteps silent, the night heavy, and his blood singing.

[milkratz]

Loving Johnny wasn’t exactly planned, and honestly, it took a really long time for Ghost to notice just how deep he had fallen.

There wasn’t anything spectacular happening when Ghost realized just how fucked he was. He had made his way to the mess hall, sat down with his plate of food, and then reached out to hand Soap the admittedly stale, but arguably best part of their meal, bread roll. Only to stop. Because Soap wasn’t beside him

Because Soap was on a mission. And not here to bug Ghost for his bread- Though, now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember the last time Johnny asked for his bread. He just... got used to giving it to him. Even though the bread was the best part of the meal.  

Ghost stared at the roll in his hand, a small frown on his face. Come to think of it, this wasn’t the weirdest thing that’s been happening. There were a lot of things that weren’t adding up when it came to Soap.

Like how Ghost let Soap rest his head on his shoulder, even going as far as to push the sweaty hair that fell into Soap’s face. How his eyes would trace Soap’s sleep-swollen face, his heavy lidded eyes, his roughened voice and thickened accent when he awoke in the morning. Or the way he’d silently sniff the air around Soap, trying to take in the scent of his cologne; Somehow, the smell had become familiar and comforting, making Ghost feel safe, almost. 

How their conversations were easy. Ghost didn’t feel stilted around him, even laughing. The wit flew easy from his tongue, their banter casual and exciting. How they’d sit together in the common room, or recreation room, the silence comforting, Soap’s pencil or pen scratching at the paper of his journal, Ghost simply enjoying the silence with a cup of tea, that Soap brewed in the shitty little military-funded kitchen. The tea was halfway decent, for tea leaves that could kill a small child. 

The way Soap’s boisterous laughter drove away Ghost’s lingering thoughts. His wide grin, leaking manic energy. His chaos. The way his face went stone-cold when they were on a mission, but how his eyes lit up with excitement in the heat of the field. Oh god, his eyes. Like droplets of the bluest ocean, shining with that dangerous gleam. His tanned skin, plump lips, how Ghost’s eyes would follow the shape of his-. Ghost flushed at the thought. The roll in his hand felt more like a stone.

Fuck. He was in love. 

[thenaphantoms]

Marichat Oneshot

Marinette whimpers, panic pressing down on her chest, pale hands clasping and unclasping the blankets draped over her.

A pair of boots land into the room, quiet as they approach.

They stop. Long belt smacking against the floor.

And quietly. Carefully. They ascend the stairs.

Marinette's features tense, teeth bared, at the sound.

But she's not in danger. A leathery gloved hand presses against her forehead. It feels cool against her warm skin.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" a gentle voice asks from within the dark, confirming their presence.

"Who--" In a half-awake haze, she manages to squint an eye open. They catch on a silver bell, glinting in the light of the moon outside.

The anxiety in her chest softens, and she releases a heavy sigh, eyes closing once again. "Jus' kitty kitty," she mumbles nonsensically.

"Hey, what do you mean just me, huh?" the voice purrs, taking a seat on the bed beside her. They wipe a bead of sweat from her brow with what feels like a clawed index finger. "You're running a fever. I should---wh-HEY!"

The matress dips with the sudden weight of a certain cat boy being pulled down onto her pillows. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, pressing close, her head on his chest. "I-I'm sorry..."

"You don't--" The stranger hesitates, then gently wraps her up in a big hug, one hand instinctively reaching up to touch one of those magical earrings of hers.

But they don't grab them. They rest their hand on the small of her back instead.

"I forgive you," they whisper, watching as she falls back to sleep.

They card their fingers carefully through her hair, a river of pale white within a sea of deep blue.

Glowing ice cold eyes peer down at her from within the darkness, the beginnings of a satisfied smirk twisting their lips out of shape.

"Don't worry, Marinette," they vow. "I'll make sure you never have to leave me. Ever again."

She smiles in her sleep, unaware of just how much reason she now has to worry.

---

[boyakishantriage]

"They were called concentration camps. And it wasn't to enrich the species. Don't know where the hell you got that from, "historian." "

She'd spat out the statement like poison, bitter as she displayed the images. Bodies mutilated, people beated, starving, thin and pale as the snow around them.

"What-"

"This group were Jews, the soldiers were called Nazis, specifically National Socialist German Workers' Party. They were humans, but back then. Well back then they were Nazis."

She'd leaned back into her seat, nestling herself into the chair. Letting the history obsessed alien absorb her words.

"So Sampson lied?"

"If you mean Sampson Limberdov, he's a neo nazi. The last generation of Nazi before we'd hunted them down set up a new group. Doesn't really matter, all you need to know."

The slideshow showed the fearful eyes of the hung up man.

"He's not human. He's a mass murdering rapist pedophilic terf mother fucker. Creating four seperate cults that ended the lives of fourteen thousand youths."

"That's. You're lying."

She looked at the alien in the eye.

"Why would I lie?"

They were called Orsi, from the planet Osmo. A species who'd been the second wave of species to join the Federation, one of the most prevalent historical archivists. And she'd explained.

"This has no evidence-"

"I'd say the human race telling you this last being enough evidence."

She pushed another button.

"85 million dead. Of a population of 1.2 billion people, sure, it might just be a tiny fraction. But considering the largest death count from a war was during the time of Rome. At least a thousand years before world war two. We weren't going to forget anytime soon."

Rising to her feet, she pushed another button.

"You've heard of our genocides, wars, pandemics. So much death and destruction leading to today. 5 hundred thousand years since world war two. And you want to say I'm lying about all the deaths?"

Leaning in close, eyes tear less as she looked down at the bird.

"I didn't say that. It's just... Why didn't they tell us?"

She snorted, lighting her cigarette.

"Hell if I know. Probably because your sources were Nazis."

"What is a Nazi anyways?"

"National Socialist German Workers' Party"

"I mean yeah, but-"

"So. A really long time ago, humanity was a bunch of apes running from predators..."

[thatonebirdwrites]

Started this for Korrasami week but been too unwell to write

Crisp grey clouds hung long on the horizon, heavy laden with rain no doubt. Asami Sato buttoned her raincoat and adjusted her hat, her zookeeper badge clipped to her left breast pocket. Today dawned with dread, as the grand renaming of the Republic City Animal Sanctuary, started tomorrow. Which meant today would be an annoying amount of preparations.

Her charges lay at the center of the complex, the massive glass enclosure for the phoenix and dragonbirds, both of who teeter on the edge of extinction thanks to poachers. At least not if she had anything to say about it. She had signed on as the new breeder for both as of last six months ago.

The path she walked held a few tufts of grass between the cobblestones, and for once, it was free of popcorn kernels and cardboard containers. A heavy scent of pine and sea salt swept through along the increasingly heavy breeze.

"Hey Asami!" the familiar voice rang so cheerfully. Asami forced a smile at her rival, Avatar Korra — the head of the magical beasts sector of the sanctuary, and a lover of spectacle. Far too much spectacle in Asami's opinion.

The woman stood a few fingers shorter than Asami's tall, lithe build, and her muscles bulged in her sanctuary's work shirt. Far hotter than she had every right in being with that golden coppery tone to her skin and brilliant blue eyes, with luscious almond locks.

And dammit, Asami had drifted into admiration and staring instead of speaking. "Hi, Korra," she said. "It looks like it'll rain today."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Korra waved her hand as if she could stop the storm herself.

Which considering her skill with magical animals, maybe she could? Since signing on with the sanctuary — mostly to escape her father — Asami had witnessed far more feats or prowess from the woman than she'd ever imagined was possible for anyone.

"The storm won't hit until tonight. In the meantime," Korra rubbed her hands together and grinned her brilliant smile that made Asami want to both kiss her for being too damn beautiful or swat her for her arrogance. "We have a show to run!"

"Hardly a show," Asami said, wryly. "We're just showing off the newly built enclosures."

"Oh don't be so, so pedestrian," Korra poked Asami's shoulder. "We're going to host a show! And your lovely phoenix and dragonbirds will be one of the shining highlights!"

"They're what?" Asami stared at Korra. "You did not share this yesterday. Or the week prior or during any planning sessions."

"Because I knew you'd say no, duh." Korra gave her that damnable smile again. "But now you can't. We've already advertised our star attraction. So get ready, and prepare your birding gloves. You can show off that smart brain of yours and pepper the audience with a zillion facts."

Asami did not want to do that. In fact, she had hoped to stay entirely backstage. There was always something to fix with the equipment, and it'd keep her busy and away from prying eyes.

And cameras.

Last thing she needed was for her father to know where she was.

"I'm sorry to say I must decline." Asami turned and stalked away before Korra could respond. The nerve of that woman. If she wasn't so damn hot, she'd likely hate her guts, but instead, she simmered with a weird crush that just clung to her heart with the ferocity of a dragonbird.

[himbos-hotline]

Bruises on my heart for hangmatt?

A-B-C Fic Game: Pic a title from the list and send me a ship (or One of my OCs) and I'll write a short fic for that title. [askbox link]

Bruises on my heart | Hangmatt | 993 words -> taster probably

Matt's holding onto him too tight. He knows he is, really he does. But something so deep inside of him won't let his hands let him go. Late at night he curls around himself, arms tight around his middle and Matt pretends that it's Adam's arms. Pretends that he's being squeezed tighter and tighter against his chest and if Matt closes his eyes tight enough, he can almost see the curve of Adam's back against the low light of the moon.

But he's never there. Not really, Even when Matt's arms start to shake and the muscles of his chest start to ache, Adam doesn't reappear and Matt has to let himself go. He gasps for air, acting like the wetness on his cheeks are stray, messy kisses instead of tears.

He showers before Nick wakes up. So he doesnt get stare at in the way that only his little brother can, like he's reading everything thought Matt's ever had. Matt jokes that Nick knows everything and Nick laughs and something inside Matt feels lost whenever he sees joy flash like stars across his baby brothers blue eyes. He doesn't make eye contact with himself as he changes in front of the mirror; why should he? He doesnt recognise the person who glares back, anger barely hidden in the downturned corners of wide eyes.

Even Okada pretends not to notice when Matt walks into the locker room, pulling on his suit jacket. He smiles and Matt raises his chin in a friendly hello before letting his body drop into a chair that creaks as Matt leans back, resting the crown of his head against the wall.

"Do you think Hanger will say yes?" Nick asks, quietly as he picks at the hem of his suit pants. He wraps one around his finger and Matt watches as blood drains under his baby brother's nail until the cotton snaps and color comes flooding back.

Matt opens his mouth, parts his lips slow enough that he feels the hinge of his jaw pop just under his skin. "I don't know Nicky." Matt answers honestly because Nick is gazing up at him through his eyelashes, sadness coating his face as his lips turn deeper downwards and his eyes shift back to the floor.

"I mean, he's gotta be right?" Nick continues after a while of silence. He drags the heels of his sneakers up towards him and Matt winces just a little. "We need him."

"No we don't." Okada pipes up, waving his phone at Nick. He barely stares up from the screen when Nick whimpers a little. "We're the new Elite." Matt doesn't like the way Okada's voice dips on the word New. Like it's a reminder, highlighted and pinned against the Buck's forehead. "We have Jack."

Matt presses the curve of his nails into the palm of his hand and sighs. He forces a smile onto his face, swallows the words that he wants to yell and simply nods. "Yeah Nick, we have Jack and Okada. Who says we need Hanger or Kenny anyway."

"We were gonna change the world together." Nick's voice is firm and flat and Matt knows that tone of voice too well. He stands slowly, rests his hand on his little brother's cheek and runs a finger across the stubble growing there, Nick leans his hand against his brother's cheek and sighs, looking over when there's yelling just outside.

They can't pick up on the voices, they're too muffled through the thickness of the door. Matt looks at Nick and Nick simply nods, turning his attention back to tying up his shoes. "I know you hate this Nicky, but please." Matt whispers, watching Okada from the corner of his eyes, "Things'll start to feel normal again, I promise."

"Right. Yeah. Whatever." Nick sets his bottom lip into a pout and shrugs himself away from Matt. Flinching when someone bangs on the door. Matt turns a little, instinct dragging him to stand in front of his baby brother as the banging gets louder, more furious.

Okada opens the door, keeps it pinned against his chest with the side of his foot. Matt catches just a glimpse; tangled damp curls flurry around broad shoulders and Nick moves, pausing when Matt puts his hand against his chest. Using his little brother as a shove off point, Matt walks towards the door and shoves it open wider.

"Hanger!" There's surprise hidden just under the joy that paints Matt's bright voice. He rests his hands briefly against Okada's shoulders, forcing him to back down. "Hi." Matt wants to cower just a little under Adam's cold gaze but he straightens back his shoulders and smiles, teeth glimmering.

Maybe Matt's showing off, just a little. Maybe he's trying to appeal to an Adam that's now hidden somewhere dark and cold. Matt doesn't know what he's doing but he smiles anyway, pretending that there's no goosebumps growing across his arms. "What brings you around here?"

Adam grimaces like he's in pain and Matt's fingers itch to reach up and brush against the heaving side of his chest. He can almost feel the hairs tickling the tips of his fingers as he tucks his hands behind his back. His head tilts and his eyes grow wide and his bottom lip trembles. Before he can pout, Adam sighs, something breaks in his eyes for just a second.

"I'll do it." He answers so quickly but it hits Matt's ears slowly and by the time that Matt has the idea to respond Adam's stormed away, the clicking of the heels of his boots echoing as he disappears. Matt feels himself brighten up under his skin,

Joy floods just under his skin and Matt chuckles a little, breathless at first as Okada taps him on the shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asks both the Bucks and Matt turns to his brother, watching as he smiles bright and wide.

Matt nods.

"I am now."

____________

TAGLIST:

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @fletcherfluid

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @harvey-dent

@thekadster @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @sethfreakinrollins @old-no7

[goodday-goodmorn]

Not used to posting things so fast- But the brain worms have infected me and @auspicioustidings concepts give me life. Once again- another from them, i felt contractually obligated to write this because my auntie is in Vegas for her birthday right now.

The concept in question

Not the after effects of waking up- but rather the proposal itself. This one’s short cause i pumped it out real quick. Just a little dabble.

————————

Ah Vegas. City of love. Wait no that was Paris- city of… sin? Well that sounded too much like a trashy YA romance novel for your tastes so- Vegas, City of…

Vegas: City!

God maybe you should lay off the M and M’s. Lavender and Bright cyan blue little things from the M and M factory are making you really taste the rainbow. Shit that was skittles catchphrase wasn’t it? Actually- did M and M’s even have a catchphrase other than the sexy brown M and M? Though that was less a phrase more a person. Er- candy. Chocolate.

Pah! You should have never gone to the M and M factory. Stupid little chocolate candy is making you think far more than you can handle right now.

Seriously it’s messing with your head. You’d better get rid of them.

You throw your M and M factory bag onto the floor, watching all the candies scatter the pavement in an explosion of color. That's why the pretty colors are so dangerous and not sold in the normal packs. They make people all loopy. Cause there’s no other reason you would be so outta sorts.

Except maybe the daiquiri you’d had. And the Manhattan. And those shots. And whatever that weird drink in a glowing lightbulb was.

Okay maybe it wasn’t the M and M’s.

Which means you just threw them out for nothing oh no! 20 dollars down the drain. And your M and M’s!

You whine mournfully over the loss, sinking to the ground dramatically and cradling one of the cyan shelled candies close.

“Is everything all… right?”

You barely register the voice- British and a bit rugged- before you are drunkenly rambling out-

“No- i thought my M and M’s were evil but they weren’t and i killed them for nothing!” You cry out, the words making you even more emotional, you pathetically sob, holding the cyan candy in your palms to your chest.

“Come back! Liveee please. Papa didn’t mean it i swear, i didn’t know what i was saying- you got me all tongue tied!”

“Hey-“

Oh british man has a very nice voice, so smooth and gentle, more than you were expecting.

“It’s alright love. We can get you some more candies.”

You sniffle.

“R-really?”

He smiles like some sort of teddy bear. Gentle and soft.

“Yes really. Just gotta get you back to wherever you’re stayin at first. It’s dangerous for a pretty girl to be on the street like this.”

You nod sollumly. “For the m and m’s yeah. Hard shells- but thin. Can’t be carrying em’ out in the cold. Poor little fellows can’t stand it.”

“Think you should be worrying about yourself first love.”

He really does look a teddy bear when he smiles. A very warm and cuddly teddy bear. Very warm. And you are oh so cold. Maybe…

“…maybe i’m and M and M.”

You mumble with a little frown, looking away from his oh so pretty eyes to instead stare at the cracked M and M in your hand.

He chuckles, it’s a nice sound.

“Com’re lovely. You’re shiverin.”

He held you up and you cling to him naturally. To your disappointment and utter display he is not as soft as a Teddy bear. Such false advertising. When you burry your head in his chest, while warm and soothing- it is firm with muscle. Hard just like his arms and co-

“Not exactly what i meant by that sweetheart.”

He’s pushing you away! Away from the warmth.

“No, I'm an M and M- gotta be warm or else I'll crack! Do you want me to die?”You whine out trying to stay close but he’s very strong, holding you firmly away from his toned chest.

(And raging boner. Not that you noticed it.)

“I know, I know- here. I’ll give you my coat.”

He wraps you up in his thick but soft coat and you relax immediately, snuggling into the fabric. With your eyes closed you hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“There’s a girl. Nice and warm now?”

You nod, making a drowsy and soft little “Yup.”

“Good. Now come’on. You know where's your hotel at?”

“Huh? We can’t go there! We gotta get more M and M’s first. Silly.”

“Right, course. Silly me.”

You giggle a bit hysterical. He agrees with you so easily, letting you link arms with him and walking you to the M and M factory. He’s so silly. With his cozy coat and koala-esc smile and pretty eyes and rumbly voice and-

“I think m’ in love with you.” You slur out, gazing at him with half lidded eyes.

“Shouldn’t say stuff like that sweetheart. Might give a guy ideas.”

Ah Ideas, you’ve got a lot of ideas. So many fun ones- but mostly one that you blurt out after he gently pushed your hand away when you tried to pay for your new M and M’s.

“I think I wanna kiss you.”

Price pauses as he tugs you outside the shop. Looks down at you, clinging to his arm, wrapped up in his coat; with the sweetest face and clearly wasted out of your mind. Price isn’t a good man. A good man would have called you a cab to get you back to your hotel. Would have asked if you had any friends to get you there. Would have gently told you to go to the stupid M and M factory another time.

He’s not a good man but even Price isn’t fucked up enough to take advantage of a pretty drunk girl. Even if his self control is wilting the more time he spends around the mess that is you.

He shakes his head with a little sigh, leaning down close to you and mumbling.

“S’ not a good idea to kiss strangers love.”

“So then marry me and we won’t be strangers.”

…Self control John. Self control.

“Will you marry me please?”

You plead with the teddy bear man, he’s just so cozy and pretty you can’t help it. You wanna kiss him soooo bad but he’s right you can’t kiss a stranger! But if he was your husband then it would be perfectly acceptable. And you are an ordained minister technically so it all works out!

Price looks at you, your pleading eyes, your softness, you wrapped up in his coat and clinging to his arm. Pretty little thing.

…He deserves to let his self control slip just this once right?

[omalahsocs]

Jenny narrowed her eyes slightly and then bent herself backwards to look at Samael upside down. The Irishman had a cigarette lazily drooping from his lower lip and looked as tired as the nights were long. Reaching for him, she twisted like a cat and gripped his pants legs, climbing up him even as he sat back to give her room.

"Samael? What is a touchstone?"

The salubri raised a brow at the question and slowly smiled, pulling the burning cigarette away from his lips and thus away from her, lowering his head to kiss her forehead.

"Naught you gotta worry about, Bonnie." He smiled, exhaling a bit of smoke above her head and toying with her blonde tresses. "Just something that ends up holding you down."

"But..." She turned her mismatched eyes up to him and he could hear the soft whine in her voice even as she simply searched for words to explain.

"You need something, love, you hold onto me. I'll show you how the night's are supposed to go." He promised quietly, his claws stroking her cheeks. "You want a bite? I can find someone for you."

He was, perhaps, a bit too eager for bloodshed. He wondered for a brief moment what his brothers would have thought of it and banished the thoughts just as quick. They chose to hide and isolate away from even other kindred. Their opinions didn't matter to him. The sweet young Malkavian that draped against him, however, and hung off his every word like gospel? She mattered, and he'd teach her right.

[tryinganythingtobehappyagain]

Feelings of lust and love often get confused. Amanda knew this. But she knew for a fact that she had at least one of those feelings for a certain coffee and theater aficionado. A certain someone whos laugh made her laugh more. Someone whose hugs felt like feathers and sunlight and whose hand was as soft as a baby's.

[kata-sans]

Sp Sky Au 6

In the following nights, Craig grew comfortable with the presence of the star. He took it up on himself to teach him all he could about this new world. Every night he would wonder about the world completing his task with Tweek not far behind.

Tweek was curious about everything he came in contact. Craig has never had anyone ask him so many questions about his job. In all fairness he hasn't talked to many people but he still stands in his opinion that Tweek is incredibly naive and lacks basic knowledge.

He doesn't blame Tweek. The poor star was practically isolated and unaware of anything beyond his solitary bubble. Although such restricted existence has also caused him to become highly skittish and paranoid.

As curious as the star seemed to be, Tweek approached every new event with fear and trepidation. Craig swears he nearly fainted at the sight of a frog puffing out his chest to croak. Craig still chuckles at the memory.

Along with Tweek, Craig has also found himself learning new things. He learned that Tweek is sensitive to loud noises, but also struggles with controlling his voice level. Tweek's body glows when his anxious or excited. Craig has been as eager to learn about the star as Tweek is about the world.

"CRAIG!"

Huh... oh he was overthinking again. This habit used to go unnoticed before he met Tweek.

"yes, Tweek?", he focused on the star, who seemed flustered.

"DO YOU HEAR THEM NOW?" Tweek continued to look in the direction he claimed to hear voices from.

Oh yeah! Apparently Tweek has been hearing voices in his head for a long time. According to Tweek, all the voices he hears are wishes from people in this world. Being this close to the source has made it impossible for the star to ignore them. Which leads them to their current actions.

Since discovering his gift, Tweek has begun a campaign of seeking each person and attempting to grant their wishes. So far Tweek has been able to help a few people, but he is highly disappointed with the wishes he cannot grant. Tweek still doesn't know his way around, so Craig follows him to ensure his safety.

Tonight they are seeking a young boy, who has been wishing to be a dog. Craig can't say he's impressed with some people's wishes but Tweek was adamant on at least try to help. It's not practical to change a person's species on a whim, but Tweek usually has a unique way of granting wishes without causing major consequences.

"THERE!," Tweek pointed towards a house on the edge of the field. Craig noticed Tweek carefully approaching an open window on the side of the house. Craig followed and looked in through the window. The boy was sleeping peacefully. At his feet laid a dog who was also slumbering.

Before Craig could inquire about Tweek's plan, he noticed Tweek's skin beginning to glow. Craig was always mesmerized by the star's display of magic. His admiration for the all the stars in the sky fell short compared to seeing one up close.

Suddenly the dog in the window woke up, but something seemed odd. The dog looked around the room before noticing the boy on the bed. He quickly examined himself before tumbling off the bed. Despite this, the dog's tail wagged excitedly as he made his way out the open window in front of Tweek and Craig.

Tweek smiled at the dog, "HI, ARE YOU READY TO GO PLAY?" The dog wagged his tail and followed Tweek into the open field with Craig. Suddenly Tweek stopped, his party looked at each other for an explanation. Tweek turned and revealed a ball in his hand.

For the next two hours, Craig and Tweek played around with the dog. Craig was enjoying himself so much, he didn't notice when the dog laid down in exhaustion. Tweek picked up the tired pooch and returned him to the bed. When they left, the young boy awoke with a gleeful expression. He ran to the window and whispered a quick thank you to the twinkling stars in the sky.

Craig and Tweek watched the boy return to sleep with his furry companion. The glow from the star next to Craig faded away, but in it's place was an expression of contentment. This was definitely Craig's favorite part of this wish granting business.

Part5

Part7

[biotic-raptorian-angel]

How it began

The sun was setting over the sprawling Overwatch headquarters, casting a golden hue over the sleek glass and steel structures. Fareeha Amari stood on the training field, her heart pounding not from the exertion of drills, but from the excitement of her first week as a member of the organization she had idolized since childhood.

She was determined to prove herself. Perhaps too determined.

It happened quickly—an overzealous rocket jump gone awry. Fareeha’s landing was less than graceful, her shoulder scraping against the ground as she rolled. Pain flared briefly, but she brushed it off, pushing herself to her feet. However, the instructor, a gruff veteran, waved her off.

“Med bay, Amari. No arguments.”

Fareeha sighed, embarrassed but compliant. She slung her helmet under one arm and made her way inside, her pulse steady until she pushed open the door to the med bay.

The sterile room was bright and orderly, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. And there she was—Dr. Angela Ziegler, Overwatch’s head medical officer. Blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a crisp white coat over her form, and a kind smile that immediately disarmed Fareeha’s usual guarded demeanor.

Angela looked up from her clipboard, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth. “Ah, you must be Fareeha. Come, sit,” she said, gesturing to an examination chair.

Fareeha swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “It’s just a scratch,” she mumbled, trying to sound casual as she sat.

Angela arched an elegant brow. “Let me be the judge of that.” She pulled on a pair of gloves and leaned in, close enough that Fareeha could smell the faint lavender of her lotion.

The touch of Angela’s hands was soft yet assured as she gently cleaned the scrape on Fareeha’s shoulder. Fareeha winced at the sting of the antiseptic, and Angela immediately softened her touch further, her voice soothing. “I’m sorry, I know this part isn’t pleasant. Almost done.”

Fareeha stared at her, struck by the juxtaposition of Angela’s confidence and her tenderness. The way her fingers brushed against Fareeha’s skin as she applied a bandage sent a warmth coursing through her that had nothing to do with the injury.

“There,” Angela said with a small smile, stepping back. “Good as new. Try not to throw yourself at the ground quite so enthusiastically next time, hmm?”

Fareeha laughed softly, the sound more nervous than she intended. “I’ll try.”

Angela tilted her head, studying her. “Are you feeling lightheaded? You’re a little flushed.”

Fareeha felt her cheeks grow hotter. “No, I’m fine. Just… long day.”

Angela chuckled, the sound as soft and melodic as her touch. “Well, take care of yourself, Lieutenant Amari. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Fareeha stood, hesitant to leave the warmth of Angela’s presence. “Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Angela,” she corrected with a smile that made Fareeha’s heart flutter. “We’re all colleagues here.”

“Angela,” Fareeha repeated, her voice soft. She turned to leave, but paused at the door, stealing one last glance at the woman who had, in the space of a few moments, become the most captivating person she had ever met.

As Fareeha walked back to her quarters, her heart was lighter despite the dull ache in her shoulder. She smiled to herself, realizing that in a single touch, Angela Ziegler had done more than patch up her wounds—she had completely disarmed her heart.