#steel tank fabricators near me

[afcosteel]

Discover how AFCO Steel is revolutionizing the industry as top steel tank manufacturers, setting new standards in quality and innovation.

[worldsover]

An Unusual Coverage ft. Heejin

6.8k words

Your girlfriend Heejin is DONE with not using condoms—wait a second... not?

Heejin’s lips on yours mean this is a good day, even if there’s a pout on them that you can taste. She had a bad day at work so that one kiss to cheer her up leads to two cups of lukewarm tea on the coffee table before you. You run your hands over her bared waist, tank top riding up her torso, as her body rubs up against you. Between deep kisses where Heejin’s tongue swirls against yours, and the wet spot growing on her panties, you think you know where this is going.

After pulling away when her teeth sink into your bottom lip, you say, "Needy girl. I know what’ll make you feel better, a load inside you."

But how can you predict Heejin? She hesitates; you've never seen that. "Y-you’re right, it does… but that’s not what I want right now."

Perplexed, you pause your ministrations, hands stilling on her waist. "You don’t?"

Heejin's eyes widen and she rushes to reassure you. "No, no, I do, I do." Soft kisses. "You know what a cum slut I am, Daddy. Come here, let me feel you. Mmh." This kiss isn’t as soft, not when her hand goes for your hardening bulge.

You kiss her back hungrily, your desire reigniting, but pull back when she still seems hesitant. "But what?"

"Another time..." Heejin looks away shyly. This is the cutest girl on earth, you reckon, but dishonest, not so shy when her digits are still pants-bound.

You give a singular laugh-scoff. "Really? I'm just surprised, you've never turned down a creampie before."

She sighs. "You're gonna harp on this? Alright, I get it." Heejin sits up straight, patting her thighs. "Sit up, let me get on my favorite seat."

You smile as you comply, shifting positions so she can straddle you properly. Heejin cups your face. "I want your cum," she says, her voice dropping to a needy whisper. "Of course I want your cum."

Whatever the conversation was, is, or will be, your hands are directed towards her tits by natural intervention, taking inventory and stock of the perfect perky shape over the thin fabric of her top.

"God, squeeze my tits, yes, they’re yours, play with them. Fuck, what was I saying?" Her moans become more and more wanton as you knead and tease her nipples. "Mm, right, your cum. You give me so much of it. It’s so hot, three, four loads every time we fuck—"

"Yeah, you’re fucking Heejin, have you looked in a mirror? I could give you the world."

"No, you’re the one fucking Neejinie,” she says, laughing, and you laugh too, giving her a peck on the forehead as her head falls into your neck. "You’re the sweetest, Daddy." She looks back up, steeling herself into something serious, even when it’s never that serious. "But… I need more cum."

You raise an eyebrow. "So you wanna kill me then."

"A little bit." She giggles. "I just... I want to be absolutely filthy with your cum. Utterly covered and filled by it until I'm dripping everywhere. All my holes, every inch of my skin." Heejin leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I want you to make me look like a used cum rag, while I fingerfuck your seed into my pussy."

Your mouth goes dry at Heejin's filthy words, cock straining against your pants. "Need it that bad?" you rasp.

"Mhm, that bad." Heejin purrs. She leans back and rummages in her purse, pulling out a strip of condoms with a sly grin.

"Condoms?" Haven't used those in a long time.

"Yes, Daddy,” she says, her face all serious again. "Pants off. Now."

You quickly comply, shucking off your pants and boxers as Heejin strips out of her clothes. There’s always going to be a little drool, a little open jaw when you witness her adorable tits ever so slightly recoiling as she tugs off her tanktop, or witness her underwear ever so slightly sticking to her pussy as she slides them down her legs, or witness the overall damn-near hourglass figure of the most beautiful woman you've ever laid your eyes upon.

Now on her knees, Heejin tears open a condom wrapper with her teeth, and she's still an expert at rolling it down your shaft with her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks you. Electric pleasure zings through you as she takes extracurricular kittenish licks, slathering her saliva and tongue all over your latex-covered cock. It's a surprisingly colorful blue. When she pulls off with a pop, a string of spit connects her lips to the tip.

"You remember how to do that?"

She huffs indignantly. "Yeah, Daddy, I think I’ve had more than enough practice with your pretty cock." Heejin gives it a few pecks, eyes filled with love, then starts suckling on the tip. Before you can stop her, her head is bobbing up and down your length.

Your hands tangle in Heejin's hair as she works your cock, her tongue swirling expertly around the latex-covered shaft. With a groan, you gently pull her off before things escalate too quickly. "Easy there, needy girl," you tease. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you?"

"Huh? Oh." Heejin blushes, realizing she got carried away worshipping your cock as she is wont to do. "Right. Y-you should do that. Fuck me. Now."

With your fingers still in her hair, you get up and guide Heejin to lie back on the couch. While you can appreciate every position—doggystyle lets you spank Heejin’s round ass; cowgirl turns her an insatiable wildcat riding you with abandon—there’s something intimate about missionary, the way you can watch expressions flicker across her face. As you position above her, her arms wrap around your neck and pull you in the way that every component of Heejin feels like an inescapable event horizon. Her eyes are glassy with lust, yet there's a sincerity in them that roots you to the moment more than any physical sensation ever could.

"Make me forget everything, Daddy," she murmurs. "Fuck the thoughts out of my head. I only wanna think about your cock."

"With pleasure," you murmur, kissing her deeply. Your cock slides easily between her folds; the girl is always ready for you. "You’re so fucking wet. What an eager slut."

"F-for your cock," Heejin gasps as you push in, her pussy squeezing tight around your shaft, and the condom isn't doing much for your stamina with how good this girl feels around you, a feeling that you've missed ever since she let you raw-dog. "God, it's so fucking big, it always stretches me out so good," she babbles. As much as you love the deep sound of her voice, her talking dirty like that will expedite the moment too much for you, so you kiss her to shut her up. It doesn’t work.

Heejin moans into the kiss, wrapping her arms around you and holding you close, her body moving in time with yours. "So perfect, Daddy, so perfect. Promise me, promise me that from now on every time you get hard for me, you'll fuck one of my holes and give me your cum."

You don't understand how you'll do that with a condom. But, "I promise," you reply, breathless, and Heejin rewards you by pulling you in for another hungry kiss."I'll give you my cum whenever, wherever you want it."

"Good," she says, your cock sliding in and out. "Let's use condoms from now on, okay?"

You pull back. "What? I thought you liked it better when I fill you up, baby? You've always been such a cum hungry slut." Your hands roam down to her tits and play with her sensitive nipples, making Heejin gasp and arch her back.

"Nngh, I'm still going to collect your cum, Daddy."

You stop entirely, even though Heejin bucks her hips to grind on you. "What?"

She giggles. "I want you to fuck me, fill up the condom, then toss it onto me." The image that forms in your head makes you dizzy. "Is it just me, or does that turn you on?"

"God," you groan, snapping back into motion. "That's pretty tempting."

"Good." Heejin moans, holding onto your arm as you ram into her. "Anywhere, my tits, my ass, my thighs, my face. Like I'm just your cum dumpster"

You're pounding her hard, now, the couch creaking in protest. Your hand's in her hair. Your hand's around her neck. Your hand's groping her tits. You're a fucking caveman, who needs to feel every part of Heejin, every part of this woman who loves you so much that she'll let you treat her like a filthy cum rag.

"Please, Daddy," she begs, her voice rising to a high pitch. "I'm close. Cum in me. Fill me up with your cum." You can tell she’s close, her walls convulsing around your shaft, her eyes glazed over, her hands gripping the couch cushions for dear life.

"I'm gonna cum," you growl, fucking her harder and faster, the tip of your cock kissing her cervix. "I'm gonna fill you up."

The condom does little to dull the sensations of her tight pussy squeezing around you as she cums, and it's only a matter of time until you cum after, filling the condom to the brim. As you gingerly unsheathe your shaft, Heejin's hand darts out and snaps it off your cock, and she giggles at the weight of it and tosses it between her tits; it looks like it's meant to be there as if all the lingerie in the world could never compare to the sight of a well-filled condom. You lean down and kiss Heejin, your hand stroking her face tenderly.

"Fuck, I love you," you breathe.

"I love you too," she replies, and Heejin's smile is more innocent than anything you've seen today. Reaching for your shaft, she teases, "You have another load to give me, right?"

"Always," you growl, and after she fits another condom over your cock (you note this one's red), you plunge inside, and Heejin's moans fill the air once more. As you pound into Heejin's tight pussy, the filled condom on her tits starts leaking and dribbling down her body, coating her skin with your thick cream, and the sight of her covered in your cum is so hot you can't help but fuck her even harder. Heejin is incoherent, babbling nonsense, and you kiss her neck as you whisper, "You're so hot, Heejin."

"Your cum, your cum," Heejin chants, her hands groping at your back, her hips grinding up into yours. "Give me, give me. Use me. Use my pussy." She's drooling now, eyes rolled back, and you're not far from it either.

This round is shorter, and the two of you are too busy kissing to notice you've reached your limit until you're cumming into the condom, and you both gasp in surprise. You pull out, and Heejin's eyes glint with the same mischief as you hear the snapping sound. Then, the condom is tossed onto her stomach, and she sighs happily at her burgeoning collection.

You kiss and caress each other for a few minutes. "That was amazing," you finally say, your thumb brushing Heejin's cheek.

She looks beautiful, her face flushed and her hair messy. Two used condoms adorn her body like trophies; she ties off both of them.

"Wow. You like it that much, huh?" You chuckle. You've never had a girl this kinky, and it's a good thing that she's your one and only.

"Of course I do. That wasn't just dirty talk, silly," she laughs. "You should go to bed, Daddy. You'll be busy tomorrow, what with all the condoms you'll be filling for me."

***

"That was a crazy night, wasn't it?" you say, as you and Heejin walk to the car.

"Hah! Yeah, it was," Heejin giggles, squeezing your hand. You've been dating for three years, now, but you still blush when you hold hands with her. She's just too cute. "It was fun, though."

"Definitely." You unlock the car, and Heejin hops in the passenger seat.

As you slide in, Heejin says, "I'm so glad I got to try that out. But anyway...." Her tone sounds like she’s dropping the subject, so you move on.

You're in her workplace's parking lot, opening the door for her. "Hopefully, work's better."

She steps out of the car, and you swiftly give her a cheeky cheek kiss. "Thank you." While getting out, she drops her purse on the floor.

"Whoa, careful." You laugh, reaching down to get her purse.

When you get up, you notice her panties hanging on the strap. Two cum-filled condoms are tied off and dangling from the band, swaying in the breeze.

You blink. "Uh... Heejin?"

She smirks. "I told you. It wasn't just dirty talk."

***

This is the second time you've seen the women's bathroom inside Heejin's workplace. The first, of course, is when you railed Heejin over the sink and added three new trophies (as she calls them). You can tell she's put a lot of thought into this, each new condom a new color. It's starting to become a cream-filled rainbow. The second time is in these pictures, of her touching herself inside a stall, filthy jewelry around her waist, and it's making the grueling late night at your own office a little bit more exciting. The last picture of her pussy is dripping with her wetness and your seed; she texted to tell you that she couldn't help herself from opening a condom and using the cum to lube herself as she masturbated. "I couldn't help myself. I needed to get more of your seed inside me, Daddy."

"Stop teasing," you text back. "Or I'm gonna end up having to jack off at work, and only horny weirdos jack off at work."

"Hey! Meanie!" Her reply comes instantly. "But you're right. Don't waste a drop, or I'll be disappointed. I want as many loads as possible."

You sigh and go back to work, the ache in your cock making it difficult to focus.

After an hour and re-sobered mind, a knock on your office door. You sigh. You thought you were the last person left here, and you don't want any more tasks to do.

Your smile when you open the door. "Baby?"

Heejin's standing outside, holding two takeout boxes and looking at you with those big eyes of hers. She's in her work clothes, and while her blouse is not as revealing as the tanktop she'd worn yesterday, her skirt still does wonders for her legs. Of course, you know what's underneath the skirt, and your cock twitches. Down boy. Heejin's carrying food, and she'll get upset if you don't let her feed you. "Hi! I got us some food. I figured you might not have eaten, so..."

"How can I love you anymore than I already do?" You laugh, taking the food from her and setting it down on the table. "I was just about to wrap up, actually, so we can eat together. Come in, come in."

Heejin smiles sweetly, stepping past the threshold, and shutting the door. "Actually, I have another surprise for you, first." Her voice is low and sultry.

"Of course. You and your ulterior motives." You raise your eyebrows, and Heejin laughs.

"Guilty," she giggles, stepping closer and closer to you until she can wrap her arms around your neck. "You know what I want, don't you?"

You chuckle. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't."

"Did you know..." She pulls out one of the condoms from under her skirt. "I kept this one in my purse for emergencies? And whenever I miss you, and miss your cock, I just pick it up and..." She leans in, whispering in your ear. "I suck on it. I can still taste your cum and my juices from last night."

"You're so fucking dirty." You kiss her hard, pushing her against the wall. Her lips mold to yours as if they were made to, her tongue swirling against yours, and her teeth nibbling your lower lip.

"God, you're so hard," she whispers. "Lucky you have a slut right here to take care of it."

You pull back, and Heejin smirks at you, her fingers trailing down your chest to the bulge in your pants. She presses her palm against your cock, rubbing it, and you groan. She smiles wider.

"You still have work to do," she says. "Why don't you sit back down and finish up?"

"Tease," you mutter. Heejin laughs, and she kisses your forehead before pushing you back down into your chair. You look back at her expectantly and she just stares at you. "Really? You can wait."

"Mmm." Heejin motions toward your computer. "I'll be fine."

You shake your head. "Alright. If you say so." Trying your best to clear your mind of the gorgeous girl in front of you, you turn back to your computer and start to type.

It takes you a few minutes to focus, and just when you're getting in the groove of things, you feel Heejin's hand on your thigh. You look down, and she's kneeling in between your legs, looking up at you with her big brown eyes, her hand on your thigh inching upward. There it is. You knew this girl couldn't hold back. "I've been thinking," she purrs.

You gulp. "About?"

Her hand reaches your belt, and her fingers deftly undo the buckle. "About sucking you off under this desk, since I am your cum whore," she says matter-of-factly, as if she's discussing the weather.

"Yeah, you are." You lean back and place your hands behind your head, but then Heejin tuts at you.

"Daddy, you should really focus on your work."

You laugh, but comply, returning your attention to the screen. "Okay, okay. Do whatever you want."

Heejin unzips your pants and pulls your cock out of the slit of your boxers, and you can feel the ghost of her breath against your skin, making it twitch. "You're already so hard," she says. The temptation to touch her, to stroke her hair, to grab each side of her head and skull fuck her ethereal face, is overwhelming. "It's already leaking and everything. I'm going to miss feeling how your cum fills my throat. But... I'll make do."

Heejin is the devil, pretending she's an angel while saying that, licking that leaking cockhead. She pulls out another fresh condom from her bag; tearing it open, it’s a pretty green color. You try to keep your composure as Heejin rolls the green condom onto your cock with her mouth, slow, steady, torturous. The devil, already killing you, is trying to send you to heavenly hell. When the condom is snug on your shaft, she gags as she goes another inch deeper, and your cock throbs and you almost lose it right then and there. But she pulls back before that, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Get back to work, Daddy," she says when she notices you staring (because of course, you're staring), "or else I'm edging you all night. Then again, if that means this one's going to be even more full than usual, I wouldn't mind." She winks, her hand stroking the rubber encasing your shaft, and you shudder, but return to typing, even though you're sure the email you're writing is a ChatGPT-esque mess of gibberish.

You're trying your hardest to get this fucking work done, but it's impossible. The condom can't hide the warmth, the softness of her tongue, the way her cheeks hollow as she sucks you off, her head bobbing up and down on your lap. When her lips stretched around your girth hit the root of your shaft, the tip poking the entrance of her throat, you can see her eyes watering, but she doesn't gag this time, only sucks, and sucks, and sucks. Heejin's hand reaches around your waist and squeezes your ass, and you have to bite back a moan as she fondles your cheek. Your fingers are hovering over the keyboard. You haven't typed anything in the last three minutes.

Heejin giggles, her hand coming back to cup your balls, massaging them in rhythm to her bobbing. Each bounce of her head comes with more and more sticky throat slime coating the latex. Your hips are asking to move, like this blowjob could be misconstrued as anything but throatfucking at this point, Heejin actively pushing herself down and up your shaft.

When she needs a break, and lord knows you need it equally bad, Heejin's tongue swirls around your ballsack, licks up the length, and then swirls around your cockhead. "You're doing so well, Daddy," she says. A long smooch here at the tip, where you can see a decent amount of pre in the green rubber. Her hand strokes your length, the latex sheathe creating a smooth glide. "You're gonna give me a nice big load, aren't you?" Heejin kisses the tip again, then places her tongue flat against your shaft and laps at it, like she's trying to clean off your precum through the rubber.

You let out a choked gasp. "Y-yes. Of course. Just—"

You're panting, you can feel your orgasm coming to a boil. Heejin seems to know it because she wraps her lips around the tip of your cock and starts suckling on it.

This knock on the door makes your heart drop. You can pretend you're not here, but then you're certain whoever it is will just barge in.

Heejin's lips don't even waver; if anything, her mouth is working faster, trying to get you to cum. "Come in," Heejin calls out cheerily, her voice slightly muffled. Your eyes bug out, and you're about to push her off, but she takes you down to the base again.

"Is that Heejin?" your Haseul asks. "Let me come in and say hi!" She opens the door and frowns slightly. "Oh, where is she?"

"Th-that was a phone call." You're sweating. You're shaking. You're trying not to cum in your boss' boss' presence. "She's heading out, actually. Just hung up." You're hoping to whatever god that Haseul doesn't step around the table and see a beautiful, slutty head bobbing on your lap. "Did you need something?"

You're getting closer, and the only sign of Heejin's acknowledgment of this precarious situation is a giggle that reverberates around your cock, and you're going to cum.

"Oh, she's a funny girl. It sounded like she was talking with her mouth full." Haseul laughs.

"Yeah, that's Heejin." God, your orgasm's cresting. You need to cum. "Hah, I guess you can say that."

"Hey, are you okay?" Haseul asks.

You grab Heejin's hair to stop her, but she just hollows her cheeks and continues suckling. "Yep. Great. Great as a late night can be."

"Totally. In the same boat. Well, I don't wanna take up too much of your time..."

So that means for the next ten minutes, you're listening to Haseul drone on while you're on edge. This is the worst edging session of your life, but the only thing you can do is pray that you can get through this alive. Unable to hold off the horny little devil sucking on your shaft, Heejin restarts the momentum of the blowjob. If Haseul sees the slight bobbing, she doesn't mention it. Maybe this is where being known for being restless is good. Heejin's mouth feels like it's sucking your soul straight out of your dick. It's all too much. You're going to cum, you're going to cum, you're going to cum.

"You sure you okay?" Haseul steps closer. Every single part of your body is screaming to..."You look like you're about to explode. Did I do something? I'm sorry if—"

"No, no, no, Haseul!" You wave your hands wildly. "You didn't do anything! I'm just a little sick!" You give a performative cough."I shouldn't have come to the office! I should've just stayed home, and—"

"Hey, I get it. We all do crazy things for the grind. You're a real trooper." Reaching over the desk, her hand rests on your shoulder, and you shiver, not in pleasure, not in fear, but in pure shock that Heejin hasn't stopped sucking you. You can feel the condom straining to contain your load. "You should go home. I'm sure they can finish it tomorrow."

"I'm fine!" you croak. You're not fine.

Haseul laughs, but she gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, and you tense up, worried that Heejin is going to gag, or Haseul will look down, and then it's game over. "I'll take care of it," she says. "You need to go home, rest. I'm not asking." Her eyes are kind. "I'm sure Heejin would want you to. You're a good man."

There's someone else not asking. And she's on her knees, taking, and you brace against the desk, feeling it start to erupt from your core. No. She sucks harder, her lips stretching around your cock even tighter, her tongue circling your glans, and you finally explode into the condom as your entire body shudders, and you drive into Heejin’s throat, a silent scream rising in your chest. The condom is filled with what must be the thickest, stickiest, hottest cum of your life. Haseul's still holding her shoulder as you geyser away, shutting your eyes and biting your tongue and putting your whole face in your palm while your every muscle tenses. You must look like a raving lunatic.

"Oh! What was that?" Haseul asks, innocently.

"Nothing. Nothing. Noth..." You're panting. "No offense, can you step outside for like five minutes, I just need to... My head... ow."

"I'm so sorry!" Haseul steps back immediately. "I should've taken the hint! Take your time."

"Thank you," you manage as the last dribbles of your orgasm fill the condom. You can feel Heejin smug as she gently sucks whatever remains of that orgasm. Your cock's so fucking sensitive now.

As soon as the door closes and footsteps recede in the distance, Heejin lifts her head off your lap, smacking her lips obnoxiously.

"Wow," Heejin grins."She's so sweet."

Your brain is filled with fog.

Her breath tickles your sensitive shaft and sends pleasurable chills up and down your body. "That was hot as fuck, wasn't it?" Heejin asks. Maybe. Maybe not. What just happened. You respond with nothing. Heejin grabs her phone from her bag and types away. "There. She'll leave us alone now."

"What?"

Heejin giggles. "God, this one looks especially full." She slides the condom off using tightly sealed lips, and you have to watch it slowly slip from your shaft. When it falls into her hands, instead of tying it up as routine, she brings it to her lips."Sorry Daddy, this one looks too good not to..."

"You're really gonna—"

"Yup!" Heejin takes the condom in her mouth and lets the opening unfurl onto her tongue. The sticky white fluid that drips out pools in the back of her throat, her jaw stretched to flaunt. While the rubbery sheathe gets thinner and emptier, Heejin swishes the sperm around. It looks like a one-man bukkake inside Heejin's mouth.

"You're such a nasty slut."

With a smirk, her mouth shuts. Her lips curl over it as she gulps and swallows with a noisy gulp. Her cheeks bulge and her neck is visibly working. You watch as the entirety of your cum is swallowed. She opens her mouth wide again, tongue lolled out, to show off her hard work."Ahh. All clean. Don't pretend you don't love it." Heejin pouts. "Aw, man. I can't add this one to the others."

"Here, give me that." You take the sloppy condom from Heejin's hand, and she lets you, a little surprised, a little curious as you place it on the corner of your desk.

"What are you doing?"

You're thankful Haseul is gone by now; otherwise, she'd catch a cum-covered green condom on your desk corner, and a Heejin grinding on it like she was going to get pregnant from that thing. Now there's a video you'll watch over and over. Heejin makes for the cutest squirmer. Her little whimpers and gasps are endearing, and the neediness with which she rubs her cunt against the condom will probably turn into your go-to material when Heejin's too busy at work.

***

Hybrid work is great. You're thankful Haseul gave you the green light for remote work whenever you need it. While you wish Heejin's company gave her the same luxury, you realize that would likely lead to an extreme lack of productivity, even if no one else knew what exactly was happening.

It would lead to days like this.

"Hey babe, welcome back!" Heejin runs up to you as soon as you walk through the door, and you wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. She's in the middle of getting dressed, a bra on her chest and her panties on her bottom, and she smells like fresh soap and a hint of sweat, like she just did a bit of manual labor. Her body is soft and warm against yours, and her hair tickles your neck. "How was work?" she asks, pulling back from you.

"Same as usual." You shrug off your backpack, setting it on a table, and Heejin's eyes light up as you unzip the front pocket.

"I have something new for you."

"Oh yeah?"

Heejin brings you to your office and you find a fancy new standing desk. You were just talking about wanting one now that you'll be working at home more often.

"You're the best. I love you." You pull her in and kiss her on the mouth, and Heejin eagerly kisses back, her arms wrapping around your neck.

When you break away, she looks up at you and grins. "You know, I didn't just get this for ergonomics." She drags you by the hand to the side. "Check it out." That's when you realize this woman has corrupted your office space. Your laptop (not the work one, thank goodness) is opened to a tab of some porn video. There are condoms and lube bottles on the side, as well as an empty box. Heejin giggles as you gape at her.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Is it not obvious what I'm going for?"

"How am I gonna get work done with this?"

"Easy." Heejin points to the gap between the desk and where you're standing. "You stand here, and I'll crawl underneath and just lie down, with my ass up in the air, and you can just fuck my pussy like a fleshlight whenever you need to jerk off. It's perfect."

"Hah. Work, though."

"I'll be good!" Heejin gives her best puppy-dog eyes, and you can feel yourself melting at the sight of her pout. "I'll try not to moan, and I won't cum unless you let me. Let me show you."

Heejin gets underneath the desk, bending over like a gymnast and grabbing her ankles. Though she's wearing a casual home dress, you're easily reminded how flexible and athletic Heejin's body is, her thighs and ass toned from her years of dancing.

"You can use my holes whenever you want." She wiggles her ass at you. "And when you're done, I'll take your cum. See? Make a deposit in the cum bank." Her laughter turns to a squeal as you swat her ass. The noise echoes throughout your home office space. "How does that sound?"

You respond by tugging her dress up to her hips and pulling her panties down to her thighs. Heejin shivers and lets out a little sigh, her pussy already dripping wet. "God, you're so hot," you murmur. You rest your cock between the snug crevice of her ass while you get the computer ready, a browser full of porn tabs ready to be explored. Heejin's ass is so soft against the underside of your shaft, and you can feel your cock twitch as you start rubbing against her.

You click through a couple of porn videos before settling on a petite woman with a tight body and a big rack, getting fucked from behind in a POV perspective. Heejin giggles. "Ooh, I think I recognize that one Daddy. Her ass is cute, isn't it? Are you going to jerk off your cock with my holes imagining they’re hers?" You pop a condom onto your cock and slide in. Heejin's pussy feels like heaven, as always, but you're not sure how long you'll last, given the circumstances.

"Yours is better," you say. "But I don't mind spicing it up."

The woman in the video is moaning and squealing and screaming about the cock pounding into her pussy. Heejin is doing her best to stay quiet, but you can hear her breathing heavily and whimpering with every thrust.

You squeeze Heejin's asscheek. "Cocksleeves don't talk, remember?"

"Fuck, Daddy, I'm trying... you just get so, fuck, fucking deep..." she moans. "I can feel you all the way in my cunt." You give her ass a firm smack. "Fuck! Sorry Daddy, I promise, I promise I'll be good." She's still whimpering, but you can tell she's trying her best. God, you're not gonna last long.

You grab Heejin's hips, pulling her back onto your cock with each thrust. Her tight, warm, wet pussy feels amazing around your cock. She's still whimpering and moaning, but she's trying her best to keep it down. It doesn't take long before you feel yourself about to cum. With a groan, you slam into Heejin one last time, your cock twitching inside her as you cum, and you can feel the condom filling up.

You stay like that for a few moments, panting, before pulling out. Heejin whimpers as you do, her pussy clenching around your cock. You take a moment to catch your breath, then tie off the used condom, and drop it on the small of Heejin's back.

"Thank you, Daddy." Heejin sounds like she's in a daze.

You give her no respite, opening another video and feeling inspired. This is a much rougher one, the man in the video holding the woman's arms behind her back and brutally slamming his cock into her asshole. You decide that you want to try that, grabbing another condom and lubing it up thoroughly. Heejin gasps as you plunge into her asshole and pull her arms back, and you start fucking her, hard.

"Daddy!"

You yank her hair. "Be a quiet anal fleshlight, or you're not getting any cum today."

"Yes Daddy," Heejin moans, but her words cut off in a squeal as you yank on her hair again. This time, Heejin tries her hardest to stay quiet, and you're impressed at how well she manages, despite the rough treatment you're giving her ass, her hair in a ponytail that you're using as a rein to control her. You can feel Heejin's tight hole clenching around you, and you know she's getting close. Just as she's about to cum, you pull out, leaving her unsatisfied.

"Daddy..." She whimpers, and you can hear her pouting. "Please, I was so close..."

"On your knees." The sudden command is met with no resistance from Heejin. She immediately crawls out from under the desk, her dress still bunched up at her waist, her panties still around her thighs. You slap your condom-covered dick against her cheek. "Clean my cock, slut." You grab her by the hair and shove her face down onto your cock, your other hand holding the base of your shaft. Heejin doesn't even blink, just starts sucking on the rubber-covered shaft, no care in the world about the taste of her own ass. She moans around it as she cleans it off, her eyes closed, looking content. You let her suckle for a while, before pulling out and yanking her back to her feet by the hair.

"Are you gonna use me again like a fucktoy? Jerk off using my asshole?" Her eyes glimmer at the prospect.

"No. Get on all fours. I'm done with porn for now, I wanna use my anal fucktoy properly."

You don't need to ask twice. Heejin gets on the floor and arches her back, her ass up and her head down, presenting herself to you. You close the laptop and then squeeze lube between Heejin's ass cheeks. She shudders.

"You have some incredible ideas, but sometimes I just prefer to fuck my girlfriend." You plunge into her and Heejin squeals in delight. "God, you're so tight," you groan, starting to pound her ass. "I can't get enough of you."

"Thank you Daddy, thank you!" She moans. "God yes, fuck me, use my tight little ass, it's yours, it's yours, it's yours. Use it whenever you want." You're fucking her harder and faster now, her tight asshole squeezing your cock, and Heejin is folding and buckling under the sheer force of your thrusts, her hands and face pressed into the floor. You really don't need much time, as Heejin's ass is so tight and hot, and it doesn't take long before you're cumming into the condom with a loud groan.

When you pull out, Heejin collapses face-down into the floor, her ass sticking up, her asshole gaping and twitching around the emptiness.

"Looks like that asshole is begging for cum." You peel the cum-filled condom off your cock, and Heejin looks back at you. She must be thinking what you're thinking. You take the opening of the condom and pour it into her ass, and Heejin gasps then moans as you watch it trickle into her gaping hole.

"That feels... so good, Daddy." Her voice is slurred. She's barely coherent. "So good."

You watch the cum dribble down her thighs, and you reach down and spread Heejin's ass open so you can watch more of your seed disappear into her tight, gaping asshole until the condom is empty and Heejin's ass is dripping with your cum. When you let go of her ass, you slap it and Heejin jumps. "Stay there. I'll get some water for you."

As you leave the room, Heejin giggles, her face pressed against the carpet of your office. "Mmm, thank you. I'll stay nice and still for you."

You return to the sight of a beautiful woman, still in the same position as when you left except with two fingers in her pussy, two down her cream-lubed asshole.

***

Usually, you awake to the sound of your morning alarm. This is not the case today. Instead, you are rudely (or rather, kindly) awakened by Heejin slurping and sucking on your cock.

"Goo' morning," Heejin greets you, her voice muffled. "I was waiting for you to wake up. Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

You rub your eyes and squint to look at your phone while Heejin nurses on your cockhead like it's a lollipop. "Yeah, you told me before. What time is it, babe? Are we gonna be late?"

"It's six." Heejin pouts. "We have plenty of time. We just won't be able to take our time, that's all." She kisses the head of your dick. "I think we'll be fine. Let me just get a couple of loads from you and then I'll get ready."

You sigh. You can never resist her. And, you suppose, it is nice waking up to Heejin sucking your cock.

"You like my collar, Daddy?" She smirks, looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes, and bats her lashes. The leather choker has a large silver hoop on it. "I figured it'd be a good way to carry more condoms. Look!" She grabs an empty, unopened one from your side table, opens the wrapper, and slips the ring into the hoop on her collar, like a keychain. "Doesn't that look good?"

"I bet it'll look better filled."

Heejin giggles. She's back to blowing you, the rubbery condom a familiar and pleasant sensation on your shaft. "So sexy," she mumbles.

Your hands run through her hair, gripping it tightly, but you let her do the work, slurping up and down on your cock.

"Deeper."

Heejin pushes herself down further, taking it into the back of her throat, and she gags but doesn't stop. Even with a tear running down her cheek, Heejin's smile doesn't waver.

"You like choking on my cock?"

Heejin hums an affirmative.

"You like having your throat fucked?"

She gags again, but Heejin doesn't stop, and you feel yourself getting close, especially with her hands doing all sorts of work, massaging your balls and caressing the underside of your cock.

"All before we've even had breakfast."

[neonblessing]

10.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

Club RED was a labor of love. A cyclopean eye of neon tubes stared down at the street from the facade of a beautiful temple to excess, bathing the darkening street in bloodred light which played through the mist kicked up by a nearby waterfall. The building was dark glass and darker stone, three stories tall and culminating in a domed roof. It wasn’t even 5 pm, but the line was pouring out the door and onto the sidewalk, foreign raincoats and umbrellas standing side by side with wet-haired Diluvian partygoers.

Shiv had never entered a nightclub through the front before. There’d been one club, the Magpie, that she’d frequented with her friends, but the owner was one of Ornarch’s devout and always let them skip the lines. Huh. She hadn’t been to the Magpie in years. She wasn’t even sure if it was still in business.

The line moved quickly, and before long, she was at the door. “Let’s see some ID.” There were two bouncers, identically dour and militaristic-looking men who loomed over her like a pair of sunglasses-clad statues, their suits custom-made to fit over the bulky structure of a mil-spec exocloak. Thin seams in the skin of their faces suggested the presence of subdermal armor plating to protect what the mechanized armor didn’t. One of them handled a scanner with the practiced care of a guy whose grip could crush a human skull.

Shiv showed them the card. “Kooler sent me.” The one with the scanner stared her down while the other barked a few quick words into a headset. If shit went south, the only viable exit was ducking the rope to the left, but Headset would make a grab for her and if those huge hands got a grip it was over. She’d need to distract him first, maybe blind him. Throw her coat in his face? She started to shrug it off her shoulder, just in case. Scanner continued to glower at her in a prolific display of disdain. He should be too far away to do anything, but just in case-

Headset spoke, snapping her out of her planning.

“Hm?” She’d missed what he’d actually said.

“Go on in. The boss is on the second floor.” Shiv pulled her coat back over her shoulder and brushed past the bouncers and into the club. She pushed her way past a heavy curtain of soundproof fabric and replaced the endless roar of the streets with the endless roar of Club RED’s speakers.

Water poured down gilded fountain walls and colored lights arced and scattered through thick smoke, produced by a mix of sweet-scented cigarettes and industrial fog machines. Waiters and waitresses wearing practically nothing served a very peculiar clientele: half of the patrons were exactly what she’d expected, the sort of wealthy-looking folks willing to spend fifteen credits on a can of beer; and the other half were all grizzled paramilitary types. The burning coal glow of their cybernetic eyes stared out at her through the fog, automatically seeking out her vital organs before flicking back to their drinks.

Shiv scaled the stairs to the second floor, taking a moment to look out on the dance floor from the balcony. The band’s frontwoman was more work of art than human, her limbs all formed from sweeping lines of carbon fiber and steel. Her guitar plugged into a port on the back of her neck, her quicksilver fingers dancing over the strings with surreal grace. She had a voice like an angel with a smoking habit.

“She’s quite something, ain’t she?” A woman’s voice came from behind Shiv. She turned to see Kurtz, for who else could it be? The owner of Club RED was maybe forty years old, a little shorter than Shiv, and built like a brick. Her head was clean-shaven, revealing dozens of tally mark tattoos, in sets of five, spreading from near her temple and across half of her head. Unlike everyone else, she was dressed simply and practically, in sturdy black pants and a tank top, and unlike everyone else, she had a gun at her hip, an antique revolver. Both of her eyes were red: one eye was flesh, with an iris that had either been dyed or transplanted. The other eye was metal, the iris glowing the exact same shade as the vast eye on the front of the building. She carried herself with an easy confidence, bordering on arrogance. “Are you the one Kooler mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

“I��m Joan Kurtz, owner of Club RED and REDEYE PMSC. What brings you to my door?”

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

[myloveforhergoeson]

tw: discussion of scars + childhood injury

“woah… what’s this?”

gingerly, roxy caught james’ left wrist between her calloused fingers, turning his forearm to face her direction as they cuddled on one of the many lounge chairs by the pool. with his well maintained tan from hours spent in the los angeles sun, the thin white line was almost impossible to spot; she’d certainly never noticed it before today.

thumb swiping over the scarred area, she felt james slightly flinch at her touch. “it’s nothing… old injury.”

removing the right arm slung around her waist, he shifted to the left a bit, dark sunglasses obscuring the look on his face. he covered the mark with his hand for a moment, palm over the area like a bandaid, before taking a breath and gathering his girlfriend in his arms once more.

with her ear to his chest, she could hear his heart race. though that might be due to their proximity, the feeling of his palms growing clammy on her bare skin told her otherwise.

she silently praised her choice of a red crop top for the day.

“i’ve got one on the back of my leg,” she said in response to the chill, moving her right foot into the air and wiggling it a bit to ease the tension she could sense radiating off of him in waves. “one of dani’s dogs didn’t like me very much. i got too close to her one day and she really decided to let me know… god, that shit hurt like hell.”

one of his brows raised, signifying she’d caught his attention. “you had to know that she didn’t like you. dogs are super vocal about that type of thing aren’t they? like, missy really hates logan. we think she can sense he’s more of a cat person.”

“i know you’re not blaming me for being viciously bit by a crazy animal right now. everybody else loves me! why should i assume bear felt any different?”

air shot out of his nostrils in a silent chuckle, tickling the top of her head, almost going unheard against the chatter of other hotel patrons on the deck around them. “the dog was named bear?! baby, you were totally asking for it!”

visions of the black labradoodle ran through her mind, much like how bear loved to run through dani’s family’s large, open property. “she was a total sweetheart when mag and dani were around her… maybe she doesn’t like gorgeous, talented women or something.”

james’ nose exhale turned into full on laughter, roxy practically bouncing off his chest as his body shook at her words.

from the table beside their lounger, roxy reached out to take a drink of the lemonade she’d picked up from the cafe, offering the cup out to her boyfriend as well.

after a long, slow sip, james’ free hand set it down before sinking into her long hair. instinctively, her arm draped around his waist. “i forgot to put the blade guards on my skates after practice one night. coach worked us so hard that day i was just happy to get off the ice and get home; too distracted by what my mom might be making for dinner to think straight. walked out of the arena with my bag in one hand and my stick and skates in the other, hit a patch of black ice before i reached her car, and ended up cutting myself up pretty darn good.”

just the thought of the sharp, stainless steel of an ice skate anywhere near her skin caused a shiver to crawl down the girl’s spine. “that must have been awful…”

“well a trip to the er, sixteen stitches, and a bunch of ibuprofen later i was feeling just fine. i think my ego was more bruised than anything. my mom was super freaked though.”

“well yeah,” roxy nodded, finger rising to trace the lines of the soft black tank top james wore, “any mom would be worried about such a substantial injury. i’ve never had stitches but i imagine sixteen means it was very big and very deep.”

closing his eyes, james took another breath. “deep? yes. big? eh. nothing like the time carlos got a metal plate put in his head.”

“jesus christ. i’m going to pass out just thinking of it…” her hand curled into a fist, taking the smooth fabric with it.

a few kids from their class were starting up a game of volleyball in the pool in front of them, sounds of shouting and splashing water distracting the writer from their conversation momentarily.

“but you’re right,” james continued. “my mom was worried - just not about me. more about the mark it would leave than anything… she even called an emergency meeting for her product development team to start work on a scar cream. i still use it to this day.”

roxy chose not to comment on the success of the cream if she was still able to see the mark that remained on her boyfriend’s skin, though her heart panged at his words. clearly, brooke’s concern had reached him, just for the wrong reasons. she saw it in the way he instinctively covered the area when she’d mentioned it, in the solemn way he discussed the product he still used, months, maybe years, after his accident.

without thinking, her fingers caught his wrist again from where they tangled in her locks and pulled his forearm to the sun once more. the scar stood out more prominently to her now, and now she couldn’t even remember what he looked like without it. it was part of what made james james. “she shouldn’t have made you feel that way... it was an accident; you were seriously hurt. who cares what it would look like in the future? what should have mattered was your safety in that moment and beyond.”

he didn’t respond to her, gaze somewhere off in the distance behind the tint of his shades. this time, when roxy swiped her thumb over the area, he didn’t jump.

“we all show concern in our own way i suppose,” he whispered into her hair, placing a kiss on her crown before resting his chin there.

as they cuddled by the pool, james hugged roxy just a little bit tighter.

[dandi-8nd]

The Mundane

(short, TW guns and minor blood sploosh Death)

PREVIOUS PART👇

“Okay see that guy comin’ up pushing the cart with the yellow acid drums? Jump in that gap and ride it to the tanks on the far end of the room. You’ll be able to hide behind them, but I can’t cover for you like this, they’d definitely be able to find you.”

“Are you sure?” Dandy was a little weary of Kane’s advice. Even though they established a small amount of trust and acquaintanceship she still got feelings of uncertainty and flashbacks to when they tricked her into being trapped in the vents.

“Yea, it’s in a really closed off area, and they don’t like being around the vat anyways cause it freaks em out, they only put us workin’ here cause its not white collar enough for Sligs and they wanna desensitize us. So trust me when I say they don’t want anything to do with that gross vat”

“Yea but I’d have to be near it...”

“Well it’s the price you're gonna have to pay for safety Dandy, sorry!”

“They're only trying to find me because they caught me getting that med kit for you….”

“What? Really?! Shit, now I really owe you one for this.”

“…”

“Dandy?”

Kane gently shook Dandy. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she was staring at the floor trying to decide whether or not she would be able to take his advice at face value. She decided that if what he said was correct and he was actually looking out for her, that she would decide to trust him from now on. But was it worth the risk?

“Come on now. The cart is headed this is way, it’s your only shot!”

Kane pushes Dandy into the cart. She stumbles and hits her head on one of the drums.

“Yikes...” Whispered Kane. Dandy poked her head out of the cart looking back at Kane as she rolled away. He waved at her with a guilty grimmace on his face mouthing ‘SORRY’ ”

Dandy rolled her eyes, but accepted her circumstances. The bumps and turbulence of the wheels rolling against the textured laboratory floors stopped suddenly. The steel drum once casting a shadow was lifted, making Dandy feel like a roach exposed to light as she crawled underneath the cart to avoid being seen. 

“Wait what did he say? The tanks?...okay so I’m on the far end but-”

Suddenly the cart begins to take a sharp left. Dandy frantically looks around and notices a long line of tanks stacked on top of one another leading to the 2 massive body vats. One of the workers feeds a tube into the steel drum and pulls a switch connected to the wall. The tube emits a harsh vaccuming noise as it sucks the green corrosive liquid out of the tanks. A small amount sprays slightly out of a crack in the tube and lands on the worker in charge of the Acid refills.

“Sheeesh that stings what the hell!”

They frantically try to shake it off as it eats through the top layer of skin on their hand and eats away at the fabric of their jumper. A small bit lands on Dandy, burning a little hole in her sleeve. She realized that she needed to get out of there as soon as possible and, running on all fours, headed towards the tank stack and squeezed herself between the tanks at the far end of the room leaning against the wall. She let out a sigh of relief and looked out to the rest of the lab from her hiding spot.

The two sligs split up and scoped out the area looking each mud in the face, examining their hands and pushing them around with their gun barrels like they were mere objects. The morale became uncomfortable and uneasy.

“Lynn, this place is giving me the heebie jeebies, is that creepy crawly mud head here or not?!”

“Sir, one correlation I’ve noticed between my encounters in the clinic and that of what the west guards at the sleeping quarters said last night was that this thing likes dark places! The vat room is the darkest place at Claviers during the day time!”

“Okay well then why aren’t there any Mudokons crawilng up on the walls? huh Lynn?!”

“They wouldn’t be in plain sight…they’d be in the shadows! Check in the darkest corners, like those tanks near the vat!”

The two look towards the read where Dandy is hiding and look back at each other. Nezkar straightens his barret and takes on a determined posture

"Okay you may have a point there...I'll go check. The tanks, you check behind the ph dials!"

"Yes sir!"

"Oh, and Lynn?"

"Sir."

"The only reason I'll believe you this time is because you've got the testimony of the south and west night guard officers on your side, So don’t get all cocky now.”

“Absolutely sir...”

Nezkar cocks his rifle and slowly walks towards the tanks. Dandy stops breathing. She ducks herself down and tries to not be too visible. Everything suddenly goes silent. When Dandy decides to look up to see if he’s still there. It's almost like her soul leaves her body when she suddenly was eye to eye with Nezkar; his rifle aimed right at her head.

-

Beck had just finished loading and stacking the last of the bone crates. He nailed the last box closed, but the sound of the hammer was painful to hear. He winced after each hit but had no choice but to hammer faster to get it over with.

On another day he would have felt accomplished to finish all his work early, but every breeze that touched his skin made him feel uncomfortable. The chatter of the other crate loaders to him were like nails on a chalk board. He even became overwhelmed by his own skin and had an urge to rip it off. Every particle that touched him he felt. It was like he was covered in insects.

Every part of him wanted to walk up to that group in the distance and set them on fire.

Beck clenched every muscle in his body whilst taking a big breath and then released. It soothed his irritable feelings but not enough to make up for his dependency on substances to make it through the day.

He walked up to them wearing the widest and fakest smile on his face that he could muster.

How've you been! Haven’t seen you around lately! Let me bum a few cigs off you pal!”

“A few? You've got some audacity!”

“Or just one! Heh...sorry, your man’s been dopesick due to some unfortunate circumstances”

“Oh yea! Frank lost last night! to that new guy Nipples or whatever. That's too bad you ain’t get your zaw! Better luck next time am I right?”

“Yep...”

The mudokon throws Beck a cigarette and Beck pulls out a match and lights it up himself. Beck joins the group on the bench.

“I thought Kane was gonna fight Frank...what happened?”

“Oh it's a long story, Kane is in no position to fight for a little while anyways since he got capped in the hip last night...”

“You’re kidding! Is that what those gunshots were about?!”

“Yea, it was my fault though, I was pullin aggro with some freak that was pushing my buttons and a slig enforcer saw. Kane was caught in the crossfire...literally”

“Damn, that’s crazy, I feel like I’ve never seen you that chapped, but then again you’re probably having the worst comedown in oddworld right now.”

“Yea, now I just gotta focus on getting back in with the fights, that’s why I haven’t stolen that zaw dust from Snips, if I can get him on my team we can earn way more stuff than that through bets alone.”

“What about kane? He survive the weeding or what?”

“Yea, it's crazy. This little kid from the new shipment snuck into the clinic and got him a med kit. If it wasn’t for that rascal he’d be in the vat by now for sure!”

“You two always somehow get lucky”

“Yep, I’m right about ready to get lucky again. See you ‘round!”

Beck gets up, completely inhaling all that was left of his cigarette and leaving an shy husk of the former stick with the butt still in tact. He flings it to the ground and walks away.

“Hey...what the fuck??? Where’s my darts???”

They pat themselves down looking for their box of cigarettes that was suddenly missing and the group get up to scour the area.

Once Beck is in a blind spot he pulls out the stolen pack and lights himself another cigarette

-

Snips was hauling Acid Drums like the day before. He was starting to get used to the routine and at first found the mindless back and fourth labor rather mind numbing in a good way. He had quite a bit on his mind and it was a good distraction. But that feeling slowly faded away more and more with each interruption.

"HEY ITS NIPPLES! YOOOO! YOU'RE CRAZY MY GUY! IM BETTING ON YOU NEXT TIME!

“Ayoo strippy! you fucking savage! Way to go! you almost got Frank weeded today!”

“STIPPLE THE GIANT!! YOU MENACE! YOU FUCKING MAD MAN!!

Passer-by easily were able to recognize Snips from the fight the night before and a few would throw a remark here and there. It never failed to irritate Snips from not only the unwanted attention, but also the constant mispronunciation of his name. Over time as more workers passed by, the calling was more and more frequent until he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“SKIPS YOU’RE CRAZY MAN!!”

As Snips was walking back empty handed to get his next Acid drum, he grabbed the one that the worker next to him was holding

“IT’S SNIPS. AND IF I HEAR ANYONE ELSE SHOUTING SOME WEIRD ASS VARIATION OF NIPPLE, SKIP. STIP OR WHATEVER; YOU’RE GOING TO GET WEEDED BY ME PERSONALLY. NOW FUCKING STOP THAT SHIT”

Snips threw the drum at the passing mudokons. A loud bang echoed throughout the cargo offloading area. The impact of Snips throwing the Acid Drum caused a thin crack to bust open, spraying acid out towards them and burning a few. Every worker both inside and outside of the Cargo area stopped what they were doing. The chirping and chatter went completely mute and everyone looked towards the overseeing slig guards. There were about 7 in the area, a few being woken from their sleep from the loud noise. They all looked at each other and then back at Snips. One piped up.

“Damagin’ Claviers company property is punishable by death”

Snips didn’t react, he didn’t even look at the sligs. He was unafraid, and unbothered by the threat. He looked up at the sky, observing the insects and birds flying past him. He reached out and caught a bug in his hand and pressed it in between his fingers, just enough to hold it still but not enough to kill it.

“So is mispronouncing my name.”

A few Workers gasped at his audacity to talk back to a slig. The murmurs and chatter began to grow again. The slig looked to his comrades and they all nodded.

“Alright” Said another slig “We’ll let this one pass...since you’re proving to be a rather useful Cog”

Snips apathetically shrugged, letting the insect in his lands fly away, he was about to continue with his duties when suddenly a slig shot their rifle in Snips direction, zooming past him so close that he could hear the bullet breaking the air next to his ear. Snips turned around to see one of the outside workers calling out to him fall to the pavement. His chest spewing like a faucet. The Mudokon instantly lost consciousness and died on the spot. his eyes still open and filled with fear. Snips was atonished at what had just happened but had no expression on his face. He looked back at the Sligs in charge.

“Someone’s gotta attone for this little incident. You should have just offed them yourself instead anyways instead of making a scene; makes our job easier since we have a death quota.”

A pool of blood began to grow from the fresh corpse it expanded across the ground and began to overlap the puddle of acid causing it to sizzle and foam up. The chemical reaction left an ominous smoke-like vapor into the air looking almost like a soul leaving it’s vessel.

“Well? Anyone gonna clean this shit up or do I gotta kill another one of ya’s and make this mess even bigger!”

Without missing a beat old fart came through with a bucket and rag and went right to cleaning. The disposition of the collective workers became instantly woeful and depressed. Everyone stepped away and carried on with their duties. Snips stood there looking at the ground before shaking off his brief disassociation, deciding to get back to work as well. He walked past old fart.

“If I knew they’d pull some shit like that I wouldn’t have-”

“Save it stripper nipples!”

“...Hm..”

“His name is Lerry by the way”

“Huh?”

“The guy ya got killed. His name is Lerry. Knew him since he was ehhh 14? 15? You know,”

“Oh..he liked watchin’ fight nights?”

“Yea, ever since he was a teen he’d love watching the fights. I took him to his first one and he was hooked ever since. I think watchin it was like an escape for him. He never participated though, but he always wanted to. He’d practice every single day during his break. I kept tellin’ him to just go through with his first fight, that the next day might be his last but he never listened. Always said he wanted to win his first fight and how he didn’t wanna mess up in front of everybody. He was gonna turn 30 next week I believe.”

Snips knelt down and grabbed a rag from Old Fart’s bucket and helped him clean up the mess.

“Old fart is it? What’s your real name?”

“I honestly forgot”

“But you remember the name of this guy?”

“I remember all 94 of  their names, a fraction of them are alive now and it honestly kills me. I'm not gonna pretend like I don't care either cause I do. I may be old but I'm manly enough to not give a fuck what you think of me.”

Snips said nothing, but he did feel remorseful for what happened. He now realized how detrimental it was to make such a scene like that. His actions would have a bigger impact on others than himself if the sligs were deciding to keep him alive like that.

Old fart was about to speak before he inhaled some of the blood vapor 

“ *COUGH cough* Listen I know what you went through with Rosco was hard. These boys are like sons to me; Even if they hate my guts and want me dead. I wake up every day knowing one of ‘em is probably gonna die and the inevitability of that is something I'm never gonna be numb to. I’m always gonna be left to pick up the pieces here.”

“...” Snips began to scrub faster. Even scrubbing at sports that we’re already seemingly clean.

“I also know that Dandy is like your Rosco now. And don’t lie to me like thats not it er whatever the shmucks here like to front. You can’t deceive this old man, especially when you went out of your way to save me like that on your second day here without even knowing me like that. You got a good heart. My question to you is what you’re gonna do when the little scrounger eventually kicks it back and dies. Can you handle going through that all over again? ”

Snips wanted more than anything to get up and walk away from the conversation but something was compelling him to stay.

“You've got it all wrong old man.. I lost everything....Hell, I stay losing everything even now. Nothing can replace my wife and kids, nothing. And nobody can ever replace my son. Not even Dandy. Even if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t dare try if it meant I was gonna go through that shit all over again. Dandy, She’s not gonna die I’ll make her stronger. I’ll only look after her until she can take care of herself which I know won’t be too long. Then I’m letting her go; I can’t put myself through that again. I'm not getting attached.”

“Really now? I hate to burst ya bubble snip snap, but ehhh...almost all my boys here are dead. And yea, I guess you can count Beck and Kane as the longest living survivors here besides myself, but that's cause they were strong, they had what it takes. Dandy’s not only a little girl but she's pretty small for her age and I'm assumin’ she's 11 or older cause that's the minimum age to get landed here. She’s thin, weak, I mean-” 

“Nobody saw what I saw. She’s got what it takes, if not more than that. If she wasn’t able to climb herself out of that vent I honestly would have let her rot in there forever. It would have been a far more merciful fate than if I had helped her out of there myself. If she can break out of a locked cell and steal fucking medical supplies to treat someone’s bullet wound and save them from gettin’ weeded, she’s not gonna die.”

Old fart let out a chuckle

"Well Nipple Stripper, if you think she's gonna live then I'll believe you...for now."

The two were able to clean up most of the mess together in a fairly short ammount of time. Snips stops and turns to old fart. He was going to correct him about his name but decided not to.

"I guess I'll weed him, since I'm the one who got him killed"

"Sounds good then" said old fart. They both get up and old fart places his hand on Snip's shoulder, this time Snips didn't shrug him off. "When the work day is over, I need ya to come see somethin with me. It's important, trust me."

"Uh...okay"

Snips grabs Lerry's limp body, rather than throwing him over his shoulders like he did for the others, he lifted and held the corpse in his arms in a more respectful manner and made his way to the body processing warehouse. He thought about the conversation he just had with old fart and whether it was worth it to keep looking after Dandy. He was turning a corner when suddenly he ran into Beck sitting on the floor leaning against a wall. He was holding his head in his hands with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Fuck stop spinning world!"

"What???"

"Everything is like spinning if I shift my eyes to fast and once it starts I can’t stop it. I have to close my eyes."

"You got a headache?"

"AND?"

"Sounds like a migraine. It's also not my problem I guess"

Beck opens his eyes slightly and sees a peak of snips before closing his eyes again.

"Oh fuck it's you!"

"Mhm."

"Listen man, I just wanted to know...what you thought about the fight last night. Do you think you should have won more? Cause I think you should've."

"Do most of the people here fall for that?"

"Oh ALL THE TIME, but it works better if I make eye contact which I can't do right now. Bur my question still stands. I mean, I'm not gonna sit here and lie to you; that was the mist entertaining fight night I've seen in YEARS. Warrants way more than a blanket and some narcotics"

"Okay."

"Do you agree or not??"

"I have to carry this body to the cadaver processing warehouse and you're enduring a migraine and knowing whether I believe I deserve a bigger reward for beating someone half to death is your main priority right now? And you're sitting here telling me EVERYONE falls for this??"

"Exactly except there's nothing to fall for and I'm prepping your ass for a win win scenario so would you just roll with it?"

"You want to collaborate with me on rigging bets"

"YES"

"Okay. I trust you."

"Welp I tried…WAIT- SHIT! Really!?!? You're down, guy? You trust me!?"

"If you ever betrayed me I'd just break your spine in half."

"Heh you're kidding"

Snips said nothing and kept walking

"You're kidding right?"

"How's Frank?"

"His spine concaved I heard"

"That's a shame.”

"Uh....right...Hey meet me at the same spot as yesterday during break!"

"Sure, let Frank know I'd be more than happy to put his spine back in place. Now if you'll excuse me..."

[putas-in-suffering]

Ego Boost

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, Angel’s muscles

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: You get caught checking out your boyfriend so he decides to have some fun with you.

A/N: Angel Reyes is making his way to the main stage! This was inspired purely by that shirtless picture of Clayton. Ya’ll know the one. But if you don’t, don’t worry because we got you. We’ll post it below. The man is getting into shape and our minds couldn’t help but think of Angel and all the shirtless scenes we’re owed. Let’s manifest that shit for season three because we wanna see shirts off and asses out. Also, this fic can be looked at as a prequel to the drunk sex with Angel fic we posted awhile ago. It makes mention of this particular instance so if you wanna be in the know, check it out here. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

(Photo credit and this post belongs to @shadesalvarez​)

You hummed to the faint melody playing on the radio, the volume muted by the rooms that separated you. You made your way to the source of the noise, cold beer in hand. You opened the door that led to the garage, the multitude of sounds now magnified without the barrier of wood to close them out. Your eyes took in the space. The large whirring fan, the half open garage door, the smooth metallic chrome of the motorcycle, and of course your boyfriend.

Angel was hunched over his bike, a pair of black basketball shorts sitting low on his hips. He was shirtless, the sinewy muscles of his arms and abdomen making you pause. You studied him for a long moment, as if seeing him for the first time. He looked bigger, more defined. The long lines of ink now ran over ridges of muscles and veins, the softness he’d once held now gone. His chest was chiseled and the very visible contours of a six-pack were now proudly displayed.

The sight made you swallow. Your mouth suddenly too dry and your panties suddenly too wet.

You knew Angel had taken up working out with EZ. He always made sure to stay in shape, but having his brother come out of prison looking like The Hulk had pushed Angel to train with his younger brother. You’d been surprised at first, but supportive nonetheless. Angel was perfect in your eyes, but you understood. So you’d supported him. And over time you’d noticed small changes here and there.

But today…today you were seeing the differences all at once. And it was noticeable.

You stepped into the garage, shutting the door behind you. Angel had yet to notice you and you took advantage of that as you watched him work. He was concentrating hard, brows furrowed as he fiddled with a part on his bike. His tongue poked out between his bearded lips and the gesture made your insides warm.

You wanted him. Right then. You wanted him in an animalistic way that made your insides clench and your nipples harden. You’d both indulged in some morning sex earlier that day, but it’d been slow and lazy, a statement of love rather than a primal desire. You wanted rough hands and deep thrusts you could feel all the way in your throat. You wanted the ache of his cock to be felt for days after he’d been there.

“Baby…”

You jumped when Angel touched your arm, almost causing you to drop the sweating bottle of beer. You focused your eyes back on the man that now stood less than two feet away from you, his chest showing hints of perspiration. Your tongue yearned to lick it from him.

“You okay? You zoned out.” Angel asked, concern lacing his gravelly voice. His deep chocolate eyes were running the length of you, searching for anything that may be out of place. It was cute.

“I’m good. Sorry, just got distracted.” You half-lied. By the look in his eye, Angel knew what that meant. Under the fullness of his beard you could see the playful smirk on his lips. He took the beer out of your hand and took a large pull, his eyes still not leaving yours. Only this time they said something entirely different.

“Distracted, huh?” He prompted once he’d wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He set the beer on the floor near his bike, straightening and waiting for you to speak.

“You look…” You hesitated on how to articulate exactly what you’d been daydreaming about. You, for some unknown reason, were suddenly nervous around your boyfriend. The butterflies in your stomach grew stronger, their movement shifting from your middle to the lower half of your body.

He patiently waited for you to continue, his brow arched as if he knew exactly what had you all out of sorts. He reached for you, bringing your body flush with his as he settled his hands on your hips. They didn’t stay there for long though. Angel was never one to stay still, and making love was no exception. The man was always moving, always switching sensations before you could get used to one. His hands traveled to your ass, gripping the flesh in encouragement.

“I just noticed how different you look. You look good.” You finally answered meekly, still unwilling to let him fully see the storm that brewed within you.

Angel nodded, as if anticipating the words. You could see the enjoyment on his face, see the pleasure he got from your torture.

“Just good?” He urged, head bowing to bury his face against your neck. You grasped his naked biceps, silently marveling at the size of them. He felt so sturdy under your delicate touches. Felt like he could break you in two if he wanted to. The thought pushed a whimper from your lips, his own beginning to suckle at your flesh.

“Angel,” You whimpered, feeling his teeth dig into a spot he’d been working over. His hips pushed against yours, letting you feel the hardening muscle beneath his shorts.

“Tell me, baby.” He demanded into your ear, suckling the appendage. You shivered, rubbing yourself against his solid form in a weak attempt to entice him. He didn’t budge.

“Sexy…” You finally whispered, tugging at his thick locks. His mouth began to move towards your lips, peppering your face with soft kisses. His hands gently massaged your ass, his dexterous fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shorts to graze your skin.

“Yeah? What else?”

He continued to lock you in a series of delicate kisses, ensuring you stayed in the haze he’d built around you. You surrendered to it, giving every inch of yourself over to it and him.

“Strong.” You breathed into his mouth, gripping his forearms to feel the veins and muscles beneath your palm.

Angel growled, palming your ass with a more veracious grip. You entangled your tongue with his, feeling him begin to shift you backwards. You moved with him until you felt the hard edge of his steel workbench dig into your back. You used it for support, struggling to keep up with the rough hands that seared your flesh.

“Fuck, baby…you got me hard as fuck.”

Arousal flooded your thighs at his words, feeling the proof against your stomach. He began to move your tank top up and over your head, revealing the black bra you wore underneath. You took the initiative and unclasped the garment, carelessly flinging it off. Warm palms encased your naked breasts, kneading the supple flesh with an expertise that had you seeing stars. His entire hand covered you, the ink splashed across his skin making the sight all that more erotic. The only thing missing were his rings. He didn’t wear them around the house, but you found yourself yearning for that cool touch of metal against your nipple. Something you’d gotten used to.

“Angel, please…” You shamelessly begged, throwing your head back when his hungry mouth joined his hands. You arched into him as he licked and sucked, pulling a peaked nipple into his mouth like an impatient newborn. He went further, encasing more of your breast into his mouth and sucking. You whimpered at the force of it, nails digging into the sinewy ridges of his back. You were both slick with perspiration, the fan doing nothing to ease the heat of the day or the growing heat between you.

Angel didn’t verbally answer your plea, but he responded. He pushed your shorts down, taking your panties with them. You stepped out of them and kicked the balled up fabric away. His arms lifted you, seating you on the cool surface of the bench. You flinched at the sensation against your overheated flesh, but settled once his hands began to smooth up your thighs. He widened your legs, fitting his massive form against you. He surrounded you. He smelled of motor oil and the shower gel he’d used that morning. He tasted of the beer you’d brought him. His naked chest stuck to yours, the warm air of the garage making your bodies slide against one another.

“You wet?” He asked, finger already edging to the space between your thighs. You nodded, but he continued on his exploration, feeling your soaked lips. His finger slipped easily in, instantly engulfed by your desire.

“I don’t need it.” You insisted desperately, attempting to push his hand away. You were so far beyond foreplay. You just needed him. Needed the raw connection that only he could give.

He relented, pushing his shorts down enough to free himself. You immediately reached for him, stroking the one muscle that hadn’t changed. Angel had always been gifted in that regard. He was heavy and thick, excitement almost making him seem larger. You swallowed at the feel of him, remembering the moments he thrust himself down your throat. You could practically taste him against your tongue as the tip of him leaked with appreciation. His hips began to move in time with your hand, getting lost in the moment. He grunted and growled, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a pressure that bordered on painful.

“Querida…” He warned, halting your wrist. His eyes met yours as he shook his head, fully removing your hand from his body. He looked almost feral. His hair askew, his beard longer than usual, his eyes wild with simmering tension. Hell, he looked dangerous. All tattoos and muscles. It was an assault on your senses. A fire raged within you; one that you were sure had never burned as bright as it did right now.

“You want it?”

You nodded, uncaring of how eager you seemed. He caressed your cheek, bearded lips barely grazing yours as he rubbed himself against your core.

“How bad?”

You writhed in place as he teased you, slipping only the tip in before pulling away. You anchored yourself to his arms as you shifted your lower half closer to the edge of the bench.

“Angel, stop teasing.” You chastised, feeling the stretch of him as he once again entered you before backing off.

“I want you to tell me, baby…tell me how bad you need me. Tell me how bad it hurts without me inside you.”

Fuck, the man could tease. His words made your walls constrict, trying to squeeze around the phantom sensation of his cock inside you. You were paying for your ogling. Paying for the inflation of Angel’s ego. It was all worth it in the end, but damn did he play a dirty fucking game.

“Let me show you.” You insisted, licking the seam of his lips. He grunted in approval, keeping your gaze as he began to push fully in. You gasped at the familiar ache of him sliding home. Your entire body came alive with him sheathed inside you. Your spine twisted, your limbs wrapped around him, your breathing accelerated. It was a chaotic state of passion and love, but it was addictive. And your body constantly craved more.

He started slow, making you earn every gasp and moan. Your insides clutched at him in desperation, intent on having him stay this way forever. His eyes were trained on your joined bodies. Taking in the way you coated him for smooth passage. What had started out as a ravenous moment of desire had shifted to something more intimate. Something to be savored.

“Angel…you feel so good.” You marveled, closing your eyes when he made his hips flush with yours, forcing him further into your depths.

“Squeeze me.” He demanded as he remained unmoving. You complied, relishing the throb of him against you in return. “Fuck, like that.”

You did it again. And again. Letting him feel just how amazing he made you feel. His hips began to increase in speed, his patience wearing thin as you gripped him. Sweat droplets formed on his forehead as strands of hair shifted into his eyes. You rubbed at your clit, leaning back so that he could see. He licked his lips at the sight, his rhythm faltering. You were both close, the end just beyond reach. He no longer stroked your walls, but instead assaulted them. He no longer left your body as his thrusts became erratic and fast, forcing you to hold on.

The brightness of the day grew hotter. The fan whirring in the corner was drowned out by your hard and reckless coupling. The rattling of the tools littered along the bench echoed as each thrust sent the bench back into the wall. Soon, your body was matching the intensity of your surroundings, lifting you high and pitching you into space. You cried out as you shook and trembled with pleasure. The only word that escaped your lungs was a name.

“Angel…”

“I’m almost there, baby…”

And with that, he was.

Heat as warm as the day filled you. You widened your legs as Angel’s body spasmed with his climax. He thrust with every release of him inside you, continuing to ensure that you’d be filled to the brim for days after. The way he groaned into your ear made you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, locking him to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. He looked in pain, but you knew better. There was a flash of ecstasy and then it was gone, replaced with a calmness that you’d bared witness to a thousand times. When his muscles began to ease from the tension, you kissed him, running delicate fingers through his beard. His own ran up your back and over your spine, tickling you.

“You know,” He started once he’d pulled away from your lips, eyes now alight with mirth and satisfaction. “If I’d known bulking up was gonna get me this much ass, I woulda done it a long time ago.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughter ravaging your body as he smirked down at you. “Not true. You get ass on the regular. Don’t even.”

He wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face a hair’s breadth away from yours. He rubbed his nose against your own, the action making you melt.

“Yeah, you are pretty generous. Gotta be with a super hot boyfriend and all.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You scoffed, but laughed nonetheless. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, okay…you’re hot. Let’s move on.”

You tried to escape his hold, but he caught your wrists and pinned you to him.

“No, I wanna hear more. Tell me how hot I am.” He tickled your ribs as he spoke, forcing you to jerk away. You giggled when he followed, his mouth now nestled against your neck, rubbing his facial hair against your skin.

“Angel!”

You tried to wriggle away, but his Adonis-like body kept you immobile, along with his hardening cock still embedded inside you. You stopped struggling when he placed a hand to your neck, feeling your pulse jump against his palm. His face grew serious, the tendrils of lust starting to darken his irises all over again.

“Lay back, mama. I’m gonna return the favor.” He instructed, pushing against your chest. You followed his words and movements, letting him retreat from your body. He took hold of your thighs, leveling your lower half to his smirking mouth.

It only took two minutes before Angel had to close the garage door, your moans too loud for any passerby on a neighborhood street.

It took another five minutes for the cops to show up, claiming they got a domestic disturbance call in response to some questionable noises.

Angel had never looked so pleased with himself.

Tags:

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

@arveeee

@fangirlingaesthetics

@maciiiofficial

@woahitslucyylu

[gwen-tolios]

Fairy Tale

“I swear, it's like a fairy tale.” Courtney swung me around, not minding the other people in the lunch line. She bumped into Scott Noble, who turned and glared at her. It cowed her a little, but not much. Her body stopped moving, but her mouth didn't.

“I had no idea what to do. Here I am, stuck at the gas station, with a full tank and a flat tire. And because it's after midnight, the guy behind the counter wouldn't leave it and help!  The best he said he'd do was keep an eye on my car if I pushed it away from the pump for the night, and if I came back at the shift change at seven he'd help me put on the spare. But I didn't really trust that. I mean, sure, I'm sure he'd watch it and all that, but he can't see everything.  So I asked for a 24-hour tow company, to see if someone could at least take it to a service shop because I figured, hey, there it would safe and in no rush to be fixed. I'd just get a ride home, and to school the next morning with you.”

I nodded in the right places, making listening noises while I told the lunch lady I wanted pizza. Monday's the school got it from Gino's Bakery and Gino made the best pizza for miles around.

“You listening, Diane?”

“Yes, you couldn't figure out what to do about the flat tire.”  My hand hovered over the mini-fridge. Water or orange juice? The school had gotten rid of pop a year ago.

“Yes! And so there I was, flipping through the yellow pages when this college guy walks in, and I can tell cuz he's wearing the CC's sweatshirt. And on a whim, he just looks at me and says, 'that you with a flat tire' and oh boy Courtney his voice was like chocolate. And his eyes were a piercing gray, never thought gray eyes pretty before I saw his. But they were like mercury, liquid silver, and I swear I just kinda stared open-mouthed at him. Didn't realize I was gaping with my mouth open until the counter guy answered for him. I couldn't believe I embarrassed myself like that! “

I grabbed a cookie while staying in line at the register. I needed a treat after listening to her latest boy drama.

“Anyway, the college guy, William by the way, asks if I have a spare, and I say yeah, but I don't know how to change a tire.  So he said he'd do it for me.  Took off his jean jacket, um, those arms, and figured out what all the stuff in the emergency kit was. Boom, not ten minutes later the spare is on the car!  I gotta hit the service station after school today, but hey, I drove home with Mom none the wiser!  I asked what I could get William for his trouble.  I was thinking a beer, no way the gas station guy was gonna give my fake a double check, but you know what he asked for instead?”

“A million dollars?” I said, sitting down at the end of our usual table. Courtney pouted as she sat down across from me.

“No, a kiss. And a token to remember me by.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Did this kiss lead anywhere?”

“That's what makes this such a fairy tale! He only kissed my hand! And took that fake flower pin I had, saying every time he looked at its fake beauty he'd be reminded of how my face outshone it threefold. Who says such things, threefold? Anyway, his last name is Prince. William Prince.  Now don't tell me he doesn't sound dreamy.”

“Actually, he does. Did you get his number?”

“Yup,” Courtney pulled out her cell phone. “We've been texting all morning. He wants to take me to a movie tomorrow night.”

“Go for it! And ask if he has another gentlemanly friend.”

###

“So?” I asked Courtney in the hallway on the way to lunch.  She was practically glowing.

“It was amazing.  I mean, we didn't pay attention to the movie of course, but he insisted on paying for dinner, which was at this super fancy place. I should have dressed better. And he paid for the tickets and snacks. But you know what, he saved me again!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, walking back to his car this huge dog attacked us.  It grabbed a hold of my skirt, and I was wearing my favorite one, the soft gray that swirls around my ankles, and pulled.  It slipped off my hips and oh Diane, my underwear was exposed to the entire parking lot! It was awful! But William picked up this steel pipe on the ground and poked the dog in the side as if it was a sword.  The dog took off, leaving me on the cold ground with my skirt halfway down my thighs and William standing over me.  But I swear, just like Prince Charming would do, he helped me up, completely ignoring my underwear, and just asked if I was alright.  God, he's a dream.  He saved me from a modern-day dragon.”

“Wouldn't that be a giant lizard or something?”

She hit my shoulder. “I'm being symbolic here! He's saved me twice now! If that's not a prince in shining armor, I don't know what it. Like I said Monday, I'm living in a fairy tale.”

It was probably because I just came from English that I remembered Ms. Flagg's tidbit about fairy tales.

“Did you know fairy tales were originally cautionary stories?  You know, warnings not to go into the woods or talk to strange people.”

Courtney snorted. “Ariel and Aurora and all those princesses ended up living a happy life. If anything, fairy tales are about what you gain by being a good person. Which I totally am.”

I wanted to say something about how while Disney movies might have happy endings, the stories had not been as pleasant. The Little Mermaid committed suicide. Aurora was raped while asleep and woke up during childbirth, only to die during the procedure. Good people didn't always win, even if the Huntsman saved Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel killed the witch.

But really, what a stupid thing to be thinking about.  Detroit might be a dangerous city jungle, but Courtney was streetwise enough to know when a stranger was dangerous or not. Female intuition and experience. 

###

Sunday night, I heard soft taps at my window.  Courtney throwing candy at it, we found out years ago the problem of using rocks.

I opened it to see her standing at the base of the tree that grew near my window. She was pale, bundled up tight in her coat and scarf, hand clutching the navy fabric close to her neck.  It wasn't that cold.

“Court?” I whispered. I might be up, but my parents had gone to bed recently.

She looked up at me with pleading eyes and my heart melted. “One moment, can't climb down in shorts.”

I traded my sleep boxers for sweat pants, then crawled through the window. From there, I slowly made my way down the tree. My jump the last foot startled Courtney from her grass gazing. I could make out the tears in her eyes, the heavy mascara on her eyes. And the blood on the scarf.

“Courtney?” I said, grasping her shoulders.  “You're bleeding. Do you need a doctor?”

She shook her head. “It's small, just a band-aid would do.”

Nodding, I uncovered the spare key to the backdoor and let us in.

“What happened?” I demanded, tip-toeing to the bathroom, my hand on her wrist. Her skin was icy cold. I flipped the light on in the bathroom and we both winced at the sudden light. Once my eyes had readjusted, I commanded her to sit on the toilet and went searching under the sink for band-aids.

When she didn't say anything, I knew something was really up.

“Courtney?”

“You know how you said fairy tales are warnings?”

I had to think back to the beginning of the week. “Yeah.” I drew out the word, not sure where this was going, and pulled out the med bag.

“Well, I... I should have figured the one I was living in was too good to be true.”  She pulled down her scarf.

Her neck was smeared with red and now in the bathroom light, I could see the gleam of blood soaked into the scarf. More than enough that Courtney would be woozy and a little unsteady on her feet, but she had been fine entering the house.

"Shit," I said, forgoing the band-aids to reach for a washcloth. Courtney's hand on my wrist stopped me.

"It's a lot of blood, but that's not the problem."

"Not the problem!" I hissed, having no desire to wake my parents.

“William... he, he bit me. See, he's is a prince, and it's given him certain powers.” Courtney smiled, and as I watched her incisors grew. “He's a... a vampire, and now I am too.”

[omgreally]

The Apprentice: Chapter 4

Read on AO3 Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader Rating: E for Explicit, Soon Wordcount: 9k+ Summary: Peli Motto took you off the streets of Tatooine to become one of the best apprentices she’s ever had - but honestly, the DUM droids are setting the bar pretty low. Still, you work out well for the first few months until an armored Mandalorian stranger lands with a busted-up ship and a strange magic baby and, well, you’re intrigued. Even though you know you shouldn’t be. Peli’s always teling you to keep away from anything hot but sometimes, to fix something, you have to stick your hand straight into the fire.

---

“How’s it going in there?”

You jump, whacking your head on the edge of the open panel. You’ve been working inside the Razor Crest for hours and it’s been cramped, hot and sweaty, and this is the last thing you need.

You wonder how anyone wearing so much metal can move so silently. Shouldn’t it clink, or something? But no. The Mandalorian is silent. The Mandalorian is stealth personified.

The Mandalorian is fucking annoying.

The first day it was disturbing, the second, uncomfortable, and now it’s just a pain in the ass. You’ll be trying to work and he’ll pop up out of nowhere like a children’s toy, spouting some deliciously smooth one-liner in that scratchy, filtered voice of his, and you’ll get distracted, forget what you’re doing, screw up or have to start all over again - or all three.

You’re just lucky you didn’t brain yourself on the edge of the open access hatch. You rub your forehead, glancing around to glare at him - but he’s closer than you thought. He’s braced a forearm against the bulkhead and he’s looming over your shoulder, helmet tilted as he peers over your shoulder. He’s so close you can see your reflection in that shiny metal breastplate of his, and you look…

Not as annoyed as you should be.

“Do you mind?” you gripe. “You’re in my light.”

“No I’m not. You have a flash clipped to your shirt.” He taps it, and you draw back a little, the memory of his gloved finger tracing your collarbone burning bright in your stomach. Fuck. 

You’re not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s constantly getting in your space. Touching you. Just fleetingly, under the guise of guidance, moving you out of the way or towards something he wants looked at. It’s a brush of his hand against your waist here, a touch of his fingers at the small of your back there, and it’s just enough for a repeat of that first night in your bunk.

You try not to think about that as you turn back to the mess of components and circuitry on the inside of his ship. There’s too much work to do, and while he often hovers close to you like a moth to lamplight, he doesn’t seem keen enough to get close enough to singe his wings.

You can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose. Whether he knows he’s driving you insane - in more ways than one. It’s impossible to determine beneath the shell of his armor, the unknowable darkness of his visor. Sometimes, though, he’ll tilt his head, or the tones of his voice through the vocabulator become warm and honeyed beneath the unfriendly scratch, and you wonder...

“Y’know, the repairs would go faster if you didn’t keep interrupting me,” you point out. You don’t add the fact that secretly, deep down, you enjoy the interruptions. You like being driven insane by this unfathomable tower of Beskar. 

Peli tells you it’s just a crush, that you’ll get over it. But you’re long since past the age of schoolgirl infatuations, and how can you have a crush on a man whose face you’ve never seen? No, this is something different. Gravitational pull, just like Peli said, although she sours when you quote her own words back to her. You don’t know what it means, but you’re fairly certain that if the Mandalorian asked you to try and fix an engine that was actively on fire, you’d do it.

You’d burn up.

“Just want to know what you’re doing,” Mando says. “I don’t like having strangers working on my ship.”

Ouch. That stings, though you’re not sure why.

“But Peli speaks highly of you,” he continues as he watches your hands work under the white light of the flash. Wait, she does ? “And you seem…” 

He pauses for far too long. 

“Competent.” 

Right.

“You Mandalorians aren’t so good at compliments, are you?” 

“When the need arises.” Oof. The way he says need makes your gut churn, and not in a bad way. You try to ignore it.

You stop to survey your handiwork, trying not to look at Mando except out of the corner of your eye. He’s still there. Hovering, tall and boxing you in to the cramped space. You realize then that you can’t get to the ladder without having to squeeze past him, and it makes your pulse ramp up a little higher, as it always does when you’re in close quarters with him. 

You’re going to have to do something. You can’t work in these conditions. It’s too distracting.

You set down your hyperspanner at the same time as he turns and walks away. You stare at his back, appalled. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the fucker. You’re suddenly full of a mindless frustration, and you call out to him - “Hey, Mando!”

He stops and turns. You think maybe under the helmet he’s raising an eyebrow, or frowning.

“What’s the deal?” you ask, putting your hands on your hips. Tilting your chin up in challenge. He shifts his weight to one foot and lets his hands hang at his sides. Posturing again. 

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t figure it out. Do you want me to fix your damn ship or not? ‘Cause you keep hovering over me like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You're not,” he assures you. 

“Then what’s the deal?” Suddenly brave, you step closer to him. And closer. Until you’re in his space, and you have to crane your neck up to meet his visor. This close, he’s very still, and you can see the rise and fall of the chestplate with his breath, the movement of his cowl as he swallows, heavily, underneath it. Interesting. “‘Cause if you’d rather have Peli up here, say the world. I’ll go.”

“No,” he says. And when he lifts a gloved hand, you flinch. He reaches out and turns off the flashlight hanging from the strap of your tank top. Just a light tap, but his hand lingers, and then you feel rough leather on the outside of your arm.

“You take good care of the Crest,” he says, and your lungs seize and your blood rushes in your ears as his fingers trail down towards your elbow. “And you’re good with your hands.” His voice has dropped an octave and fuck, it’s doing things to you, making your thighs want to clench and your mouth water. Does he know? Can he know? You wonder what’s under that fucking armor, and your fingers suddenly itch to find out.

“Not the only thing my hands are good at,” you say, and his head tilts. Curious.

“Oh?”

That little oh of inquiry - it’s more interest than he’s ever shown you. You seize on it like a flame in the darkness. 

Your voice comes out soft, suddenly touched by shyness, but you’re bold as you take that last step forward that brings you an inch from his body and Kriff, he’s broad. You feel dwarfed by him, but strong when you reach out and place a finger on his breastplate. He stills at the touch. “I could show you.”

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move, and this close you can hear the sound of his breathing through the modulator. Hear it as he hesitates. Then he reaches up, and his hand closes around yours, completely enfolding it.

“You don’t want to do that.”

Your stomach drops, and this time, not in a good way. He steps back and lets you go, and you try not to allow the disappointment to show on your face. Instead, you stoke the flame of your anger, let it burn bright and hot in your chest in the place of embarrassment, even as your face flushes. 

“Why? You think I’m offering ‘cause I’m getting paid? Because I’m not,” you tell him. “I’m an apprentice. Peli took me off the streets, gave me food, somewhere to sleep, something to do. What I do the rest of the time is my business. I’m not in the habit of offering clients extra services just for kicks.”

You don’t expect Mando to turn back towards you, to loom suddenly, tall and menacing, in your space. But he does, and you resist the urge to take a step back, instead blinking rapidly and drawing a quick breath into your lungs to steel you as he leans over you.

“You don’t know what you’re offering, Girl,” he tells you, and his voice is - Gods - his voice is a rough rasp that licks up your spine, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He’s not touching you but he might as well be - you feel warmth in your belly, between your legs, and it sets your teeth on edge. “I’m a Mandalorian.”

“And?” you prompt, surprised when you find it easy to speak. “You may not be allowed to take off the armor, but you can let me take care of you like I take care of your ship.”

Mando’s breath catches. It’s subtle, but you hear the stutter of it through the vocabulator, and it makes your blood sing with triumph. It makes you brave, steadying the shake in your fingers when you reach out and lay your hands flat on his chest, the Beskar cool underneath your palms.

“Nobody’s ever…” he begins, and there’s something in his tone, something small and broken that makes your heart ache for him suddenly. “It’s always been about what I can do for them. Never what I - Dank farrik…” Mando swears suddenly, soft and vehement, and you wonder what’s going through his mind. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, I do,” you tell him, lips twitching as your hands move lower, over his flak jacket, towards his belt. “You’re the Mandalorian.” You lean up and against him so that your mouth hovers near his cowled neck. “And I’m the Apprentice.”

And that’s when you realize he’s hard, and that’s not a weapon but a bulge in his pants pressing against your hip through the fabric of his pants. Gods above, you think, he’s big there too, and now you’re wondering if this is a good idea even as you crowd your body against his.

His hands settle on your shoulders, and you wonder if he’s about to push you away, but then they drift around your back and slink lower, fingers pressing into your spine. Gentle. And then Mando grabs your ass with both hands and pulls you roughly against him, and your breath is arrested in your lungs. 

The sound that comes out of the vocabulator you can only compare to a growl, and he squeezes your ass, roughly kneading the firm flesh under his fingers. He’s so strong he’s practically lifting you from the deck, and you have to stand on tip-toe and lean wholly against his body to stay upright. 

“Mesh’la,” he murmurs, soft and reverent, at odds with the rumble in his voice, and you wonder what the word - Mando’a, probably - means. But you don’t have time to ask, because that’s when you hear it.

Peli calling for you.

“Girl!” Her voice drifts to you from outside the ship, and the Mandalorian freezes. “Girl, got those parts you wanted for the heating coils. Get down here!”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

Mando lets you go and the litany repeats in your head. “Fuck,” you echo it aloud. Then he grabs your jaw in one wide, covered hand.

“This isn’t over,” he tells you. You stare into the blackness of the visor and slowly, you nod. He releases you and you fall back, trying not to pant like a wanton loth cat, and you thank the Stars.

“I’ll be back,” you tell him as you head towards the ladder on shaky legs. As you turn to clamber down it, you watch Mando as he settles in the pilot’s seat, facing away from you, but you can see the tension in his posture, in the set of his shoulders as the helm turns to one to glance back at you.

“I’m counting on it,” he says. And you grin to yourself as you grab the sides of the ladder and slide down it, landing on your feet, and rush to meet your boss at the bottom of the ramp.

She notices the flush in your skin or the spring in your step straight away, and purses her lips knowingly and frowns at you as she hands over the components.

“What took you so long?” she asks suspiciously. “What were you doin’ up there?”

“Oh, you know,” you say breezily. “Just offerin’ my services.”

Peli’s pursed lips wrinkle further, if that’s even possible.

“I’m gonna go see if the baby’s awake,” she tells you. “He’s due a feed. You - you just get that ship fixed ‘fore you go tryin’ to fix anythin’ else.” Her gaze is pointed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it!” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away. “I ain’t payin’ you to have fun!”

You laugh all the way back up the ramp.

---

Taglist: @hugs-for-din, @casssiopeia, @casssiopeia, @herefortheart, @shannaniganss, @sofithewitch, @mandosbitches

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[jacewilliams1]

From jars to jets: the forgotten story of the Jetwing

It’s that time of year. Crisp autumn weather means it’s harvest time. Backyard gardens enjoyed a good growing season hear in the Midwest, leaving us with an abundance of produce. What hasn’t been used already is being saved by drying, freezing or canning. There’s even a shortage of canning supplies at the local hardware store.

That got me thinking about glass jars and outer space. Stay with me and I’ll explain.

A few years ago, I visited the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum in Denver, Colorado. Our daughter and her family live in Denver, so it’s a regular stop for us when traveling. The museum is housed in one of the historic hangars that were once part of the former Lowry Air Force Base. Much like the Glenview NAS, the area has now been redeveloped with housing, restaurants, and other businesses replacing the runways. Today, a B-52 bomber sits outside the hangar’s main entrance.

What is that logo doing on a jet?

While exploring the museum, a familiar logo caught my eye, but it was in an unaccustomed place: the nose of an experimental jet airplane. It was the Ball logo that I had seen on canning jars over the years.

So, how does a company go from glass jars to jets?

Curiosity lead me to doing some research. I learned that the company founded by five Ball brothers in Buffalo, New York, in the 1880s had a fascinating history. Family owned for 90 years, the four main components of their core product, canning jars and lids, were glass, zinc, rubber, and paper. This lead to expansion. The brothers purchasing a zinc rolling mill to manufacture lids and then a paper mill to fabricate the necessary packaging. In time, they also acquired tin, steel, and plastic companies.

During World War II, the company shifted their manufacturing facilities to producing shells and machine parts for the military. Near the end of the 1940s, Ball’s businesses became the focus of an antitrust case that ultimately hindered their ability to acquire other glass manufacturers and glass-making machinery, leading to the company’s first ever net operating loss. It became clear that the company needed to diversify in order to grow.

In 1956, the company formed the Ball Brothers Research Corporation in Boulder, Colorado, to build pointing controls for sounding rockets that carried scientific apparatus aloft in sub-orbital flights. The company eventually built seven of NASA’s early earth-orbiting satellites, making them a member of the aerospace industry.

Around the same time, the company was joined by a talented engineer, biplane enthusiast, and skilled aerobatic pilot by the name of Otto “Pete” Bartoe. In 1973, Bartoe (by then President of Ball Research) convinced the corporation to enter into a joint venture with his alma mater, the University of Colorado, to build what became known as the Ball-Bartoe Jetwing, an oddly shaped, single-engine, single-place aircraft with a stubby wingspan of only 21’9”. Bartoe designed it as a “low-key, low-cost” research vehicle that utilized unique design concepts along with conventional aircraft parts that included a Cessna tailwheel, Bonanza wingtips, and a Citation air intake. The idea was to entice military and commercial contracts with its unique technology.

The Jetwing was a jet powered taildragger with a “blown wing” that diverted the exhaust through wing root nozzles over the top sections of the wing’s leading edge to improve short field takeoff and landing capabilities. Its single Pratt & Whitney engine produced 2,050 pounds of continuous thrust. Tests proved that the “upper blowing surface” technology produced twice the lift of a conventional wing of the same shape and size. A secondary “augmentor” wing mounted just inches above the main wing added a low-pressure slot to guide the exhaust across the wing and draw in additional air to increase lift. Large flaps on the trailing edge effectively created a “bend�� in the airstream above the flaps, providing a simple use of downward thrust that enabled the Jetwing to fly as slow as 40 mph. Notably, the aircraft lacked a tailpipe.

It looks odd, but it did fly.

The first flight took place in 1977 at the Mojave Airport, with test pilot Herman “Fish” Salmon at the controls. At low speed, the aircraft flew so slowly that Bartoe used his Super Cub as a chase plane.

Following a number test flights, Bartoe himself flew the Jetwing back to Boulder for more testing. The belly tank only held 106 gallons, which required eleven fuel stops to be made enroute. Because of a scarcity of jet fuel along the way, a mechanic chased the flight in a pickup with a container of Jet A in the back.

In Bartoe’s words, “As long as the engine was running, you couldn’t stall it. Landings were interesting: The jet blast came off the deployed flap, bounced off the ground, and forced the tail up. If you reduced power, the tail would come down suddenly, just as the wing was losing lift. But everything happened at such a slow forward speed that it was manageable.”

In 1978, after being unable to attract outside investment, the Jetwing was donated to the University of Tennessee Space Institute. However, interest in the aircraft increased in 1980 when the Navy considered developing it for use on short aircraft carriers. A new series of test flights were carried out. Despite its top speed of 350 mph, the Navy was able to land the Jetwing in a mere 300 feet.

Ultimately, the Navy discontinued blown-wing research in favor of vectored thrust technology. The Jetwing was returned to its original home in Colorado, where it took its place in history among other aircraft at the Wings Over the Rockies museum.

Continued success at Ball led to its expansion into avionics and aerospace systems. In the early 1990s the Ball Corporation spun off its home canning business. An independent company now retains the license to use the Ball trademark on its own canning product line. Now headquartered in Westminister, Colorado, the Ball Corporation no longer makes glass but is a leading manufacturer of plastic and metal food and beverage containers.

Meanwhile, in 1995, Ball Brothers Research Corporation became Ball Aerospace and Technologies Corp., a wholly-owned subsidiary of Ball Corporation. Today, Ball Aerospace continues to develop innovative equipment and services to the aerospace industry.

Long-time EAA member Otto E. “Pete” Bartoe was inducted into the Colorado Aviation Historical Society Hall of Fame on October 30, 2004. He lives along the front range mountains of northern Colorado.

Epilogue: The Skyote biplane

Bartoe designed an aerobatic airplane (foreground) in addition to the Jetwing.

As an aerobatic pilot, Pete Bartoe dreamed of the ideal biplane. Something with the responsiveness and strength of a Bucker Jungmeister and the low-speed characteristics and fuel economy of a Rose Parrakeet. In the early 1970s, Pete designed and built his dream and named it the Skyote (rhymes with “coyote”). Its first flight was in 1976. Stressed to +9G and -6G, it can fly as slow as 38 kts and fast as 137 kts, with a 1,500 fpm rate of climb and a gross weight of 900 lbs.

In 1976, none other than Bob Hoover took it for a test flight and reviewed it for Sport Aviation. He offered this assessment: “I can only say that it was a rare experience to fly an airplane that exhibited such delightful flying qualities, along with an immense amount of creature comfort. The slow flight feature also provides short field performance that makes any little grass strip quite suitable. The Skyote gets off as quickly as a Super Cub—maybe quicker!”

Pete Bartoe’s personal Skyote is on display next to the Jetwing at the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum. Plans and components for Skyotes are available from Aircraft Spruce, and an active Skyote type club is based in Grayslake, Illinois. At 2016’s AirVenture in Oshkosh, a Skyote built by John Roberts won the Homebuilt Plans Champion Award. Further information and photos can be found at Skyote.org.

The post From jars to jets: the forgotten story of the Jetwing appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

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[lumberingleviathan]

Fishman x Reader

Warnings: Lemon

Word count: 1124

They tell you the lower levels of the lab are off limits, that anyone caught down their will immediately be detained. It ought to dissuade you, but there’s no ignoring the soft lull of singing that crawls through the air vents. The way it always seems to find you, and no other. Musical notes all but manifesting against the bale of your neck, curling almost lazily like cigarette smoke. You made the mistake of asking about it once, and spent the next three days in a room with some higher ups.

Asking so many questions:

What did you hear?

When did you hear it?

What do you dream about?

How you give only vague answers, a creeping suspicion in your mind that they mean more harm than good. You took this job as a way to better the world, a hope that research into the creatures as yet unknown to the public could broker peace for them. Though the past few weeks have turned this dream sour in your mouth, how the facility seems to look at them as experiments, nothing more.

You remind yourself of this fact as she slide the cool plastic of a stolen ID card into the reader for the door that leads below surface level. How it glides open with a mechanical whirl of noise, and artificial air rushes to meet you. The hallways are muted steel, and sterile in appearance. When you step forward, and the door seals back behind you, you can’t help but feel entombed.

How anything that sounds as beautiful as it does live down here you can’t imagine. Each turn feels like an endless maze of similar looking corridors, and you free you’ve made a grave mistake. Until it finds you again, the sweet lull of someone’s voice, pitched low, and rich, and now each turn you take with purpose. A surety in your movements that causes your heart to pound reckless in your chest. Hummingbird like until the idea it might free itself from your ribs to reach your destination faster comes to mind.

You don’t know what you expect to find, but the enormous water tank isn’t it. It partially stands upwards, with water a murky teal, but you can see where it disappears down below- at least forty feet or so. A staircase winds down around it where you imagine scientists go to view something down there. The music has stopped though, and so have you, caught at the very edge of the glass- how thick it must be to hold so much water you can’t fathom. The air down here raises goosebumps, and the scent reminds you of the ocean.

The salt spray touch of it is almost intoxicating when you raise your hand towards the glass. Only to leap back with a yelp when a webbed hand slaps itself where yours once was. Slowly forming out of the murkiness the scaled body unveils itself. The scales are a deep indigo, and the large eyes set into his head look near liquid gold. The black of his lips peel away to show the sharpness of teeth, in what you think is a smile.

How the largeness of his pupils follow your every move, and your fingers brush back through your hair almost nervously. As if this creature can see all of you, beyond the lab coat, and the scrubs.

“Don’t you smell sweet.” His words seem to echo against the glass, muffling themselves as they go. It makes it so you have to lean up against it to hear him. The cold of the glass sinks through your clothes as you line yourself against it, head turned to press your ear near his mouth. His laughter sends a shiver down your spine, and there’s no ignoring the way your nipples seem to harden.

You want to blame the cold, but your gaze can’t help but notice the hand he’s palms down the glass now. Mimicking the movements of touching you, tracing the lines of you like he’s committing them to memory. “Aren’t you a bold one.” The gills at the sides of his neck seem to flutter, and his teeth snap in the water when you make a soft fluttering exhale. You’ve dreamt about him, like this, but more than this too. When it’s you in the water, what it might feel like to be touched. These are the things you don’t tell the guards, these are the things you keep secret in your heart.

“Won’t you let me see a little more?” You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not, only that the moment seems surreal, and detached from the rest of this place. That your hands shake as you slip of your coat, before working the buttons of your shirt. Fabric pooling down by your feet when you press back up against the glass again.

“Such a sweet girl, so soft looking-“ he seems to grown in the water, and looking down you can see him shifting slightly. How a harder looking scales seem to open slowly, the heavy bob of his cock now pressing up against the glass as well. It looks almost emerald in color, the head of it pulsing, ridges seeming to vibrate down the length of him.

“The things I could do to you, precious one.” He’s cooing now, one webbed hand placing against the glass where your chest rests.  It feels like your pulse is trying to break through, if only it means getting closer. His other hand wrapping around himself, working in slow thrusts that make you whine.

That you want to touch, that you want to be touched. Your fingers seek down the twitch of your stomach with each breath. Spreading yourself, matching the pace he sets, until you’re all but writhing against the glass. Suddenly feverish, and sweat slick, all but begging for something, anything more than this.

“That’s it-“ he’s saying, and the musics in your head again, only this time it’s spreading warm through your veins. Blossoming heat beneath your skin until you swear it is his hand on you. It’s the spindly slick spread of his fingers burying themselves inside of you. How you break with a gasp of a noise, watching as he spills himself into the water. How it clouds before disappearing, and your pants keep up despite the stillness of everything else.

Above you a siren starts up, a flash of yellow lights, and you know you’ll need to leave now if you don’t want to be found out.

“Find me again, find me, and next time I’ll show you what I can really do.” How you rush to dress, his promise feeling like a spark in the core of you.

Next time.

[burtlederp]

Broken Pieces Superhero AU

 Many, many, many, many thanks to @quirkykayleetam, who is a fantastic and patient editor and collaborator on this beauty! I’m the one posting it this time, as I ended up writing most of it... XD Boy am I glad it’s done! I hope y’all enjoy!

tw: blood, guns, cartoon villainy except that there’s Gatling guns and giant automatons

Chapter 3: Same Old, Same Old

A few days passed since Damien and Daniel met. They were quiet, Damien going about his usual business as the rest of the town was. 

Then the power went out.

That in and of itself was only a minor issue; a good portion of the town's populace already powered their homes with generators or lived near some who did to share.

It was an issue, however, when the supervillain Roman blew up the bridge of the one road leading into and out of town, as well as the airstrip. It probably wouldn’t have been as much of an issue to everybody but he just happened to choose the day the Walmart delivery truck arrived. 

Damien was tired, having finished a graveyard shift and gone straight to his job at the gas station, but duty called. He “suddenly” came down with a bad case of the flu, quickly changed in a hidden spot, and hurried to the police station where he got the details: Roman was holding the whole town hostage and would continue to do so until he’d received $20,000 in cash from the Alaskan governor. Whether or not the governor had heard and was organizing rescue of some sort was unknown, as all signals seemed to be jammed.

It was a very standard situation for the Alchemist, maybe a bit bigger than Roman usually went, but nonetheless simple and straightforward: Find Roman, punch him a bit, then then let him run away. The Alchemist saves the day! Easy

Alchemist didn’t even think of the Rogue as he made laps around the town, garbed in his usual summer costume, searching made a little more difficult by the summer foliage. He checked a few spots downtown that he checked every time Roman showed his face, then moved his way down the highway to the bridge. The overpass was guarded by two large brass automatons both wielding large spears that looked to be attached to chain of large bullets which looped up over their shoulders. There was no sign of Roman himself, and assuming those spears were more than they appeared, the Alchemist kept low and out of sight as he moved on, searching.

The Alchemist found Roman at the destroyed airstrip. Three large automatons patrolled the area and the aircraft hangar seemed to be the center of operations. The Alchemist could see Roman from his hiding spot in the trees, the villain sitting proudly on his mobile throne. Ed, the town’s only pilot was chained to a chair while some poor kidnapped cameraman sat tensely beside him cradling a large TV camera.

 The stage was set. It was time for the games to begin.

The automatons patrolled rather closely to the hangar itself; sneaking between them would be difficult and risky. They were large, about twenty feet high each, all with those probably-a-Gatling-gun spears in their hands and, on top of that, Alchemist already knew that being punched by one of those things would suck. The robots’ “eyes”’ were two large globular implants hidden behind their helmets. Roman’s large tank was parked out front, obscuring clear vision into the hangar, whose main door was open. Only one plane inside was still untouched; the mayor’s was destroyed, currently being torn even further asunder by one of Roman’s confounded fabrication machines. Prioritizing, Alchemist knew that Roman himself was not the real threat here: it was the automatons.

 “What’s the easiest way to take down a person?” Alchemist rubbed his jaw, hidden beneath his mask. “Well, tripping them, but I have no rope or chain, so…” Alchemist’s eye was drawn to a young, tall spruce growing nearby, and a very stupid idea came to mind.

 It was difficult, a little more than Alchemist anticipated, but only a few minutes later he had bent the spruce back so far it was about to split, and it was all he could do to keep his feet on the ground and the tree top in his gloved hands. Teeth gritted, he took aim and waited for an automaton to move into place. Just a little further, a little further…

THWISH-CRK!

The Alchemist sent himself flying through the air perhaps a bit faster than he anticipated, careening towards a brass head before smacking into it definitely harder than he had wanted to. He had planned to land and put something over the thing’s eyes, but instead the head caved under his foot, the body toppling over onto the hangar. He pushed off, somersaulting as he hit the roof, the body of the automaton slumping off the edge with its head destroyed. He skidded to a stop, looking over his shoulder, and turned back around to see the other two automatons looking down at him, their eyes glowing and their spears raised. With barely enough time to curse, The Alchemist leapt to the side dodging a wave of bullets. The hero ran across the thin roof towards the side of the building where he knew the fabrication machine sat, well aware that those bullets were piercing straight through the steel.

“Please don’t hit the hostages please don’t hit the hostages pleeeeeease…” he begged internally. He slid off the edge of the roof, briefly holding on to the lip before dropping to the ground below. The automatons were moving, stepping around to spot him again, but he moved faster, darting around the corner to enter the hangar, where he ran right into Roman himself. The pair collided hard and fell apart onto the ground.

“Alchemist, you fuc--!” Roman spat, glaring at him, but Alchemist wasn’t paying attention to him--he was more interested in the golden head poking out from around the back of the building. The hero leapt to his feet, grabbing Roman by the cape and throwing him hard against the interior wall, pinning him.

“Call off the automatons, Roman!” Alchemist hissed. 

“What, you think I’m going to do it just because you asked nicely?” Roman retorted, hands on Alchemist’s wrists. 

“No, you’re going to do it because I told you to,” the Alchemist’s eyes narrowed, and Roman felt a heat on his shoulders, through his armor. Roman’s eyes widened, and his hands moved fast, faster than Alchemist anticipated. He was forced to rear back as a sharp spear suddenly shot from Roman’s gauntlet towards his face. The Alchemist could feel its sharp point graze his hood as he leapt back. Roman stood there, breathing hard, eyes narrowed.

“You trying to kill me?!”  the Alchemist spat.

“I could ask you the same thing, idiot!” Roman snarled, tapping a button on his control gauntlet. A nozzle rose from his tank. Alchemist braced, and was surprised as a jet of water shot out, spraying Roman. Distracted, he didn’t see the tank also prep another shot, and was suddenly engulfed by a chain net that knocked him off his feet and wrapped around him. He struggled with it, trying to get free, but was bound quite tight. Roman stood over him, frowning, and glanced at the cameraman, who had the camera raised and recording.

“You! Turn that off, just for a minute!” He ordered. The cameraman obeyed. 

Roman then turned back to the Alchemist, who glared daggers up at him. Roman bent down, taking hold of the chains and lifting the Alchemist’s head off the ground so he could look him better in the face.

“Al, look, just a quick aside with you,” Alchemist stared up at his archnemesis suspiciously, eyes narrowed, and Roman ignored him and continued. “You can use acid, okay? You can use acid on my machines, on chains, walls, prison cells, whatever. But for the love of Pete, don’t fucking use hydroflouric acid on me. Do you realize how powerful that stuff is?” the Alchemist blinked, now looking a little confused.

“It’s really fucking powerful, okay? Really. Fucking. Dangerous. Don’t use it on me again, or I swear next time we meet, I will actually kill you. Understand?” Roman tipped his head a bit so the Alchemist could see his eyes a bit better through his helmet. The Alchemist looked him up and down, and then nodded. 

“I wanna hear you say it, Al.” Roman raised an eyebrow. Alchemist sighed, rolling his eyes, and Roman shook him with the chains. “Say it, Al. If it’ll make sure you don’t do it again, you can give me your own condition.” The Alchemist’s face brightened.

 “Don’t use armor-piercing bullets on me anymore. I’m not wearing kevlar or some shit,” the Alchemist responded almost immediately. Roman thought over it a second and nodded.

“Alright, deal.”

The Alchemist reached a hand awkwardly through the hole of the chains, and the two shook on it. 

“Back to fighting?” the Alchemist inquired.

“Yep. Roll cameras.” Roman motioned to the perplexed cameraman, who fumbled and got the camera rolling again just in time to see the Alchemist push off the floor with his hands and uppercut the villain as he flipped through the air like a spinning log. He landed heavily back on the floor on his stomach, Roman staggering backwards. 

“You--! How did you even do that!” 

Roman popped his spear from his gauntlet, flicking it into full-length and charging at the Alchemist. The herot didn't wait, pushing himself some more and rolling, managing to stay just clear of the spear head--until he didn't, and it plunged into his back. The Alchemist shouted in pain, gripping the chains in his hands tightly.

 "That's what you get, Alchemist!" Roman spat.

The Alchemist bit back another yelp as Roman pulled the spear out, pressing his face against the concrete, only to give a strained gasp as the spearhead stabbed into his bicep. Roman yanked the spear out, readying another stab, but was not nearly fast enough as The Alchemist rolled out of the way, getting to his feet, the chains sloughing off him with edges sizzling from acid. 

“Dammit, you--” Roman was cut off as the Alchemist delivered a fast left hook and another fist to his gut. Roman staggered back as Alchemist ran past him towards the fabricator.

 “No, Alchemist, don’t!” 

TheAlchemist ignored him, throwing up his hands and spraying some liquid into the material receptacle. The machine didn’t stop, just continued chugging, but the Alchemist knew it wouldn’t be long before it did.

He turned to just barely dodge a spear that was flying towards his face. It lodged itself in the fabricator, much to Roman’s frustration.

“No!” Roman bellowed angrily.

 The villain’s eyes widened as Alchemist ran towards him. He side-stepped one attack, then another, but not the third punch.  The Alchemist grabbed him by the cape clasp at his throat and lifted him bodily into the air.

“Call off your machines, Roman,” Alchemist hissed. “Call them off or I’ll destroy them myself!”

“I think I’ll select the latter, thanks!”

Roman gripped the Alchemist’s forearm.  The hero who shrieked.  His muscles contracted uncontrollably before his whole body collapsed as Roman’s built-in taser did its job. The villain landed, backing away towards his tank as he tapped away on his gauntlet.

“Have fun with the big boys, Alchemist!” Roman grinned darkly, climbing up into his tank.

The Alchemist rose shakily onto his elbows, wondering what he could mean by that, when bullets started piercing the warehouse, climbing towards him. He gasped, rolling to the side and pelting towards the fabricator. 

“Damn, he got me targeted!” he thought.

The Alchemist gritted his teeth, pushing off the floor and flying just over the top of the machine. He hung onto the wall for a second, waiting for the bullet spray to near, then kicked off. The bullets demolished the fabricator as the Alchemist leapt clear. He rolled as he hit the ground then ran for the large box bearing an antennae in the corner that was clearly not just part of the hangar. The hero had to wait a heart-pounding moment for the bullets to start moving towards him, but they did. Soon enough, they would have pierced through the box, tearing it to pieces. 

“Yes!” the Alchemist punched the air, but his victory was short-lived. His suspicions had been correct: the box was indeed the signal relay for Roman’s instructions to the automatons, but gatling guns needed a little time to slow down and stop. Bullets, the spray slowing, still flew through the thin hangar walls. They hit their target. The Alchemist weakly jumped to the side, messily landing as pain bloomed like the blood on his leg, his side, arm, his ear.  There was no more sound after that.

“Alchemist!” Ed called, getting to his feet, having long since wormed free from his bindings. He ran to the hero, kneeling beside him. “Damn villain lied!” the older man growled, looking over the Alchemist’s wounds. The hero shook his head weakly.

“N-no, it’s fine, he--nngh--he didn’t have time to--to switch the bullets,” The Alchemist wheezed. “Ahh, ff--ff--crap, crap, th-this doesn’t, doesn’t feel--” he cut off as there was a sound of groaning metal.

 Air whistled past something and suddenly an automaton crashed through the opposite side of the hangar, falling and entirely crushing the fabricator. The ground shook as all three automatons fell to earth along with the two distant robots guarding the road. The Alchemist hoped that was it for the things on the bridge as well.

“Well,” The hero huffed a weak laugh. “Isn--isn’t that convenient?” 

“Son, stop talking, you’re bleeding out,” Ed growled, reaching for the mask. “C’mon, you need to just breathe--” The Alchemist’s hand stopped him.

“N-no, it’s fine. J-just help me up, please,” The hero asked weakly, starting to move, only to gasp in pain.

“Boy, you aren’t thinking of moving, are you?” Ed raised an eyebrow. 

“I called for an ambulance already,” The cameraman offered helpfully.

A solid black SUV skidded to a halt in front of the three men, its black-haired driver jumping out before the vehicle came to a complete stop.

“Ambulance won’t make it in time.  Don’t worry; I’m with the League.”  He flashed an official-looking badge at Ed and the cameraman before turning his entire attention to the Alchemist and the blood seeping through him onto the reddening concrete.

“I’ve got word that hospitals might not be safe any way.  If I can stabilize him here, there’s a safehouse close by.  You hear me, kid?”

The Alchemist’s brown eyes looked at him, glazed over but clearly recognizing him. “Oh, for the love….” He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling of the hangar. “Just… just do what you have to do, man….”

The hero heard Daniel steadily giving orders to Ed and the cameraman as the latter grabbed supplies from the SUV. He felt pressure, pain. There was the sense of movement and white bandages turning scarlet. Then everything began to blur. The world went black, with a familiar voice whispering in his mind, “you’ve got my work cut out for me this time, don’t you?”

---

Tag List (I’m including those of you who enjoyed the original Broken Pieces story, but if you want to be taken off, please just let me know!):  @stoic-whumpee​​​​​​, @whatwasmyprevioususername​​​​​​, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall​​​​​​, @straight-to-the-pain​​​​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​​​​, @0idril0​​​​​​, @fallingstormphoenix​​​​​​, @whump-fantasies​​​​​​, @imagination1reality0​​​​​​, @whumpback-wail​​​​​, @whump-tr0pes​​​​​, @untilthepainstarts​​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @burtlederp​​​​, @redwingedwhump​​​​, @whumpiary​​​​, @captivity-whump​​​​, @blue-flare10

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: We can play the game, and play it well. (A Earl von Morgan story)

(For the initial story that introduced several of these characters please follow this link: https://niqhtlord01.tumblr.com/post/186229837551/humans-are-weird-threatening-a-human-does-not-end )  The summer breeze warmed the air outside the Sanssouci Palace as nearby tourists walked on their way, stopping every now and then to take a picture of the majestic German estate. A monument to the mixture of beauty and symmetry that had made one sentient machine envoy break down in joy at finding another species in the universe that could understand the beauty balance. Inside however, in a small out of the way office, a group of officials were having a heated discussion with such language being thrown between them that if one were to have heard them would have mistaken the people inside to be brothel goers rather than government officials.  The gilded room wore golden embroidery trim, the table and chairs carved from wood some several hundred years that had been painfully maintained with great expense, and the windows polished so cleanly that all manner of creatures ran head long into them on an hourly basis. One such bird struck the window with such force it woke Morgan from his light slumber.  He rubbed his eyes as if he was in deep thought and took a look around the room. His aides were still as lively as they were before he nodded off and some looked as if they were about to lunge over the table and grapple with those they were arguing with. He straightened himself out and smiled at such youthful vigor and that was partly why he had picked them for his staff. They saw things in a different light and were not constrained by standards or protocols the such that Morgan was bound to follow. He chuckled at the idea when he remembered how he had pulled a gun on several representatives several months ago when they threatened him with war unless he complied. Thankfully none of them had spoken to their governments or issued a censor to him so he felt like had flown under the radar safely.  Suddenly realizing something he took out his pocket watch and looked at the time. “That’s enough now.” Morgan said as he tapped his cane against the table three times to get his staff’s attention, their arguments dying down as one by one they returned to their seats. “Unlike the British I am not fond of going round in circles which this conversation has inadvertently turned into.” Several of them chuckled as they straightened themselves and their papers out.  A knock on the door stole everyone’s attention but Morgan simply nodded to one of his aides to go and let their guest in. The door slowly was drawn open and in stepped the Insectoid hive’s representative, Tilith. She still wore her peoples beaded strands to hide her face but she now donned a modified Japanese kimono. Her spider legs clicking as they touched the ground and caused the fabric to flutter.  Morgan rose from his seat to greet her as did the rest of his staff. “Hive Lord Tilith, your presence is as always a ray of sunlight in this bland political landscape.” he said as he bent down to kiss her outstretched hand. Tilith cocked her head to the side and chuckled, “And your formality is as ever respectful though unnecessary. Come, let us speak as friends.” Morgan stood up and motioned for his aides to bring in a specialized chair for the hive lord to sit upon.   “Tilith, I have already told my staff about the coming meeting but I think it would also be best for them to hear it from you as well.” Tilith nodded and stared at the surrounding faces. “In the next three days the daughter of the Hive queen will be visiting Earth and staying at our embassy. Should you wish to improve your standing with the Hive, you must first win her over.” A low murmur spread across the table as the staff took it in.  “Pardon me Hive lord.” A young female staff member spoke. “Forgive my ignorance but you are a representative, surely your words would be of higher regard to your government rather than the words of a princess.”  Morgan eye Tilith as she shifted in her chair, her beaded cover rattling. “I can forgive you but I recommend you never say such things again. Some of the more traditional of my species would take grave offense to your words.” The young woman who spoke shrunk back into her chair and remained quiet as Tilith continued. “What you must understand is that the government of our people is centered around the queen and her royal princesses to a far greater sense than any of your previous kings or queens. It is difficult for me to explain as you have never been part of the Hive and are all individuals, so it would be as if explaining color to the blind.”  Morgan rested his hand on his chin and stroked it. “So we need to win this princesses favor then, yes?” Tilith nodded. “Indeed, for the queen cares deeply for her daughters and has great value in their words. They are young, but they are not foolish. I am only here because I see great value in humanity and wish to further our friendship, but I will not assist you. You must be the ones to win her favor for this friendship to have any meaning.” “Well said!” Morgan clapped his hands together. “For our partnership to grow we will show this princess the worth of humanity.” The surrounding staff applauded and nodded as well at Morgan’s declaration before he waved them to silence. “And of course we would never ask you to betray your people Tilith, though could we trouble you for some small details?” “Such as?” Morgan returned to his seat.  “For instance, can you tell us the princesses name and where she will be staying?” “The princesses name is Roxana, and she will be staying at the embassy.” “Does she have any places she wishes to visit during her stay?”  Tilith reclined into her chair and crossed her taloned fingers. “She will not be leaving the embassy during her visit.” Morgan stared at her for a moment as if comprehending her statement and scratched his head. “Is there a specific reason as to why?” Morgan ventured, unsure how much information Tilith was willing to divulge. “Some of her retinue are the more traditionalists I spoke of and are afraid of what exposure to humanity might do to the princess. They see your individuality as a cause for concern and wish to limit any influence you might part on to the princess.  Therefore they have decided to keep her within the confines of the embassy, claiming to the princess that humanity is dull and uninspiring and not worth her time.”  Some of the staff scoffed at the notion. “Then why even have her come at all then?” “Her arrival has nothing to do with humanity and more to do with me. All members of the royal family make regular trips to the Hive’s embassies to get familiar with the ambassadors to ensure they are acting in the Hive’s best wishes. In truth I doubt you would be able to arrange an audience with her with how heavily they are screening her.”  “I see. Very clever of them.” Morgan leaned back in his chair while rocking and looked at the ceiling. He stared at it for about a minute before leaning forward and staring at Tilith, a clever grim creeping across his face. “We can not meet the princess, but I think I have a way for her to meet us.”  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Three days later the princess arrived at the Hive’s embassy and had remained there ever since. Shortly after Morgan arrived in his governmental vehicle and approached the gate of the Hive embassy, one hand holding his trusty cane while the other carried a diplomatic package. Though the wall surrounding the embassy was human in nature, the embassy itself was a massive upside down bee hive like structure that pushed out of the ground and towered into the air. The wall was more or less to stop ignorant tourists from trying to get up close and take a picture of the structure as the insectoids were highly territorial and would take their actions as a threat to their domain and would most likely rip the tourists limb from limb.  As he neared the gate two armored insectoids stepped out from the gatehouse and moved to intercept Morgan. They were easily twice his or Tilith’s height and their armored exoskeleton was strong enough to deflect point blank small arms fire and in some cases even tank fire as well. They carried no weapons as their talons were strong enough to slash through solid steel like it was paper.  Morgan tilted his head upwards and looked up at the warriors and nodded a greeting. “Good morning my fine giant friends. I am representative Earl von Morgan and I have an appointment today.” The warriors looked at each other and then back at Morgan. “No....visitors....today...for...princess....” the taller one stated. His voice was thick with clicking and he struggled with the words but Morgan was able to still make them out.  Morgan smiled. “I would imagine so, but I am here to see Hive Lord Tilith, not the princess.” The warriors again stared at each other and then back at Morgan. They were far from simpletons but the way their brains were wired they needed more time to process their thoughts and memories. They were probably combing their memories to see if they had been told to block any entry to the embassy or just those wishing to meet the princess. The other one raised a talon and pointed at the box Morgan was carrying. “What.....is....in....the box?” Morgan hefted it so the warrior could better see it. “This is a package Hive Lord Tilith requested me to get for her the next time I was traveling.”  “Must....be....scanned....” They held out a hand for the box and Morgan handed it to them. They then returned to the gatehouse and closed the door leaving Morgan and the other warrior standing awkwardly in silence. A few moments later they returned and handed the package to Morgan. “You.....may.enter..” The guards stepped aside and motioned for Morgan to continue in. He nodded to both of them and entered the embassy.  As he gazed up at the towering structure Morgan reflected that he had never been inside of the structure before and wondered what it looked like. He had seen the inside of bee hives on Earth but he doubted it would be exactly the same.  Standing in front of the entrance to the hive was Tilith who waved to him as he approached. “Good afternoon Mein Fräulein.” She motioned for him to join him at a small table. They both sat down and Morgan placed his package on the table.  “It is a pleasure to see you again, though I am unsure how meeting me is going to help you meet the princess.” Tilith remarked as she rested her head on a hand.   Morgan simply chuckled and tapped the package. “That is what this is for.” She regarded the covered package questioningly. “Please tell me you did not sneak another weapon in?” Morgan laughed louder and slapped his hand against the table. “No, no. Nothing so dastardly this time. Why don’t you open it up and see?” Tilith reached out and gently opened the coverings to reveal another box inside. With a nod from Morgan she removed the lid.  Before the cover was even fully removed a sudden rush overcame Tilith. A tingling sensation that ran along all of her legs and caused her fingers to twitch and she dropped the lid back down on to the box. She let out several gasps before looking at Morgan. “What is this?!?!” she demanded of Morgan.  “This my dear,” he said as he reached over and pulled off the lid in one go, “is chocolate.” The sudden sensation returned and it was even stronger than before. “We have them as treats. This is from a local bakery I know of here in town.” “What do you mean by “treats”?” Tilith asked as she focused all of her eyes on the chocolates. There were a variety of different sizes, shapes, and colors; no two were alike. “We eat them. Try one and see for yourself.”  Tilith cautiously reached out with a hand and selected one and slid it under her strand covers and took a bite out of it. Morgan watched in silence as she did so and was somewhat confused that after the first bite she stopped moving. Though he had done extensive research and selected chocolates that would sit well for her people, he couldn’t help but become concerned that he had missed something.  That feeling didn’t last long however as Tilith quickly devoured the rest of the chocolate with such vigor that her silver strands covering her face flew away revealing her face below. She munched on it for several seconds before swallowing and letting out a long gasp.  “These are beyond anything I have every tasted in my life!” She remarked as her arms and legs outstretched, as if the very excitement now inside her could barely be contained. Morgan himself let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “They really are aren’t they? Why don’t you try another?” Without needing more prodding Tilith happily devoured another one. “I remember you once told me how heightened your peoples senses are and how you crave sweet flavors. So I figured I would introduce you to some of our best desserts.”  She nodded enthusiastically as she finished the second one. “We do indeed. I can see now why you’d bring these to win over Roxana, but how will you get them to her when her retinue won’t let you get close?”  Morgan leaned back and clasped his hands. “I won’t have to judging by your reaction. Being here in front of the main entrance to the hive with a soft breeze carrying blowing inside, coupled with your heightened smell, I imagine that the aroma of these treats is now finding it’s way through the Hive. So when the princess smel-”  A loud scuttling sound from behind made Morgan stop and turn around to see a massive insectoid come storming out the Hive entrance and come straight at him. This form would have easily towered over the guards Morgan had met at the entrance and was roughly the size of a bus in length with a maw on the front large enough to swallow Morgan whole in one bite. It scuttled on a dozen rows of feet and moved rapidly across the ground like a centipede. It came charging at Morgan and Tilith and for a moment he thought he was about to be trampled to death when the new figure dug its feet into the ground to stop its forward motion and halt directly in front of them.  The dust cloud it generated from stopping made Morgan cough and attempt to wave away the dust. He looked over at Tilith to make sure she was okay when he saw her bent down bowing her head to the dirt at the newly arrived figure. Sudden realization hit him and he wondered if this large figure was in fact princess Roxana.  He quickly straightened himself and bowed to the large insectoid. “It is an honor to meet you Princess Roxana. I am humanities representative Earl von Morgan.”  “What is that delicious smell coming from?” came the reply in a soft childlike voice that confused Morgan. He looked up again to see a new figure suddenly appear on top of the massive form that looked similar to Tilith in shape but much smaller. They wore elaborate carvings of gold the sculpted to their legs like a glove and along with a vibrant gown. Unlike Tilith they wore no face cover and her insecotid face was on full display.  Morgan pointed to the table with the box of chocolates still open. “They are delicacies of my world your grace called chocolates.” He motioned to Tilith who was still bowing on the ground. “Representative Tilith had heard tales of them and wanted me to bring her some samplings to be given as a gift to you during your stay.”  Roxana moved lower along the massive insectoids side to be closer and inspect the box, but her legs never touched the ground nor left the massive insectoids body. Roxana frowned and glared at Morgan. “If they were meant to be a gift for me why are two missing?” She turned her gaze to Tilith who trembled slightly.  Morgan took a step forward but the massive insectoid let out a low growl that made him stop dead in his tracks. He wagered this was some form of specialized bodyguard cast meant to protect the royal family. “That would be because I ate them your grace. Tilith wanted to be sure that they weren’t poisoned so she randomly selected two and made me eat them, observing me to see how I would react. She is very protective of you.”  Roxana’s glare softened for a moment before it returned to a frown which she then directed at Morgan. Speaking to an insectoid without a face cover was an interesting experience to say the least, let alone one of royalty.  “The scanners would have detected any poison when they were examined at the gate.” Morgan shrugged and smiled. “Like I said, she is very protective of you and wanted to be sure.”  He took hold of the box and held it out to the princess. “Would you like one?” Roxana’s face lit up as the box was held in front of her. “Yes!” She reached out with a hand to grab one but stopped suddenly as if torn between wanting and not wanting before withdrawing her hand.  “Is something wrong your grace?” Roxana pouted and crossed her arms. “My retinue said I’m not supposed to touch anything human.” Morgan looked at the box and then at Roxana. “I see. Then how about I chuck one into your mouth?”  Roxana glared at him intensely and the massive form growled again as if sensing her ward was being insulted. “You dare treat me as if I’m a child?!” “Heaven’s no my grace.” he said as he wave his hand to the side as if to dispel the idea. “I was merely thinking of a way to get what you want without breaking your word to your retinue.”  She perked up at that and placed a hand on the bodyguard who then promptly calmed down. “I’m listening.” With his free hand he picked up the chocolate she had been originally reaching for. “If I throw it to you and you catch it in your mouth, then you did not touch anything. In fact, you would be tasting it, which is different from touching.” Her face began to light up again as she eyed the chocolate in his hand. “That way, you still keep your word to your retinue while at the same time getting what you want. Am I wrong?” “I like your thinking!” she loudly announced and moved closer to him. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, which to his somewhat horror was now large enough to fit the head of a small child inside of. He tossed the chocolate at her with his best aim and she quickly caught it and began devouring it. Roxana had the same reaction Tilith had had before and was twitching around excitedly to a point she almost lost her grip and fell to the ground before righting herself.  “Another!” She demanded as she finished. “Of course, which would you like?” Morgan pointed between the remaining ones until Roxana nodded rapidly over one with a white rose on it. He picked it up and was just about to throw it again when a loud voice interrupted him.  “HOW DARE YOU!!!!” Morgan turned to see a group of robed insectoids pouring out of the hive and surround him. Morgan nodded to the one who had originally shouted to him. “Good afternoon. My name is-” The robed insecotid strode forward and slapped him across the face causing him to tumble to the ground, the chocolates now strewn across the ground.  “How dare you treat our princess as if she is one of your live stock!” the same robed isnectoid declared. “Have you now shame?!!?” A chorus of acknowledgement came from the other robed insectoids as they began issuing their own insults. Morgan was rubbing his face and reached for his cane to help him rise. Seeing this the cane was quickly snatched from him and held out of reach leaving him no choice but to rise to his feet unsteadily.  “I feel there has been a grave misunderstanding.” Morgan began, his words slightly slurring as he realized his cheek was beginning to puff out from the slap which had more force than he originally thought. “I was only-” Another slap sent him once more to the ground, harder than before. “You will stay silent if you wish to live human.” “But you don’t understand.” Morgan began again just as the robed insectoid raised their foot to stamp on him.  Suddenly, all of the insectoids grabbed hold of their heads and began curling up into balls on the ground. Morgan looked over through blurry eyes and saw Tilith doing the same as if she were in pain. Morgan turned his gaze upwards and saw the princess with her mouth wide open once more but not a sound coming out.  Maybe something humans can’t hear?, Morgan wondered as he lay on the ground. This went on for a minute before the princess closed her mouth again. The bodyguard outstretched a massive leg and scooped up Morgan as if he was made of paper and stood him up straight,   One by one the robed retinue rose to their feet and bowed to the princess. “Princess Roxana-” the robed figure that had slapped Morgan began before being cut off by the bodyguards foot crashing into them. It slammed them to the ground hard and kept them there by pressing down on their chest.  “You are the one with no shame.” Roxanne began as she slowly moved down the bodyguards leg. “You attacked a representative of a friendly nation, and one  who had brought me a gift at that which is now ruined by your actions.” She stood just above the struggling robed figure as the bodyguard’s leg began to apply more pressure on their chest as if to crush them.  She looked over at Morgan. “You are the offended party here. What should I do with them?” He looked down at the insectoid that had struck him now looking at him with desperation in their eyes.  Morgan brushed some dirt off his coat and coughed. “No need to be so harsh my grace. This was all brought about by a misunderstanding.” Roxana looked at him surprisingly, then tapped the bodyguard who moved their leg off the robed figure who began gasping for breath.  “That still leaves the matter of my ruined gift though.” Roxana looked down at the figure as they began inching away expecting the bodyguard to crush them.  Morgan calmly stepped between the two of them and smiled at the princess. “Think nothing of it. I can get you another box and have it to you by tomorrow.” “But I want it now!” Roxana pouted and the bodyguard growled at their wards displeasure. Morgan calmly placed his hand on his chin and paced back and forth. Finally stopping and snapping his fingers he turned and looked at Roxana.  “Very well. How about I go and contact the chocolate maker and have him make you a fresh batch today at his bakery? He would be honored to have you taste them fresh.” Roxana rocked her head back and forth considering the option. “Why can’t you make them bring the chocolates here?” “I could, but I would have thought you would like to try them fresh when they are even more delicious then the one you had just now.”  Roxana’s mouth begin to open and close at the idea of the chocolates being even better. “They taste better fresh you say?” Morgan nodded. “Of course. The ones I was presenting to you I got yesterday when he was open. Today he closes his shop but I am sure he would open it for me if I asked.”  Roxana began clapping her hands in excitement. “How very thoughtful of you. You do me a great kindness after my retinue treated you so poorly.” He smiled and shrugged. “All water under the bridge your grace. I shall take my leave and contact the baker. I shall return within the hour and then we can proceed to their bakery.”  Roxana nodded and then tapped her bodyguard who turned around and began returning to the hive, her retinue following quickly behind. The one that had slapped him glared at him before following after the others.  Once the princess had gone Tilith rose from her knees and reached out to Morgan who was now swaying on his feet slightly. “Are you alright?” She helped him sit down as he rubbed his cheek. “Nothing a few shots of spirits can’t fix.”  She sat down across from him and looked him over. “You did me a kindness by covering for me before. Your cleverness knows no bounds it seems, using the chocolates to draw the princess to you.” Morgan chuckled but stopped as it hurt his cheek to laugh. “That reminds me.” He said as he looked at her with his smile back on his face. “When we go to the bakery I need to get you a box of chocolates as well.”  Tilith slammed he hands down on the table and looked at him in the eyes. “You better not be joking.” He waved his hand to the side and grinned. “I’ll make it two to prove that I’m not.” 

[dwaynepride]

The Fool’s Form

Summary: “i like seeing you smile.”  &Gibbs / Gibbs notices a pattern when it comes to you, and it forces him to realize his own feelings.

Words: 3,177

Warnings: None

Tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @specialagentlokitty @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267

Notes: I went into this oneshot with no real planning so im sorry if it seems incoherent, at times.

The slight ring in his ears wouldn’t go away. Sticking around like an annoying gnat without any signs of disappearing. Gibbs figured it would be gone by tomorrow; this wasn’t his first experience with ringing ears. But when it was accompanied by a scratchy throat and itchy lungs and soot getting in his eyes sometimes, Gibbs wish ringing ears was his only problem.

His body ached. His nose was starting to hate the smell of smoke, but the fire in the building wasn’t completely out yet, and Gibbs couldn’t leave. Not until someone came to pick him up.

It was that or a hospital ride. Gibbs would rather be in the burning building.

He lets his eyes close for just a few moments, breathing in the fresh air the oxygen tank provided. The only rest he would get for the rest of the day, because once a member of his team comes to pick him up, it’ll be back to work. Trying to catch the guy who managed to escape and set the building ablaze with Gibbs still inside.

The sound of his name perked his ears up, his eyes opening in the direction of your voice. And his eyes were still a little scratchy from the dust. Gibbs pulls his oxygen mask away and rubs an eye as you near, saying his name once again. “Are you okay?” You ask him, and now that he can see a little clearer, he watches you look him over.

Gibbs nods once, clearing his throat so his voice wasn’t too messed up. That would only further worry you, and he didn’t want to do that. You already worried enough. “Any sign of the petty officer from the BOLO?”

Despite his efforts, his voice was scratchy and sounded like hell. You physically winced at the sound but shook your head anyway. “Not yet. Tony said he’d call as soon as something came up.” You tell him, wearing a small, worried frown. “I think you should go home.”

Gibbs shakes his head while setting the oxygen aside, deeming himself well enough to leave. That was the deal with the paramedic, anyway. “Gotta get back to work.” He states, forcing himself not to groan out loud as he stands. His muscles scream at the effort, telling him to sit back down. Get some rest. Maybe sleep for a couple days.

He barely hears you say his name again. More scolding, this time. And when Gibbs to fully on his feet, that’s when he notices your hand clutching his arm. No, he was standing up by himself. He didn’t need your help... “Gibbs, I really think-”

“Take me to the office.”

His voice is sharp; an order, if you’ve ever heard one. The harder tone of voice makes you blink at him. A bit of hurt flashing in your eyes that Gibbs regrets a little, but it gets you to nod and help him to the car. Somehow, he’s able to pull himself into the passenger seat without grunting. His body still aches, but he’ll get used to it.

You shut the door, glance sideways to Gibbs, and start up the engine. The burning building disappears in the rear view mirror. Gibbs grunts in effort as he tries to get comfortable in his seat. And you still can’t quite believe that he wants to go back to work.

He was stuck in that building, surrounded by fire and smoke.

He could have died.

That thought suddenly makes it difficult to breathe. If Gibbs wasn’t your intimidating Marine boss, you’d yell at him. Scold him for being so stupid. Not going to the hospital was one thing, but going back to work was another level of reckless.

Your eyes flicker away from the road to eye your boss. His head rested against the seat, hands in his lap, eyes blinking shut. Almost as if he was going to take a nap on the way to the office, and it gave you an idea. A dumb idea, but it seemed like a good one at the time.

Taking a right would lead back to the Naval Yard. You took a left instead.

The next time Gibbs opened his eyes, you were shaking him awake. Softly saying his name. When did he fall asleep? And why? He could normally stay up for days before passing out so quickly.

He grunts a little at your blurry form before opening the door. He just needed some coffee and he’d be right as rain. Maybe take about half a bottle of Advil for the ache in his muscles, but work comes first.

But once Gibbs closes the car door behind him and actually blinks the sleep from his eyes, he realizes he isn’t in the parking lot of the NCIS building. He’s in his driveway. At home.

Exhaustion slows his brain down a little, but once you come around to the other side of the car, Gibbs whips his head around. Frowning as much as he can with a face numbed with tiredness. “What the hell is this? Did you suddenly lose your hearing when I gave you an order?”

He must not have seemed as intimidating as he usually is. Because you just huff out a light sigh at his aggressive bark. “Gibbs, you can barely stand up straight. You’re exhausted and all beat up and my car is going to smell like smoke for at least a week.” Your head motions toward his house, putting on a small smile. “Please, just take a nap and a shower. I’m not asking for a week’s vacation.”

It might as well be, to Gibbs. He’d need to be shot before staying home when he doesn’t need to.

And he was about to say just that. Threaten unemployment and act like an angry bear until you caved. But something stopped him. Held him back. Maybe it was that look in your eye; it was an infuriatingly familiar one. Wide and sad and full of concern. Puppy-dog eyes to the max, and Gibbs was almost always swayed by such a look.

This was one of those times.

Though, the exertion of simply standing was a big contributing factor. Either way, he sighs hard. Head lolling down and shaking before he looks back up. “I want a report later. And if I don’t get one-”

“You’ll slap our heads clean off.” A smile instantly appeared on your face, having won the argument. You reach out, patting Gibbs on his shoulder and gesturing toward the house. “Now go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you some dinner later on.”

Gibbs started walking, biting back the temptation to say something snarky. He usually hated being treated as if he was fragile. And he usually proved that he wasn’t.

But after he showered away the soot and smoke sticking to his skin and spread out over the couch with a heavy exhale, maybe it wasn’t so bad this time. Because he was tired. The couch felt like a cloud. And you were right; Gibbs needed the rest.

Needed it so much so, that he was still out like a light when you showed up several hours later. There was no point in knocking on the door; it was open and Gibbs kept it that way. The setting sun provided a bit of warm light to the old house as you made your way through. Gibbs was probably in the basement, and you were hoping he got at least a couple hours of sleep before getting up and moving around.

And you were never so glad to be wrong.

His low snores could be heard even as soon as you came through the door. And they only got louder when you approached the living room, take-out box in hand. The sight of your boss fast asleep on the couch, his head propped up against the armrest, was vastly preferred over watching him limp all around his basement and pretending everything was okay.

You kept your footsteps silent, barely breathing as you came closer and set the take-out on the coffee table. A burger and fries; you weren’t going to push your luck and try to get him to eat something healthy.

For a moment, you watch him. Just to make sure he’s really sleeping and not pretending to appease you. But there was a certain look of peacefulness on Gibbs’ face that you couldn’t ever remember seeing when he was awake. Calm and at rest. You couldn’t quite stifle the smile that appeared.

Your eyes leave Gibbs and flicker over his living room before finally spotting what you’d been searching for. Still taking slow steps, you make toward the reclining chair and pull off the blanket throw over the top of it.

If Gibbs is going to sleep into the night, he might get cold, right?

Carefully, slowly, you drape the blanket over his feet. His legs. The fabric hits his hips before Gibbs inhales and shifts. And you freeze until he stops, letting out the lowest groans and falling back into deep sleep.

He must really be exhausted.

You continue the deed until Gibbs is sufficiently covered. It’s a little jarring, how different he seems right now. Tucked in and fast asleep. If you had to pick a word to describe the moment, adorable could be one of them.

But you don’t stay for too long. Gibbs is still resting and you delivered his dinner. There was still work to be done, and he did want a report whenever he woke up.

So you walk out of his house just as silently as you came in.

--

Gibbs can’t remember a time he was so well-rested.

Not using caffeine as his only source of energy. Not stringing himself along for three or four days with little sleep and telling himself that he’s fine. Gibbs felt great, all things considered.

Sure, his body still ached. Lingering affects of smoke inhalation had the Marine coughing since he woke up. And anger still boiled in his gut, steeling his determination to put this case to rest.

But, annoyingly, it was difficult for Gibbs to focus on the case. Not because of any injuries sustained from yesterday - his mind was just somewhere else. Keeping his attention away from where it needed to be.

Gibbs’ eyes flickered away from his computer screen (he hadn't read a single word on it for a while) and landed on your desk. Empty, because you and DiNozzo were following up on the local police and their search for the suspect.

And Gibbs had a working theory as to why his focus was so frazzled today. It wasn’t the fire that had shaken him; he’s been through worse. No, it started as soon as he woke up this morning, wrapped in a blanket that Gibbs was sure he didn’t fall asleep with. An old box of food that had gone bad hours ago, but he knew it was from you. You did promise to bring him dinner...

“Boss?”

Gibbs straightens up at McGee’s voice, eyes falling down to his desk before rising up to the junior agent. “What, McGee?” He asks, tone curt and harsh because he was caught in his own thoughts.

McGee seems a little awkward at the tone, but he continues on with his report. “Uh, Abby and I determined that the cause of the fire was electrical. Probably rigged and set off whenever you entered the building.” He explains. And after Gibbs simply nods, McGee gives a small tilt of his head. “Are you feeling okay, boss? If you need to go home, we can handle things-”

“No, I don’t need to go home.” Gibbs cuts him off with a bark-like tone, standing up from his chair to bring himself to full height. But try as he might, Gibbs didn’t feel very intimidating. Probably because it took him a lot longer to stand because of the ache in his legs. And when he straightened up, his lungs got that itchy, smoky sensation. Gibbs bit his tongue to keep from coughing.

McGee’s eyes lower, anyway. But any awkward silence or unwanted apology is chased away by DiNozzo’s voice; loud and booming as he entered the bullpen.

“Boss! It’s good to see you walking around!”

Gibbs looks to his senior agent, regards him silently, doesn’t spend too much time watching him before he’s looking at you. Gibbs blames his lame lungs for how tight his chest feels at that moment. The effort it takes for him in inhale as you approach, frowning a little but not really mad. Gibbs knew that expression well. “Yeah, even though I still think you should be resting at home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, McGee is signaling to you to shut up and not go down that road. But Gibbs doesn’t scowl or grumble.

Instead, his eyes watch yours for a moment. Maybe two before they drop to what you’re holding. You look down, huff, and hand over one of the coffee to-go cups for him. And when Gibbs takes it, you give him smile. “No need to say thanks. You can do that by eating this.”

At that, you lift up a bag that he hadn’t noticed before. Gibbs frowns, his head tilting as he reads the logo printed in the front, ‘Joe’s Bagels.’ That makes him huff, head shaking. “Not hungry.” He states.

“You need to eat, Gibbs. You’re still healing.” You shake the bag, holding it closer. And then you put on those puppy-dog eyes again. The same ones from last night, when you convinced him to take the day off and rest. Last night, his exhaustion could be blamed for how easily Gibbs conceded. This morning, he had not real excuse. No reason to agree.

But he takes the bagels anyway. Sets them on his desk and he sits, leaving you to grin while McGee and Tony exchanged looks.

Why should they be surprised? Even Gibbs gets hungry sometimes.

--

The light of his lamp didn’t seem to help Gibbs at all in reading reports. He’d get only about two lines in before his vision goes blurry. Having to rub his eyes to refocus them.

It must be pretty late. The officeplace has been quiet for a little while now. DiNozzo skirting off for some new date. McGee and Abby having some kind of plans that Gibbs didn’t quite understand. Something about computers, no doubt. So it must be pretty late, that’s why he can barely keep his eyes open...

10:30.

Gibbs frowns at the time. No way in hell is it that early. But after checking the time on his computer, it’s apparent that Gibbs is thoroughly tired and drained at 10:30 PM. He must be getting old.

Suddenly, he hears your voice; a sharp contrast from the silence of the room. When Gibbs straightens up to watch you come from the elevator, chatting on the phone, the pull in his muscles reminds him that maybe yesterday’s incident is what has him so drained.

But Gibbs looks down when you turn into the bullpen, not wanting it to seem like he was watching you. But he listens carefully; you have plans. Tonight. With who? Hopefully not a guy-

So what if it is? It’s no business of his.

Gibbs is scowling at his paperwork when you say his name. Several times, in fact. It isn’t until you lean over his monitor do you finally catch his attention. The surprised look on your boss’ face elicits a big smile. “You’re still here? You should head home, Gibbs.”

He blinks, brow quirking. “You’re still here.” He points out, and can’t help himself but to lean closer. Like you were dragging him in and Gibbs couldn’t fight the tide.

“Yeah, because I had some things to wrap up. And I wasn’t nearly burnt to a crisp yesterday.”

A good point. One that Gibbs marginally agreed with, even though he looked away with a shake of his head. “I’m fine.” He says. He won’t let you get to him, this time. Twice was one thing. Three times was a pattern.

A pattern he didn’t want to acknowledge.

You don’t reply, at first, but Gibbs can see you slinking around his desk. Can feel your eyes on him - firm, like a predator watching their prey. Gibbs hated feeling like prey. “You’re exhausted, I can tell. You get even quieter and grumpier than usual.”

Can you really read him so easily?

“Please, Gibbs, go home.”

His eyes fall shut, exhaling harshly that turned into a light cough. Home did sound good. His body screamed for the comfort of his couch. And your voice, light and pleading, admittedly tipped the scales of his decision.

Gibbs stands up, flicking his lamp off and pressing the button of his monitor. His workspace goes dark, matching those of his team.

When he turns to you, expecting a victorious grin, you’re just smiling softly. Gibbs didn’t expect it. And he didn’t expect you to keep talking. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I was scared yesterday, when we heard you were in the building.” Your eyes dart away, weight shifting. “I mean, we were all scared.”

Any annoyance Gibbs might’ve felt at being coerced into going home melted away. He turns toward you, lightly shrugging a single shoulder. “I’m okay.” He replies, his voice low like someone might hear. He even manages a light smirk to strengthen his words.

It works to bring a small smirk to your face, as well. Your eyes return to his, growing soft with a new smile that Gibbs was pleased to see. “Good. Because I like seeing you smile. It’d be a pity if we never saw it again.” He didn’t know until now just how worried you were about him. It makes all the bossing around make sense, in hindsight. And it makes Gibbs feel a bit like an ass for fighting you the whole way.

But then something unexpected happens. Gibbs must be more spacey than he’s ever been in his life, because he doesn’t even register you pulling him in for a hug until your arms are around his shoulders, squeezing tight. He feels your cheek press against his shoulder. Feels you inhale against his chest; deep, like you were assuring yourself that he really was okay.

Gibbs is still for a moment. Maybe two before his arms close around your torso. He squeezes just a little, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. True, he wasn’t expecting the hug, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t committing every single second of it to memory.

You pull away sooner than he wants. Smiling that same smile and giving his arm a pat, like that was a hug between two good friends. Gibbs supposes that’s what it was. To you, anyway.

“I better see you well-rested tomorrow, boss.”

You walk away from his desk, toward the elevator and probably a date with a man that wasn’t him.

And Gibbs wishes he could please you by getting a full night’s sleep and being well-rested tomorrow. But as he grabs his coat and weapon, Gibbs figures he’ll spend half the night in his basement, hoping the bourbon will erase feelings he didn’t know he had.

[norbah]

Grima-centric smut (dom/sub, breeding mention, rough) F!Grima x M!Summoner

Okay, so some context might be helpful for this one. It's not meant to be a standalone piece. It was meant to be part of a larger work, but it didn't quite mesh with what I wanted. But I kinda like how it came out, and it's not bad enough to bin, you know?

Couple things to note. Y'know how I said my stuff might get NSFWish? I lied. This is pretty darn NSFW. You know the drill. Only 18 or older in here, please. It gets kinda rough under the cut, so keep that in mind as well, going in. There's also a small, not entirely subtle reference to WWII tactics near the beginning. If you don't want any of that, feel free to skip the opening section, or to skip this work entirely. There is plenty of stuff on this site much more awesome than my own, so I guarantee you're not missing anything amazing by skipping this.

Do keep in mind this is my first real foray into NSFW territory. I've shown this to someone here already, but caught several mistakes upon a reread (syntax, grammar, you name it), which I have revised to the best of my ability. If you catch any while reading, of any sort, PLEASE let me know. It's the only way I can improve.

Well, that's all I can really think of. On with the show, I suppose. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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

Dragon and Human

Grima had never seen anything quite like it, and could openly admit: she was impressed. Seeing the normally quiet and kind Summoner suddenly grow a spine was pleasant enough, but seeing the sheer hatred in his eyes as he looked upon the troops of Muspell ahead from them, hearing the edge of steel in his words as he coldly ordered the Heroes to wipe the enemy forces off the face of Zenith? It had been glorious to see.

And that wasn't even getting into his newest tactics. Few people knew it, but Grima was herself a skilled tactician. She didn't often see the need to show it (what use are tactics when you have enough raw power to shatter a mountain?), but what this man, what her lover was doing? She approved.

He had switched out his defensive turtle formations, fending off enemy attacks and countering them as they regrouped, for an incredibly aggressive style of battle, storming the enemy before they had a chance to group up, overwhelming them with sheer might, and surrounding them as they scrambled to defend themselves, utterly annihilating them in the final skirmish. Grima herself had been a cornerstone of these tactics, and had had a chance to see the look of hatred upon Surtr's face up close as Muspell was, for the first time in their history, forced to retreat.

"What was that?" Anna had asked in wonder and (to Grima's immense pleasure) fear. "Those tactics... I've never seen anything like them."

"In my world they were used once or twice," he had answered, face still cold as he looked at the retreating Muspellian forces. "We called it a Blitzkrieg."

"Whoever thought of them must have been a genius," Anna murmured, looking at the corpse-strewn battlefield.

"He was a monster, and the world was better off once he was dead." Anna winced at the bite in his words, even if it wasn't meant for her. Grima floated over to them and leaned on his shoulder, a pleasant smile on her face.

"So what now?" Anna asked, glancing nervously between the two. It disconcerted her that, for the moment, the Summoner seemed the more dangerous of the two.

"Now? We keep going. We have them on the back foot. We push our advantage, we cross into Muspell before they can regroup. These tactics only work if we keep pushing and keep our momentum going. We don't stop."

"Until what?" Anna asked.

And his answer had sent a tingle of pleasure down Grima's spine.

"Until I have Surtr's head on a spike."

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

Grima returned to her tent shortly after the battle was over. Her role in it was done, one way or the other, and besides... she was expecting a visitor.

She stretched luxuriously, working out some of the kinks in her pitifully weak and vulnerable vessel. Her true form it may not be, but this soft and pliable body, responsive and hungry, would more than serve her purposes for tonight. She shed the heavy tactician's coat from her shoulders, leaving herself in the thin tank top beneath. She stretched again, and was rewarded with the sound of popping joints and the brief bursts of pleasure that came with. With a contented sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed, and crossed one leg over the other. All that was left was to wait.

A coy smirk grew on her face as she heard the approaching footsteps, and it blossomed into a full grin as the Summoner burst into her tent, his fists clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his breath short and harsh.

He was angry beyond measure.

Good.

His feverish gaze finally locked onto her eyes, and he stormed over to her, the white coat already falling off his shoulders and onto the ground. She simply flicked her head, tossing one of her white pigtails back and baring her shoulder to him, a move she had learned some time back drove him crazy with desire.

There were no words needed as he fell on her, one of his hands clamping onto the back of her head and pulling her in for a fiery kiss, the other already grasping the fabric of her clothes and pulling at it with no small amount of desperation. Grima's arms wrapped around his body and pulled him to her, her tongue already pushing against his, demanding entry into his mouth, as she always got. But to her surprise, he pushed back against her, and that moment of hesitation cost her, as he pushed her down against the bed, falling on top of her.

She broke the kiss, a small 'oof!' escaping from her lips (a fact she would deny till the end of her days), but he was unrelenting. Both hands grasped her top and yanked it up over her head, leaving her breasts exposed to the cold air. He stood then, just so he could crouch, grasp the waistline of her pants, and pulled them down and off of her, leaving her nearly bare to his eyes. She gasped at the sudden sensation of cold all over her body, surprised to find she didn't dislike it nearly as much as she thought she would. He stood back and looked down at her, almost leering, taking her in with a hungry gaze.

She was wearing nothing more than a pair of panties now. And he was still almost fully clothed. This was disconcerting to Grima. She was used to being the one in control, to have him bare and needy before her, worshiping her body lovingly. Now, his eyes roved over her greedily, taking in her bare breasts, her long, toned legs, her smooth stomach, her arms, her neck, her everything. He drank it in like a man dying of thirst finding an oasis; like a man aflame seeing an ocean.

Before her thoughts could continue down that lane, he pulled his own shirt over his head and fell back upon her, pushing her down on the bed with the weight of his body. Even if he wasn't as physically strong as her, he was heavier, hungrier, and had momentum on his side. He snatched her wrists in his hands, grasping them tightly even as she growled beneath him, and pinned them down over her head. Before she could protest, his mouth was over hers again, and this time he was even more aggressive than before; his teeth would find purchase on her lower lip and gnaw at it, or on her tongue when she tried to snake it past his lips. He had her on the back foot, and completely refused to give ground.

He shifted his grip after a minute of this, holding both her wrists tightly in one hand, while the second slipped downwards. It traced down her arm, ghosted over her armpit, and stroked the pale skin of her plump breast, his fingernails scraping over the soft flesh causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. He took a moment to circle her nipple with his fingertip and to cup the breast with his palm, squeezing gently, before continuing his journey south.

His fingers rose and fell slightly as they felt her ribs, they traced her abdomen's midline all the way to her bellybutton and skipped over it, swerving suddenly to grasp her flank, just above the bony edge of her hip. He stayed there for a few seconds, caressing her skin. Grima shivered pleasantly, her eyes drifting closed. She wasn't being worshiped, but being put on the back foot like this? It almost made her believe she was mating with a fellow dragon.

Now his hand moved again, his fingers trailing over her hip, over the edge of the panties. It moved towards her mons, lingering for a few seconds over the area of her womb, and Grima felt her heart skip a beat as he pressed down there. She could imagine his thoughts. He was staking a claim.

And suddenly his hand was at the very edge of her entrance. With casual ease, his fingers pulled the panties out of the way. Then his fingers touched the edge of her pussy, and Grima knew that he could feel how wet she was, how utterly drenched, dripping shamefully from this treatment, like some common dancer enjoying being manhandled. And then he brushed against her clitoris, and flicked it with his finger. She moaned into his mouth against her will, her back arching on its own, presenting her breasts to him, her legs spreading open to give him better access as he continued to play with her achingly erect clit.

He slowed down, surprised, before his hand moved further in. His fingers spread her lower lips open, and readied for the plunge. It looked as if he had won.

But she wouldn't be the Fell Dragon if she didn't make him fight for it.

She bucked suddenly, trying to force him off of her and to regain dominance of the situation, but he held fast to her wrists. He broke this kiss with a snarl, and his hand snapped up to the back of her head, fingers curling into her white hair and tugging painfully, forcing her head back and baring her slender neck to him. Despite herself, Grima gasped at this sudden roughness. She recovered immediately and growled, readying herself to buck again, but stilled when she felt his mouth on her throat, his teeth just barely scraping the pale, delicate skin. She could feel her skin pushing against them with every beat of her heart.

Her eyes slipped downward, and were met with his own fiery gaze looking up at her, unblinking. His teeth pushed slightly against her neck, and her pulse raced a little.

The message was clear: Submit. Submit or die.

She almost wanted to laugh, not with mockery, but with surprise and joy. Whether he knew it or not, he was treating her as a dragonkin would. And she could see in his eyes that the games were over. Her heart raced as she realized what was next. Rough and merciless breeding. He was going to make her his female, force her to carry his clutch, keep her as the crown jewel of his hoard. His most valuable possession.

She could fight it, of course. She could perhaps overturn this, and take HIM by force. She could most certainly win if she tried. She was the breath of ruin and the wings of despair, after all. Worlds trembled at her might. A single human would be no match for her, any more than a worm could hope to defeat a whale.

But this wasn't just a mere human, was it? This was a creature with the inner strength to summon her. To stand before her, and to order her around like some pawn.

No, this wasn't just some human.

So instead of bucking him off and using his weight against him, she purred, let her eyes drift half-lidded, and leaned her head back, following his grip and baring her neck further to his reach. She arched her back again, this time offering her body, offering herself, freely and willingly to him.

The message was clear. And just in case he was too dense to notice...

"I'm yours."

The first words spoken in this encounter. And the only ones needed.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but it was a short instant, and quickly left behind. His mouth unlatched itself from her throat, and licked at it as though in apology. He licked his way up to the side, where her neck became her jaw, and then back down, kissing and licking at the sensitive skin of her throat. She groaned, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to these spots, and let her eyes drift closed once more, to better revel in these sensations. She could feel her body growing hotter now. Her nipples achingly erect, her pussy dripping wet and staining the bed beneath them, her clit just as erect as he no doubt was.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but now, having submitted as HIS, the experience felt different. Her senses processed these sensations in an entirely new way. And she was loving it.

His hand released her head, confident that she wouldn't try anything anymore, but kept her wrists in his grip, if for no other reason that he enjoyed the sensation of keeping her pinned down. His free hand snaked down her back, tracing her spine and reminding her to arch it for him. It went downwards much faster than it had down her front, and in no time at all had reached her ass. He cupped a handful of it and pulled slightly, tilting her hips just so and allowing his hand more movement. He squeezed down hard, making her moan at the sudden sensation, before letting go and slapping it hard enough to make it jiggle a little, earning a high-pitched yelp from her at the sudden stinging pain, her crimson eyes flying open.

He grinned to himself, even as he kept up his attentions to her neck.

He squeezed her asscheek once more before letting go, finally releasing her wrists and using both his hands to lower down his pants. Grima looked down, and her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. His cock was harder than it ever had been before, and maybe it was just her new perception of him, but it seemed bigger now too than it had been the last time. The pillar of flesh positively throbbed with need. And perhaps it was vain of her, but she preened at the fact that it was that big and hard with need for her, and her alone.

She was his female, yes. But by the same token, this was her male. This cemented just how glad she was about it. This was all hers.

No time was wasted by him or by her. He positioned himself, ready to enter her, and she aided him by ripping away the panties, removing the last possible obstacle in his path as she spread her legs open. She grinned up at the Summoner, widely, cockily, as she lifted her arms up to him. His cock pressed against the entrance to her pussy, wetter now more than ever, and with a push, he entered her, eliciting a gasp from the Fell Dragon, and he fell into her arms, wrapping his own around her.

As he began to thrust, he tightened his grip on her, reaching up behind her and grasping her bare shoulders roughly, crushing her against him. She nestled her head into the point where his shoulder became his neck, and as she panted and gasped, her nails dug furrows into his back and her legs wrapped behind his back, pulling him further in. She grinned as her breath escaped from her, as she felt him fill her up like never before. In an odd sense, this was her first time. Her first time being taken so roughly, her first time being claimed... her first time not firmly on top. He was claiming her for his own, and seemed to know so, thrusting with more power behind his hips than in previous occasions. He used his grip on her further as well, pulling her into his thrusts and reaching deeper parts of her, spaces that he had never reached before, and making her gasp and hiss most pleasingly.

To his eternal pride, he heard her stifle a squeal more than once.

The room was filled with the noise of flesh slapping against flesh, the sound of his grunts, of her hisses, and of both of their gasps as pleasures never imagined were discovered and experimented with.

He bit down on her shoulder at one point, and he bit down hard. And Grima could only moan as the pain and pleasure merged there, as she felt blood trickle from her new wound into his mouth. And she came, not just from the pain and pleasure, but from the realization that he was marking her as HIS, branding her with his personal mark.

Her breath escaped her body as short and sharp little gasps now, for he was still going, fucking her into the mattress, unrelenting, and still holding onto her shoulder with his teeth, digging even further in, ensuring the mark would never fade. He still crushed her against him, holding her so tightly that it was hard for her to draw breaths in, furthering her sense of urgency. Both of their bodies were now slick with sweat, and burning so hot that Grima fancied she could see steam rising from the both of them.

He released her shoulder as he increased his tempo, his pants and grunts reaching a feverish pace. She snarled and clutched him tighter, drawing blood from his back with her fingernails. With each thrust she slid up the bed a little, but he pulled her back down to him the next instant, refusing to let her get away from him even for a second more than necessary. He was fucking her hard now, so hard that it bordered on the painful, on the abusive.

And she loved it.

Now she was actively flexing her legs, forcing him further and further in even while he pistoned in and out of her, and it was with a final loud cry from the both of them that he finally came, his seed erupting inside of her, and it made her feel fuller than she ever had before, and this final, mighty thrust was enough to push her over the edge as well. She moaned, even as he panted like a dog above her. For a few brief instants, both their minds were blissfully, wonderfully free of all thought, overloaded with the final, massive burst of pleasure.

Soon enough, it passed, and their selves settled back into their bodies. It was with care that he extracted himself from her, their genitals oversensitive after their exertion, and he collapsed onto the bed beside her. Both were breathing heavily, their hearts racing so fast and hard it felt like they might escape from their chests. Blood flowed in little rivulets from both of them. Grima's shoulder ached deliciously, and she knew she would cherish the scar that would result from this night.

Grima was surprised, yet very pleased when one of his arms snaked over her form and dragged himself close against her. His head drew close to her wounded shoulder, and he lapped at it gently, cleaning her up, and only once the flow ceased did he seem satisfied, and settled into simply holding her, his hands gently stroking various parts of her body. He fell asleep holding her like that, close to him, and not minding at all the combined heat of their bodies. His anger and frustration had been spent, unloaded onto her body. They would both be limping come the morning.

The Fell Dragon stayed awake a little longer than he did, basking in said heat. She drew in a deep breath, finding some pleasure in the smell of their sweat, now permeating the tent. When she finally drifted off, it was with a pleased grin on her face.

[spinji]

Voltron Lion Girls: First Meeting

The Voltron lions have a trick up their sleeves. Wait they have sleeves now?

Lance nearly launched out of his seat after setting the blue lion on the ground, energy coursing through his veins as he scrambled out to greet the team. They finally managed to form Voltron on their own! He whooped to himself as he leapt off the ramp in the lion’s mouth, too high on energy to hear a second pair of footsteps behind him.

He joined the rest of the team on the bridge as per Allura’s request, all of their faces bright with pride. “I’m so proud. Now we’re one step closer to being ready to fight Zarkon.” Allura beamed.

“Well you gave us the extra push we needed, Princess.” Shiro smiled.

“Now that your bonds with your lions are more solidified, there’s something else I should tell you about them.” Allura continued, but before she could elaborate Lance noticed Keith giving him an odd look.

He glared back in response, “What are you looking at, mullet?”

“Lance…” Keith groaned as the others started to turn their attention to Lance as well.

“Are you still mad I beat you at that blindfold exercise?”

“Lance-” Keith said with more insistence and even more annoyance.

“Jeez, after all this time you’re still such a sore loser-” Lance felt goosebumps race up his neck as his voice cut of into an embarrassing squeak in his throat. Soft fingers flicked at the tips of his hair that sprung off from his part, a very clear presence behind him. His body stiffened as he risked a glance over his shoulder. Bright yellow eyes met his own as a hand came to rest on his tense shoulder. “Hi!”

Lance responded with a loud yelp, feet moving on his own as he turned around fully and launched himself backwards to get away. Hunk was quick to catch him and Lance’s hands quickly found safety clinging to the collar of his armor. The voice giggled as the source of it picked up the blue helmet that had been dropped on the floor. “What? You can take down a fleet but you couldn’t hear me following you?”

Lance’s panicked eyes finally stilled as he looked the figure over. It was a girl, about Allura’s height. Her tanned skin was dressed in thin blue fabrics, a low cut long shirt and a split open, darker blue skirt. She had black knee high stockings and bright red flats, her dark brown hair pulled away from her face in a wavy side ponytail. Lance blushed as he processed that he had just screamed like a girl in front of...well a girl.

“Where...did you come from?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Hunk gradually set him back on the ground.

The girl pouted in response. “Aw, don’t recognize me?” That was when Lance finally looked to the top of her head. A pair of blue metal cat ears poked out of her hair, twitching slightly at every small noise. “Oh wait wait, lemme guess. You didn’t tell them yet, did you Princess.” she gave a cheeky smirk to Allura, a metal tail unfurling from behind her figure.

“I was about to! You’re just too impatient.” Allura huffed in response.

The girl sauntered over to Lance, wrapping her arms around his chest from behind. “I can’t help it! I’ve been so eager to talk face to face, Lance…” she purred in his ear, like actually purred, and rested her head on his shoulder.

Lance felt heat rushing to his face as he stammered to try and speak properly. “W-wait, Blue?!”

“Surprise!” Blue beamed, coiling her tail around Lance’s waist.

“What I was going to explain was that the lions have the ability to break their consciousness away and transfer it to these smaller forms. My father designed them this way in the hopes of strengthening paladin and lion bonds.” Allura huffed.

“And since you guys can combine on your own now we had enough power to come out!” Blue finished, nuzzling Lance’s cheek.

“So all of the lions can do this?” Pidge asked as she looked Blue over.

“You bet!” a voice chirped from behind her. The elevator door that lead to the green lion hangar opened, a small figure standing proudly on the platform. Her footsteps surprisingly loud due to a pair of loose, clunky, hiking boots on her feet, peeking out from under a large purple skirt. Above it was a green frilled tank top covered but a long white lab coat. Her long orange hair was partly tied back in a hair crown ponytail and her wide yellow eyes were hidden behind a pair of glasses. Her head held a similar pair of ears and a tail that swayed back and forth under her skirt.

With a slight bounce in her step, Green took the hands of her paladin. “It’s so good to meet you, Pidge. I’ve never had a paladin the same size as me.” she beamed adorably. Pidge groaned slightly at the height comment but greeted the small lion girl nonetheless. Lance continued to blush and stammer as Blue clung to his body as Yellow’s hangar door opened next.

“Oh! Sorry about that, 10 thousand years left Blue a little...starved for affection.” The taller woman chuckled as she helped pry the clingy lion from Lance’s body. The movement was effortless as she hoisted Blue onto her shoulder before turning to greet Hunk.

“Whoa, you’re pretty strong.” Hunk smiled before wincing at the bear grip of Yellow’s gloved hand as they shared a handshake.

Yellow noticed and quickly pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry! It can be difficult to hold back sometimes…” she said with a sheepish smile.

Hunk smiled back an pat her shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”

“I like this look on you, Yel.” Blue smiled as she played with her long black braid. She slipped further over her shoulder before flipping herself over Yellow’s arm entirely to face her. “Aw man, it faded off…” Blue pouted at her metal chest plate, the golden emblem on it scratched and almost entirely faded.

Yellow hummed in disappointment and looked further to the metal plating of her skirt, finding traces of rust on the edges and dents in her steel toed boots. “I’ll get it fixed Blue, don’t worry about it.” Blue’s faced brightened slightly in response.

Keith and Shiro watched the exchanges curiously, somewhat distanced from the conversations. Keith jumped slightly when a hand gripped his shoulder, a faint growl in his ear. He turned to face a head of short, messy black hair concealing a fiery glare, the red cat ears on her head pulled back.

“You have some nerve being as reckless of a pilot as you are, little kit.” Red spoke with a harsh tongue, eyes boring into Keith and leaving him unable to respond.

Despite the intimidating introduction, the tension in the room was effortlessly cut by a gentle hand tugging Red back. “Now, now, he did give you a way off that battle cruiser, did he not?” Red turned to the much taller figure beside her. Long, glossy black hair flowed down an elegant hourglass figure. A long white streak of hair obstructed the left side of her face and her black ears were adorned with gold trim instead of silver like the others. She wore a black body suit that reached her ankles and elbows with a gray top and a vibrant red skirt with long strips of yellow fabric down the front and back. Shiro and Keith stared in awe at the towering woman, even taller than her already tall paladin.

She gave a small affectionate bump to Red’s forehead before nudging her back to Keith. Red sighed as she calmed down and turned back to her paladin. “I apologize. I should introduce myself properly…”

Keith offered a hand to shake with a near undetectable smile. “Don’t worry about it. I know what I did was...kinda stupid.” Red smiled back and took his hand, tail flicking around under his crimson half skirt.

Shiro smiled at the rare peaceful interactions Keith had before addressing the lion before him. “You must be Black. It’s an honor to be your paladin…”

Black hummed in response and shook his hand. “It’s my pleasure Shiro. We’re here to assist your team in anyway possible.” Allura smiled as the paladins gradually grew comfortable around their new allies.

“I’m sure you’re all tired from training but we’re not going to stop until you’re in perfect shape to face Zarkon’s fleet. Get some rest and it’s back at it again in the morning!” Coran enthusiastically announced.

Black tightened her lips, eyes drifting the floor before she looked back up. “Shiro, may I be blunt in asking you this?”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow but shrugged. “Go right ahead.”

“Do you truly have intentions to bring down Zarkon? Do you think it’s possible?”

Shiro stood in silence for a moment, looking over the others as they left to find their quarters. “Honestly? I think these guys have the potential to be the best paladins you’ve ever seen. Just give us time.” he smiled confidently back at her.

Black returned the smile, “I look forward to seeing it.”

AN: Thank you for reading. This is a new project to revive my old AU. This is probably about as long as the prompts will get. If you want to send your own prompts like how certain scenes went with the girls present or just what would happen if they did something silly you’re more than welcome to. Expect more and a masterlist soon!

[tiredarts-main]

Book 5: Jaded Plans

The team was gearing up for another Raid. Usually, Raids went off without a hitch, but last time didn’t go so well. Echo was still slightly traumatized, and a nasty, lavender scar was forming on Nathaniel’s arm.

~——~

Falesa had been working with Natalia to help get rid of his acrophobia when Systemis walked into the virtual range. The mountain cliffs dissolved and left behind a large steel box filled with cameras and sensors. Falesa fell from the wall amid undignified screaming, but Natalia caught him with her smoke before he landed.

“Hey. Do you know where the breaching explosives are? I set them on the counter a while ago, and now they’re gone,” Systemis asked. “I swear, everything’s going missing lately. First the alcohol, then my break-in attachments, and now the explosives!”

“I know where the explosives are,” said Falesa, still catching his breath from the would-be-fatal fall. “Jade said she was going to set them up. I don’t know why, mainly because we aren’t going for another hour or so.”

~——~

Jade had a way of stealing stuff. She almost made it an art, if it weren’t for people finding out about the theft almost immediately after it happened.

Everything she stole had a purpose. Well, minus the alcohol. She just wanted that for herself.

If stealing was an art, then this was her newest masterpiece. All of it was part of a bigger plan. A plan that would rock the world of the enemy.

The breaching charged were set. Jade ran her finger along her knife. Still sharp. Now she just had to wait for the others to arrive.

Natalia and Nathaniel were first. They stepped out of the smoke and shadows, and immediately grabbed Jade by the arms.

Falesa came next. Bright blue angel wings sent gusts of wind through the alley, sending papers everywhere. He landed, and the wings folded against his cobalt armor.

Systemis has been running full tilt for an hour. The plan was for Nathaniel to escort her through the shadow dimensions, but he went straight for Jade after Falesa told them where the Raid was. Systemis had to set her legs to auto-run to keep up.

“Hey, guys,” Jade remarked. She shrugged out of Nathaniel’s and Natalia's grip. “Glad you could make it. Systemis, here’s your arm back. Sorry I took it, but I needed it to set something up.”

Jade handed Systemis the mangled robotic arm. It was missing a couple of fingers, and wires were sticking out of the wrist and elbow. The hydraulic tanks were cracked and leaking, and one was jammed with adhesive clay.

“Thanks,” replied Systemis sarcastically, her voice an annoyed monotone. She wrenched her arm out of Jade’s hands and glared at her. She held it up to the light that crept between the towering apartment buildings.

“What were you doing with it that did this? That’s solid steel that you all but destroyed in what, an hour?”

“It doesn’t matter. Trust me, this’ll work.” Jade winked slyly at Systemis, who rolled her glowing eyes dramatically.

“You said that last time,” interjected Falesa. The rest of the team added their thoughts:

“And the time before.”

“And the time before that. You have a habit of making really bad plans, y’know.”

Nathaniel smirked and playfully punched her shoulder through the shadows.

“Shut up, dickheads,” Jade snarled. “This time, it’s gonna work. That plan with the rotary was genius, by the way.”

“It would’ve been, if we had actually owned a grenade launcher at the time,” said Natalia.

“We made do, didn’t we? I mean, yeah, Nate did lose a toe, but it grew back!” Jade tried to stay optimistic, despite everyone being incredibly angry with her.

“I miss that toe,” Nathaniel noted forlornly.

Falesa cut off Nathaniel’s sad mumbling.

“Guys, focus! We’re already here, so why not just do the Raid ahead of time?”

“Fine. But when it’s all over, I get the credit for the success,” Jade snapped jokingly.

Falesa ruffled his wings and walked to the end of the alleyway. He rested his hand against the wall and closed his eyes. Blue lightning crackled along his arm.

“I can sense a small group on the other side of this wall. Jade, did you set the explosives anywhere near here?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t want to hurt them?” She scoffed. “We’ll never get anything done that way!”

“You know I’m opposed to senseless murder, Jade.” He laughed. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve taken every single one of you out as soon as I sensed your powers!”

“Real reassuring, Lindoe. Do you want to push the button, or should I take the ‘burden’ of it for you?”

Jade held up a small detonator. Falesa turned back to the wall. Off-white chunks of clay and wire were placed intermittently, and if activated correctly, could open a hole in the wall. But he noticed something different about the wall itself.

“I don’t think these things are going to be needed.”

“And why is that?”

Falesa punched the wall. His hand went straight through the thin canvas fabric. He tore it away, revealing a room full of armed guards.

“Just a hunch.”

They aimed their rifles at him, but he flared his wings wide. Blue lightning arced between the guards, sending them to the ground in convulsed spasms. Jade poked her head past Falesa’s wings and huffed in approval.

He turned to the rest of the group and smiled.

“Ready to get this over with? We have an Osprey to follow.”

~———~