#teeny tiny fic

[jamie-potters]

So uhm i got kind of bored and made a micro fic about canon Dorcas' death so yeah!

tw: mentions of blood, death, flaring nostrils, and if theres anymore go ahead and tell me!

_____________________________________________

Obviously, Dorcas wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here. Everyone’s dead—Benjy, Wilkes, Regulus, Evan… and Marlene. Maybe it’s selfish, but she could live with everyone dying, as long as they didn’t touch her. But they did. So here she is, trying to avenge so many people—so many that there aren’t enough deaths or spells to make it right.

She feels the wards as she opens the gate to Lestrange Manor, but with the weight of all the emotional magic she’s carrying, they shatter easily. Dorcas didn’t invite anyone to help. How could she, when everyone who mattered is dead?

Bellatrix meets her halfway across the lawn, and even though Bella’s a brilliant dueler, Dorcas is faster, stronger. Bellatrix is stunned quickly, but not quietly. She screams and howls for her Dark Lord, but Dorcas barely hears her. She’s too focused now, too close to avenging everyone she’s lost.

All of the sudden shes in the house, taking down people in masks, over and over, and over again. She walks from the entry way, to the kitchen, to the dining room. The blood splatters behind her, but it doesn’t matter. She keeps moving, keeps killing, or maiming. She hears yelling behind her, but it’s too distant, too far gone. She doesn’t stop.

She glances back at her feet. Oh, look at that—her boots are leaving bloody footprints.

She’s standing in front of Voldemort’s chair now. She’s just taken down Rodolphus Lestrange—he was there when Marlene died. She wasn’t sweet, Dorcas won’t lie about that, but god, she was funny. Dorcas hasn’t laughed since she’s been gone.

She has so many thoughts all of the sudden. Dorcas' hands hurts from all of her eratic movements, but shes so close to killing him. She steps over Rabastan Lestrange's body, did he just die? She has no idea.

Shes at his throne, she just needs to take one more pathetic loser down, and then shes free to die and kill him at the same damn time.

And there he is. She reaches the throne, and he’s sitting there, god she can see nostrils flaring.

But while shes been quick, fast, and quite impossible to beat. She hesitants, she may not know him anymore but she knows who he is. He was one of the first people she became friends with, he was the one who helped her cheat when she, rarely, didn't know the answer, he was one of the first people she came out to him and he said "Me too", he was the one who told her about his father, he was the one who told her of his crushes, his fears, his goals.

He was the one who showed her his sleve, he was the one she said "You're dead to me". Why couldnt he have worn a mask, but even if he did she knew she would recognize his eyes.

She mourned for Evan, she mourned for Regulus—so why is Barty different?

Because he chose it. He chose this! She knows Regulus didn’t have a choice, and Evan didn’t either. But Barty? He could have left, could have walked away from all this. But he didn’t.

And maybe that’s why she can’t forgive him. He had a choice.

But god, why does it still hurt so much?

She stands there, staring at him. She should push him out of the way. It’s better than hurting him more.

But she hesitates.

And that’s the moment that gets her killed.

Voldemort’s curse hits her before she even realizes what’s happening. Maybe it was the hesitation, that flicker of doubt about killing her old friend. Maybe it was the weight of the past crashing in all at once.

But it’s too late now.

So Dorcas Meadowes lies dead on the cold stone floor of Lestrange Manor.

And in the end, not wanting to kill her best friend was the thing that killed her.

[seancefemme]

would you tell me if you want me, cause I can’t move until you show me

[omaano]

“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily. Boba doesn’t find a new family and Fox doesn’t become anybody’s dad; an adoption story.

@bilbosmom-belladonna commissioned me to illustrate a scene from her delightful fic Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go. She was amazing to work with and you should absolutely check out her fun little found family story!

[apdreadful]

The couples hanging out and playing silly couple games when Chimney asks “What’s Tommy’s favorite four letter word?” and Buck turns bright red and buries his face in his hands and mumbles as Tommy grins.

Karen cackles and rubs her hands together “Oh it must be dirrrty”

And Hen says “Oh I bet I know what it is?” And tilts her head and in an exaggerated imitation of Tommy’s bedroom voice she purrs “Evan”

Muah hahahahaha

[redwinterroses]

There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day. 

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though. 

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes. 

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem. 

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall. 

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye. 

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back. 

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead. 

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.” 

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!” 

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes. 

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there. 

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault. 

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light. 

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

[hedgehog-troops]

dedicated to james potter kinnie anon, i hope you read this <3 it could never suffice to your level but tried.

James was perfect, he's always been. His friends know him as the perfect shoulder to cry on, the unbreakable force, the 'happy go-lucky' person. And yet.

James has fought strong and hard over the years to maintain this illusion. Perfect Potter with perfect grades, perfects parents, perfect smile, perfect life.

How about Paltry Potter? The James Potter who's smiles never quite reach his eyes, the James Potter who stays up throughout the night just to get a good grade, the James Potter who's parents are never home, the James Potter who's always falling short for them, the James Potter who's never felt quite right in his skin.

His hands shake as he takes tests, his smile falls when his mother looks at him disapprovingly, like something in her shattered when he announces that he wants to be a boy.

His stomach knots when the girl he likes looks at him with distaste, when the guy he likes ignores him with eyes full of hate.

His heart clenches when his parents tell him to stick to one thing, to stop with this "in-between phase" when he walks into the living room with makeup on, when they catch him with a boy.

His eyes water as another birthday passes with the standard quidditch gift and a letter half-arsed by his parents' assistant.

His muscles tighten as he pushes himself to the brink of exhaustion whilst practicing, the wins are the one thing his dad hugs him for.

His stomach grumbles as he pushes the food around in his plate after his mother told him to atleast look fit if hes going to be broken.

His throat swells as he's met with another side glance when he talks, another sigh, another 'why're you so excited?'

He wants to go back, back to when he was a kid, back to when his parents looked at him like he was the miracle he was suppsed to be. Back to when he was considered normal.

Back to when he was just a kid and not defined by the color on his skin, the scars on his body or the chip in his tooth.

Back when he lived.

[affectionate-team]

Imagine

All twst characters are self-aware, maybe even yandere (if you like your men mad). Your faves finally find a way to bring you into their world for one reason or another, whether that be their own selfish goals or some serious issues only their player can solve.

Now, they get into your house from the mirror hall through The Magic Mirror during the time you're sleeping. Their plan is simple: snatch up the player, bring them through the mirror, rejoice. They attempt to lift your body up.... only to hear a loud crack. All characters present collectively begin to panic or get thrown into catatonic state, ready to pounce on the one that they assume 'harmed you'.

Turns out it was just air in your bones popping. They were all so close to mourning you and throwing a farewell ceremony...

Idk why, but I just thought of it when my friend hugged me reaaally tight and accidentally caused every joint in my spine to pop. She thought she killed me for a moment.

I can also see Floyd's eyes going wide if he ever tries to squeeze his shrimpy and suddenly hears their back crack. Might either get concerned or fascinated by how 'gentle' and 'fragile' humans are.

Or Leona turning on his back while cuddling the prefect, squishing them under his weight (cats in general are heavy, I can't even begin to imagine how bad having a big cat lay on you might be) and causing their bones to pop. With mad hearing like his, I think he will definitely hear, even through deep slumber. How high are the chances of him fretting over his 'herbivore'?

[narumi-gens]

Never Felt a Feeling Like This

Narumi Gen x f!Reader

summary: For Narumi, it’s love at first sight. For you, it’s boredom.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, meet-ugly, masturbation (m), hinted femdom, switch!narumi (like literally from one paragraph to the next sometimes), budding degradation kink, but also praise kink, spit kink, inappropriate workplace behavior and relationships, mentioned/implied power imbalance (but in name only), dubiously solicited dick pics, narumi is a simp and I'm embarrassed for him and you should be too, narumi’s imagination gets a real workout in this, no bs4s were harmed in the writing of this fic (takes place pre-bs5 release), do not break electronics without proper safety equipment, excessive emoji use (did you know emojis count as words in the word count??)

notes: the kn8!chaos couple's origin story is finally revealed! I'm just happy I was finally able to use a Beyoncé lyric in a title. she released Renaissance because she wanted the kn8!chaos couple to have music to fuck to.

words: 6.3k

part of the Agents of Chaos series

minors, ageless, and blank blogs do not like, reblog, or comment

As the First Division’s Vice-Captain leads you throughout Ariake Maritime Base on a tour of the facilities, you find your interest hanging on by a thread. 

All Defense Force bases are essentially the same — you have your training grounds and rooms, administration offices, barracks, an Operation Room, and mission preparation spaces. So, you’re torn between yawning loudly and pulling out your phone to see if there’s anything else more worthy of your time, which there surely is. 

The only thing stopping you is that this is your first time meeting Vice-Captain Hasegawa and you have just enough awareness to recognize that doing either would probably lead to a poor reaction from the man. There will be plenty of opportunities to test his patience in the weeks, months, and — hopefully — years to come. 

With great effort, you stifle both urges and continue pretending to look like everything Hasegawa is telling you is not going in one ear and out the other. You wish he would just drop you off in the Operation Room so that you could figure out which station and console you wanted to take over. 

Your mind has begun to wander so much that you almost run into him when he comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the hallway. Although considering he’s still talking and is pointedly facing a pair of double doors, the stop might not have seemed as sudden if you had been paying attention. 

“—wanted to warn you,” he sighs and you realize that you’ve missed everything he’s said before. 

But you quickly catch sight of the plaque next to the door that reads, “Narumi Gen, First Division Captain,” and are easily able to piece together what it was that Hasegawa was warning you about.

“Ah, don’t worry, Hasegawa. I knew what I was getting into!” you grin up at him, completely missing the way his eyebrow raises at how casually you’ve addressed him without his proper title. “Captain Ogata made sure of that when he was trying to convince me to take the Head of Operations opening at the Third Division instead.”

Your assurances don’t seem to provide him with any sort of comfort. If anything, his severe expression only deepens.

“Yes, well. We’re a little ahead of schedule for your introductory meeting with Captain Narumi but he should be in,” he says, deciding to move past the unsurprising revelation that the Fourth Division Captain had tried to steer you clear of the chaos at the top of the First. 

He sharply raps his knuckles on one of the grand, wooden doors to announce your presence and opens them both without waiting for a reply. When you see what lies inside of the office, you understand why. 

Your gaze isn’t sure what it should settle on. The piles of dirty clothes? The overflowing garbage cans? The discarded and empty water bottles, cans of coffee, and energy drinks? The precariously stacked Yamazon boxes lining the walls? The reverently displayed and definitely overpriced action figures?

But your eyes are quickly drawn to the lump inside of the futon laid out in the middle of the office and right in front of the large TV, where a first-person shooter game is playing out on the screen. If you listen carefully, you can just make out the muttering coming from the lump in between the sounds of the game’s gunfire.

You tilt your head to the side as you take in the sight. Even if Ogata hadn’t pulled you aside at every opportunity to caution you away from the First Division, Narumi Gen’s reputation was practically legendary among the ranks of the Defense Force — and only partially for his skill in combating kaiju. 

It wasn’t a lie when you told Hasegawa that you knew what you were getting into when you accepted the position as the First Division’s new Head of Operations. However, the chaotic state of Narumi’s office still manages to take you slightly by surprise. 

Somehow, you remain unaware of the way the corners of your lips are slightly tugging upwards in a hint of a smile.

You’re pulled from your musings by the waves of anger that you feel radiating off of Hasegawa, who you had genuinely forgotten was standing next to you. His arms are crossed over his chest and this close to him, you can see the vein on his forehead pulsing. 

“I apologize for your first impression of Captain Narumi,” he grumbles and you can easily tell that this is a common occurrence for the man. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll take care of this.”

But before he can march toward the lump, you cut him off. 

“No need! I can handle this,” you tell him genially as you curiously open the Yamazon box on top of the mountain nearest you. You’re unimpressed by the six-pack of energy drinks inside. You note that it’s the same brand as the empty cans strewn across the office floor as you carelessly push the box off the stack, where it falls to the floor with a dull thud. 

You open the next box and pull out a boxed set of some movie series that you’ve never heard of and which has an obnoxious yellow sticker on the front that says, “LIMITED EDITION!” You pout with disinterest and toss it over your shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” Hasegawa asks just as you get ready to move on to the next Yamazon box and you abandon your search through Narumi’s things. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” you reply, your nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. 

Your admonishment and clear lack of boundaries has a sense of dread creeping up on Hasegawa — one that usually only accompanies a kaiju attack. He’s quick to tamp down any fears that his already-frequent headaches are about to increase, not wanting to tempt whatever higher power might be out there by putting those thoughts into the universe.

The only outward sign of his apprehension is his deepening frown. He responds with a wordless hum. 

Turning away from the Yamazon boxes, you look back to the lump to find that it hasn’t moved once despite the noise and your and Hasegawa’s presence. Glancing at the TV screen, you see that the game is still in progress. 

There’s an obvious solution to this problem. 

The lump is so focused on clearing its virtual mission that it’s easy for you to walk toward the TV, reach behind it, and yank the BS4 plug from the overfilled power strip. The sudden silence from the TV as the console unexpectedly shuts off is met with a screech from the lump, which finally moves to reveal Narumi Gen — captain of the famed First Division and Japan's (supposedly) Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he screams, tossing off the duvet and stumbling to his bare feet. “I was just about to clear the campaign! You just made me lose all of my progress! Who do you think you are?!”

With every shout, he moves closer, his finger pointed at you furiously and his bloodshot eyes practically bulging from his head.

You answer him by grabbing his BS4 from the floor, lifting it over your head, and slamming it back down where it shatters apart. His shriek this time is so loud and shrill that you truly worry for a moment that your ears may begin to bleed. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he repeats frantically as he collapses to his knees and tries to carefully pick up the hardware now scattered on the floor of his office, his fingers trembling from the trauma of seeing his most precious possession in pieces. 

But he’s too slow for you. You step past him and kneel down beside the BS4’s exposed motherboard. And then, in one smooth motion, you pull a pair of needle-nosed pliers out of the pocket of your lab coat and drive the jaws straight down where it pierces the fragile, green fiberglass. 

You can only describe Narumi’s resulting wail as a widow’s wail for how devastated it sounds. 

When you stand up and look back down at him, you see the shell of a broken man. He’s hunched over on his knees near your feet. The shattered pieces of his BS4 are loosely clutched in his hands. And if you look closely, you can make out the slight shaking of his shoulders. 

“Who are you?” he rasps, his gaze glued to the remains of his beloved console. “How can you be so cruel?”

“I’m the First Division’s new Head of Operations, bitch,” you smirk down at him, your arms crossed over your chest in satisfaction. The revelation seems to catch his attention because his head shoots up to look at you in shock before anger begins to creep in. 

“You? You’re the new Head of Operations?” he seethes, abandoning his BS4’s carcass to slowly stand. His fists are clenched at his sides and the tick in his jaw is visibly noticeable. 

However, you’re already moving on. You close the distance between you so quickly that Narumi’s fury is momentarily forgotten as he instinctively takes a step back only for you to take one forward. 

His stupor grows worse when your hands come up to cup his jaw. Suddenly, all he can focus on is how warm your touch is and how surprisingly pretty you are, your soft features hiding the heartlessness that lurks underneath. 

The reminder shatters his daze and he stumbles backward and away from your caress. He tries to put as much distance between himself and you as he can, only to trip on his futon and wind up sprawled on his back on top of the haphazardly strewn duvet. 

Not wasting an opportunity to get close to him again and without a second’s hesitation, you follow him and plop yourself down to straddle his torso. A flush breaks out across his cheeks and quickly spreads to the tips of his ears that are peeking out through his messy hair. 

The pink grows a deeper red when you sit up, slightly lifting yourself off of him so that you can further lean over him until only a few inches are separating your face from his. The back of his head is already pressed to the futon, leaving him nowhere to go.

His face feels hot under your fingers as you grip his chin firmly enough that he can’t shake you off this time. Although that seems like something you don’t need to worry about as he appears frozen beneath you. You’re vaguely aware of how his own hands slowly and cautiously drop to rest on the tops of your thighs. 

Yet, where Narumi is clearly flustered by the compromising position that you’ve forced him into, the ability to grasp the grossly inappropriate and unprofessional nature of your interaction is beyond you. There’s a purpose to all of this, which makes it incredibly easy for you to ignore the feeling of his fingers nervously twitching through the fabric of your pants. 

With one hand holding his chin, the other comes up to rest the back of your fingers on his cheek and you can feel how doing so makes him somehow even more tense. The wildness in your eyes has something stirring deep inside of him, which is only made worse by how he’s already missing your weight on his stomach.

He suddenly finds himself fighting the overwhelming urge to slide his hands up to your waist and pull you back down to sit on him. It wouldn’t be that hard. You would probably make a small cry of surprise if he did. He can practically hear it ringing in his ears and it goes straight to his cock, which is quickly growing half-hard.

And then it wouldn’t take much more to move you a little further down until you’re placed right on top of the bulge in his sweatpants. He would use his hold on you to grind your ass down while he bucks his hips up. 

His fantasizing takes a different turn when you slowly begin to lean even closer to his face and his wide eyes drop down to your lips. They look so soft and plush. Your tongue peeks out for just a second before disappearing back into your mouth and he wants nothing more than to chase it with his own.

What would your tongue feel like sliding against his? What would it feel like on his fingers? On his cock? 

Your teeth lightly sink into your bottom lip and he’s genuinely surprised that he doesn’t cum on the spot. 

It’s only your grip on his chin that keeps him from lifting his head to close the gap altogether. Thankfully, you seem to be doing so on your own and his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting slightly in anticipation.

But then his left eye is opening back up against his will as your thumb pulls on the skin just under his eyelid while your index finger lifts the area just below his brow. His right eye opens in confusion, trying to understand what’s going on.

He takes in how your gaze is fixed on his left eye, your head tilting back and forth from side to side curiously, and it slowly sinks in that the slightly manic look that you’re wearing has nothing to do with the kiss he was expecting. All of your interest in him seems to be exclusively tied to his scarlet-colored eyes — the eyes crafted from the retina of Kaiju No. 1.

It feels like someone has doused him in cold water at the realization. 

He can feel his dick softening from the disappointment — but only partially. After all, you’re still straddling him and leaning in close enough that he can feel every one of your exhales on his face. 

“So, these are the Future Sight eyes…” you murmur to yourself, switching your attention over to his right eye and giving it the same inspection that the left received. You hum thoughtfully and Narumi scrambles to find something to say, trying to think of anything that has even the slightest chance of impressing you. 

Before he can start to brag about the kaiju with a 7.4 fortitude level that he neutralized with one shot last week, you’re removing your hands from his face entirely and sighing heavily, a pout forming on the lips that he had just been daydreaming about. You lean back and sit up, dropping your weight fully onto his stomach once again.

You absently rest your palms on his chest and he’s struck by the vivid mental image of you doing the exact same thing if you were to ride him. 

The fantasy comes closer to being real when your hands push down for leverage to readjust how you’re seated. Your attempt to find a more comfortable position has you sliding just a little further down his body. His breath catches in his throat when your knees end up on either side of his waist and your ass meets his lap — and the tent in his pants. 

His fingers instinctively grip your thighs tightly as he bites back the deep groan that’s desperately trying to escape his chest. 

He knows you can feel how hard he is. It’s not like it’s something easy to ignore when you’re sitting right on top of it. Yet the only reaction you have is a slight twitch at the corner of your lips that’s so faint anyone else except for him, the captain of the Defense Force’s strongest division, would have missed it. 

And he also notices that it twitched upward. 

For a brief second, he contemplates using his eyes on you. Activating them would allow him to visualize your brain’s signals, indicating your movements before you made them. Maybe then he would have a better idea of what you’re planning to do. It’s probably against some stupid regulation to use the weapons designed to combat kaiju on another member of the Defense Force, but you’re a much more formidable foe.

However, he then feels you shifting slightly as you get ready to move so that his hard cock is no longer poking your ass and he panics. 

His hands dart up to grab your hips and keep you right where you are. Although you don’t cry out in the way that his ears are yearning to hear, your eyes widen just a fraction, betraying your surprise at his action. 

Knowing that his grip is firm enough to keep you from shaking it off, you instead look curiously over your shoulder and down, your back arching as you check if you can see the hardness directly underneath you. It’s the first clear acknowledgment you make of his arousal. 

Anyone else, everyone else, would be frantically trying to explain away the situation — as if there’s a way to explain away an erection that your coworker is sitting on. But Narumi isn’t anyone else and he finds his mind wandering yet again.

All he can focus on is how your arched back pushes your chest forward. Despite the shapeless lab coat that you’re wearing and how it covers the majority of your body, he can still make out the curves of your tits and how they’re perfectly framed by your upper arms on either side.

What would you look like in just your lab coat?

His thumbs twitch where they’re firmly pressed to your hips with the urge to slip them under the hem of your shirt and feel the warmth of your bare skin directly. If he did, he could easily slide them, and your shirt, up. Once he had it high enough, he could then curl one finger into the front of your bra and pull it down until your tits were spilling from its cups. 

And then all he would have to do is lean up and he could capture a nipple between his wet lips. He could then wind his arms around you beneath your lab coat to splay one hand across the arch in your back, pressing you further into his mouth. By this point, your hands would have moved from his chest to his shoulders where they would be fisting the fabric of his shirt.

He can hear your phantom cries of pleasure in his ears again as his dick starts to ache. 

The bubble bursts when you face forward, your back now hunched over rather than arched. You look deeply unimpressed. Narumi is suddenly and viscerally aware of the thin stream of drool that’s slowly trailing from the corner of his lip and down his jaw where it then meets his neck. 

You notice it as well and lift a hand up to casually wipe his spit away with the pad of your thumb. His mouth opens on its own, instinctively wanting you to slip the spit-slicked digit inside. 

Somehow, the action has you looking even further unimpressed. Rather than sticking it past his parted lips, you wipe your finger clean on the front of his shirt. 

When you meet his gaze, the disinterest that he can see in your eyes and in your expression is crippling. Every fantasy that has been playing out in his head over the past few minutes shatters and comes crashing down around him. 

“Hm, I didn’t think the wielder of the oldest numbered weapon would be so boring,” you finally say with a frown.

His open mouth closes before opening again, only to close and then repeat the cycle as he finds himself unable to respond. His reaction doesn’t help his case.

“...b-boring…?” he repeats, seemingly incapable of understanding the meaning of the word. 

You slap away his hands from your hips and he’s so dazed that he lets you. The insult slowly starts to sink in and his growing indignation soon eclipses every last ounce of arousal.

“Boring?” he angrily cries out and you simply roll your eyes as you stand up. This time when you move off of him, he’s too outraged to miss your weight and warmth. 

“Yes. You bore me,” you tell him pointedly, your hands on your hips as you look down at him where he lays on his back between your feet. He gets the sense that this is exactly how you would be looking at a worm that you saw on the sidewalk before trampling it.

“W-well, if I’m so boring why’d you end up with the First anyway?” he retorts with a glare as he finally sits up. “You’re here because you wanted to be in the presence of Japan’s strongest!”

Your features wrinkle in distaste at the sentiment. 

“You wish,” you scoff as you step off of his futon and take a moment to examine your nails. “The First Division’s base is on the bay and the Third’s by a river. The ocean is way nicer. Simple as that.”

He can only gape up at you, speechless once more. 

You made the biggest decision of your career based on the base’s proximity to the ocean rather than the strength and prestige of the division. A life-changing decision, and you made it on something as superficial as preferring the ocean to a river.

There was no rational thinking involved. There were no thoughtful considerations made. Other than consulting Google Maps, there was no careful research done. 

A decision that you would have to live with for years and you made it based on something as trivial as a body of water.

Simple as that.

Narumi’s heart starts to race and his face grows warm. His palms suddenly feel sweaty and he’s hyper-aware of an unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach. A wide grin slowly stretches across his face.

Before you can walk away, he grabs your ankle.

“Wait! What’s your name?” he asks eagerly. You just smirk down at him and shake off his hand with a kick of your leg before walking away and out of his office without a second glance back at him. 

As he watches you leave, he wonders if the irises of his eyes — which usually morph into crosses when being used as the weapon they are — have now taken the shape of hearts.

He’s ready to collapse back into his futon with an infatuated sigh. He still has the tent in his sweatpants to deal with after all and if anything, it’s only gotten harder. 

But before he can, he catches sight of Hasegawa, who’s standing stoically by the doors of his office. He wonders if the man has been there the whole time and if so, why he didn’t put a stop to the chaos that just played out before him as he’s normally quick to do.

He vaguely notes that his Vice-Captain looks like he does whenever they’re en route to a kaiju attack and he’s reviewing the information available to assess the threat as best he can before engaging. Determination then crosses his severe features, as if he’s steeling himself for some upcoming battle.

The man appears about to take his leave, but Narumi recognizes that he can’t let his only other source on your identity just walk away.

“Hasegawa! Hey, Hasegawa!” Narumi cries out as he sits up on his knees. 

“Yes?” he replies stiffly, steeling himself for whatever is coming.

“Is she single?” He hungrily points in the direction you just went, like there’s any doubt about who the “she” in question is. 

Hasegawa’s entire demeanor abruptly turns icy. His arms slowly cross over his chest — usually a sign that a physical assault is imminent.  

“I’ll remind you, Captain, that the Defense Force highly discourages fraternization between enlisted personnel,” he says. Despite the lack of violence that accompanies the warning, it’s the most threatening that Hasegawa has ever sounded when reprimanding Narumi. 

But all Narumi can think about is how hard he still is and the memory of both your disinterest and your body on top of his as you straddled him. 

“Discourages is not forbids,” he smirks with all of the smugness of someone who believes that he’s found the greatest loophole in the history of mankind. 

Hasegawa’s scarred features contort into a grimace at Narumi’s easy disregard for the admonishment that he just received. Deciding that the best course of action would be to conserve his energy for the fight that he can see on the horizon, he drops his arms to his sides and walks away from his captain. 

“Wait! Tell me her name!” Narumi shouts as he desperately begins to crawl after him. 

Hasegawa suppresses the urge to slap a palm to his forehead in exasperation. He looks over his shoulder at the pathetic sight of the man known across the country as Japan’s strongest on his hands and knees, begging for just a crumb of information. 

“If you regularly checked your email as is your responsibility as First Division Captain, you wouldn’t need to ask,” he scolds him and with Narumi sufficiently distracted, Hasegawa is finally able to escape, closing the doors to the office with a loud slam!

Meanwhile, Narumi scrambles back to his futon to dig through it for his phone. When he finally finds it, it slips out of his grasp due to how sweaty his palms are. It takes a few tries but with fingers that are trembling with excitement, he’s able to unlock his phone and pull up his email.

He frowns in annoyance at the sheer volume of unread messages. As he starts to scroll through them, his eyes hurriedly skimming through the subject lines of each one, he soon realizes that this is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Doing a quick search for “Head of Operations” pulls up an unopened thread titled, “[URGENT] Start Date: Head of Operations, First Division.” He finds what he’s looking for when he opens it and sees that the latest email is from you, your name appearing in the “from” line.

He slowly says your name aloud, testing it out. He likes the way it tastes on his tongue.

He wonders if your pussy will taste even better when he gets you to sit on his face. 

As he skims the email thread for any further information he can glean, he notices that your responses to the information on your promotion and new assignment are largely in emojis. You seem to have a particular fondness for the red 100 emoji. 

With a contented sigh, he collapses back into his futon. His phone is clutched tightly to his chest and an adoring smile is painted across his lips. 

Rolling over onto his stomach, he rests his chin on a curled fist and returns to his email. Now that he has your name, he happily kicks his feet back and forth in the air and does another search through his inbox for it. He strikes gold when he finds your personnel file attached to a months-old, unopened email. 

But he doesn’t get far in reading through it because at the top of the file, just beneath your name, is your phone number. As soon as he sees it, he saves it in his contacts under: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦.

His fingers fly across the screen as he then drafts a new message to you and quickly hits send.

From: Narumi Gen Hey! Go out with me 🙏

He watches the message thread with unblinking eyes, eagerly waiting for the three little dots that indicate that you’re typing to appear at the bottom. When they finally do, the anticipation of what you’ll say is enough to have him salivating all over again.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 ????

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Who dis

He frowns slightly. He’s your new captain. Shouldn’t you already have his number saved in your phone? Rather than letting it ruin his giddiness, he seizes the opportunity that he missed earlier to brag. 

From: Narumi Gen JAPAN’S STRONGEST 💪

He smugly waits for your reply. It takes longer this time for the three dots to appear and he’s positive that it’s because you’re too in awe to respond right away. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Oh.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 😒

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Captain boring 🥱

Each reply is like an arrow to his heart. The yawning emoji in particular feels like you’ve taken a knife to his gut with a pretty smile on your lips. Desperation quickly takes hold.

From: Narumi Gen Plz go out with me 

From: Narumi Gen Pretty plz? 🙏

From: Narumi Gen Ur so hot. Plz go out with me 🙇‍♂️

From: Narumi Gen I’ll do literally anything to go out with u 😫

His responses are sent in a flurry one right after another. If he had the ability to feel shame, he would be embarrassed by how increasingly pathetic he sounds with each sent message.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Nope 🙅‍♀️

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 This pussy is closed to losers

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 😝

It’s a good thing that he’s already laying down because the one-two punch of being called a loser while also being told that your pussy is off-limits would have had him keeling over. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Enjoy taking care of your little problem on your own 🍆✊💦

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 Let me know how it goes 😏

He suddenly feels like you’ve breathed new life into him. Does this mean that you’re imagining him jerking off? 

The thought of you thinking of him with his hand pumping his cock has his head spinning. He rolls over onto his back and drops the hand holding his phone by his side as he stares up at the ceiling of his office in a daze. 

Acting almost on its own, his free hand slides down his stomach to slip under the waist of his sweatpants and then the band of his boxer briefs. He can’t help the hiss that escapes him when he wraps his hand around his cock. It’s easy to pretend that it’s your hand that’s pulling it out of his pants instead of his. 

Would you tell him how boring he is even as your hand slowly begins to move up and down his length? Would you be acting like this is a waste of your time? Maybe you’d be jerking him off with one hand and scrolling through your phone with the other. 

His eyes close to aid the fantasy. 

He can hear your voice in his ears, every word dripping with indifference as you tell him to hurry up and cum already so that you can go do something that actually interests you. You would barely even look at him, only glancing at him every so often to check how close he is to finishing. 

When he spits into his hand to help the glide of his palm, he imagines that it’s your hand and remembers how you didn’t shy away from his saliva when you wiped it off of his chin earlier. His fist speeds up its pace as he imagines what it would have looked like if you had popped your thumb into his mouth for him to suck it clean rather than wiping it off on his shirt. 

Or better yet, if you slipped it into your mouth, only removing it once your thumb was free of his spit. 

What would it look like if you spit directly into his mouth? He’s positive that you would purse your lips right over his open and waiting mouth and let your spit delicately drip straight down into it. You wouldn’t let him swallow until you told him that he was allowed to. And then you would reward him with a condescending pat on his cheek and a chaste kiss to his shining lips.

And what if he spits into your mouth? He would have you on your knees for him, lips parted wide open, and tongue stuck out as you waited patiently to taste his cock. He would grab your chin with fingers as firm as yours were on his earlier and just when you began to rub your thighs together, he would spit into your open mouth before making you swallow. 

Would you whine if he told you that you’re a good girl?

He definitely would if you called him a good boy. 

He would whine right into your pussy if you were to tell him how good he was being with his face buried between your thighs, your legs tossed over his shoulders. The words would be broken up between breathless moans as he lapped at your clit, your fingers pulling on his hair to tug his face closer. And he would then start pumping two of his fingers in and out of your pussy, curling them just right, all so that he could hear you say the words again.  

After seeing how little he impresses you, he would give anything for even a scrap of your praise. But he also wants to make you just as desperate for his. 

He wants you sprawled across the top of his messy desk.

He wants you to make it even messier when you cum on his cock as he pounds into you, his balls hitting your ass with each thrust and your ankles dangling by his ears. He’d have your arousal dripping from your pussy and down the crack of your ass to pool on the wooden surface of his fancy desk. 

He’d then slide two of his fingers through the mess before shoving them into your mouth, wordlessly demanding you suck them clean. 

And you would, wouldn’t you?

Because for all of your standoffishness and your seemingly aloof nature, when it comes down to it, you would want to be good for him. 

You would keep his fingers in your mouth until you were gagging on them when he shoved them in deep enough to reach the back of your throat. And even then, you would keep your lips closed around them until he decides to remove them. 

And when he pumps you full of his cum, you would thank him with hazy eyes and an adoring smile. It would mirror the one on his lips when he drops to his knees and pushes open your thighs to watch his cum slowly drip in thick, white gobs out of your sopping pussy to join the growing pool underneath your ass. 

Each mental image that rapidly plays out on the backs of his eyelids pushes him closer and closer to cumming. He can feel the orgasm building in his spine and in his balls, only for his eyes to spring wide open when he remembers your request to keep him updated. 

His phone is still in his sweaty hand, his fingers clutched around it so tightly that if he wasn’t so used to holding his BS4 controller for long periods of time, then they would be aching. He absently sends a silent thank you to whoever invented Face ID because it means he doesn’t have to fumble with a passcode to unlock his phone and pull up the camera. 

As much as it pains him to do so, he pulls his free hand from his weeping cock to yank his shirt up his torso and shove the hem between his teeth. He moans around the fabric when his hand returns back to his cock, giving it a squeeze as he looks down at it through the screen of his phone, trying to angle the camera just right. 

His hand is itching to pick back up its frantic pace up and down his shaft. But he keeps it still just long enough to take a perfectly-framed picture of his hand wrapped around the base of his dick and pre-cum leaking over his fingers. 

He hurriedly hits send and drops his hand holding his phone back to his side. 

However, his hand has only just started moving again when his phone vibrates in the death grip that he has on it. A pathetic, little whine emerges from the back of his throat when he lifts it up and looks at the screen to find that you’ve already replied. 

His toes curl and his hips buck up off the futon as he eagerly opens your message.

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That’s all it takes for him to cum with a groan of your name that’s muffled by the shirt hem still shoved in his mouth. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut as his hips give a few jerks, imagining that he’s spilling his cum onto your face instead of into his still-moving hand. 

When he’s finally capable of opening his eyes, he opens the camera on his phone again. With fingers that are tingling from his orgasm, he takes a second picture — this time of his cum-coated fingers and the streaks of white painted across his stomach.

After hitting send, he continues to look at the screen and preens when the three dots almost immediately appear at the bottom. 

From: 🍑🙇‍♂️💕🍆💦 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

A wistful sigh leaves him as spits his shirt out of his mouth and clutches his phone close to his chest, which is still rising and falling rapidly as he pants for air.

“So, this is what love is like,” he muses aloud, a dreamy smile stretched across his lips and absolutely certain that his racing heart has nothing to do with jerking off or the sticky mess coating his hand and stomach.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Imodna gentle prompt #18: Can I join you?

hi! this prompt is... embarrassingly late. so, so sorry about that. spoilers for episode 103. i also took advantage of this to jump on the imodnovember day 14 train (prompt: crawl).

i hope you enjoy this very short lil piece! if you're reading this and so inclined to send me a prompt, go for it. no promises I'll get to it in a timely manner (once again, so sorry.) i do have a handful of prompt lists reblogged if you need inspiration :)

~~~

“Can I join you?”

Imogen gently shuts the door to Essek��s guest room, pressing her back against the wood. She tilts her head, studying Laudna on the bed. Lithe fingers poke and prod absently at the foreign pulse in her sternum. She drums her fingers against her chest lightly, sending amethyst sparks skittering under her skin. She looks up when Imogen approaches, humming.

“Of course.”

“I just didn’t know if you’d… if you’d want someone right now.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Laudna shifts to make more room, long limbs folding beneath her. Imogen crosses the room and crawls into bed beside her, tucking the blanket back around Laudna’s legs. 

“How’re you feelin’ after… today?” 

Laudna hums, considering. “Strange. Empty. Hard to believe she’s gone for good this time. Or,” she amends, “tucked away, as it were. She’s quite angry.”

Imogen’s imagination conjures a fuming Delilah Briarwood, royal robes and all, pacing in whatever prison cell Laudna’s subconscious could conjure for her. Probably something dark, perhaps just sticky enough to make fancy heels stick to the ground. A petty annoyance and nothing more. 

“Can you feel her?”

“It’s a bit like,” Laudna muses, “talking through a one-way pane of glass. I can see her, but she can’t see me.”

“Is she tryin’ to get out?”

“Oh, undoubtedly so, but I’m finding I quite like being in control.”  

Imogen smiles. “You deserve it, honey, after all this time.” 

“I was thinking about that, you know. How long it’s been. Where to go from here.”

“And what did you decide?”

“I think I’d like to learn to wield her power to fulfill our missions, and then,” she turns to Imogen, eyes warm, hopeful in a way Imogen has sorely missed, “perhaps, if you’re amenable, we could revisit our cottage?”

Imogen raises a hand to cup Laudna’s face, running a thumb across her cheek. Leaning in, she kisses her tenderly. 

[ghoul-slime]

57 and 81 (if you're down for public/semi public!) with Rain and Swiss?

Swiss/Rain with public/semi-public outdoor sex and a little bit of voyeurism fantasy. Still taking prompts!

It’s late, but the weather is still stifling. A hot and miserably humid night playing yet another summer festival. The band had played their set earlier in the evening, and now they were stuck waiting until the trucks were packed and it was time to move on. The rest of the ghouls were crammed into a stuffy backstage tent, impatiently waiting to pack up for the night when Rain gently tugs at Swiss’ arm, insistent that he come with him for a walk, desperate for the possibility of some fresh air.

They’ve been walking for what feels like five minutes before Rain is pulling Swiss into the dark, empty space between two unmanned merch tents situated at the far end of the festival grounds.

Rain is on him in an instant, pawing at his chest and pulling him in to kiss him on the lips. Swiss hums into the kiss and snakes his arms around Rain’s slim waist, bringing him in close and opening his mouth for Rain’s insistent tongue, licking in deep and urgent. 

Swiss goes hard in his pants at the the desperate way Rain is kissing him, the way Rain drags his blunt nails up and down Swiss’ chest, runs his hands up his back and into his hair, the way rain reaches up and tugs Swiss down by the neck to deepen his wet, open-mouthed kisses.

Rain pulls away with a nip to Swiss’ spit-slick lips before dropping unceremoniously to his knees right there in the dirt. He runs his hands up Swiss’ thighs before moving impatiently to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging Swiss pants down, letting them pool around his ankles.

Swiss gasps as Rain nuzzles into his crotch, breathing deep, inhaling the scent of him as he noses his way up Swiss’ hard cock. He mouths his way across the fabric, leaving damp little patches of spit up Swiss’ length before he’s reaching for the elastic of his waistband and tugging his briefs down to join the puddle of his jeans in the dirt.

Swiss laughs breathlessly, threading his fingers into Rain’s sweat-damp curls and tugging ever so gently. “We’re in public you know,” Swiss chuckles, sounding entirely unconcerned. 

Rain whines and licks a wet stripe up the length of Swiss’ dick, wrapping one hand around the base as he gets his lips around the head of him. Swiss can see Rain’s other hand disappear between his own legs, palming himself as he sinks down on Swiss’ cock and hollows his cheeks. 

Swiss closes his eyes and leans his head back as Rain sucks him off. From where they’re hidden away Swiss can hear the jumbled cacophony of the festival, wailing guitars from the main stage and rumbling bass from one of the side stages, the competing sound of the roar of the crowds. All of it fades away as Rain deepthroats him there on his knees in the dirt in the middle of it all.

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” Swiss laughs again, tugging at Rain’s hair, forcing him down deeper, canting his hips forward and feeling the head of his cock bump the back of Rain’s throat. 

“Mmmm,” Rain hums around him, popping the button of his own jeans and playing with himself through his underwear. 

Oh, he likes that idea, Swiss thinks to himself as he fucks into Rain’s mouth, feeling the way Rain’s jaw stretches around his girth, points his clever tongue and licks into his slit, jacks off the length of his shaft he can’t fit into his pretty mouth.

And then Rain is pulling off of him with a pop, wiping away the drool and pre dribbling down his chin before he lets his own pants drop, tugs his tight little briefs down and turns around, bracing his hands on an empty table and presenting his round little ass to Swiss right there where anyone could walk by and see them. Hear them. Smell them.

“Think you should fuck me,” Rain says, locking eyes with Swiss over his shoulder, arching his back and spreading his knees to give Swiss a view he knows he can never say no to.

“Think so?” Swiss teases, spreading Rain’s cheeks, licking his thumb, and dragging it wet and slick over Rain’s twitching, waiting hole. 

“Yeah,” Rain nods, wavy curls bouncing. “Fuck me right here in the open. Want somebody to hear it. Hear the filthy things you do to me.”

Swiss grins and crowds his way up against Rain’s backside. Even here in the dark he can see the sweat glistening across the small of Rain’s back, the way his damp hair clings to the warm blush at the nape of his neck.

Swiss rests his cock between the cleft of Rain’s pert little ass cheeks and spits. He spreads it around with the palm of his hand, slicking himself up before he’s pushing in, feeling the gut-punched little breaths Rain makes as Swiss sinks in.

“That’s right,” Swiss assures him, “Gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck that sweet little ass right here in the open for everyone to see.”

Rain keens, high pitched and entirely too loud as Swiss snaps his hips, fucking him at a frantic pace, bouncing his hips off of Rain’s tight little ass.

“You want that, baby? Everyone to see you right here taking my cock in the dirt like a good little whore?”

Rain nods, frantically, clenching around Swiss as he pistons in and out of his heated body. He reaches around to fist Rain’s cock, bobbing wet and heavy between his legs, leaking what Swiss doesn’t doubt is a sizable puddle of pre into the dirt between his feet.

“Gonna cum inside you, baby,” Swiss strains out, fucking into Rain faster as his orgasm creeps up on him at the thought of somebody, anybody, walking up on him with his cock buried balls deep inside Rain’s hot body. “You like that? Having me fill you up right here in the open? Gonna walk back with my cum running down your legs for everyone to see?”

Rain cries out as his own orgasm hits him, clenching around Swiss’ cock as Swiss milks every drop out of him, adding to the mess in the dirt at his feet.

Swiss bites down on the juncture between Rain’s shoulder and neck when he cums, tasting the sweat and salt of his skin, stifling his own moans as he finishes deep inside Rain’s body. His breath heaving and heavy as he feels his twitching cock completely spent and slipping out of Rain’s ass with a slick, wet pop. He hears drips of cum and slick leak out from between Rain’s wobbly legs and land in the mess beneath them.

Rain spins himself around, takes Swiss’ fingers, glistening with his own spend, and brings them to his lips, holding Swiss’ gaze as he cleans them with his tongue.

Swiss leans in to kiss what’s left from Rain’s lips when they hear footsteps behind them. Instead Swiss crowds in, covers Rain’s mouth with his hand and presses him back as far as he can into the dark space between the tents. Shielding him. Rain’s eyes go wide as the footsteps draw closer, walking towards them with purpose. 

We’re fucked, Swiss thinks.

“Jesus fucking Christ, there you two are,” comes an irritated voice. It’s Dew.

“We’re ready to go,” Dew motions over his shoulder with his thumb, not even bothering to acknowledge the fact that both Swiss and Rain are standing there with their pants down.

“Could smell you two horny fuckers half way across the grounds,” Dew grins, crossing his arms in front of him. “Papa’s gonna be pissed, you know.” 

Swiss and Rain exchange glances, and then they’re reaching out, pulling him in, tugging Dew’s jacket off, popping the buttons of his jeans and pressing him between them with an indignant squawk.

If they’re going down they might as well take Dew with them.

(Eventually Mountain has to come get them and they all get in trouble.)

[thr-333]

Just posted new chapter of You're being adopted(do not resist).

[lilliancdoodles]

Life is like the ocean, it goes up and down by @tastytoastz (Click for better quality, master post of all my art for this fic)

[skyward-floored]

Warriors gets his nickname

Hi I’m not updating long fics even though I want to, I’m instead writing more short Incredibles au stuff *collapses*. I’ll update other things eventually I promise ;-;

This is the furthest back fic I’ve written I think— Time is only a teenager, and Warriors is very smol. Time goes by Time because he got sick of them both being Link, but Warriors doesn’t have a nickname yet. I think that’s all the background you really need though, so I’ll stop and just let you read already.

���———————————————————

Link held tight to Time’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk, headed towards the corner stand where Time knew they could get lunch for cheap. He usually skipped lunch himself, or just nibbled something small, but since it was the weekend, Link wasn’t in school and he had to get him something.

Time looked down at his little brother, Link trotting along beside him. He was nearly drowning in his too-big scarf, and Time flipped it around his neck one more time so he wouldn’t trip on it, Link giving him a little smile.

Time sighed to himself.

He was still figuring out how to deal with having a kid as his responsibility, but... he was making it work. He’d managed to get Link in a preschool on weekdays, and was working on a more permanent place for them to stay besides “in this nice tree” or “in the backseat of the car”. Nobody believed him when he said he was old enough to rent an apartment when he tried though, so it was usually still the backseat of the car for them.

But in general, Time didn’t usually feel like screaming, and was able to keep Link happy, so he was counting the whole thing as at least a partial success.

He seriously needed to find a nickname for the kid though— two Links was two too many.

Why did you name him after me, Mom? he thought as he watched Link jump over a slushy puddle. Why did you leave him with me? Surely you knew someone who who would do a better job? Someone who’s an adult? I’m his brother, but that doesn’t mean I know how to raise him.

A crashing sound made Time’s ears prick, and the thoughts he’d been repeatedly having ever since he’d met Link fled as he turned towards a tiny side street, one that ran behind several shops.

He tugged Link over towards the alley, suspicion in every step. That hadn’t just sounded like a normal dropping-something crash to him. And sure enough, he found a newly shattered window that led into a pawn shop, a shadow disappearing into the shelves inside.

“...bad guy?” Link asked, and Time nodded, already looking for a spot to switch into his super suit.

“Bad guy. A crazy one too, breaking and entering in broad daylight. Looks like somebody doesn’t know that stealing is wrong,” he said with a tsk, and Link let out a small giggle.

Time quickly ducked behind a dumpster to change, and emerged moments later, flexing his hands in his gloves. Link gave him an interested look, and Time suddenly remembered that he couldn’t very well bring his four-year-old brother inside with him.

“...Right,” Time sighed, then scooped Link up and quickly deposited him behind the same dumpster he’d changed behind. “Stay here, don’t let him or anyone see you. I’ll take care of him but don’t come out until I come get you.”

Link frowned, worry pinching at his eyebrows, and Time tucked his scarf a little more tightly around him.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Time assured, but Link kept frowning.

“Hurt?”

“I won’t get hurt. And even if I do I can handle it, but I need to not worry about you while I fight. Stay here,” Time said firmly, then turned and jumped into the shattered window before his brother could argue.

He spotted the robber within seconds, the man breaking open a glass case with all sorts of valuables stored inside. Time put his little brother out of his mind for now, and crept closer, then abruptly cleared his throat. The man jumped at the noise and whipped around, brandishing a crowbar and staring at him.

“I don’t think those belong to you,” Time said with a smirk, and the man swung, Time nimbly jumping out of the way.

“Fierce Deity,” the man spat, and Time gave him a mocking bow.

“At your service. Put the fancy gold watches back.”

The man laughed, then his eyes narrowed behind the reptilian mask he wore. “Dinolfos of the Lizal gang doesn’t take orders from you.”

“Fine,” Time sighed, rolling his eyes. “I guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

He threw a punch towards Dinolfos, which the robber neatly avoided, and the two began to fight, weaving around each other and dodging attacks.

Dinolfos was surprisingly skilled at avoiding Time’s punches, and Time had barely landed any hits after several minutes. Dinolfos on the other hand, had grazed him at least twice now, and annoyance began to swell in Time’s chest. He wasn’t incapacitated from the hits, but he didn’t like where this was going.

He fought faster, managing to knock the crowbar from Dinolfos’s hand, and the battle sped up without the weapon in the mix, kicks and punches just barely grazing both of them.

This guy is fast, Time thought, lunging out of the way of a punch that likely would have given him a bloody nose. How is he so fast?! Argh.

Time managed a swing that connected with Dinalfos’s shoulder, and he reeled back, shouting in anger as he lunged for Time. Time once again dodged out of the way, and noticed with a smirk that his opponent’s swings were getting more wild.

He backed up to give himself some space, easily dodging the angry punches thrown at him. Time stuck his tongue out as Dinolfos missed again, and his opponent let out a roar of frustration as Time continued to easily avoid his angered strikes.

Until Time stumbled on the dropped crowbar.

His foot slipped and Dinolfos lunged, kicking Time right in the chest and knocking the breath out of him as he was thrown straight through the broken window. He went flying into some trash cans at the end of the alley, and heard Link gasp from his hiding spot, but his chest was tight, too tight for him to sit up or even move, just lie there and gasp for breath.

Dinolfos’s foot had caught him at exactly the wrong angle, and knocked every bit of air from his lungs.

Footsteps ran over, and Time opened his eyes with a cough, expecting to see Dinolfos with his weapon raised above his head, ready to strike.

Instead he saw Link standing protectively in front of him, arms held out as if to shield Time despite his tiny size.

Dinolfos laughed.

“Is this your sidekick, Deity?” he guffawed, looking down at Link as he stalked forward. “He is tiny! Were you so desperate for help that you thought even a baby would be better than nothing?”

He continued to laugh, and Link glared up at him, his hands clenching into fists. Time tried his best to catch his breath and get to his feet, but his lungs refused to work, no matter how he gasped. Stupid lungs, come on!

The very air temperature seemed to drop all of a sudden, and a flare of panic hit Time as the robber stepped towards Link. No no no no no—

Dinolfos lunged for him, but Link blasted a spurt of ice from his hands, hitting Dinolfos in the legs. He yelped in surprise, and before he could recover, Link sprayed more ice at him, trailing up his legs and hitting his arms as well.

The shots were clumsy, and it was obvious Link didn’t have much practice, but Dinolfos was completely stuck by the time he finished, and unable to grab his weapon.

Or move, for that matter.

“You brat!” Dinolfos hissed, glaring at where Link stood. “How dare you? I am of the Lizalfos pack, son of Dinal, leader of the Lower Lizards, Master of—!”

Link shot a bit of ice over his mouth, making his face flush with anger.

Time finally managed to get some air into his lungs, and he rolled over, looking up at Dinolfos and Link with an impressed expression.

“Huh,” Time wheezed, still trying to fully catch his breath. Partially from the kick, but mostly from the remaining panic of seeing his little brother nearly be attacked while he just gasped for breath on the pavement.

Sloppy, too sloppy, you should have put him further away, he barely knows how to use his powers he could’ve been hurt he could have been ki—

Time sighed, and winced as he put a hand to his chest and lightly rubbed. He was definitely going to have a bruise tomorrow. “We’ll have to talk about your listening skills kiddo, but... nice work. You’re quite the little warrior, huh?”

His brother’s face positively lit up at his words, and he pointed to himself, some snowflakes settling in his hair.

“Warriors,” he said proudly, and Time snorted, slowly getting to his knees.

“Warrior, kid. No S.”

“Warriors!”

“There’s only one of you, there’s no S,” Time argued back as he stood, but the kid just kept chattering ‘Warriors’ to himself, over and over. A vein bulged in Dinalfos’ forehead, and Time snorted, shaking his head.

He had been thinking about finding a nickname earlier... I suppose there are worse ones out there.

“Well come on, ‘Warriors’, let’s go get lunch. Frosty here can just hang around until the police show up,” he said, ruffling Link’s hair.

Link beamed, and took the hand Time offered him as they stepped out of the alleyway and walked down the street, leaving Dinolfos behind in the alley.

Dinolfos yelled a curse behind them that was entirely unintelligible.

[holymarymotherofsmut]

a small thing that drives me bonkers is that people seem to think that ryomen is sukuna’s first name.

it’s not.

if we were writing his name out in the western FirstName LastName format, he would be Sukuna Ryomen.

so he would not become ryomen itadori if he was actually yuji’s brother. he would be sukuna itadori.

this has been a psa

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Malon woke up alone

[ozimagines]

Don’t know if anyone posted this already but look at himmmmmmm⬇️⬇️

He’s just so BOOP!! Such a bean🥹🥹🥹🥹