#the Dangers of it leaving my circle. but it's ok to do that naturally

[bleakbluejay]

i would really love to see more people like me in the media i consume, and i really would've loved to see people like me in the media that i consumed as a kid.

like. i'm lifelong disabled, i've always been disabled, i've only gotten worse. but when i see disabled kid characters, they have helicopter parents (like Stevie from Malcolm in the Middle). i didn't. i was largely neglected beyond my basic needs because i was a "good kid, just lazy". so i wasn't taught how to do basic things, and i was very socially stunted. i got my socialization through video games, books, and cartoons. and i'm forever weird because of it (not that it's the worst, i like having a unique personality for sure. but i'd like to see more weird poorly socialized kids, too, that aren't like... bullies or something -- and the fact poorly socialized or socially disabled characters are often coded as bullies or creeps of some kind could be a rant in itself).

when i see disabled characters in general, especially ones in wheelchairs like me, they're all skinny. i'm not. i'm fat. like very fat. muscular, sure, i could punch like a kangaroo i bet, but i'm 300+ lbs. because it's hard to exercise when your walking/standing are so limited. and it's hard to cook healthy food, too, leading to eating shit microwavable junk. but all the wheelchair-using characters i know, minus Franklin from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, are skinny. in general, there's too many skinny people in media, and we need more variation in body types and builds, but focusing on disabled characters for this one.

when i see amputee characters get a prosthetic, they have no issues. they don't ever deal with poorly fit prosthetics, or blisters, or pain. if they deal with anything at all, it's usually a sight gag (which could be done well, it IS funny when i get my fake foot caught under stuff sometimes, but it often isn't done well at all). they don't deal with any internalized ableism, and i think the only times i saw a disabled character deal with outright malicious ableism was Walt Jr. in Breaking Bad season 1 (who was genuinely an amazing disabled character imo, one of the best I've ever seen) and Patty in Dinner in America. I understand the argument that nobody wants to witness ableism... and self-hating disabled characters also suck... but I feel like we're being so dishonest when we write things to be perfect and always work out and there's never any problems, and it leads to non-disabled people not being aware of the problematic things they do or say or think. i remember as a disabled kid being really frustrated when shown disabled characters that were so well-off in terms of how other people treated them and how easy it was to "fix" their disabilities... it made me feel broken or wrong that I WAS so frustrated and confused and in pain and mistreated. It's why characters like Lt. Dan from Forrest Gump, and John Locke from LOST, and Bran Stark + Tyrion Lannister + Jaime Lannister from A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones meant so much to me and were so magnetic. (I could write a whole different rant about disabled rep in ASOIAF/GOT btw... I love you Davos Seaworth) ... Being disabled can suck. People can mistreat you. You sometimes have to be forced to adapt when you shouldn't have to. You have to, at times, confront that some of your dreams are impossible to achieve, or that you can no longer do something that you love, and learn to accept it (but there's often a lot of bitterness and rage before you get to the point of that acceptance).

What about how PTSD and depression are shown? See, I don't relate to the wilting flower brooding archetype that feels so common. If I spend all day in bed, it's usually more for pain than it is because of mental health. What about psychotics shown in a positive light? I'm not a threat to you because of my paranoia or hallucinations, and neither are my psychotic friends. What about OCD, shown in ways other than counting and germaphobia? What about autism, shown in ways other than robotic apaths? What about BPD, shown in a way other than abuse?

Let's move away from disabled characters into queer ones. Because I don't see a lot of queer characters like me, either. I am transmasc nonbinary, and I identify as a lesbian, and also on the ace spectrum (demi or grey, idk, shit's hard). Where are my fat dykes? Transmascs in general, but also transmascs that still enjoy makeup? I love makeup... I love the pageantry of it -- esp tradgoth or punk makeup or corpse paint. It's amazing how many transmasc nonbinary people I know in real life that engage with femininity compared to how nonexistent they are in any media. God forbid you have a character that takes testosterone but still calls themself a lesbian. God forbid you have a lesbian that leans more butch that ISN'T a sex-hound or a villain or a joke character. God forbid you have an ace character that isn't treated like a robot. Authentic queerness feels incredibly rare. I know it's because they're going for either sanitized queerness that is accessible for straight people, or for softcore porn also for straight people, but fuck, man. It sucks. The closest thing to representation I've ever seen in regards to my queerness was Al from Little Evil -- a masc person of indeterminate gender identity with a wife. And Al rocked. Even if that character was largely a comedic relief, their identity itself didn't feel like the joke, just a point of mild confusion for the main character. The next best representation I've seen was Aziraphale and Crowley from the Good Omens show, which are good and feel very authentic and real. Next best after that is probably the entire cast of the What We Do in the Shadows show... I know so many Laszlos and Nandors and Guillermos and Nadjas in real life, they feel like pretty authentic queer characters actually. None that I, in particular, relate to, other than maybe Guillermo at best, but it's nice to see my friends on TV, too.

I know that a character exactly like me is a bit too much to wish for. But I just want something. I like to feel seen. I like to feel present. I like to feel like people like me are worth having on TV and in movies and in video games. I would've really liked to see any of that as a really confused, lonely kid that was trapped inside because of my health and sentenced to read/watch/play hours and hours and hours and hours of media that did not contain any piece of me within them. It worsened my loneliness more than ever needed.

[gabessquishytum]

okay the ushy gushy pussy Dream thing is ruining me so i have to!!!

just imagine that when Dream and Hob get together Hob knows about Dream being trapped for a century and is totally fine with Taking Things Slow. holding hands, having dinner, after a few dates they end up cuddling on the couch

and maybe Dream overestimated his own patience because he's leaning against Hob's side, warm and comfortable and all he really wants is a kiss

(a lot of kisses, maybe)

naturally, Hob obliges

and he keeps his promise! it's slow and thorough, his hands rubbing over Dream's side and back in soft, tender circles, never even threatening to slide beneath Dream's shirt. absolutely what Dream needs after being cold and lonely for so long

which is maybe why barely five minutes later he's hard and aching in his jeans

but that's a little humiliating, isn't it? sure, Dream wants Hob to know that he's enjoying it, but he should stil have some self-control. so he can't press closer, lest Hob feels his erection

unless he gives himself a cunt, of course

no danger of Hob noticing with that

it still takes an embarrassing effort to focus enough to do so because Hob is still kissing him with single-minded focus (seriously, even his daydreams aren't straying farther ahead, it's just Dream, Dream, Dream right there on the couch) to switch things around but once it's done, Dream can slide onto Hob's lap without poking him by accident

when Hob eventually has to pull away to catch his breath, he pulls Dream along so Dream's face rests against his shoulder

10/10 cuddling position. his throat is warm, Hob smells like pine and smoke and also of the chocolate he'd tried to feed Dream. his arms are wrapped around Dream and he's propped his leg up so Dream has a more comfortable perch

Dream shifts his hips just to press closer

which is the moment he notices that his jeans are soaked through

to mid thigh

and Hob's where he's sitting are too

Hnnhggnhhgnnhhnnnhhnn am dead. Dead. Deceased.

The worst part is that Dream pulls back just in time to see Hob’s face go through a series of expressions. Confusion. Acceptance. Pity? Dream wants to launch himself into the sun. He seriously considers it, but Hob��s hands clamp down on him and it feels very difficult to leave all of a sudden.

Meanwhile, Hob is having a very confusing time. He automatically assumes that Dream might have had an accident - and that’s ok, Hob’s been peed on before, he’s not even opposed to it being a sexy thing. But he soon recognises that the fluid isn’t urine. What is it, then? As Hob puzzles it out, Dreams eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, oh sweetheart.” Hob cooes to him, holding him tightly. “It’s ok, darling! You must be so worked up. I’m sorry I didn’t realise it. Your poor cunt must be aching. Will you let me take care of you?”

Dream squirms, unwilling to let go of the feeling of deep humiliation. He can’t believe that Hob is taking it so well! He was expecting to be laughed at and pushed away. Instead, Hob’s hand is rubbing against the crotch of his jeans and making him even more wet!

“You can take your pleasure from my hand, my love. I’ll be a good toy for you. It’ll take the edge off and you’ll feel so much better.” Hob is so gentle, coaxing Dream to rut his clothed pussy against him. He’s still a little weepy but mostly he’s so turned on, so enamoured by the way Hob looks at him. Like he’s something incredible to be worshipped.

When Dream cums, he soaks the couch… and that’s just the first of many orgasms that Hob intends to give him. Hob has a new kink, and it comes in the form of Dream’s beautiful, magnificently wet pussy. And he fully intends to show Dream that he has nothing to be ashamed of (maybe a towel would be good, though).

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Right, I'm back. I didn't post anything yesterday because I thought it's best not to rush. But it was indeed fascinating to see reactions in real time to the photo. Yes, I'm talking about the photo posted on IG of JM, JK and another person.

I think I must have read opinions that varied on a entire spectrum and expressed quite vehemently. It's safe to say everyone has really strong opinions and you either condemn it or you're totally fine with it, as long as you pick a side and don't question anything. In sitautions such as these, the tendency to add just a touch of conspiracy is right there. And it gets a pass when there's a lack of information, a language barrier, etc.

I too have my own questions and observations, to which I don't necesarily need an answer, but I'll just write them down.

1. I couldn't help but think of how deep the level of social media stalking is in this fandom. I looked up the account immediately as I saw a screenshot because initially there was confusion about the source. That guy made no previous photo uploads of either JM or JK. At a first glance, there is nothing to connect him to them. And still he had fan accounts following him, before it all blew up and he gained a lot more. My question is, how did that happen? Are there people who look up Jimin's followers list and they try to figure out if there's someone from an inner circle? In all those 50 million people? Do they check some select few accounts daily to see if there's a possibility of a post? The logistics of this are giving me a headache. Or maybe there's some obvious, easier answer and I don't know it.

2. Considering that the account is public, it's not like the photo is leaked. I don't know exactly the nature of the relationship that man has/had with JM & JK and I do not wish to make any speculation with regards to his intentions.

3. I think the outrage was mostly caused by jikookers bringing back to the surface that old photo under the heart arch. Which indeed paints a certain picture, but it's also not the most incriminatory thing out there. I don't think there's any real actual danger, considering that it was supposedly taken from Jungkook's dad Kakao talk. If that's true then it means the dad was ok with showing it.

3. What I personally believe should not have happened was to circulate that photo so easily on social media. People knew about it for a long time, even before someone posted it on I-Jikook twitter. But in cases like these, the photos will always be revealed. They will leave the group chats and out into the wild usually for a petty reason. Because at the end of the day, that's the issue. It has nothing to do with giving a shit about the people in the photo, it's about winning a shipping argument, about screaming "we won". Win what exactly???? It shows who is in it for the fantasy. No single argument could work for them. Replying on and on about deleting doesn't matter.

4. Maybe my last point, but this situation has revealed some things which were already known, but maybe not really articulated specifically all the time. As people not only part of the fandom, but also using social media 24/7, our ideas about privacy and what we should have access to when it comes to public figures has certainly been influenced by the current landscape. In the case of JM & JK particularly, they have been sharing pieces of themselves for more than a decade. It was the BH strategy, the BTS brand. It worked wonders because look at the huge fandom it gathered and the relationship that was built between idol and fan. Hell, Jungkook is doubling down heavy on it with his livestreams. How can anyone really expect a mass of people to really stop and think about privacy? We ourselves as regular people curate our social media image and we voice our opinions and share the places we go to, who are our friends, what parties we attended, when we get into a relationship. Every mundane or special occassion is posted for public consumption. I'm not saying this as some excuse that would justify sharing what looks like a private photo. What I'm saying is that it's to be expected in a way. As harsh as it is, but we live in this reality where the line between the public and private sphere is getting more invisible day by day.

What I think it's scary is that if there's a situation in which an actual compromising photo would somehow be leaked and which can be in the detriment of the people in it for various reasons, so called fans would still share it as proof. Because it doesn't matter for them. It's the high of finding it, of screaming about it on social media, without thinking for more than a second about possible implications. Everything needs to be done fast, regardless of consequences because people need to feed themselves with gossip and leaks.

I'm really just rambling here and not making too much sense. Anyway, I think we should always take a step back and really assess the situation and not scream about it, regardless of our position. Not everything is a threat, or privacy violation or putting people in danger, but it doesn't mean that it needs to be treated lightly as if it's no big deal (which usually comes from people who care more about their own safisfaction and feeling like a "winner").

[dyns33]

Fucking fate - part 2

Vaas x soulmate reader are back 

Y/N had been living in a pirate camp on Rook Island with her psycho soulmate for two months when a group of natives attacked and some hostages offered her to come with them, taking advantage of the panic to escape.

They knew who she was, but they considered that it wasn't her fault, that she was unlucky, and that she deserved to be free.

Two months was not enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome, as Y/N agreed to follow them almost immediately.

It was only later, after several days in the jungle and when they had found a boat, that she hesitated.

On the way, they had heard some conversations, hidden in the bushes. The pirates were terribly talkative.

     "Did you hear what happened at the central camp ?"

     "Yeah. Fucking rakyats. Francisco is dead. He was selling the best shit, too bad."

     "I was thinking more of Vaas' mate. She disappeared."

     "He must not be happy."

     "Not happy ? He was already mad, but now he completely lost his mind. He killed all the hostages, and the guards who survived the attack. He ordered that they searched everywhere for her, and as long as he doesnt have any news, he goes around in circles in the camp, hitting those who are not looking."

     "He knows she's already dead, right ? The jungle must have eaten her."

     "I know. But it's his mate, man. Shit, he needs hope. When we find the body, he's going to be impossible. Whoever brings the news will probably be hanged. If he just doesn't burn the whole island."

Y/N tried not to think about it as the others got the boat ready to go home. It wasn't her problem what would happen here after she left. She had been kidnapped, she had seen people being tortured and killed, and she deserved to return to a normal life.

Even if it meant rejecting her soulmate.

Except that while he wasn't perfect, not perfect at all, Vaas wasn't that terrible.

It was weird to say, because he was crazy. He was dangerous. He was doing the worst things in the world. And yet, with her, Vaas could be adorable. A tiger that was turning into a little cat, purring against her.

He hadn't hit her, not once. He was even upset when she was afraid of him. He also didn't shout, whereas Vaas shouted a lot at others. He always asked her if she was ok with doing something. Yes, he naturally made it sound like it was a bad idea to tell him no, but Y/N had told him no several times anyway, and Vaas had simply nodded, accepting the answer without further ado.

     "You know, mi corazon. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." he had said one evening, while cuddling her in bed. "It's true. I had a shitty life. A shitty family, a shitty sister. A shitty job. Yeah, I like having fun with people, but it's still shitty. I'm drinking, being high and kicking idiots every day. Even my beloved island has become bland over time, controlled by an asshole and populated by tattooed morons. Then you came, mi amor, mi vida. I waited for you my whole life. I'm so happy."

He sounded so sincere that Y/N couldn't not believe him. He had told her what her sister had done to him.

When he had been pissed off that she was talking to his men, not liking her getting out of his crip, she had used it against him, quite deceitfully.

     "You or them, right, Vaas ? Right ? You or them ?!"

He had looked at her. He understood very well what she meant. He had wondered if he was becoming like his sister, if he was doing to her what she had done to him. So he hit a wall, smashing his hand, before leaving. The pirates, frightened, had avoided him.

Y/N felt bad. She had followed him, she had apologized, taking his bloody hand, trying to hug him, to kiss him, to bring him back because he seemed very far away. He let her do what she wanted, listening to her excuses, then following her back to camp without saying anything, like a child.

To cheer him up, she had cooked, she had put on his favorite movie, she had put on some music and invited him to dance with her, and after a long time, he had sighed, with a tired smile, accepting to join her, laughing together.

Her soulmate wasn't perfect. He had a lot of problems, and it was impossible for him to change, since the situation on the island wouldn't change either. But above all he was a broken man, alone, lost, who needed her.

Most of the little moments they had spent together were happy.

Maybe two months was enough to develop Stockholm Syndrome after all.

Several voices were heard behind her, as Y/N ran along the beach, then through the jungle, looking for the nearest pirate camp. It wasn't easy, as he often said Vaas's men were a bit stupid, but she approached with her hands up, saying she was his mate.

Since they had all heard of the attack, they were very careful with her, calling their leader right away.

When she arrived at the central camp, Y/N noticed two things. 

The place was in a terrible state, and no one had started the repairs, probably too busy looking for her, not to be killed.

And Vaas didn't seem happy to see her.

He said nothing, his eyes blank, simply thanking his men for bringing her back. Then he ordered Carlos to take her to his room, bringing her something to eat, before going to fetch the doctor to check that she was not injured.

For several days, he seemed to avoid her like the plague. It was hurtful. Y/N could have left, she might already be in her country, with her loved ones, but no, she had chosen him, and that was how he thanked her.

She tried to talk to him, but it was a disaster.

     "If you're not happy here, you didn't have to come back, nena." he hissed, playing with his gun. "You could go see my sister. Find a cabin near the beach. Swim to shore."

     "I'm just saying you act like a fool."

     "Oh, a fool ? Me ? That's probably true. I was stupid enough to think everything was fine, but one day, poof, you have the opportunity to leave, and you leave. You leave ! You leave me !"

     "But I came back !" she cried, starting to get scared, because it was the first time he had raised his voice with her.

     "She came back ! She came back ! Great ! Welcome back, hermosa ! I have work to do now, leave me the fuck alone !"

It was too much. Y/N went crying with rage in a corner of the camp, far from everyone, while Vaas continued to shout at his men. Maybe she should have left. Maybe she still could.

Pushing a crate against the wall, she jumped over it, walking quietly away from the camp to the beach, where she sat down to think. Could she really swim to shore ? Vaas had probably said that in jest, he had warned her about the sharks. Maybe he wanted her to be eaten. He didn't really seem to care.

     "I found her, jefe !"

Or not.

Y/N recognized the voice of Carlos, Vaas' right-hand man. There were several footsteps, then mumbles, and finally a single person who came to sit next to her.

     "Nena, come back to camp. You scared us, that's not nice."

     "I'm staying here. You don't want me on your side anyway."

     "Mi corazon..." he sighed. "You know very well why I am angry."

     "No, I don't know. I mean, yes I left. It was chaos, and I didn't want to die. But I came back, you should be happy."

     "But you had no choice, right amor ? I guess your friends died, or you lost them in the jungle, and you thought 'Damn, what do I do now ? Oh, I know, I'm going to go back to Vaas, that idiot Vaas. He adores me, he never refuses me anything, he's my bitch, he can't live without me, he's going to take me back.' And of course I'll take you back, because I'm really an idiot, and I love you more than anything hermosa, but it hurts. It really hurts, shit."

After that, Y/N finally stopped sobbing, continuing to watch the ocean. He was stupid and angry, but not for the reasons they both thought.

     "The others took a boat."

     "... What ?"

     "We found a boat. I left before they started it, but I guess they're home now. Or drowned. I don't know. But they were fine when I left. When I decided to leave. To return to the camp."

To return with you. Because I wanted to.

Vaas stared at her for a long time, before rubbing his face and then his skull, visibly embarrassed.

     "Damn, nena... I'm an asshole."

     "Yes."

     "You came back... Shit. You're as stupid as me."

     "Excuse me ?" she was indignant, finally looking at him, annoyed.

     "I thought you had no choice, but you chose me. Me ! Me, and this shitty island, and this shitty life, when you could have left, been safe, happy, found a good guy, and have a great life. I would have understood. But no, me ? Shit. I'm super happy right now. I feel like my heart is going to explode. Can I kiss you ?"

     "Go to hell."

     "Come back to camp with me, tesoro." he whispered in her ear, his eyes sparkling, his hands hugging her tightly. "I was an asshole, sorry."

Vaas was not perfect. He knew it and he knew that she knew it. Even though he did his best to make her feel good and have everything she wanted, he understood why she had disappearred, he would have understood if she had left the island, and he couldn't imagine that she came back of her own free will.

     "You're as crazy as me, aren't you nena ? Mi nena. Mi mejor mitadn mi media naranja."

     "Fine, we're going home." she muttered, feeling a little too hot between the sun and Vaas kissing her again and again on the neck while purring words of love in Spanish.

No doubt he was right, and she was just as crazy as he was, but it was fucking fate after all, and she had accepted it.

[proshippers-against-censorship]

I want to confess something kinda funny about one of my fics because I saw a post somewhere about how antis put "not a ship" under their work (and then the work itself has the most sweetest shippiest vibe ever lol). I hope this is amusing.

I made this one fic about a pair of siblings, a fic I intentionally wanted to make platonic because I do not ship them personally. I don't judge anyone shipping them, I myself just don't for whatever reason. All I wanted to do was write a nice wholesome fic for them.

Except I'm abysmal at writing non-shippy physical touch and emotional exchanges. I mainly do various flavours of angsty romance or aromantic sexual relations, so... some of the points at the fic I thought "this is gonna come off as kinda maybe romantic isn't it". So, what I remedied it with was a tag. I tagged it with 'not a ship' of course. Because that's gonna fix it, right? Literally slapped it on like a piece of tape on a burst pipe. I'm so smart!!1

Now, it's OK if people read my fic with shipping in mind, it really is. The point is that I'm such a failperson that when I try to write cute gen friendships it comes across like they're in danger of tripping into a booty grabbing hug all the time and it's so mortifyingly funny now that I think of it after the fact.

Imagine wanting to draw a circle and going about it by drawing a square with extremely rounded corners. Like technically it passes for a circle but there's something vaguely suspicious about it. And you wonder if people see it that way as well.

I'm thinking of taking the tag out but then again it's just so damn funny maybe I should leave it there for giggles because maybe it'll crack a bonafide sibling shipper up, idk. Moral of the story I'm the writer equivalent of the doujin artist doing cheeky shit like automatically inserting messed up ass and tiddy shots into serious emotionally impactful scenes. I'm the mfer that draws the old evil man with plump glossy lips and big naturals.

Anyway have a beautiful Sunday my lovely people 🫶

Pfft.

[a-view-without-light-pollution]

Part 3

THE REGULAR SCHMEGULAR. MEET THE SQUATTER---------

The job was easy, up to 69th floor, cross the hallways and office doors, reach the SOLDIER correspondence office, drop the packages at the front desk, let the guy at SHINRA sort who they went to, get paid. JOB DONE. But as it gets with "safe and steady"..the thrill is gone..where's the danger? WHERES THE FUN??

Maybe we can get into some trouble today? Well heck! Delivery packages to SOLDIER floor were late tonight..and the floor seemed sleepy, no SOLDIERS pacing around waiting for assignments...no busy office workers going about the floors. Tonight, you decide to explore, carrying a few tools, maybe sneak into some rooms or do some climbing. THIS WAS THE HIGHEST BUILDING IN MIDGAR! The view of the city oughta be killer, so tonight's the night you get up to the highest point of the building and seek the stars.

Packing extra tools in the backpack and lugging several packages for SOLDIER correspondence office, you set off. Up to 69th floor, passing hallways and doors, you reach the "SOLIDER CORR" office to find a note reading "LEAVE ALL PACAKGES IN THE LOCKBOX. BACK IN 4 HOURS"..JUST MY NIGHT! Quickly dropping off all 15 packages, you take off, but instead of heading back down the elevator, you take one of the balcony doors along the main corridor next to the elevator. Big ceiling to floor windows meant to light up the halls with natural daylight, now an eerie green glow at night...the reactors surrounding Midgar.

The breeze outside is cool and inviting and Midgar is a carpet of twinkling lights, cast green at this time of night, like a gritty LO-FI photo of a sick city.

The view is amazing..but you wanna go higher!! With a bit of snooping, you find that the spacious outdoor balcony has some type of access ladder to what appears to be maintenance passages. Most likely for repairing of building dish antennae, window repair, and who knows what else but the best part? Access to vents that lead back into the building! Right before heading in the vents, you spot yet another ladder, but this one is hidden and locked. Nothing your tools can't get past. Here, the ladder leads to a walkway... a GLASS WALKWAY that seems to circle the outside of this side of the SHINRA building. The complicated nature of this structure is...WEIRD, but questions later, exploring continues. How strange that this glass walkway seems to be "mirror shine" on the outside, SHINRA has its own way of doing things.

Awe-struck at this weird magic-land, glass walkway you continue..expanse of MIDGAR tiny and twinkling...but something catches your eye. The OTHER side of the walkway (the one that runs along the side facing the SHINRA building) faces offices you can LOOK INTO! ODD... but with SHINRA, everything was odd.

The midnight hour had quiet offices, small lights blinking strange signals on phones and fax machines that were sleeping, unused in the night. The glass walkway dips a bit and shows you a different floor to observe... THE SOLDIER FLOOR! ok...ok..ok...what to do?? You've been out here 45 minutes, there's time!

OBSERVING SOLDIER floor from above unnoticed?! LET'S DO THIS! There's gotta be plenty of dirty, underhanded stuff to spy on! Unfortunately, SOLDIER floor offers nothing but views into SOLDIER waiting rooms, TVs, empty chairs, soft empty couches...the floor was silent? I guess someone's being hung out to dry. NOTHING WORTH SNOOPING ON! Except....could it be? Yes! movement! Movement in a training room off to the side of a hallway..a young man. DOING SQUATS AT 1:45 AM?

Yes.. there he is. A strong, well-built man, with a frenzy of flowing black spiky hair with.....with a sword on his back? Holy hell, that's the biggest sword you'd ever seen!... doing squats.

From here, you can't hear him, but he's... he's counting them, smiling with EVERY squat completed, confident, and beaming. Squatting done..push ups started.. counting and beaming again, then back to squats. There wasn't a single thing alive or moving in that moment, on that floor but this man, doing his squats, and you, well...you can't pull away....what's so interesting?

It's HIM...he looks HAPPY and confident, smiling. He finishes, but he's got energy, pacing the floor, flipping through his phone, laughing, and running to a nearby vending machine.

Are all SOLIDERs this energetic? You figured giving your life away to SHINRA in it's army wouldn't leave you with enough time or happiness to smile or enjoy life, but there he was, this guy..smiling and laughing on his own. That's really all it took....the building vents forgotten, digging up dirt on SHINRA forgotten, even the carpet of twinkling lights that was Midgar forgotten.

All that was worth watching up here was the young man and his energetic squats.

[cyncerity]

okay was rereading how Tommy and Ranboo met and fun question I have is clothing.

What kind of clothing does everyone wear? Like Boggins wouldn't wear green and such like leafman and I know I've got the actual movie for reference, but like what's your take?

Like Bugfolk would surely be different too right?

Also also I just wanna know, what kind of fur is ranboos jacket made from? cause its half black half white and my first thought was: hehehe skunk jacket.

And also while we're on the the topic of clothes: weapons and armour.

What do you imagine each races preferred choice of weaponry is and made from what? Cause I'd imagine certain bug folk would have natural defence mechanisms like spiders and venom ya know? So would they still use a weapon?

Where as I kind of imagine boggins bigger and bulkier so they'd probably prefer hand to hand combat but then again also they ride bats in the movie so theres that as well as leafmen and their bows on hummingbirds.

Curious I am :3

Don't have to answer them all but thanks for your time 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

ALL WONDERFUL QUESTIONS THANK YOU

ok first with the clothes: boggins wear lots of furs and weird armor-esqe things (like the shells of those spikey circle plants as shoulder guards [i don’t know what the spikey plants are called but if you google that they’ll come up sorry for my non american readers who have no fuckin clue what i’m talking about] or like bug shells as shields). bone jewelry/accessories, giant stitching, lots of sacks, bandages, belts, lots of overlayed raggedy fabrics. i took a lot of inspiration from viking type clothing. basically the boggins wear all this because their part of the forest doesn’t have much/any sun and they mostly live underground or in the trunks of dead trees where it’s very damp and cold.

as for leafmen, they don’t wear clothes. they’re perfectly built to survive in their natural habitat and since they’re basically sentient plants there isn’t really a need for clothes anyway, if you get what i’m saying. they all have different types and patterns of leaves which can look a lot like clothes and provide some extra support like clothes do, but they don’t put anything extra on their bodies unless it’s practical (like bags) or pretty (some leaf men wear jewelry).

as for bugfolk, they’re somewhere in between. most of them only wear clothes for an aesthetic or for practical reasons. Like, a warm weather bugfolk that lives in the bogs would probably wear a coat. but most of them are kinda like cartoon animals in the sense that they wear whatever clothes they want. like, think of the mickey mouse gang, and how some wear pants and no shirt, shirt and no pants, etc. that’s how bugfolk are. they just mix and match.

also thank you for the Ranboo skunk jacket comment i didn’t even think about what his clothes would be made of but yes canon it’s skunk fur now.

as for weapons, i’ve had some ideas about those too >:)

ok so first off, big folk with natural defenses probably either don’t carry weapons or carry small ones. bugfolk that can fly probably only carry small weapons as well as to not weigh them down, given that it’s almost always a better option to fly from danger than fight. ground dwelling bugfolk are probably the more bulky and tough kind of bug (ants, beetles, etc) so they are probably gonna be fine in a fight without a weapon but probably carry bigger ones to be safe. also bugs are strong, so i can totally imagine an ant carrying around a sledgehammer double it’s body weight like it’s nothing just in case lmao. but all in all, most of them probably just carry the equivalent of a pocket knife or maybe a machete or something.

as for boggins and leafmen, i actually have a couple of visual references i pulled from pinterest! most of the time they use very similar types of weapons, but created very differently and sometimes with very different purposes. Boggins, being much bigger and tougher than leafmen, create weapons that are mostly close range, giant, and pack a powerful hit. Leafmen, being more nimble and fast than boggins, create weapons that highlight their best way of fighting, which is mostly long range. Both use long (like a bow and arrow) and short (like a sword) range, though.

starting with boggins, they love using bones in their weapons. they also use a lot of belts, straps, and bandages in their weapons along with their clothes. all in all, their weapons aren’t as well put together as a leafmens, but they focus more on brutality, size, and endurance than making their weapons look pretty. all in all they make the scariest fuckin weapons ever and this is definitely part of the reason leafmen think they’re bloodthirsty monsters.

leafmen, however, have a lot more class with their weapons. it’s way more civilized, and they have more complex and harder to craft weapons. i especially like the idea that they have things like the first picture made out of vines and stuff that they can use to swing and maneuver through a fight, which a boggin can’t do cause they’re not as nimble.

the movie itself also had this little piece of concept art, which also highlights the differences well;

and thank you for asking questions!! i love putting a needless amount of effort and thought into world building so when i get questions like this i get super excited hskdlskjs

so please ask more if you want to!! i’m working on drawing stuff for the other asks but i wanna talk about everything!!

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

28 DAYS: CHAPTER SIX

Summary: Dean Winchester is an addict and an alcoholic, a USMC veteran, a father, and an older brother. As Battalion Chief with Lawrence Fire & Medical, Dean comes under investigation when he makes a dangerous and impulsive decision, defying his superiors and abandoning the team he is supposed to lead. He is given a choice to go to rehab for 28 days or jail. His lawyer insists on rehab, and Dean begrudgingly abides.

Chapter Characters: Dean Winchester, Cain, Meg Masters, Billie (Pilgrim), Pamela Barnes, Crowley, Gabriel, Rowena, Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle

Chapter Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, mention of self-harm 

Words in this chapter: 3,600

Thank you and all my love to @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker

text divider by @talesmaniac89

CHAPTER SIX

“When do your boys arrive, Pamela?” Rowena is solemn yet curious, settling in the chair beside Pamela at the breakfast table.

“Ten.”

Earlier that morning, Pamela joined Dean and Meg for what is quickly becoming their daily pre-breakfast hike and smoke, but she’s been unusually quiet, replying to questions with short answers and no eye contact. Dean and Meg have stuck by her side, regardless, while continuing to give her room to breathe.

“Well, you know we’re all here for you, dear.” Rowena reaches across the table and pats Pamela’s hand as she glances around the circle of patients who’ve bonded together out of shared trauma, loneliness, and necessity. “Aren’t we?”

Dean arches a brow at Rowena who seems to be scowling at him until he hears Crowley grumble at his side.

“This is my last full day in this Hellscape. I don’t plan to do anything to compromise my discharge.” 

“How incredibly generous and kind of heart,” Gabe snarks from Crowley’s other side. 

Dean snorts before stabbing a chunk of breakfast sausage to pop into his mouth.

Pamela’s tension radiates beside him, forcing him to realize that soon he will be in the same position as hers. 

Everyone’s recovery plan is unique to them. While Dean’s prescribed timeline is 28 days, Pamela’s is 60. Dean sees Billie one hour per day, and Gabe only sees her “when needed.” That said, they all attend group daily, and everyone has Family Weekend — 48 hours of being reminded by their loved ones of how royally they fucked up.

“I’m, uhh...” Pamela pushes away from her untouched bagel and coffee. “I’ll see you guys in a few hours.”

Dean turns and reaches for her wrist as she stands. “You sure? Want us to come with?”

Meg shakes her head from Pamela’s other side, and Pamela pulls her hand from Dean’s grasp. “No.”

Pamela walks away from the table, leaving Dean anxious. “So, you’re OK that we just sit by and watch?” 

Meg shuffles over to pilfer Pamela’s abandoned seat and food. “Admitting the nature of our wrongs in front of God and everybody is part of the whole process.”

Dean watches Pamela disappear through the door of the cafeteria, tense and resentful of the rules. He wants to help. She needs somebody to tell her that everything’s going to be OK. It feels wrong to sit by and let her suffer.

“Fuckin’ brutal, man.” He turns back to his plate and grabs his coffee to take a swig. “Gah, it’s like fuckin’ battery acid.”

“Creamer,” Meg says around a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese as she pushes the bowl of tiny creamer pods toward him.

“Gross.” Dean’s lip curls. “Do you want me to puke?”

“I’m offering a simple solution.” Meg smears jam on top of the existing mound of cream cheese, and Dean shakes his head.

“Where do you put all this food?” He marvels at Meg eating like a linebacker while remaining the approximate size of a wood nymph.

“In mah belleh,” she says before taking another massive bite of her second breakfast.

Dean chuckles and rolls his eyes, looking back at the door after Pamela’s long gone. “But, seriously, don’t you wish we could do something to help?”

Meg tilts her head and chews thoughtfully then swallows before answering this time. “I don’t. But I’m not you.” She pauses and watches as Dean pushes his food around his plate. “You can’t save everyone, Dean.”

Dean’s glad that Crowley left five minutes ago and that Gabe and Rowena are huddled in some kind of awkward mating ritual. He’s also glad they’re having this conversation now and not two weeks ago or last month. Realistically, if he and Meg had met two weeks ago or last month, he’d be telling her to mind her own fucking business and/or have her bent over the nearest hip-high surface, fucking the condescension out of her.

But Meg isn’t condescending to him, she’s just being honest.

He isn’t ready for that topic of discussion, though, so he keeps his mouth shut and finishes his breakfast.

“OK, Bodhi,” Cain starts. “I want you to tell your mom, ‘when you do drugs, this is what happens’, OK?”

Bodhi’s Pamela’s youngest. Dean guesses he’s 6 or 7 years old. The little boy nods and then turns to face Pamela straight on where they’re both sitting in the center of the circle.

“When you do drugs, you don’t do any of the fun stuff you used to do.”

His small, garbled voice confirms the kind of confusion and sadness that comes from being abandoned by a parent. 

“That’s good, Bodhi,” Cain commends before forging ahead. “Be specific, now. What was fun?”

“Well, she’d play games with us.”

Bodhi’s looking at Cain like he’s the answer to the meaning of life. He looks like Pamela; he has her eyes, and his hair is dark like hers. But Bodhi still holds out for so much hope, and the kid wears it on his sleeve.

“Tell your mom, Bodhi,” Cain gently nudges.

Bodhi nods and draws a deep breath. “When you’d play games with us and do puzzles — that was fun. And... you don’t do that when you do drugs.”

Dean’s eyes sting, so he blinks rapidly. He shifts in his chair to refocus on his friend and sees that Pamela is quietly crying.

“A purple horse, huh?” Mary asks as she trims the crust from Dean’s PB&J and places it on a plate with a handful of grapes. 

“Yeah, like in Wizard of Oz!”

Mary laughs, turning to bring the small plate and a glass of milk to the table. “A horse of a different color, very good, honey.”

They watched The Wizard of Oz the weekend before. Dean was thrilled and terrified. Mary took extra time to explain everything to him and to convince him that witches and flying monkeys weren’t real and that he was safe. She concentrated on the colors and the songs so that he could pick all the things he liked about the movie.

“Can we play Chutes and Ladders after lunch?” Dean asks, replacing the purple crayon in the box and pushing it all aside for his sandwich.

“Of course, we can.” Mary smiles.

Watching Pamela endure her son’s admission is as grueling as Dean expected it to be. He wants to tell Cain to stop this cruel and unusual punishment, but then Pamela’s smiling and hugging Bodhi.

“That was really good, Bodhi. Thank you.” Cain says. “Pamela, do you have anything else you’d like to say before Jesse speaks?”

Pamela’s smile conquers her tears. Dean hopes that she’ll say something inspirational. He needs it and assumes she does as well.

She pulls back, cradling Bodhi’s face in her hands. “Thank you, pumpkin. I love you. I’ll keep working for you and your brother, I promise.”

Dean closes his eyes and breathes. 

“That’s great, Pamela. Wonderful. OK, Jesse, do you want to tell your mom about the drawing you made this morning?”

Jesse nods, waving the picture in the air as he gets up from outside the circle so that he and Bodhi can switch seats. He settles in, looking everywhere but at his mom. 

“It’s of me and Bodhi,” he says. “Home late at night, and Mom’s not there.”

Jesse finally looks at Pamela. The kid’s angry. He’s older than Bodhi by at least four years, and despair is starting to take hold of him.

“Now tell your mom how that makes you feel when she’s not there,” Cain encourages.

“Worried,” Jesse answers, fidgeting in his seat as he drops his gaze and the drawing to his lap.

“What else, Jesse?” Cain pushes.

Dean’s chest tightens as he watches Pamela’s body language close off.

“I dunno... lonely,” Jesse mumbles.

“Anything else?”

“Scared.”

When Jesse looks up again, he’s expressionless, and Dean swallows the bile that threatens to hurl from his stomach.

“Daddy?” Dean calls to his dad from the hallway.

He’s not supposed to go into his dad’s room unless it’s an emergency. Dean doesn’t know if it is an emergency, but Sam’s been crying since the big hand was on the two and now it’s almost back around to the twelve.

“Daddy?” Dean ducks into John’s room and tiptoes to the foot of the bed. He can hear John breathing and smell a sour odor that makes his stomach churn.

“Sammy’s crying a lot and his face is hot. He won’t take his bottle.”

John doesn’t stir, but Dean is paralyzed with fear. He can’t make his feet move to take another step closer or to touch his dad. He’s afraid of how angry John will be that he came into his room without permission, he’s alone, and he’s worried that something is really wrong with Sam.

Sam’s cries become louder, and the room starts to spin around Dean. Something in his roiling gut pushes him to make a decision. He leaves John’s room, closes the door behind him, and turns the corner to go pick up his baby brother. He carries Sam with him to the kitchen, climbs up onto the chair by the phone, and dials the number at the top of the list on the wall.

“Hello,” a familiar and warm woman’s voice answers.

“Hi.” He pauses, not sure what to say. “This’s... Dean Winchester.”

“Dean, well, hi honey — everything alright?”

Dean looks into his brother’s tear-streaked face and shakes his head.

“Dean, honey, is that Sammy cryin’?”

Dean nods.

“Honey? I can’t hear you, but you stay right there, OK? Bobby and me’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.” 

After Pamela’s public humiliation and Dean’s subsequent descent into unwelcome remembrances from his past, the group breaks for lunch. Pamela eats with her boys and her mom, and Dean tries not to stare from where he sits with Meg and Gabe.

“Gabriel, you’re literally a compulsive liar, and I am literally a prostitute; flattery will get you nowhere, especially when it comes to baked goods.”

“But Key Lime’s my fave pie, Meggs.”

“Yeah, well this isn't pie, it’s cheesecake, and cheesecake’s my favorite. Piss off.” 

Dean looks down at his tray. The item in question, whether cheesecake or pie, is wholly unappealing to him. 

“Are you two arguing over this toxic waste-colored pile of goo?”

They both look at him in astonishment. “Dean-o Marino, my man, for a strapping young buck such as yourself, I find it shocking that you don’t have a better appetite.”

Gabe reaches for the plate before Dean can even remove it from his tray. 

“Just hurry up, you little gremlin,” Meg says. “Group’s in five, and it’s Jack’s turn to share today.”

Jack’s in the center of the circle where Pamela and her boys were earlier today. Once a week, group therapy is focused on one person’s story. Today is Jack’s day.

“I especially identify with Robin — compared to Batman at least, but more Jason Todd’s Robin than Dick Grayson’s.”

Dean listens with intent. Jack doesn’t offer much explanation to Dean regarding his comics, but from the way he devours them — like they’re extra pieces of those candies he loves so much — Dean knows that they’re important. 

“I’m not a fan of all graphic novels, but Batman and Robin are great vehicles for storytelling.”

‘Great vehicles for storytelling’ makes Jack sound like a literary critic and not an awkward teenage boy trying to find himself in the frames of a comic book. His passion warms the cold, dark cockles of Dean’s heart, though.

“Now that I think of it, maybe it’s just Jason Todd who I feel like I identify with because I also like Red Hood. I mean, Red Hood’s story...”

Jack shakes his head and grins. He’s using his hands to emphasize certain points and his cheeks are a deeper shade of pink than usual.  

“So... ugh, this is confusing if you don’t know about, like, how comic books are written and stuff, but in 1988 DC had a telephone poll to gauge whether or not to kill off his character, and they did, just because 72 more people said Joker should kill him, and like...”

Jack scoffs and furrows his brow, and Dean bites back a good-natured chuckle; he doesn’t want Jack to think he’s making fun.

“In 2005, they brought him back as Red Hood — resurrected him — so that he could be the new Red Hood, an anti-hero not entirely unlike Batman himself, his old boss, except Red Hood isn’t opposed to using lethal force...”

Dean peeks at Meg and Rowena to his left, and both are grinning ear-to-ear in the same way he feels. 

“Anyway, every version of Jason Todd carries a risk. Pre-crisis, Bruce is worried that Jason’ll fall in with the criminal element; post-crisis, Jason struggles with impulsivity, recklessness, rage... I could go on and on, but I just...”

He shrugs. “It’s like I’m reading about myself sometimes. I mean not physically because Jason Todd’s like 6 feet tall and over 200 pounds, but like his story, you know?” 

Cain smiles and nods, looking up from his notepad. “That’s a good share, Jack. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack replies with a satisfied grin.

“Now, can you tell the group about what happened last night?” Cain asks, and Jack’s smile falters.

He draws a breath, clearly preparing himself to reveal something less fun to talk about than Jason Todd.

“I self-harmed last night.”

Dean blinks and looks around the circle. Meg’s dropped her chin to twist her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, Rowena tsks and shakes her head, Gabe is staring at his feet, Crowley looks like he’s sleeping with his eyes closed, and Dean feels like screaming. 

“What’s that mean?” Dean asks, silently praying that Jack’s not saying what he thinks he’s saying.

Jack quickly straightens in his seat, and he turns his wide eyes to Cain. 

“Go ahead, Jack,” Cain encourages.

Jack swallows as he turns back to look at Dean. “It means that I cut myself.”

Dean shakes his head in denial. “On accident, right?”

Jack shakes his head in answer. “No. On purpose.”

Dean’s face gets hot, and his heart starts to race. “...why?”

Jack frowns. “It’s one of the ways I’ve used to cope with emotional pain—”

“Why would you— what the fuck?!”

“Dean.”

Dean’s not sure if the reprimand has come from Cain, Gabe, Meg, or all three of them, but he can’t focus on any one thing right then. He sees Cain with his phone, probably tattling to Billie again, as he stands up, shoving his chair backward out of the circle. 

“When did this happen?! Was I there?” He’s furious that he didn’t notice that the kid he shares a room with is hurting himself.

Jack’s answering nod is terse. The kid’s frightened, and Dean realizes too late that he’s frightened of him.

“Dean, step back out of the circle.” Cain walks toward him, and Dean does as he’s told. “Walt and Roy will escort you to Billie’s office.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles before looking over Cain’s shoulder. “Jack, I’m sorry. I—”

“Now, Dean.” Cain blocks his view.

+++

“You can’t save everyone, Dean.” Billie closes her door and walks toward her desk.

“Are you and Meg comparing notes now?” Dean follows her.

Billie shakes her head. “My point is, you’re here to recover just like everyone else, and part of your recovery — yours specifically — is to not interfere in another’s journey.”

“Why me specifically?”

Billie rounds her desk. “Remember yesterday when we talked about White Knight Syndrome?”

Dean hangs his head. “Yeah.”

She finds a piece of cardstock with a string attached to it in a pile on her credenza. “You can’t protect Pamela or Jack from themselves. They have to go through this.”

“OK, then gimme a pill or a shot or... I dunno a lobotomy because I clearly can’t keep my shit together. The kid looked... fuckin’ terrified of me.”

Billie arches a brow as she takes a seat in her desk chair. “Jack’s disposition aside, you’re an intimidating presence, Dean, and you use it to make things happen the way you think they should.”

Dean’s beginning to learn that he inherited his father’s temper and intimidation tactics along with his skewed moral compass and tendency to throw himself on his sword in an effort to save someone else from stubbing their toe. The trouble with that is, as Billie has explained, he can’t win someone else’s battle for them, and he can’t win his own if he’s fighting someone else’s.  

“I know.” He sighs. “What’re you writing?”

“I’m giving you a therapeutic tool.” Billie finishes her task and then hands the finished product to Dean.

He snatches it from her with a grunt of impatience before reading aloud. 

“Confront me if I try to help you slash anyone without being asked.” His eyes narrow and he looks up to glare at his therapist. “I ‘spose this fuckin’ string is so I can wear this thing like a sign?”

Billie smiles and nods as she coolly recaps her marker without a word.

Dean huffs in annoyance and defeat before reluctantly looping the sign around his neck. “Fuck.” He turns and makes his way to the door.

“Three days, please,” Billie calls after him as he exits her office.

“Yeah, yeah...”

Dean lumbers down the hall, running numbers in his head — eight days since he’s had a drink or anything approaching chill, also eight days without an orgasm that wasn’t brought on by his own hand in the shower, three days wearing a stupid fucking sign around his neck, at least 30 minutes since his last cigarette, 22 more days in this, so eloquently anointed by that little Scottish prick, Hellscape. 

Dean wants his fucking phone back just so he can Google “on what day in rehab do I stop losing my god damned mind?” because holy shit he cannot take another second of this batshit game of Asteroids. Every time he turns around there’s another giant ball of what-the-fuck flying at him. 

When he rounds the corner, Gabe is leaning on the reception desk, regaling Missouri with some bullshit Dean can’t give a fuck about.

“Missouri, you gotta get me a new roommate, this guy stinks. I mean I dunno whether he’s just eatin’ beef and, like, secreting ketones outta every pore of his...” 

Dean skirts the desk to make it down the east hall without event so he can go to his room and pout in solitude. Gabe doesn’t miss a fucking beat.

“We’re gonna come back to this, Missouri. I’m gonna be back, we’re in each other’s lives, OK?”

He scurries after Dean toward the bank of elevators.

“Hey! Hey, Dean-o, you got a sign? Lemme see, buddy.”

Dean tucks inside the elevator and lays on the button with the inward-facing arrows to close it ASAP, but he’s not fast enough. Gabe braces an arm against the door shaft.

“Confront me if I try to help you/anyone without being asked,” Gabe reads aloud then pulls a yikes face as he slinks backward, holding his palms up in surrender. “As you were, soldier.”

Dean glares as the doors finally close.

On Dean’s seventh day, he and Billie agree that the following weekend would be a good time to plan his family visitation. He is granted a 10-minute phone call to invite someone.

“There’s a... family week... thing.”

Dean’s taken to chewing his cuticles lately. It’s such a gross habit, and he doesn't even want to think about the germs, but he can’t smoke inside, and, well, recovery’s a bitch.  

“A what?” Sam asks.

Dean’s knee bounces uncontrollably. “A family session — they teach us how to talk to each other for a couple of days, and then they supervise an actual conversation.”

He looks up at Missouri who smiles and nods encouragingly.

“And, what, you want me to come there, is that what you’re saying?” 

Sam sounds tired. The kids are laughing and yelling in the background, and Dean starts to backtrack that maybe he should’ve called earlier, or later, or tomorrow.

“Why me, Dean?”

He wants to tell his brother how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that he’s made so many revelations in just seven days. He wants Sam to know that he loves him and that he’s trying.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, hi, uhh... They make you ask somebody, so it’s you or-”

“Emma.”

Dean closes his eyes.

“Dean...” The noise in the background fades until Dean can hear a door close on the other end of the receiver. “Man, we... we can work things out, OK? You’re my brother. We will work things out, we’ll talk. But, Emma... Dean, you have to call her.”

Dean tries to bite back the tears. His jaw is so tight, he thinks it might crack. “She won’t—” He sniffs and swallows, and wipes his eyes. His voice is barely more than a whisper. “Sammy, she won’t talk to me.”

Sam’s quiet at first, but Dean can hear him typing. “When was the last time you tried?”

“Christmas Day,” Dean answers, recalling with heartbreaking clarity, calling Emma’s phone only to repeatedly be sent to voicemail then texting with no confirmation the message was even delivered. “She blocked me, and when I called Lydia, she told me Em wasn’t ready.”

“OK, well, Christmas was six weeks ago. Try again?” Sam’s recommendation, as well-meaning and gentle as it is, serves to double the weight on Dean’s heart.

“Yeah, OK,” Dean agrees. “I’ll...” Dean sighs, looking up at Missouri, who’s regretfully tapping the face of her watch. “I’ll get another pass to call. How’re the kids? And Jess?”

Dean hears the bright smile in Sam’s voice when he replies. “They’re good. Jess wanted me to tell you she loves you, and the kids miss their uncle Dean.”

Dean nods as another wave of tears spills over his cheeks. “Love you, too,” he whispers. “OK, gotta go.”

The brothers bid each other farewell before disconnecting, and Dean thanks Missouri before heading to bed.

Chapter 7

Please let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist

MJ’s Masterlist

[velvetterabby]

Hello! I just wanted to say that I really appreciate your input on my CiFlower post and civility in handling this matter. However, I'd like to point out that this isn't the first time this artist has used AI art in an otherwise professional work.

For the piece on the left, look at the man in blue's hands, the man in red's chest under his coat, the layering of certain parts of the woman in white's outfit, etc.

For the piece on the right... well, you can look at almost anything in the image and it'll begin to look off, but a special shout-out goes out to this girl right here.

Besides, I wouldn't say CEViO would be above asking an artist to use AI for official art. Several CEViO products support NFTs (KZN, Kafu, Sekai, the Tohoku family, R/ME, etc.), so it's clear that CEViO does not support actual artists.

I'm not saying you've done anything wrong by disagreeing with me! Again, I appreciate your input, but I this is really important to me and I'd like to share. Thank you for your time!

Alright, once again no hate towards you I bet you're pretty young and not an artist so I can't fault you for thinking this way and can fully ignore this this post is more for my own benefit than yours it's a subject I've wanted to talk about for a while.

Unfortunately your examples aren't really that great if you want to convince me that they do AI art... if these hands are bad I don't even want to imagine what you'd say about mine...

Actually no I'll show you some bad hands I've drawn right now

(these are all from the same piece and it's unfinished but I have drawn these and I can prove it in many ways)

There's nothing wrong with not being able to draw hands, and there's nothing wrong with making mistakes it's human, it's natural. I've looked at all these example images and unfortunately I can't see anything that tips me off about it being AI.

This girl's face looks fine actually it's clearly just stylized and she's definitely not human so that's why she looks off

To be honest, to me this seems more like you personally didn't like the art that much and were looking for reasons to dislike it, which is fine and normal. It's ok to not like art u can just say that. Sure, it's kinda mean, but it's a lot nicer than tearing apart a picture and meticulously pointing out the flaws to "prove" it's AI. This kind of thing is dangerous it can really affect an artist, I know if this happened to me I'd probably leave the internet forever, not to mention spreading rumors that this artist uses AI can ruin future job prospects.

They could lose their current jobs, since using AI would be a breach of contract, and it can prevent them from getting jobs in the future. Not to mention that it could potentially lead to them getting sued because selling art that you don't own/didn't create is fraud. And getting stuck with the reputation of an AI artist if ur not an AI artist would probably make you completely unemployable.

On another note, ceVIO would not use AI art. It's clear and obvious that the community does not approve of AI art whatsoever and I'm not sure if you're in the same circles I am, but game studio Rayark made a statement that they were replacing their art staff with AI art, and they were eaten alive. They lost most of their community support and even after walking back the decision, a lot of people completely abandoned them and they lost a lot of money. CeVIO would not risk this. I did not know about the NFTs before and I won't defend them, but this and that are different situations entirely. I could walk you through how the ci flower art was not AI step by step but that wouldn't be very constructive and I doubt you would ultimately care.

Once again I'm not attacking you by saying all this, and I don't even expect you to read all this. Honestly, I didn't expect a response at all I was mostly talking to myself here. I don't know what backlash you've received and I'm sorry if you've gotten any hate that's not the way to talk to people you disagree with, and even if we don't agree I would never wish anything like that on you. Please stay safe and know that I have no ill will towards you, I just don't think speculating on whether something is AI or not without knowing the trademarks of AI art is a very good idea.

Also, on a side note, the ci flower art was released a while ago, before AI art was as advanced as now... honestly if she was AI she'd probably have a third arm, or something like that

[pridefulrose]

It is kind of irritating to me that people pretend that because I live in a Western country I do not have to deal with homophobia. This is for the aces. It is kind of annoying to me that I always have to seat and discuss my future with family member from my extended family and they always go back to these ideas that I wished I could have left behind long ago.

It all starts with deep heteronormativity and it comes in avery strange way. I am getting older and the excuses are running out for me because I do not know how to explain to people without coming out that I simply do not care enough to condemn myself to live a life with a man for the sake of having a man. The horror stories I have heard about their relationships are awful and I don’t know how they can be like you have to protect yourself from men because they are selfish, unfaithful, violent and then I am like oh ok then I will not marry and theyare like noooo you have to find a partner! Then statistics after statistic tell me that i am more likely to ot be abandoned by my partner if i develop cancer, they might use my money and want to control me financially if i get pregnant, they might turn violent after marrying me etc

Then I have my own particular set of bad experiences. For example pn how men look down on me for me being fat, they try to squash my self confidence because they can tell I am a very smart “woman”, literally men telling me I am ugly just for them to be like damn you are actually a pretty good person underneath the fat and I want to date you now. Then being treated just as a sex object not a person just a sex toy. Some men using their larger bodies to intimidate me into shutting up despite their bad treatment. Being 15 and being bullied by 18 year old guysor even being bullied by my own male teachers.

Then you have the fact that I am queer but i cannot be truly myself in a way that I want because they hold me hostage with a lot of things they would use against not me but my mother because they would attack my mother relentlessly.

Some people dont even comprehend how much I have to fight tooth and nail for them to leave me alone and let me love my two queer best friends. I cant even share how much joy I am finding in learning and getting to know all of the different flavors of queer people there exists while going to Uni. I have received comments on those few that know that maybe hanging out with queer people is hindering my chances to get a heterosexual man. As if finding a man is the greatest most rewarding experience a woman can have and not all of the accomplishments I have had despite all of the trauma and obstacles i have had to face during my short life.

To them friendship doesn’t matter and marriage is the ultimate goal. And fighting this while having to listen to the homophobic comments is really tiring.

And i don’t ont know how to say this without hurting the good men because I have loved men. I am primarily attracted to men but sometimes the future looks bleak and I do not know if I am willing to still hope.

But this is also to tell you that women have also being dangerous to me. Women had always kicked me out of their social circles. Women have never liked me and they had bullied me trying to make me fit a mold that they deem worthy. Because by nature i am weird, strange, not enough, too prideful, don’t care about social hierarchy, ignorant and unable to read their social cues. I had been ignored, casted away. I was considered to be intolerable, too loud, too happy. Someone compared me to a parrot without me knowing it was her way to tell me she found me annoying.

Women pretend that because sometimes I like women I must be in love with them. I am ace I have the advantage to be able to control the feeling I develop or not and i would rather die than ever like a heterosexual girl and tbh most of the time it doesnt even cross my mind. Sometimes queer women do this to me too, I amnice to you caus eI love you as a friend. I had a lesbian tell me why would it suck to date me even though we have never gotten along that well and it was so strange to think she believed i was hopelessly in love when i literally just treated her as a precious personin my life and at no point i thought of her as a potential partner.

Women also actively participate in maintaining the sexist, homophobic world we live in.

[maggicktouched]

My Drabbles: Me and the Devil I've had this idea in my head a while, and I finally broke down and let my inner head convince me to write it out so maybe it'd stop plaguing me. I'm probably absolutely rotten at writing Matt Murdock, but at this point I write so little actual content I don't care as long as my brain focuses on something for long enough to string coherent sentences together.

It had to be foul play. That was what Midori had said in her letter. The Magical Division of the Central Park Zoo was one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the witches’ world. It had to be, given its incredibly close proximity to the human world. A security breach could mean anything from the space warping spells malfunctioning and physically overtaking the mortal realm, or a dangerous creature destroying the city. Either were very bad for the humans of New York City, and they’d never had a single issue before.

Until she’d gotten the letter.

Beck had seen wildfires dozens of times in her life wandering the forests on the west coast of the country, but fire was not an element she underestimated. She’d never been this close to a blaze so large. The heat was suffocating, even well outside the range where the flames could touch, but worse even was the roar. It took no real, discernible shape, but it sounded alive. Claws of crimson dragged against the metal frame of the warehouse and it screeched like a dying thing. Orange teeth ground wood and plastic and fabric to ash in its maw. And it roared. Roared and roared like a lion. Roared and never wanted for air.

Beck swallowed and pressed forward, out of the shadows cast by the fire and into its blazing light. She knew the beast that had caused this inferno was inside, watching her. She had to contain this before it took half the city and everything got much, much worse for everyone, but doing that without spooking the creature was a delicate task.

“You’re going to fry like a chicken leg if you take another step. Forget this. Leave the mortals to their doom. Come away!” Angrboda was alive with a rage nearly as hot as the warehouse fire. Beck knew it was to cover up the fear she was feeling, and fought to keep the emotion from sinking its teeth into her. If she panicked, there was a good chance more people would die.

“If I can get closer, I might be able to calm her down.” She replied. Silently, pressing her thoughts back across the distance between them. Boda was hidden on a rooftop a few buildings away. Against the night, she was completely invisible from this distance, but Beck knew she was watching carefully. Just as Habrok was circling in the air above, calling to her. He didn’t like this plan either.

But it was best for everyone. Well—maybe not for her, but she would endure. She always did.

Her hand lifted to press against the air near the flames. Her education had included some spells for fire manipulation, mostly for safety purposes, but she had displayed no natural aptitude for them, and they certainly had not covered anything of this magnitude or intent. Still, she took in a deep breath, focused on a thread of energy, and pulled her hand back. A little too hard.

The fire rushed out of the building and licked at the iron wand she was holding. Immediately the heat was too much to bear, and it clattered to the concrete as she cursed. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and her knees were weak.

Ok. That wasn’t a great approach. The beast had clearly felt her and lashed out. 

Maybe she could soothe it from here. At least a bit, and maybe then she could mold the flames. 

Beck held out her hands, palms facing the sky, and breathed. The smoke threatened to choke her, so she called Habrok down from the sky. He swooped in front of her and circled, then dove again, and each time the smog cleared a bit.

The next time she took a breath, her voice cut the air clear and strong. It pierced the maddening snarl of flames and circled in the night air, high and then low, steady and gentle. She did not sing words, kulning did not use them. It didn’t need them. Instead, she called out to the beast like a shepherd in the hills. The hypnotic tune seemed to cool the air around her a bit, and she closed her eyes, thinking of rocky mountains and calm streams flowing from their peaks; she thought of the home where this creature belonged. Its ashen earth, its pristine sky, its serene stillness and the magic that permeated every rock and tree and creature that lived there.

This time, she lifted her hand, never stopping her song, and ran it over the flames like a man stroking his dog. They twisted and flickered, alive beneath her touch. It burned, but not as badly as it should have. Closer they crept, and louder she sang. They encircled her hands and she could feel the anxious energy in them now. Beck lifted both hands and parted them, and they cleared a small path to the missing door to the warehouse.

She went to take a step closer, but her singing came to a strangled stop. Stars exploded in her vision, and the song turned to a scream of alarm as she sailed through the air. The thing that had hit her was much much larger than her, and its weight dragged her down nearly as fast as it sent her flying. Her control broke, and with it, her spell over the beast in the blaze. It screamed along with her as she was pinned to the ground.

Her head twisted away just in time to dodge a fist. Without thinking, she flexed her hand and her wand came flying toward her. The man jerked his head to the side, not quite looking at the object, but clearly noticing. He rolled off her just in time to avoid its sharp edge slicing open his face. Then, before she could even get a decent look at her assailant, he did the unthinkable.

His fingers closed around her wand.

Beck let out another cry, this one mixed with shock and violation and anger. She was scrambling to her feet, panting, her own magic ripping through the air around her invisibly. It took a savage grip on every living, breathing thing in a mile’s radius and a chorus of cries filled the air. The creature in the warehouse responded first, howling a terrible shriek above the growl of fire. Then the yelps and frantic barks of dogs, the yowl of cats, the buzzing of insects, and the cries of birds.

But it didn’t last long. Her magic spoke through her wand too, along with the hundreds of witches that had wielded it before her. By the time she stood to face him, he was yelling out in pain, his knuckles white around the metal, his whole arm shaking as the power flowed through his mortal body. A body never meant to contain that manner of power. White tendrils of light curled up his arm and began to crawl over his chest, and he was writhing, but couldn’t move to come after her again.

She’d kill him, if she didn’t get ahold of herself. Against her better judgment, she brushed aside her rare fit of rage and swallowed the sickening feeling inside her. The light faded from the man, the wand dropped to the ground. She thought maybe he’d stop, maybe they might square off. She could explain herself if he just let her.

He was dressed in a costume of some kind. There were stubby horns on his head like a young billy, and his entire outfit was a blood red. His mask covered his face, even his eyes, but she didn’t need to see them to know he was enraged.

He rushed her again, before she could think to stop him, and this time his fist connected with her face. She stumbled, but caught herself on a chain link fence that rattled in protest. Beck hissed, pressing a hand to her eye, and managed to evade his next attack. He’d likely been counting on the blow to stun her, but she’d taken too many punches in her life to flinch.

She fought the rising tide of panic that screamed at her to shift. He was twice her size now, but as a bear his pretty little costume as well as his skull would crack like an egg. 

“Fight! Kill him!” She heard Angrboda snarl in her mind. “I’m coming for you.”

“No!” She shrieked, both aloud and in her head. He hit her again, this time in the gut, and as she sagged forward she sank her human teeth into the side of his jaw—the only part of him that was exposed, as she tried to kick him off of her. She was no match for him. He didn’t even flinch, and she could taste copper in her mouth.

Once more he had her on the ground, but he was behind her, and now his elbow was around her throat. She could hear her familiars panicking in her mind, she could hear a shrill cry, but her vision dimmed quickly. It didn’t matter how much she kicked, how hard she squirmed, how she dug at his arm, he didn’t budge. 

“Stay away.” She urged her familiars in her head. “Stay away. I can’t lose you too.” 

From her spot on the ground, she could see something small rising up from the flames and disappearing into the night sky, and with the last of her breath she squeaked out a cry. She gave a silent bid to Harbok to follow it, and the world went dark around her.

She woke to a pounding head and a sore throat. The world was alive with sound. Feet stamping, keys of keyboards clicking, people talking in the distance, heavy doors rolling open and clicking shut. She could smell waste and alcohol and artificial flowers that sought to wipe out the other two sickening aromas. 

Her eyes fluttered open and the world swam. The sound that came out of her was broken and frightened, and a second later, a hand pressed against her shoulder. Before she could think, she flinched—her eyes instantly screwing shut once more. It caused a stab of pain to radiate through her skull. 

“Hey. Hey you’re ok sugar.” It was a woman’s voice. She smelled like stale alcohol and perfume. “Come on now. Can you sit up?”

Cautiously, she looked at the stranger. She was fairly young, but Beck wasn’t great at assessing the age of mortals. An adult, obviously. Well past her twenties. Maybe in her mid thirties or early forties? Her hair had been straightened at one time, but was frazzled now, and her make up was creased and cracking in places as if it’d been applied days ago and not washed off. She was pretty, but the state she was in didn’t say anything promising about the situation they were in.

“There ya go. You got it.” She coaxed, helping the young witch into a sitting position. The entire world swam and she felt nauseous, like she might throw up, but she held it in. Beck had seen the expression of pity on many faces in her life, and she hated it. She must look like shit.

“You and your boyfriend have it out? He gave you quite the shiner.” She tilted up Beck’s head, tutting. 

“No. A random jackass on the street jumped me.” She said. She barely recognized the sound of her own voice. Beck looked out the iron bars of the holding cell and swore. This was the last thing she needed right now, and she didn’t have a lot of time before someone realized where she was and shit got ugly.

“Jesus. What’s the world coming to?” The woman took a seat on the hard metal bench in the cell and leaned her head back against the wall. Her eyes cut to the left to look at Beck, but she could barely see out of her right eye with how swollen it was. “I’m Jasmine, by the way. They got me in on solicitation. How ‘bout you?”

“Barbra.” The lie was instant, automatic. She’d lied about her name a million times in her life. “I go by Babs. And honestly? I have no fucking clue.”

They didn’t say anything else for a minute, and by the time she had mustered up the energy to try, someone walked into the room. He looked about the same age as her fellow prisoner, but he didn’t wear it as well. He was thin and his cheeks were hollow and his beard was short and dotted with a half dozen pimples. 

The man was gentle with her, to his credit. There were burns on her hands that needed to be addressed, but thankfully her glamour charm had concealed them to the mortals. She hissed when he pressed the tips of her abused fingers to the electronic pad again and again, confused by whatever the results he was getting.

“Marge!” Beck flinched when he shouted, but he didn’t stop. “Marge this computer’s fuckin busted again!”

They tried four more times, then attempted to use actual ink (which she was certain was not good for her concealed wounds) and then finally conceded that whatever they wanted, they weren’t going to get. They took her picture, asked her half a dozen questions, and she lied every time.

Her saving grace was that she had no record. She didn’t even have a birth certificate. In the human world, she did not exist. Maybe it raised more red flags, but it also bought her time. She could lie until she found a way out of here. 

She had to find a way out of here. Before someone came to get her out and everything went tits up.

When she returned to the holding cell, Jasmine was gone. Court, they said, and she’d be going that way soon. That left her alone with a man sleeping off a drunken stupor in the corner, and a watchful officer typing away on his computer outside the cell. Beck took the small semblance of privacy to look herself over. Her ribs were bruised, and she knew her throat was too. And her eye. God, for a guy in a onesie, he could throw a fucking punch.

She should have turned him into a shrew. If she had only had a half second to think.

Beck shut her eyes and sat cross legged on the bench. She pushed out her thoughts to her familiars, “Are you two alright?”

“The beast sleeps. But it is only a matter of time.” Habrok answered gravely. 

Beck nodded.

“I followed our little friend.” Angrboda said, swiftly changing the subject. Beck resisted the urge to sit up a bit straighter as she listened. “He attacked two other people and nearly ripped his footy pajamas jumping over a fence while running after a third. The man running away called him ‘The Devil’ but the first one just called him Daredevil.”

“Dramatic.” Beck mumbled aloud, then caught herself. 

“He’s an attorney.” The feline continued. In her mind’s eye she can practically see the cat haughtily curling and uncurling her long, silken tail. “A shitty one. I’m guessing from the state of the office. Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law.”

“Which one is he?” 

“Murdock. Matthew Murdock.” She said, and Beck could tell by her tone there was something she was dying to spit out.

“What is it?”

A snort of laughter rang through her mind. “He’s blind. You got your ass handed to you by a mortal that can't even-”

“Blind?!” Again her tongue got the better of her, and the officer at the desk looked up, alarmed. Beck gave him a sheepish smile and got ahold of herself. “There’s no way. The guy dodged a flying wand coming at him from behind. He knew exactly where to hit.”

“There’s all types of aberrant mortals these days. Maybe he’s one of them. He certainly isn’t a witch. I’ve made sure.”

Beck bit her lip and tried to think. That was shocking, but not nearly as important. An idea was forming in her head.

“Hey!” She called, standing to walk to the front of the cell. When the guard didn’t look up she gave a little whistle. “What’s your name?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Officer Smith.”

“Smith. I want to call my lawyer. Now.”

He let out an exasperated sigh and stood up. His rolling chair clanged loudly on the cement walls, and his keys jingled as he pulled them free. He took her out of the cell and down the hall to a small room with a phone, and Angrboda slowly and carefully read the phone number off of the sign in front of the building. Her head was still spinning a bit, and the incessant ringing made her wince, but blessedly it was answered fast.

“Nelson and Murdock, how may I direct your call?” A woman’s voice said briskly.

“I need to talk to Matthew Murdock.”

“He’s with a client at the moment, can I take a message?”

“No. No this is an emergency. Tell him that he can answer my call, or the first one I make when I get out of here is the city papers to have a long, thorough discussion about his—moonlit activities.” She wasn’t normally so harsh, but she needed to get out of here fast. It was a miracle Harper hadn’t burst through the door already and ripped the whole station apart.

“One moment please.” 

There were footsteps, whispers she couldn’t discern, and a hasty apology in a congenial masculine tone. The voice of her attacker. It made her heart start to race with panic that she forced down. He took the phone, she could hear him breathing. 

“Mr. Murdock. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” 

“Trying to burn down a city block generally gets people on my bad side.” He replied sharply. 

Beck laughed. “You thought I was—I thought attorneys were supposed to believe everyone was innocent until proven guilty.”

“I saw you.”

“Well we both know that isn’t true.” Beck stopped herself, blind jokes were beneath her, and would only lead to more hostility. “Listen, we need to talk, and I’m on a bit of a tight schedule. The employees in this shithole you dropped me in aren’t exactly accommodating. So I doubt a phone conference is an option. Get here as soon as you can and I’ll tell you exactly what you saw.”

“Why should I help you? You don’t have any proof of what you saw.”

“Can you say that for sure? I found you, didn’t I? Surely you’d like to know how.” She said smoothly.

He went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again his words were cold as ice. “Maybe that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

So he wasn’t one to be cornered. Good to know.

“Fair enough. Then let me give you this incentive: there’s more than one devil wandering the streets of this city, and if they find me before you do, things are going to get very, very messy for the lovely employees of this fine establishment. Tick-tock, Matthew.” Beck hung up the phone and let the threat dangle. The officer took her back to her cell and shoved her inside. 

All she could do was wait.

He arrived in a suit with a frown on his face and a pair of little red glasses on the bridge of his nose. In one hand was a briefcase, and in the other was a long, slender stick that they both knew he didn’t need to get around. He filed into the meeting room behind her and shut the door.

“Barbra Fry.” He greeted, his fingers wandering over a handful of papers without looking at them. Was that for show as well? Beck mirrored his irritable frown. “You have five minutes.”

“How much privacy do we have?” Beck asked, unable to stop how nervous she felt. She didn’t like being caged, and she didn’t like being watched. 

“Attorney client privilege. They can’t listen to this meeting. Now what do you want?”

“Isn’t that a nifty rule.” She said, leaning back in her chair and curling her hair around her finger before wincing and stopping herself. “They can’t get around that?”

“You’re wasting my time. Given your complete and utter lack of a record and your burnt off fingertips, I know this isn’t your first run in with the law.”

“My fingertips are burnt off because I was burned last night, jackass.” She hissed. 

“Good. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before setting half of Hell’s Kitchen on fire.” He snapped. This wasn’t going well. “Three minutes.”

Beck took a breath and tried to settle her racing thoughts. He swore they weren’t listening, but she still lowered her voice.

“I don’t know what you saw or—felt or whatever your situation is here. But you’ve got it the wrong way around. I can’t tell you all of the details here. I don’t care if you say they aren’t listening. But I haven’t ever hurt anyone.”

“The flames were coming from your hands.” He hissed, like he thought she was lying and detested her for it. 

“No, they weren’t. If I had control of that fire, why wouldn’t I have burned you alive when you rolled off of me? If you know what I can do, or if you even suspect what I am, then surely you’re smart enough to realize that I could have hurt you back there. I could have killed you. But I didn’t. And I didn’t start that fire.” She gave him a hard look, because at this point she couldn’t tell if he was acting or not with his bumpy paper and his glasses and his eerie ability to navigate everything without fumbling.

“You’re lying. Your heart is racing.”

Beck made a frustrated noise in the back of her sore throat. “My heart is racing because I’ve been kept in enough cages in my life. They make me nervous. Even worse, I may not hurt anyone, but I wasn’t lying when I said that other people will if they find out I’m here. My ex and I have a—complicated relationship. And she’s not known for her niceties. If she finds out I’m here and sees me in this state… she’ll hurt people.”

He sat back in his chair. Five minutes had to be up, but he wasn’t leaving. After a moment he pressed. “Your ex?”

“Harper Byrns.”

“Harper Byrns? The Harper Byrns? Jesus why didn’t you just say Tony Stark?”

Beck smacked her fist on the table in frustration and let out a shrill, yelp of pain. It was the first time she saw him soften a bit. He bit the inside of his cheek, but it was there, a glimmer of concern. When she spoke again, she was trying desperately not to cry. 

“Goddamn it for once in my whole life I’m not lying. And even if I was, the thing that set those fires is still out there. My familiar is watching her, but it is only a matter of time before she spooks again and another building goes up in flames. Next time it might not be an abandoned warehouse. Please. I am begging you for your help.” She said shakily. Before he could respond, she tried to sweeten the pot. “I can pay you anything. Anything at all. Name a number, and you got it. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Please.”

He sighed irritably and nodded. “They don’t have much to hold you on. I can get you out.”

Beck could have collapsed from relief. He gathered his papers and left the room for a moment, then returned with a bag of her things. Most notably her wand. He wasn’t touching it, thank the spirits, but he didn’t give it back. Instead, he put the entire bag of belongings into his briefcase with a firm look, as if he dared her to argue. She didn’t, even if it bothered her. 

He took her to a taxi parked behind the building and opened the door for her, which she was grateful for, but the ride to his office was relatively silent aside from the driver, who was singing along softly to music in a language she didn’t know.

“Did they-” He clenched his jaw, as if the words coming out of his mouth were physically uncomfortable. “Do you need to go to a hospital or something?”

“No!” She said, unable to stop the fear from her voice. Instinctively, she put her arms to her chest to protect the wounded flesh. “No! No I don’t… No. Please.”

The driver of the taxi glanced in his mirror, and Beck shut her mouth. There was a slight tremble to her body that she was barely containing. He must have done it to soothe her, but when Murdock reached over to put a hand on her shoulder, she flinched away from him, violently. 

Goddamn it. 

“You ok back there, lady?” The older gentleman asked. The car slowed a little as if he might stop, but Beck nodded hastily. 

“Sorry. I mean, yes. Yes I’m fine.” She answered, looking out the window. God the city here still made her sick. 

A few minutes later the driver pulled into a spot in front of the building Boda had described to her, and to his credit, once more, Murdock helped her out of the vehicle. Standing up from a sitting position made her ribs burn from where he’d punched her but she hid it well enough.

“Don’t—enhanced normally heal quicker?”

“I don’t know what that means.” She muttered, slowly tackling the steps one at a time. He was walking behind her, as if he was afraid she’d fall, but she didn’t like not being able to see him. “But to heal faster I’d need a spell or a potion to fix me up. I don’t have either of those. I’m just lucky Boda was able to pull my glamour charm over the burns. I’d have much rather woken up in that cell than the hospital.”

Murdock grunted, and Beck was too out of breath to hazard a guess at what it meant. They went up one more flight of steps before blessedly reaching the office. A blonde man was talking to a slender woman at a desk when they walked in, and they both looked at her with unconcealed horror on their faces that made her wince. 

“Oh my god!” The woman was on her feet in an instant, and Beck took an instinctive step back when she rushed forward, only to bump into Murdock and jump a bit. These people were going to give her a heart attack. The woman froze, and Murdock raised his hands as if to show he meant no harm, but she knew what those hands were capable of. Boda was silent in her head, but Beck could practically feel her disapproval. This wasn’t the smartest plan, but in her defense, it’d been the best one she could think of. At least for the population of the city. Besides, even if she couldn’t help being jumpy, she didn’t actually think he was going to beat her up again. Probably.

Murdock scooted around her and took the other man by the arm, leading him into a room to the side. She could see them through the half-closed blinds of the window talking heatedly, but couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? Anything at all. Water, coffee, soda, tea? I’ve got some bagels in the kitchen or-”

“I’m fine.” That was a lie. She was in one of the worst positions that she’d been in for a very long time, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it together. 

“Mrs. Fry. This way.” Murdock said as he finally emerged from the other office. He ushered her into another room and shut the door behind them, muttering to the other two that he wasn’t to be disturbed. 

“Beck.” She said, gingerly sitting down. His brow furrowed. “My name is Beck. Beck Tandy. But don’t think that’ll get you any more information on me. Witches aren’t exactly—keen on paperwork.”

“Witches. Right.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Is that who is starting the fires? Witches?”

“Uh–well, maybe? And no. Look, can you uh, can you maybe not stand over me like that?”

He considered her request for a moment, and then went to sit in a chair behind his desk. Beck let out a soft sigh of relief. He still looked annoyed with the whole situation. He likely didn’t believe her, and she couldn’t blame him for that.

“The thing starting the fires is called a uuniorava. It is a small, but very dangerous magical creature that kind of looks like the lovechild of a bat, a ferret, a squirrel, and a porcupine. About the size of a large housecat. They’re native to a certain mountain range in Sweden, but the magical division of the Central Park Zoo was given permission to house a mating pair in hopes their offspring might boost the dwindling natural populations.”

“The—magical—division… of the central park zoo.” He said slowly, rubbing his temples. “You know this isn’t easy to swallow, right?”

“I can take you there, if that’s what I need to do to prove it. And I can explain more later. The important thing right now, is that a week ago, the zoo experienced an unprecedented security breach. My friend Midori runs the place, and the board is trying to pin all this on her. But she thinks someone on it is responsible. They want her to take the fall, and the animal brought in dead or alive. Which means dead. Uuniorava have some extremely valuable alchemical agents when—processed but it’s very illegal to kill one without cause. We think someone set her loose so they’d have an excuse to send poachers after her. Now every time she spooks she burns down half a city block, but she’s just an animal. She’s scared and separated from her mate and just trying to protect herself. When you came across me last night, I was trying to part the flames and get inside the warehouse. I knew if I could calm her down, she could douse the flames. But she flew off. So she’s still loose in the city and until someone catches her, the city is still in danger.”

Murdock’s fingers were drumming on the desk. It was a lot to take in, and to his credit, he wasn’t completely freaking out. Though he did look pale in the face. He opened his briefcase and pulled out the plastic baggie with her things. 

“Why you? Do you work for the zoo or something?”

Beck grimaced. “Uh, no. Dori is my best friend. She’s amazing at her job, but animals are my thing. Plus, she’s under investigation for all this shit.”

They lapsed into total silence for the longest minute of her life. She could hear the clock ticking, the muttering of his associates outside the door, the distant beeping of a car horn wandering in through the open window.

“... It really wasn’t you.” He said, as if he was only just allowing himself to believe that. “God. And I…I’m so sorry. I don’t normally just-”

“In your defense, it feels like a pretty honest mistake. Right? Trust me, a black eye, a swollen throat, and a few bruised ribs is nothing. You might have even saved my life. If I’d have gotten in there and panicked, she probably would have burned me to death.” It wasn’t the first time she’d had to reassure someone that had hurt her. It wouldn’t be the last. At least it was partially true this time. 

“You can’t go back out there like this.” He said, deathly serious. “Let me take you to a doctor. I know some people that would be discreet about it.”

“No.” She snapped. “I don’t need a doctor, but that bag in your hand could do me a whole lot of good.”

Reluctantly, he handed over the plastic bag of her things. He even opened it for her, but she noted he was extremely careful not to make the mistake of touching her wand again. Beck reached in with a soft hiss of discomfort and pulled out a small, fawnskin bag. She reached into its charmed pouches, fingering through each space until she found her potions and pulled one loose. 

“Can you, uhm.” She extended the jar of salve to him.

“Of course.” He twisted the cap, but it didn’t budge. He had to try two more times before it popped off. “That’s a hell of a seal.”

She laughed. “Yeah. Trust me things are enough of a mess in that bag. And this shit isn’t cheap.”

She took a bit in her hands and waited for it to soften from the warmth of them. The cool cream smelled of cloudberries and dandelions, and it offered instant relief to the hidden wounds on her arms. As she rubbed it in, she gave him a cautious look. “Can I ask? You can say no, but it’s kind of killing me.”

“No. I can’t see.” He said, not even needing to hear the question. “But I can sense things. Hear them, smell them, feel them.”

“Like my heart racing.” 

He nodded slightly. “Yes.”

“So why the whole, goat-man costume? Cosplaying baby Baphomet?”

For the first time since their unfortunate meeting, he smiled and it looked genuine. “It’s a devil.”

“How very—Cristian.”

He chuckled. “I was raised a good Catholic boy.”

“Yikes. Now you’re chasing criminals in red spandex and getting hickeys from witches. Which—by the way—I don’t know who covered that with makeup, but they did a shit job blending it.” She crossed one leg over the other and flexed her fingers, the burns weren’t healed entirely, but enough that she could physically use her hands without it being agony. 

“Damn. The lady at Sephora promised me this foundation was my shade.” He said, and Beck felt a little less on edge now that  he wasn’t so tense. “I’m not going to turn into a monster or something, right?”

“I’m a witch, not a vampire.”

Their conversation drifted for a while, and Beck tried to tell him what she could. He apologized about a dozen more times for the night before, and Beck brushed him off every time. She was tougher than she looked, she assured him.

They lingered around his office for several hours, waiting for the sun to go down, and when the city was swathed in darkness, she stood. 

“Thank you, for getting me out of there. And for lunch.” She said, pulling her bag over her shoulder and standing to her feet. “I meant what I said. Give me a bill, and Harper’ll write you a check. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not taking your money.” He insisted. “Are you really going to go back out there alone? I could help you.”

She shrugged. “Teamwork isn’t really my thing. Besides, she saw you last night, and will probably spook again if you show back up. Trust me, getting me out of that police station helped plenty.”

“They’ll want you to make an appearance in court. Even if it is just to drop the charges.” 

Beck snorted. “I’ll be long gone by then. And I have a sneaking suspicion all records of me being there will be too.”

[spookyspecterino]

Dr. Strange x Reader "Is It Worth That?"

⚠️ MoM SPOILER FREE

Warnings: Some violence, some blood, not a lot though.

Words: 4.8K

When Stephen Strange tracks you down for practicing forbidden magic you are forced to make a crucial choice.

(A/N): Thought of this concept one night while (re)watching the first Dr. Strange. And then immediately after watching his episode in "What If". Let me know what you think, I have lots of ideas along this same line. Enemies to lovers is my favorite trope fight me.

(A/N 2.0): Also, what the reader is doing in the beginning is based off the Dr. Strange "What If" episode in part. Ok that's all, love you.

A muffled series of blasts outside the old temple brings your attention away from your research. The stone walls tremble and small pieces of debris starts to shake loose. You look up from the old, weathered tome in annoyance, your face twisting with distaste.

Are they ever going to learn?

The answer, you already knew, was most certainly no. Especially with The Sorceress Supreme recently dead, leaving a mass of highly trained, formidable warriors at Kamar-Taj with the sense that they need to achieve something great in her absence. So naturally, they focus their combined efforts on pissing you off and ruining your hard work.

But deep down, you can’t deny that you love the effort they’re making. It’s adorable.

Another great shudder passes through the building. You glance up and around at the high walls, the ornate carvings and eroded statues all had cracks in them now. There would be time for a final summon before they were able to damage one of the anchor points for your shield spell, allowing a few warriors through. As you grabbed chalk, keeping the old book in your other hand as a guide, you set up another summoning circle. But your thoughts began to stray to a different sorcerer, one that simultaneously made your blood boil and your heart race. No doubt he would be outside, observing the others as they worked to weaken the barrier enough to get in. The idea of him sulking around, waiting for his turn to rush inside, made you laugh.

Finishing up the circle and kneeling at its edge, you tossed the chalk to the side, placed the book to your right, and brought your hands together in an almost prayer like gesture. You folded your index fingers down and slowly pulled your hands apart, keeping your fingers rigid, creating the first of many hand signs that would summon an entity from the old tome into the chalk circle. The chalk began to glow a bright red and orange hue, coloring the walls of stone. The sound of energy filled the chamber with a steady hum. You closed your eyes and focused in on the energy while you folded your hands and fingers into rapid signs.

Hushed whispering and faint sounds of movement around you threatened to distract your focus. These had started a month ago, when you began to summon the more serious magical Beings. The sounds became more prevalent when you began to summon or if your life was in danger. Very recently you could start to discern what the whispers were saying, little snippets of conversation or words. When you were summoning they would help you, guide you to your goal. If you were in a fight they would warn you or suggest plans of action.

You weren’t clueless, the whispers were from the Entities and Beings you’ve consumed from the summoning circles. At times it scared you, but the sounds and words would become reassuring and your fears would dissipate. Over time you figured it was just a side effect, you could handle it. You could handle anything. Besides, it would all pay off in the end. You could imagine their faces as you claimed your spot as the most powerful master of the mystic arts. The thought kept you going, pushing you to do forbidden magic.

The energy surged now, beaming light until there were no shadows left in the chamber. A portal began to open in the center, small at first but then gradually opening to half the diameter of the circle you drew. Out of it came a large, muscled red arm, slamming down onto the ground. Its fingers found purchase and pulled the rest of its owner up through the portal along after it. A pair of gnarled, twisting horns sitting on top of a black goat’s head emerged from the portal. Its horizontal pupils searched wildly around the room before landing on you. The Entity had the body of a human from the head down, but colored blood red. At its full height it almost reached the ceiling of the chamber, towering above you.

You rose to your feet slowly, looking up at it curiously. It opened its mouth and for a moment you thought it was going to bleat at you, but you didn’t give it the chance. You spoke an old language from the tome, the words coming out of your mouth sounding like they were spoken by someone else. The Goat Entity’s face twisted in anger (or what you guessed was anger, who could tell what different emotions looked like coming from a goat) and it cried out with a guttural roar. Its form began to change, the outline of its body created an after image as it writhed, swinging its arms around as if it was fighting something invisible.

A second later you felt a strong hold on the Entity’s presence and began to absorb it into yourself. The whispering voices reached their crescendo as the last of the Being was merged with you. The power it contained, now in your possession, hummed through your body, in your bones. When you opened your eyes you thought you glimpsed shadows retreat into the now dark corners of the chamber, the summoning circle a dulled color of charcoal. You shook your head quickly, dispelling the thoughts.

“Well, that was unpleasant to watch. I sincerely hope you don’t smell like a goat now.”

You whirled around, half startled, to face the owner of the sarcastic voice. Stephen Strange.

He stood, covered in shadow, watching you with those intelligent eyes. He made no move to close the distance, but you could see his hand fidget as he stood. Faint whispering started over your shoulder but you drowned it out quickly. Something in the back of you mind was surprised (or maybe concerned) at how easy it was.

As you slowly looked over Strange, taking in every bit of him, you couldn’t help the mischievous grin that spread across your face.

“Oh hello, Stephen. I see you couldn’t wait for your little soldiers to soften me up first- had to barge right in yourself.”

He pursed his lips “I thought I would get right to it this time.”

“Aww, no foreplay? How inconsiderate.”

He suppressed a chuckle and looked down. His dark blue robes and red cape shifted as he moved his weight from foot to foot. He only looked back up at you when he was sure he wouldn’t have a smile on his face.

“This magic is too dangerous, you have to stop.”

You tilted your head “Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. When are you going to learn? This lecture doesn’t work on me.”

This is how it always started. He would come in and try to convince you to stop and what you were doing was dangerous and blah blah blah. You guessed it was just customary, the way he did things, but it was getting repetitive. It was purely because he didn’t understand, but how could he? The star pupil of Kamar-Taj had everything he needed at his fingertips and the Sorceress Supreme herself as a teacher.

No, he would never understand your desire- your need for power. Power so strong it could fell mountains with the flick of a finger, strong enough to make craters in the Earth. Power that would make you untouchable by all the warriors at Kamar-Taj combined. Just thinking about it made you restless and the desire to summon again churned inside you.

Stephen sighed “I know, this is probably a shot in the dark…” His eyes revealed a softness to him “But I have to try, or I’d never forgive myself.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to gage his next move. Close urgent whispers temporarily distracted you and you flinched slightly at the words in your ear. You didn’t feel any breath on your skin but you could imagine it.

Attack

Attack

Blinking furiously and trying to steady yourself, you scowled at Stephen “Trying to ease your conscience, Strange? How nice, but there’s no changing the past.”

He took a step toward you “Believe me, I know.” There was no hostility in his voice, just a sadness that only comes from experience “Please, I’m trying to help you. You’re going down a path you won’t be able to come back from.”

This was new, he never tried this on you before. You were almost caught off-guard by how genuine he seemed. By now, in all the past encounters, you’d have been fighting.

You struggled to fire back a quip “Oh please, is this your latest attempt at stopping me? Using your words. So diplomatic of you.”

He worked his jaw in irritation “I understand how frustrated you are with the rules of Kamar-Taj, and what happened was unfortunate-“

“Unfortunate?” You scoffed loudly, the sound bouncing off the stone walls.

The memory of that cursed day played through your mind vividly. The look of the Supreme Sorceress as she gave the verdict on the steps of the Kamar-Taj, the downcast eyes of the people you once called friends. Stephen, the most upset you’d ever seen him, watching you pass through the gates one last time. It was bad enough that the memory stayed with you, burned into your mind’s eye, but it replayed at night when you slept. A recurring nightmare that jolted you awake and fueled your unending anger.

You leaned toward him, your tone low and dangerous “Unfortunate is a bit of an understatement.”

Stephen chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, no doubt trying to find careful words that wouldn’t set you off. He risked serious injury if he attacked you outright, you were too strong.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slow “I’m sorry.”

You reared your head back in surprise, the look on your face must have said it all because he smiled thinly before continuing.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, it must have been very difficult to go through…I still blame myself for… for not…” his words died out as he stared at you with soft, sad eyes.

You felt a pang of regret. You knew what he was trying to say. You were two bright students in Kamar-Taj together, studying and practicing side by side. When Stephen had gained the attention of the Sorceress Supreme and began to practice more with her, it left a hole in your life, which was quickly filled with the desire to grow. You funneled your feelings of jealously and loneliness into studying harder, practicing more, getting better, but it wasn’t enough. Stephen was, and always had been, the star, leaving you in his shadow.

However, that didn’t stop you and you pushed yourself to learn more, seek new knowledge. When you did see Stephen in your spare time, he was excited to hear about the things you were discovering, he had encouraged you to find out everything you could.

“Some things are blocked off though…” you had said to him one night over a cup of tea as you two caught up.

He had shrugged with a careless smile, a smile you had grown quite fond of seeing, “You have to break eggs to make omelets, right?”

“That is true-“

“Go for it, just don’t get caught- but if you do, I’ll have your back.” He had given you a wink and that’s when you had made up your mind.

Except, you had gotten caught and he wasn’t able to do a thing for you. Not for a lack of trying, but the Sorceress Supremes’ decision had been definitive and unmoving. At the time you had reminded her of another student that sought dangerous knowledge and had come close to destroying the world.

Attack him

He isn’t sorry

He’s trying to trick you

The whispers had come back full force as your thoughts strayed. You squinted your eyes shut, willing them to be quiet. Stephen noticed this and looked at you with new concern.

He took a tentative step toward you. He was about 10 paces away now “This is what I’m trying to get you to understand. This magic is dangerous, not only to others but to you. You’ve…changed… ever since you started summoning Beings and stealing their power, something is different about you. All those times before, I could still see traces of who you used to be…but now…”

You placed a palm over one of your eyes, there was a nervous tightening in your stomach that you didn’t dare acknowledge. Laughing dryly, you croak out “You don’t understand, Strange.”

“I understand, I do.”

He’s lying

Attack him

He’s jealous

That last whisper struck a chord with you, it echoed in your mind and took hold. You felt anger start to rise to your chest. Your eyes shot up to his in a flash “Is that what this has been about?”

He frowned at, confused, but you cut him off before he could speak “You want my power don’t you? You just can’t stand seeing someone be better than you!”

His expression turned to anger “That’s not true!”

You snorted viciously “Oh please, Stephen Strange, the next Sorcerer Supreme, everyone’s favorite super hero! You hate not being the best!”

He took another step forward, his brows furrowing as he spoke urgently “Listen to me Y/N. We’ve known each other for a long time. This person you’ve turned into- it’s not who I-…it’s not you. This power that you’ve absorbed has warped your mind, twisted you into something sinister. Please come with me- I can help you.”

He’ll take your power away

He’s going to make you useless

You were breathing hard now, his words had turned that small feeling of fear in your stomach to a gut wrenching panic. Was he telling the truth? Were there things about you that had changed without you knowing? Sure, there was the whispering, but you’d figure out a way to fix that when you were finally powerful enough. Your thoughts went back to your time at Kamar-Taj, when you were by Stephen’s side, when you were happy, when seeing him smile at you was one of the only things you wanted. It had been so simple back then.

Ask him how he can help you

Ask him

Your heart beat painfully in your chest as you met Stephen’s eyes “How could you help me?”

He clenched his jaw once, then twice and your heart sank “… I’m sorry, there’s no way around it- your mystic art abilities would be blocked.”

Your mind reeled, the whispers grew in volume, clamoring that they were right. You felt your breath come out in short gasps, you could hear Stephen, but his voice sounded distant.

“This would help you, please trust me. You’re influenced by the Entities you’ve consumed, all the affects would go away if-“

Attack him

He’s weak

Attack him

The force of you shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts made you sway, and you pressed your palms to your temples with a grimace. There was too much going on, too much noise. You couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

“No!” You shouted trying to fight for control over the situation “No, you can’t take everything I’ve worked so hard for!”

Kill him

“This is the only way! The Entities will never let go, as long as you have mystic abilities they’ll be a part of you!”

Everything you’ve done will be for nothing

“This is all I have!” you cried out, your voice sounding raw “You can’t take this from me! I won’t let you!”

You threw an arm up, casting a warning attack, and felt a great surge of power ripple through you. A line of dark, pure unrefined energy shot out, gouging into the ground as it made its way across the chamber. Stephen threw up a shield, reflecting orange onto the ground and walls. But the line of energy ripped through it, throwing him to the side and hitting the stone wall with a great smash, sending clouds of dirt and dust everywhere, leaving behind a deep cut. You stood, shocked, you hadn’t casted anything that was supposed to be that powerful. You looked to Stephen who was getting up slowly. His breathing was hard, there was a small amount of blood on the side of his face.

His expression was grim “Don’t do this, Y/N!”

You saw movement at the corners of your vision as shadows danced and twirled. Tears began to collect as you stared back at Stephen “You aren’t leaving me with any choice, Stephen!”

How did it come to this?

He raised his hands and casted a long tether that crackled with orange energy. It whipped towards you with a flash. Shouting you threw up both arms and dark energy erupted from you, blocking the tether and gouging out chunks of the ground, sending large rocks flying toward Stephen.

Kill him

Kill him

Kill him

His cloak billowed out around him and he flew around, avoiding the debris. The chunks hit the walls with loud crashes and rumbling, the temple shuddered violently around you. Stephen lowered himself to the ground, closer to you now.

The Beings in you howled and screamed, all different things, all trying to be the loudest. You absently reached up to swat at something invisible around your head, as you battled to stay focused. Your vision was filling with slithering, darting shadows that would disappear when you tried to look at them.

“You can hear and see them now, can’t you.” Stephen’s low voice was closer than you expected and you flinched away, sending out tendrils of energy shooting out in his direction, attacking blindly.

He dodged them and they hit the wall behind him, causing more shuddering from the building.

“Is this really worth that much to you?” he cried out “Is it really worth losing your mind over?”

You stopped, staring at the ground hard, with wide, crazed eyes. They were filling with tears that dropped to the ground below. Your breaths came out short, panting. You didn’t bother responding, you could barely understand what he was saying.

Kill him now

“Y/N look at me!”

It would be so easy

“Y/N!”

You could feel thudding vibrations in your feet every time more chucks of ceiling crashed to the ground. Some were faint, others stronger, accompanied with clouds of dust or tiny bits of rock flying out and hitting your back or legs. You didn’t much care as your head felt as if it was going to split in two.

You spun around, chasing another large shadow, to see Stephen standing a few paces away from you. He was shouting something, but you couldn’t hear what it was, and you looked at him blankly. He took another step toward you but there was a giant crash as a piece of ceiling fell right between you, shattering with a giant cloud of debris and knocking you away. You hit the ground, hard, with a crack.

“Hey Y/N. Come look at this.”

You looked up from your book at Stephen, who was standing next to one of the Kamar-Taj library shelves with something in his hand. He had a grin, which usually meant he was up to something.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, not moving from your seat next to the window. The sun was warm on your face. “If it’s another dried out bug between the pages, I will throw this book at you.”

“Mmmnope.”

“What is it then?”

He rolled his eyes at you, but the smile remained “Just come here!”

You obliged, setting your book down and making your way over to him. He held an old book in his hand, its pages weathered to the point they were brittle. On the page he pointed to was an illustration of a harmless creature standing in a glowing red circle, there was text on the edges of the page detailing the materials one could use for summoning mundane Beings that could be useful in certain situations.

“What is that?” you asked curiously, leaning in.

Stephen snapped the book closed, causing you to jump back. You shot a glare up at him.

“Oh, just something interesting I found.”

You narrowed your eyes “May I see it?”

A wide smile spread across his face “Maybe. For a trade, perhaps.”

“Ok, what do you want?”

Stephen looked up and around the room, pretending to think, but already knowing the answer.

“How about-” He paused, leaning toward you slowly, inches away from your face, noses almost touching. You could feel his gentle breath on your skin. He glanced down at your lips then settled back on your eyes.

“How about you give me your extra tea leaves? I know you have a bunch saved up in your room.”

Your jaw dropped and you scoffed lightly. His grin was beaming as you pushed him away with a laugh. You made a pass for the book and he jerked it back out of your reach.

“Deal or no deal?”

You sighed dramatically, trying to hide your smile “Deal”.

You opened your eyes a fraction at a time, jolts of pain running through your body. Your vision was blurry and you blinked trying to clear the dust. As you sat up more pain throbbed in your head, thudding with your slow pulse. The ground around you was littered with chunks of rock, and you could see more falling at the edges of the chamber. Your vision was still blackened with dancing shadows and the Being’s voices were starting to rise in volume again as your consciousness came back.

There was movement to your left and you saw Stephen’s hand push away some rocks, trying to find purchase on the ground. He was covered in dust and dirt, turning his hair a muted grey color. Below the waist he was trapped by bits of large, crumbled rock fragments.

Now

Now’s your chance

Kill him now

You rose slowly to your feet, ignoring the pain in your head. Stephen saw your movement and looked to you with pleading eyes.

“Y/N help me.”

It would be so easy

“Y/N”

Then you would be free

Stephen looked at your blank expression and guessed what was going on in your head. His expression turned pained and he shook his head.

“I know my Y/N is in there somewhere. Please, come back to me.”

You would be the most powerful master of the mystic arts with him out of the way

“I loved every second with you, every moment I had with you was a gift. Ever since you were cast out of Kamar-Taj, I’ve thought of nothing but you. How to try and get you back, how to help you. All I ever wanted was to be with you.”

You blinked down at him, moved by his sudden confession, the iron grip of the Entities on you loosening. The previously forgotten memory of you with Stephen in the Kamar-Taj library played back through your mind again.

“I love every part of you, even the part that drove you to this moment.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks and you fell to your knees in front of Stephen. Voices were howling and screaming around you in protest, filling your vision, as you gently took his hands in yours and smiled at him sweetly. His eyes were wide and filled with impossible hope. As he realized that you were in control again he smiled back at you with tears in the corners of his eyes.

“There you are” he whispered reaching toward your face. You closed your eyes and pressed your face into his hand. It felt like home.

Lound crashing sounded behind you and your attention was brought to the imminent collapse of the chamber. You stood as fast as your pounding head would allow and helped him out from under the rubble. Pulling him partly free by his arms and pushing rocks off from on him as he scrambled out from under. As Stephen stood you put one of his arms around your neck and began to limp toward the exit. Around you the building began to fall apart, crashing down.

Stumbling out through the exit you squinted your eyes shut in the harsh sunlight. There were alarmed shouts around you from the Kamar-Taj warriors, you felt someone take Stephen from around your neck and you staggered unsteadily. There were more shouts, some you thought were from Stephen, but you couldn’t be sure, they all mixed together. Trying to open your eyes was painful, sun blinded you, forcing them closed again.

They will take your abilities away from you

The echo of an entity’s voice sounded in your mind and you thought, first, how nice it was not to have so many voices in your head, and then second, how that might not be so bad.

In an act that brought shock to the warriors surrounding the area, you slowly brought your hands up over your head and knelt to the ground in surrender.

Four Weeks Later

You sat in your sparse, one windowed cell, arms crossed, deep in meditation. Footsteps approaching the bars of your cell brought your attention to the present.

“I would have brought you a book, but you’re going to have to start trading me for them.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading in your face as you opened your eyes to see Stephen standing outside your cell. He wore a lighter version of his dark blue robes and no cloak today, standing with his arms behind his back and a brilliant smile.

Your retort was quick, lighthearted “And what would I trade with?”

Since you surrendered to the warriors of Kamar-Taj your life had become pretty mundane. They very quickly blocked your ability to cast spells and after that you had felt instantly better. No more voices, no more shadows, and no more burning desire for revenge. Your emotions had become much calmer and you were at peace for the first time in a long time. They made you a cell, within the city where Kamar-Taj is located. There were sparse guards, but you would always have meals and whatever you needed was available. Most of the security was left up to the runes on the cell bars.

And of course, Stephen was with you every step of the way. Visiting you often, bringing you things to read and things to do while you sat in your cell. He was making a case to some of the other head masters that since you weren’t a threat anymore you should be released. They have yet to be swayed but something about Stephen’s face today made you wonder.

“Well, considering you literally have nothing… how about a kiss?” he stepped closer to the bars.

You barked out a laugh “Oh, that’s a grand idea. Ho do you suppose we’ll be able to pull that off with me in here?”

His knowing smile grew wider, he brought his hands out from behind his back and casted a weird looking spell that you’d never seen before. Bright orange runes along your cell bars began to glow and fall away, folding over like paper as they disappeared. You rose quickly to your feet. A portal opened beside you, leading out onto a sunny beach.

You glanced at Stephen with wide eyes and he beamed back at you triumphantly “Go on.”

You jumped through and into the soft sand, a breeze tousling your hair lightly. Stephen was right behind you, closing off the portal with a light crackle.

You spun around to look at him “How- are you sure this- what if they find out-“

He stepped close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing the other hand up to cup your cheek “What are they gonna do? They can complain all they want, I don’t see any reason to keep you in a cell. You have no ability to use magic and you have me as a chaperone.”

Your smile was loving as you looked up into his blue eyes “And besides, I’m basically the supreme sorcerer. Are they really going to tell me no?”

You shook your head with laugh and looked out across the ocean, his hand brought your face back toward his “I love you Y/N. I’d give you the world, if you asked for it.”

“Oh, now you want to give me everything-“

His lips pressing to yours cut you off mid-sentence. You made a pleased noise and felt him smile into the kiss as you moved your mouth back against his. His hands moved to your waist and pulled you close against him. Breaking the kiss you leaned your forehead to his, hearing his content sigh you whispered back “I love you too.”

[phantomenby]

Life ring

Prompt: teaching you how to swim

"Guys I feel like this is a bit much."

Marko sent you a look when you arrived on the beach, Paul beside you with a wide grin on his face.

There you were, stood in your new swimming trunks and some additional instruments to help you get used to the water.

"Paul he's not five"

Paul rolled his eyes, giving you a smooch on the cheek and pulling you closer to the waters edge. He had been the one offering to take you out to the shops on the boardwalk earlier in, dragging you into a surf shop he was most definitely not welcome in, and decking you out in whatever he thought you would need.

That would include a pair of trunks with sharks on it for him, some blue ones with yellow ducks for you, along with inflatable arm bands and a duck patterned ring which he had insisted on pushing down to your waist.

"I think they look cute David"

You grumbled, pushing him away, your form equal in size to him and easily pushing the blond into the sand and waltzing into the water til it was at your knees.

Dwayne was already in deeper than you, the water to his hips, while Marko crouched on a rock beside David who was in just his jeans after having discarded his layers and boots.

"There's looking cute and there's looking like you robbed the kids section man," Paul stuck his tongue out at the brunette, hopping back up and returning to your side, tugging on the inflatable ring to bring you as flush against him as possible.

"Come here bubba" Dwayne held his hand out to you, urging you closer til you were as deep as him, telling you to raise your arms so he could pull the offending item off of you. When it finally slipped off there was an indent around your middle, just barely visible in the moonlight but you could feel it nonetheless.

Dwayne lobbed it at Paul who caught it with ease and tossed it back at the two who were still out of the water.

"Always ruining my fun Dwayn-ey"

Ignoring his friend the brunette took your hands in his, rubbing his fingers over your knuckles, "you ok?", when you nodded he began to step back, leading you deeper.

This had been planned out before, as soon as they found out you couldn't swim they were insistent on taking you out and teaching you. Vampire or not water was still dangerous, and flying through it could only do so much.

When it neared your shoulders you paused, knowing this was where your body would begin to suspend itself and float.

"You good?" Marko had swam up behind you, feet no longer reaching the floor, feeling his cold firm hands against your waist was reassuring.

"Y-yeah, just need a moment," he nuzzled your shoulder, pressing his nose behind your ear and giving you soft kisses until you began to move.

When your feet left the sandy floor you took in a breath you didn't need, naturally leaning into Dwaynes hold as you floated together, placing your trust in his grip.

"I've got you"

Your arms were over his shoulders, bodies now moving in a dance, Marko was circling the two of you as he watched for any signs of panic.

"Listen to what I say to do ok?" Nodding at Dwayne you followed his instructions, replicating the kicking motions of his feet, smiling as you realised your body was raised above the water as you propelled it.

"See love, its not so scary. Think you're ready to let go." This was the part you dreaded, being suspended alone in the water, even though you knew you were safe with them it was still hard.

But you knew you had to do it, the longer you waited the harder it would get for you.

Nodding you replied, "yeah, just...stay close? Please?".

As his hands released you, you felt your body float back, no longer being kept in place by his strong grip. The arm bands had been taken off long ago and now you were rolling your shoulders with your arms outstretched to keep you balanced, laughing with joy as you moved freely in the water.

The four in front of you were smiling watching you play and relax, equally bashful looks on their faces.

David had pulled off his jeans, leaving him in only his navy boxers as he waded towards you, disappearing under the water and coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your upper body, pulling you flush to his chest.

"See love, the water ain't so bad." You pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away and pressing your cheek to his, eying how the moonlight seemed to make him even paler in comparison to how it reflected off of yours.

In your calm state, you barely noticed the lion who had floated above the pair, blue eyes shining as he prepared to drop himself on top of you.

"Oh but I am"

"Wha-" you screeched as his body landed on yours, pushing you down into the deep blue, giggling like a mad man as he chased you beneath the water.

Good thing none of you needed to breathe.

[megumisbimbo]

Distraction*

fushiguro megumi x fairy!reader/fem!reader

this is my entry for @izukine’s fairytales and mythical creatures collab - hope you enjoy it liyah <3

This is nsfw work - minors pls do not interact

warnings: aphrodisiac(?), unprotected sex, slight oral (fem receiving), deception(?)

taglist: @erispancakes @innrsoul @ohno-otome @kirsteiiins @nkogneatho @puptarou @fiaficsxo @arumiee @mitsuluv @rintarouss @dukina @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein

Megumi’s mind was racing. Exams were coming up and he was having a hard time focusing. He had tried everything. From classical music to meditation, nothing was helping him focus. This was his third and final year, he could not fail, no matter what. Megumi helplessly stared out his dorm window, the sunlight bouncing off the pavement and straining his eyes. A walk might do him some good, he thought to himself. He rolled out of his bed and slipped his shoes on, half eager to get some much needed vitamin d.

There was a small park near Jujutsu Tech that Gojo frequently took him to when he was younger. Days of fighting horrible curses and now losing the only person he could call his best friend, Megumi was truly in need of some time to himself.

He found the biggest tree with the most shade and sat underneath it. The feeling of the cool grass underneath his fingertips and the soft breeze blowing past alleviated the pain that spread throughout his body like a disease. He closes his eyes and soaks in the feeling, relishing in the peace if only for moment.

Megumi doesn’t know what time he fell asleep, but he arises with a heavy weight across his chest. He looks down and sees a small figure no bigger than Nishimiya curled up against him. He couldn’t quite understand what it was, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He didn’t dare move, afraid of waking you. It proved to be useless when you lifted your hand to rub your eyes.

“Um…who..are you?”

“Oh I’m sorry you just looked so comfortable…and I-I’m sorry I’ll go.”

You knew your intentions, and they were definitely not innocent. You were a fairy, of course, and not the ones told in cute stories for children. No you were much more…treacherous. You happened to stumble across exactly what you were looking for. A young boy with blood red as roses and as delicious as spring cherries.

“Wait-..don’t go…it’s ok. I didn’t mean to wake you. What’s your name?” Megumi asked, against his better judgement.

Megumi was known for having a strong mind, one must in order to be a jujutsu sorcerer. But something about you emanated pure beauty and comfort. He was under your most dangerous spell. Pseudo-love. The artificial feeling overcame Megumi and blocked all the self-control and discipline he had developed through his years of training.

“Y/n. Y/n is my name. And yours?”

“Megumi.”

“Megumi…it’s beautiful..” You say, a saccharine smile adorning your face.

If Megumi hadn’t fallen for you before, hearing the way his name rolled off your tongue had him practically at your feet. You had him exactly where you wanted him.

“I..I don’t have anywhere to go Megumi…would you mind if I stayed with you for a night or two. Only if it’s ok of course-“

“Yes.”

“Really?! Oh thank you so much Megumi!”

Megumi didn’t mean to say yes, especially not so quickly. He barely knew you. But the way your doe eyes twinkle and the way your small fingers latch onto the hem of his sweater, he doesn’t think he’ll regret saying yes.

Megumi’s mind was racing. What is he thinking? Bringing a girl he doesn’t know beyond her first name into his room. Into jujutsu tech! He knows how irresponsible this is. How he’d be reprimanded, maybe even suspended, for letting a stranger into the concealed school.

“Megumi…is everything ok?”

“Hm? Oh..yeah everything’s fine. I just- never mind it’s nothing.” He answers, brushing you off and turning to face his window once again.

You walk towards him, your hands landing on his back running them up and down slowly. The feeling of your soft hands pushes Megumi closer to the edge. He doesn’t know how much more he could take. Your aura absolutely intoxicating. You run your hands under his arms pressing your palms against his chest and your cheek against his back.

“Is there anything…I can do…Megumi?”

You can hear his rapid heartbeat and feel the accelerated rise and fall of his chest. Your hands run down his chest, finding purchase underneath his sweater. Your cold fingertips delicately examine each and every muscle he’s cultivated over years of training. Your lips are quick to press against the nape of his neck.

“Can you take this off for me?” You ask gingerly.

Megumi hastily slips his sweater over his head as he turns to face you. He dips his head down to place a chaste kiss on your lips, his sweater and common sense long forgotten. Your lips sweeter than honey and more addictive than any drug. Your power engulfs his senses, the natural aphrodisiac emitted from your body surrounding the young sorcerer. Megumi was long gone, he was all yours.

“Can you take these off for me Megumi?” You ask, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his black sweatpants. Megumi is quick to follow your directions, stripping down to his boxers. You were still clothed in your short lace dress. You turn your back towards him and fiddle with the buttons that held your dress tight against you. Megumi understood your action and unbuttoned them for you. His fingers latch onto the neckline of your dress slowly dragging it downwards as he peppers your neck with kisses. He trails his kisses down your back following his fingers. You relax into his touch, the feeling of his nimble hands gliding across your body sending shockwaves through you.

It was always blissful, the feeling of your body being worshipped by mindless young boys right before you sink your teeth into them. Megumi’s hands grip your waist pulling you flush against his chest. One hand trails upward cupping your breast and massaging it softly.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, his voice deep and laced with desire.

“Please Megumi…I want you.”

“You have me.”

He’s quick to discard of your dress, his fingers now slipping past the waistband of your panties dipping into your sopping core.

“Oh fuck Megumi…just like that.” You moan out, his fingers pressing tight circles against your pussy. You grip onto his wrist, guiding his hand towards your entrance.

“Need it here Megumi..”

Megumi pulls his fingers out of you, eliciting a small whine. He leads you towards the bed, his arm cradling your back setting you down softly. He leans down to lick a stripe up your cunt before latching his teeth onto the fabric pulling it down to your ankles. You haven’t felt this good in a while, Megumi’s teeth leaving wine red blemishes across your skin.

He pulls his black boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. The tip was flushed red, beads of precum slipping down. It was a sight to behold.

“Are you ready?”

“Please…”

Megumi presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, your moans filling his ears and clouding his senses. He pushes in and out slowly, his lips attaching to yours to distract you from the stretch. You notice his attentiveness, his careful touches and his soft praise. You couldn’t lie…in all the years you’ve had young men wrapped around your finger, this was the first time you had ever felt..so loved.

“Mmm-Megumi…’m coming!” You moan, your breathe catching in your throat slightly.

“Fuck- cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.”

“Hnggg-“

One final stroke sends you both over the edge, Megumi’s lips pressing softly against your ear leaving candied kisses in between whispers of praise.

It’s working, you think to yourself…but suddenly you feel a shift in your energy. An unknown force clashing with yours. Thick black shadow surrounds you filling your lungs. You look up at the sorcerer and notice that he was indeed the source of the shadow.

“Megumi? What is this?” You ask, slightly concerned that you no longer had the upper hand.

“Have you finally noticed pretty?” He says staring into your now fear filled eyes.

“This is my domain.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Well isn’t it obvious? I wanted to give you a show before you suck me dry. I know what you are, fairy. There’s no need to keep up the charade.”

He knows? How? When did he notice?

Megumi was known to have a strong mind, and for good reason. He knew what you were the moment you slipped your hands underneath his sweater. The cursed energy emitted from your body similar to one explained by Gojo and the fairy he had exorcised a while back. But he couldn’t let his guard down, not while the odds were in your favor. So he summoned his domain, knowing he would immediately have the upper hand.

“There’s nowhere for you to run now pretty…just let me exorcise you. I’ll be gentle I promise.” He says, a cheshire smile replacing the helpless expression he adorned earlier.

“Please! Megumi please give me a chance to explain myself!!”

“What is there to explain? If I don’t destroy you now, who knows what innocent boy will be your next victim.”

“Please! I’ll do anything!!”

“Anything? Choose your words wisely curse, your life depends on it.”

likes and reblogs appreciated !!

© megumisbimbo 2021

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝐺𝑙𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑑 (𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚗 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣)× 𝚂𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙸𝚍𝚘𝚕 𝙰𝚄

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𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚈/𝙽 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚒𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?) 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 '𝙽𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚊' 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 × 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢! 𝚂𝚞𝚋 𝚂𝚊𝚗

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @seacottons @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @little-precious-baby

~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • • • • •~ ʚĭɞ ~

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand held tightly onto the doorknob of the dressing room. She tried to calm herself, or more specifically, her body. Then again, no amount of preparation could help her when it came to Choi San, the man was unpredictable and absolutely cunning. And the worst part was he knew he was charming, using it to his advantage and then playing coy about it whenever she called him out on it. Not wasting anymore time, she turned the knob and swiftly walked in, tossing her bag on the couch by the wall before beginning to take off her coat to hang on the rack.

"Hello Noona."

She was greeted by the innocent looking dimple smile of the idol she had been assigned to, hands folded across his lap, giving him the aura of a perfect and obedient angel......

When he was everything but that.

"Don't start San, we don't have time for your jokes. The sooner we get you ready, the sooner I can leave."

San poked his bottom lip out, a soft, muffled whiny hum vibrating against his throat.

"You seem to be in a bad mood Noona....aren't you at least happy to see me?"

She rolled her eyes at his question as she began laying out all the stuff she was going to need to prepare him for the photoshoot. Missing a few palettes, she bent over to open the last drawer on the vanity display and began rummaging through its contents. She was completely unaware of the eyes that were now checking out her ass as she was hunched over, the position slightly rising her skirt up.

"Did I mention you're looking especially lovely tonight...Noona?"

Tilting her head over, she caught him as he bit his lip as he shamelessly looked up and down her legs. When he saw she noticed, he didn't shy away or apologized, he merely sent her a wink and went back to gazing at her glorious backside.

"You're a pervert." She accused him as slammed the drawer closed after finally finding what she was looking for.

"I'm simply admiring a beautiful piece of art. Is that such a crime?" He grinned at her.

She hadn't even started yet she already felt exhausted and aroused by the man sitting in front of her. Squirting some of the foundation onto the mixing tray, she picked up a beauty sponge and began dabbing it onto San's already flawless face. He might liked to tease her every now and then, but if there was one thing she appreciated was the fact he stayed still whenever she was working, never moving and always following instructions when she asked him to lift his head or close his eyes when she needed him to. It almost made her think that he was actually a good little boy, so poised and obedient....

And then he'd pull out some stupid shit that made her remember his true bratty nature. Stupid shit like what he was doing now: his hand was gently gliding across her leg, dangerously coming up towards the hem of her skirt. She swallowed a non-existent lump in her throat, clearing it out as she was determined not to loose focus and continued to blend out his contour and shading before moving onto his eyebrows. She could tell him to stop or move away, if she did, she knew he'd at least have the decency to stop and not do anything for the rest of the day. But she didn't want to do that this time. She was tempted to find out just how far he'd go, just how much could she actually let him get away with.

San was also amazed she hadn't slapped his hand away, which he took as an invitation to continue. Sliding his hand up, he cupped one of her ass cheeks and squeezed it softly. His fingers tugged at her panties and pulled on them slightly before releasing them and letting it hit against her skin. When he saw her momentarily pause, he smirked at finally getting her to react. But he was soon disappointed when she chose to ignore him once more and instead move to work on his eye makeup. Not willing to stand and be ignored, he cupped her ass with both of his hands, pulling her closer that she nearly toppled over and fell on top of him, but luckily regained her balance before that happened.

"Have you been working out Noona? Your ass feels a lot firmer and rounder since the last time I touched it."

He couldn't keep the satisfied smile off his face as he began dragging down her panties past her thighs until they were pooling at her ankles, a clear wet stain visible in the center of them.

"Noona are you perhaps needy?" He chuckled.

Stepping out of her panties, she kicked them out of the way before resuming her previous task.

"The only thing I need at the moment is for you to keep still or else your eyeshadow is going to be a mess." She told him.

"Speaking of making a mess, do you know what I wanna see?"

With a shit eating grin on his face, he swiped his index and middle finger along her folds, collecting some of the slick she had already accumulated.

"Wanna see you make a mess all over my hand."

Although she would love nothing more than for him to fist her if he wanted, she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow up at him, a slight scoff coming out her lips.

"Can you even do that? It wouldn't surprise me if in the end, Choi San was nothing more than an all bark no bite kind of boy."

From out of the corner of her eye she saw him frown angrily. He always did hated having her refer to him as a 'boy.' She didn't care, deep down she knew he was nothing more than a brat that she would love to tame if given the opportunity. And besides he was doing her a favor as he began swirling his fingers around her hole. Pushing them in, he couldn't believe how unbelievable warm she was nor how her walls were practically sucking him in.

"God Noona, I can barely get my fingers out."

He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her, making sure to curl them up so they could graze along the roof. When he felt her shudder as he hit a particular spot, he knew he had found what he was looking for.

"Right here Noona?" He teased as a kept his fingers buried in her, flicking the tips across where he assumed was her g-spot.

"Oh my god yes!" She didn't care if her words boosted his already high ego, all she cared about right then was getting him to continue until she was spasming under him.

San released a light humming tune as his fingers continued their assault on her wet cavern. Wanting to boost her pleasure even further, his thumb began to rub her clit, drawing circles across it. When Y/N's legs nearly gave out, he used his other hand to steady her.

"Cum for me Noona. Make a mess all over me, I want it. Can't you give it to me?"

She melted at the way he was pleading at her, his eyes getting slightly large as he waited in anticipation for her to tip over the edge just for him. Unable to resist his cute plea, she squeezed her thighs shut as she began cumming all over his fingers, a choked out gasp escaping her lips as she held onto his shoulders for support to keep her from falling.

"That's right, such a nice and sweet Noona, giving me what I want."

San didn't pull his fingers away until he made sure to help Y/N ride out her high until she was finished. As his hand emerged from under her skirt, a trail of her cum was dropping all the way up to his wrist. Looking at how wet his hand was, he admired it before holding it out towards her face.

"Told you I'd have you making a mess." He giggled before proceeding to lick off every last bit of secretion he made her produce.

Y/N straightened out her ruffled skirt.

"I should really finish your makeup San."

Thankfully, she was able to finish his eye makeup without any further interruptions. His lip makeup also ran by smoothly, except for when she stared at them a little too long and unconsciously began leaning in, tempted to just bite them.

"Noona....." He tapped her shoulder to point out what she was doing.

She flushed a pink tint across her cheeks, embarrased by her actions. But that was nothing compared to the embarrassment she was going to feel next.

"Ok your makeup is done. You can go wait for the photographer to get here?"

As she began picking the brushes up to go clean them, she turned back around when San was still seated in his chair.

"San...go?" She asked in puzzlement.

San also seemed confused as he tilted his head at her.

"Didn't they tell you?"

By the way she just stood there blinking as she processed what he could mean, San sighed as he began unbuttoning his jacket.

"I.....was going to give Atiny a surprise for this comeback. I'm going to be wearing a crop top, and the photographer suggested it'd be a good idea if maybe my makeup artist could make them... shine a little?"

Y/N was about to ask what he meant by 'them', but when he tossed his jacket to the floor and his torso was fully exposed, she understood what he meant. Although she guessed he had a fit body due to how much he worked out, she was more than surprised to see such a firm and toned 6 pack adorning his lower abdomen. She didn't even realize how long she was staring or had her mouth open until San cupped her chin.

"Close your mouth Noona....."

Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.

"The sight makes me wanna fuck your face."

He couldn't help but laugh softly as he stared at her flustered state. Throwing all inappropriate thoughts out her head and going back to being professional, Y/N began looking around for any oil to douse his abs in.

"San do me a favor and lie on the couch."

The poor boy shot his eyes wide open when she ordered him that.

"Wait- you want me to what?"

She smacked his arm.

"Don't get any ideas. If we do this standing up, it'll roll off your body and I can't spread it evenly if you're sitting down. So unless you're able to levitate, go lay down on the couch."

Now he flushed a red tint for thinking so wrong. He walked over to the couch and obediently layed down. He stiffened considerably when Y/N came over with a bottle of oil, and it was then he realized that although he had grown used to having her touching his face, she had never once touched him anywhere else in his body. This was about to be the first time. He recalled all the times he'd teased her by smacking her ass or letting his hands graze across her chest. It made him fear that she'd probably want to take revenge and tease him back. When she popped open the bottle, he gulped very obviously that even she noticed.

"Relax you baby. It's not going to sting you or anything. It'll just leave you smelling like vanilla."

His ab muscles contracted when he felt the trail of oil splatter across his stomach. Making sure not to pour too much, Y/N closed back the bottle and set it down next to her.

"Just breathe and try to enjoy it."

Deciding it would be best to heed her advice, San closed his eyes and focused on each movement of her hands. It felt absolutely relaxing and blissful having her run her hands along his abs, staying shy away from his nipples. Each caress of her hands had him wondering why he'd never allowed her to touch him like this before. With each swipe of her hand across his body, the more he was becoming addicted to her touch. He began wishing she would travel farther down, reach inside his pants and give it the same care and attention she was giving his abs. He was already letting out soft moans and murmurs before he even became aware of it, or of the growing tent in his pants that was quite obvious now.

Y/N noticed it and it made her proud to know such a simple touch could get him so riled up. Wanting to test something out, she began to dig her nails into his skin. Although she expected some sort of reaction, she didn't think it would result in him flexing his hips up, giving them a slight roll as if micking a sex movement.

"Please do that again."

He stared at her through hooded lids which then closed once again when she raked her nails down his torso, an even louder moan coming out from his lips as he began to buck his hips up.

"M-more please..." He begged her.

Stopping her movements, she feigned ignorance at his request.

"Hmm? What was that Sannie?" She wanted him to repeat himself.

Tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, he began fussing around.

"Noona please it hurts." He whined.

Cupping his face, she squished his cheeks.

"What hurts Sannie?"

With a frustrated grunt, San took one of her hands off his face as he began unzipping his pants, fumbling with it until he managed to pull them down enough to allow his thick and long cock to spring free from its confinement. He hissed out loud as he made Y/N wrap her hand around the base.

"It hurts Noona. Please do something. Anything." He began moving her hand, hoping she'd get the hint.

Y/N couldn't believe he was actually begging her. He looked so pitiful and desperate under her as he was left at her complete mercy. Wanting to indulge him for a moment, she began pumping at his dick a little bit faster, the leftover oil on her palm serving as lubricant so it was easier for her to smoothly stroke him. San gasped and held his mouth agape when she began running her thumb across his slit, toying around with it as she continued to jerk off the rest of his length.

"Yes! Just like that! Oh my god! It's even better than what I imagined." He was very vocal for sure, but she kinda already suspected that.

"Oh yeah? You imagined my hand wrapped around your cock?"

San grunted harshly when she squeezed him a little too hard.

"Fuck yeah- I got off on fantasizing about you jerking me off." He admitted.

Y/N did not hide the smile of satisfaction spreading across her lips as she heard him say that. It boosted her confidence knowing the sexy man in front of her often pictured her in such an intimate position.

"Tell me Sannie, what else have you imagined me doing to you?"

San bit his lip, unsure of whether it was ok to spill out his dirty secrets. But then he realized that maybe if he said them, Y/N would be nice enough to fulfill some of them.

"I thought about having you ride my face, smother it with your soaked pussy. I wanna taste it. Bet it tastes so good."

He began bucking his hips into her hand, feeling his orgasm fast approaching. Y/N could sense he was close too.

"Keep talking Sannie. What else have you thought about?"

San's cock twitched when he saw Y/N lean down, her face hovering close to his leaking tip.

"Suck-sucking me off. I've always wanted you to suck me off."

He didn't keep his eyes off her mouth as she ran her tongue across her lips, her gaze looking intently at his length.

"Won't you please suck me off?" He raised his hips, the top of his head touching the corner of her lip.

Y/N thought about it for a moment. His cock did look delicious, and she couldn't deny the thought of stuffing it til it reached the back of her throat made her insides start pooling once more. But he was still the same brat he'd been since she met him. It wouldn't hurt to teach him a little lesson for a few minutes. Bending her head down, she opened her mouth as if she was going to wrap her lips around his tip. San was looking at her in eager anticipation, nearly busting a nut right then and there. He began whining erratically when she not only pulled her face away but also let his still erect cock dropped against his stomach.

"Why did you-?"

When he tried sitting up, Y/N roughly pinned him back down which shut him up immediately.

"Stop being a little brat and take what I gave you or else you're going to be going through an entire photoshoot with a denied orgasm."

San blinked slowly at her words.

"God you're so fucking sexy putting me back in my place like that." He confessed.

Y/N giggled softly before pecking his lips. Looking back at his abs, she ran a finger down along them.

"I'm not going to deny it, your abs look mesmerizing." She complimented him, which had San beaming with joy.

"I'm glad you liked them. I worked hard on them especially for you." He looked up at her rather shyly at his confession.

"Oh really? All this is for me?"

San nodded in an affirmative motion. Smirking at him, Y/N bent her body and began pressing feather light kisses along his abs.

"Well if they're meant for me guess I should make sure everyone knows it too."

San couldn't contain his giggles when Y/N began suckling on a small patch of skin. Her hands gripped his waist tightly in an effort to hold him still.

"Sannie, stop moving." She said against his tanned skin before moving down to suck on another spot.

"I'm sorry- I'm just really ticklish." He covered his mouth in an effort to stifle his laughter.

Y/N slapped his stomach rather lightly, finding him to be absolutely cute and adorable as she began leaving a trail of hickeys down his abs, starting from the end of his sternum and ending right on top of his bellybutton. She didn't stop until making sure they were all a bright purple color that was adorning his beautiful skin, admiring her own work. San also sat up slightly to look at what she had left, a fond smile on his lips.

"Does this mean I'm yours?"

The way he was looking up at her in earnest made Y/N realize he was being serious and not being the teasing little shit he liked being. He patiently waited for her answer, his own heartbeat pounding so hard against his chest as he feared getting rejected. Reaching up to cup his face, Y/N nuzzled her nose against his.

"Are you going to stop being a little brat and actually behave?"

San laughed heartily at that before swiping his tongue across her upper lip.

"Where's the fun in that? Don't you like me being a brat?" He counteracted at her.

Y/N pretended to think about it.

"It would be nice to spank you every once in awhile.......but can't you be a good boy every now and then so I can spoil you?" She purred softly as she began kissing along the side of his neck, making him melt instantly.

"I'm being good now N-Noona-" He sucked in a breath when she dragged her tongue along his collarbone.

"Yes you are my Sannie."

Thinking it was time to put an end to his frustration, Y/N stripped him off his pants and underwear before taking off her own skirt and pulling her shirt over her head, discarding them on the floor. San stared in amazement as she stood in front of him completely nude.

"Where have you been all my life?"

Y/N let out a subtle snort as she straddled San's lap. Lining him up to her entrance, she didn't keep him or herself waiting as she sunk down on his length, eye shut tight as he stretched her out in a delicious burn. She felt him twitch inside her, no doubt eager to finally be allowed to cum after having waited for so long. After getting adjusted to his size, she lifted herself off him before sinking back down on him.

"Oh god- it feels so good."

San propped himself up on his elbows, watching with great attention as his dick disappeared and appeared inside Y/N's warm and velvety pussy. When she began picking up the pace, he began releasing soft pants and grunts as his previously denied orgasm came spiking up once more. He could feel it about to burst out of him. Through clenched teeth, he tried to desperately hold back a little longer, just so Y/N could cum before him. But the feeling of her walls squeezing him tightly and rubbing him was too much to bear. No longer able to contain himself, he flopped back into the couch, hips shaking as his nails scratched the leather material under him.

"Y/N! G-gonna cum-!" He tried warning her.

Pulling him out of her, she helped him by pumping him up and down as he began releasing spurts of white, sticky cum all over his stomach. Y/N made sure to milk him until he could no longer squirt out anymore.

"You cum a lot." She giggled as she spread some of his cum around.

Covering his reddened face, San let out a tiny groan.

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to hold out a little longer for you but I couldn't. I promise it won't happen again."

Climbing back on top of him, Y/N surprised him when she straddled his abs.

"Well then....guess I'm going to have to get myself off on some other part of you. Right?"

Smiling down at him in a mischievous way, she began grinding herself against his abdomen, the muscles protruding out of them feeling heavenly as they rubbed against her clit. His skin began to get coated even more as his semen was being spread all over his body the more she rutted herself against his bare skin.

"You like this baby boy? Like watching me fuck myself on your abs?"

"Oh my- please call me that again." Hearing that nickname roll off his tongue send him into a frenzy.

"What? Baby boy? Like it when I call you that?" She teased as she began grinding harder against him.

"I love it. Is Noona gonna cum all over my abs?" He asked as he snaked his hands to grip at her thighs.

"Does my baby boy want that? Want me to make a mess all over his abs?" She questioned him.

"Yes! Want Noona's cum all over my stomach. Mark me as hers and hers only." He released small whimpers as he felt her pick up her pace.

When he felt her shaking on top of him, he moved his hands to wrap around her hips, holding her in place as she began spilling her juices all over his body, mixing with his own as they coated his abs even further. San helped her ride out her orgasm. When her breathing finally calmed down, he sat up to kiss her tenderly, his buff arms wrapping around her to pull her against his body.

"Mine." He smiled against her lips.

"You're so needy." She told him but he merely laughed it off.

Getting off him, they both gazed down at the mess that was covering his entire lower torso.

"They look like honey glazed cinnamon buns." She joked.

"I know. It's so cool." He looked at them in awe, running over to the mirror to get a better look at not just the shiny slick all over him but to marvel at the purple bruises running in a straight line through his stomach.

"Ok we should get you cleaned up before the photographer gets here."

Before she could start wiping off the residues of their sinful acts, San stopped her.

"Or......you were supposed to make my abs shine...well... they are shining." He squealed.

"San you are not about to take concept photos for your next album with your body covered in cum." She stated firmly.

Pouting furiously and stomping his foot, he crossed his arms.

"You're no fun."

Raising an eyebrow at him, she took a step forward and gripped his hips to press him against her.

"Trust me baby boy, I can be very fun if I put my mind to it......"

Ghosting her lips over his own, her hand began caressing her face.

"And I'll let you join in on the fun later tonight if you behave like a good little boy and let me clean you up and cover up those hickeys because they're only mine to see. Got it?"

He let out a soft squeak when she cupped his cock once more and gripped it harshly.

"Otherwise you're going to go out there with blue balls." She continued.

San quickly nodded, quickly succumbing to the charms and domination of the woman in front of him.

"Yes Noona. I'll be your good little boy."

~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • • • • •~ ʚĭɞ ~

[angry-geese]

hello, how are you? so i don't remember very well how it went, but yesterday i found your tumblr and i was amazed and you write so well 🥺💗

but then i'm a bucciarati simp (i will never get over your end) and i would like to know if you can write a scenario where the reader is just an ordinary citizen who admires bucciarati (because he helped her a while ago) and wants to join the passione and he's just against it because he doesn't want to expose her to danger, he just wants to know her real reason, so he uses his ability to find out if she's lying, which is very helpful as there's a sexual tension there and well, everything ends up in sex.

ok that was very specific lmao maybe if you want to change or are not willing to write, that's fine with me.

anyway thanks, you are amazing ��💗

aww thank you <3

don't ever worry about being too specific, I always love seeing what other people come up with :)

Tomorrow - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

warnings: nsfw/minors do not interact. mutual pining, fluff. minor mention of violence. unprotected sex, quickie, fingering, hickeys, hair pulling, body worship (??? if you squint???). afab reader.

word count: 1.7k

It's hard to believe it's almost been a year.

Your shop had been open for barely a month. When you first moved to your neighborhood, it was made known to you it was a dangerous place. But rent was low, and the building was just too perfect to pass up on. Not many places had room for a bakery, and a space to live upstairs.

You were in over your head. But you were too stubborn to admit it.

It had caught his eye the moment he saw it. Maybe it was its cozy nature; a small shop tucked away, full of plants, a cat dozing off in the window. Or it could have been your inviting smile, the way you lit up as the door opened.

Every day he got the same order. By the end of the first week, you made sure to have it ready for him.

From the very beginning you faced issues. A business like yours attracted a lot of attention; good and bad. The local gangs knew you were bringing in money. They wanted a cut, and you weren't willing to give it to them.

You should have given it to them.

You were warned. They told you they'd come back. You were warned but didn't listen.

They trashed your shop. You swept broken glass from your floors for weeks before it finally came out. They were persistent; more than you ever thought. When you stood up to them, they threatened to kill you. They probably would have, had Bruno not stepped in. While you were willing to lay down your life for your business, he wasn't going to let you.

You're not quite sure what Bruno did, but you never saw those men again.

You never charged him for food again. If it meant he would keep coming back to your shop, you would do a lot of things. You said you owed him. At first, he was willing to accept. Weeks went on as you still refused his money. It got to the point where he felt bad. He hid money around your apartment hoping that you'd take the hint. But you never did.

You could never pay him back. Bruno claims you already have—with all the free food—but truly it's a debt that can't be repaid. Putting it lightly, you owe him your life.

The mess was cleaned up, but you'd never feel safe in your home again.

Over the past few months, Bruno had become one of your closest—if not your closest—friend. His little free time was spent at your shop. The two of you could talk for hours about nothing in particular. Business would come and go, but he was always there. If you called, he'd come running. You really didn't have to call. At the first sign of problems he was by your side.

Bruno's influence only works so much. He could only pay off those thugs for so long.

He was worried when you missed his call this morning.

His stomach sinks as he sees the broken glass.

You're not crying. You really don't look too upset. To you, this is the final nail in your coffin. You only notice him as he stops. You motion for him to sit next to you on the steps.

The people in this town are like vultures. They can sense any bit of fortune. Any money you have can't be kept for long. Stashing it away is never a good idea.

"What happened?" He asks.

"I didn't get my protection fees paid in time."

He takes a seat next to you. For the first time in his life, he feels speechless. As far as he knew, he'd taken care of this. Those thugs would have hell to pay.

"I want to join." You say.

"What?"

"I'm taking Polpo's test." You say. "I want to join Passione."

"Why?"

It's finally occurred to you how close your faces are.

You ball up your apron and toss it aside. You don't have a better answer for him. As much as you wish you did; you don't. You want to tell him anything but the truth. Really, he feels betrayed. Has he not done enough? Has this all gone to waste? He's tried all he can to keep you away from the gangs.

It seems it wasn't enough.

His grip on your arm tightens. You don’t dare look him in the eyes. As if you couldn't be more obvious. You nearly jump out of your skin as he licks a long stripe up your cheek. Instantly your face goes red. Your cheeks burn at the heat that sends right to your core. You're stammering out a few nonsensical sentence fragments.

"That's the taste of a liar, y/n."

You whip around to face him. "I want to be able to defend myself!"

The look in his eyes isn't what you expect. It's more a look of betrayal than anything. To be honest, you didn't expect him to have any reaction at all. He's rather adamant about keeping you away from Passione.

"I can protect you." His voice has gone oddly soft. "I'll take care of you."

Bruno's grip on your arms loosens.

He leans in for a kiss. It's soft, but his warmth lingers on your lips long after he's pulled away. He smells like fancy cologne, and almost like a restaurant, strangely enough. It's a weird, comforting mix of cooked food and expensive men's cologne.

He's wanted to do this since he first met you.

His hands move to cup your cheeks. They're so warm. It's hard to resist his touch. He looks at you with such longing that it makes your chest swell with affection. The heat in your face returns, but it's in less of a lewd manner. He admires every dip and curve of your clothed body; how your waist is cinched in whenever you wear your apron, how your strong hands work pastry dough into shape.

He leans in for another kiss. It's deeper this time, and leaves a longing ache in your chest. The rough muscle of his tongue presses past your lips. He tastes faintly of alcohol.

You're too impatient to get to your room. He'll settle on bending you over your apartment's kitchen counter. He wants to take his time with you, but for now, he's content with this. Maybe there'll be a second time.

His long fingers work to undo the buttons of your pants. You don't take a lot of prep work. You're already soaked. Two of his fingers press into you. They’re long, but fairly thin, and slide right into you. His fingers stroke against your g-spot as his thumb works circles around your clit. It doesn’t take him long to figure out just what makes you weak. Bruno has you a shaking, moaning mess in no time.

You lean against the counter, propping yourself up on your elbows. He wastes no time in freeing himself from his pants. His cock is built like the rest of him; long and dark. It’s girthy, but not intimidatingly big. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed, and the same color as the hair on his head. A vein runs up the bottom, only getting more prominent as he gets harder. He shoves your pants down to your knees.

Bruno groans as he sheathes himself in you. The feeling of your warm, wet cunt is intoxicating. Maybe he’s a bit more pent up than he thought. His hand buries in your hair. He leans forward to nip at your earlobe. Bruno coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him.

He rolls his hips against yours in desperate, quick motions. Bruno can't decide what to do with his hands. They're gripping your breasts, then your hips, then settling in your hair. He’ll have you like this again, he’s certain of it.

Heat pools in your stomach. His touch leaves you with an aching need for more.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long," he says, "you’re so beautiful.”

His fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He sucks a dark mark into your shoulder—one where you won’t be able to see it. It sends a whole new heat to your core. While his cock isn't the biggest, it curves in just a way that makes your toes curl.

He makes it known just what he thinks about you; babbling about how good you feel around him, about how long he’s wanted to do this.

The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. If you had any neighbors, you'd certainly be getting noise complaints. Your moans are like music to his ears. You don't worry about being quiet. Let others hear you, what do you care?

"Harder Bruno!" You cry out.

He can't resist something as beautiful as you.

His free hand moves to your clit, tracing circles around the bundle of nerves. He works you up in a way you never knew possible. Your skin feels feverish, and sensitive to the touch. The heat in your stomach only gets more unbearable. You want to beg him to cum inside. You need him to cum inside. Your mind is too hazy to think of much else but him and the way he fucks into you. He leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Something in you snaps. There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge; it's everything. You clench around him as you cum, crying out. The way you suck him back in is almost enough to send him over the edge.

His thrusts get sloppier as he nears his own orgasm. He scrambles against the counter for purchase, gripping the edge of it so tight his knuckles turn white. He doesn't want to risk cumming inside. He pulls out, giving himself a few pumps before cumming into his hand.

Bruno presses a kiss to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. Your skin is sticky with sweat. A tired, but pleased look spreads across your face. His hair tickles your neck. The sight of your shaky, sleepy form is almost enough to make him hard again.

You lean back into him, giggling. “We made a mess…”

“Want to make another?”

"Are you suggesting a round two?” It’s a joke, but you carry some seriousness behind it.

"Anything for you,"