#thick marble slab

[louiseweird]

San Francisco Dining

[thedurangoriot]

Traditional Home Bar A mid-sized traditional l-shaped home bar design example with a beige floor and marble floor, raised-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, granite countertops, a white backsplash, a stone slab backsplash, and black countertops is shown.

[m-mihalyiova]

L-Shape - Home Bar

[ladylaviniya]

Okay, if we confessing things about Apollo (Blood of Zeus), I have to tell someone my fantasy bc it burns my inside. I want him to fu*k me in his original height, when he is so tall and strong and big. When Zeus hugged Heron's mom in the Underworld it was so good to see the height difference or when Apollo was standing beside Heron. It's still a manageable size but to think about the stretch, the pain and pleasure combo and him being super excited that you would do this for him. Like Gods usually downsize themselves when having sex with a mortal but in this case his lover would express this wish to have him in his original size and it would turn out in this way is more comfortable for him. Maybe the lover is his priestess or something and this happens in one of his temples. (sorry for the confession, I have just seen your post about Blood of Zeus Apollo) This is of course not a request but if it interest you I would be curious of your take on this story if you would ever wanna write this or anything else for Apollo.

I love that you dare to write dominant/submissive or master/slave relationship. We need a super dark Apollo fic where his priestess is super submissive and wants to serve him well so this is why she asks him bc she wants him to be comfortable and he just goes with it.

This is so embarrassing please if this is not your taste just ignore it.

Blood Of Zeus: Apollo’s Pythia

Story Synopsis: You serve the god Apollo since he has threatened to bring a plague upon the people of Delphi.

Pairing: Apollo X Priestess!reader

Story Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Vaginal sex, Humiliation, Size kink, size difference. Mentions of Loss of Virginity, Loss of Innocence, Ancient Greek God Mythology, Mentions of Animal Sacrifice, Master/Slave dynamic. Mostly Porn without Plot.

Authors Notes: Inspired by the song Still Don’t Know My Name by Labrinth. This was requested by @annievvv7 and I am considering writing a prologue and another chapter for when the reader is on Olympus. A Pythia is what they called the priestess at the oracle of Delphi.

The sounds of grunting and sucking of wet flesh echoed the marble walls of his temple.

“You’re thinking too much, my sweet little pythia,” The God of the sun whispered into your neck, his bright glowing hair tickled and blanketed your face and chest. His warm, large palm trailed down your soft belly and dipped between your trembling thighs. His agile fingers discovered your sensitive clit and rubbed gentle circles. His touch was so light and heavenly.

“Relax for me, your god.” he cooed.

He had you nude and spread open for him, your white chiton toga was pooled in a pile at the foot of his altar slab along with his glittering cape.

The stone beneath your back was stained in dark crimson from the countless goats that had been sacrificed in his name. At his command, you were at his mercy, vulnerable and obedient to his will. His presence alone was intimidating and his gaze pierced through your flesh as you were exposed, awaiting his words and commands. You were priestess of the temple of Apollo, you were raised to serve his will...even if it meant forgoing your vows of purity.

Apollo was correct, your mind continued to float away from his attentions. He saw it as strictly a challenge to bring back your focus to him and what he was doing to you. His two fingers, long and thick, carefully pressed inside your body.

It had been a month ago when you made the deal with the divine being. His threat was fearsome and you would not test him. It was a difficult decision, you had decided to save the people of Delphi by becoming his soul bounded slave...because he had promised if you denied him...you and the people of Delphi would face his wrath that would wrought a horrible plague.

You hadn’t known at the time of the deal that he had wanted your body in such a intimate and humiliating way. Upon your first time, Apollo had been domineering in inflicting his power...it could have been worse- you did bleed and you did try to fight him off, but he let you live and he granted you a merciful pleasure you had never known existed when you finally submitted to him. When he had come to you, you were a delicate virgin...now you were his desperate whore.

Your religion was strict with abstinence, you had even taken a sacred oath for Apollo as his representing pythia. Never did you truly believe he would be the one to take your purity. He said it was his rite to fuck you if not any other man. There was no questioning a gods rite.

Apollo’s fingers curled, brushing that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and it tore you from your thoughts as you arched into his palm. You made a pathetic whine and gurgle.

“Oh blessed pythia, you honour me,” he purred mockingly, his golden irises flashing as he looked down at your sweaty body. He drew his fingers out, holding them to the light to see how they gleamed before he licked them clean with his devilish tongue. Your lips parted and chest still heaved catching your breath. He smirked and bent down to steal your mouth in a hungry kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips made your core throb.

You pushed against his shoulders and gasped, “My lord, please lay down upon your temple floor...”

His brows lifted, “Making demands of me? Your god?” he still smirked, “Little pythia, I could punish you for such insolence.”

But he wouldn’t...he liked playing too much with you, especially when you were forced to grant the people their future among the oracle practice. The absolutely naughty things he would say to you, knowing you'd find it hard to answer the poor soul who merely wanted to know their fortune. How he would truly humiliate you and make you feel breathless by the day was done.

Your face was dishevelled in total lust, licking your lips, you pushed his shoulders again and felt his hands lift you by the waist carefully down from the altar until your bare feet touched the cold floor.

He crouched down and sat on the ground. His face was levelled to yours. You were by no means graceful but it did not stop his desire for you. You stood astride his thighs, your palms on his shoulder attempted to push him back. He let you.

Laying nearly flat on the ground, he balanced his upper back on his elbow and forearms. He tilted his head at you. You had to sit on his legs and pelvis to perform, or else the strain of your human legs would hurt more than the pleasure you’d hope to gain and provide.

You mewled desperately, reaching between you both to take purchase of his intimate member. It hung like a fucking horse, harden like a stone pillars rising up. A soft carpet of golden hair covered the base of his masculine appendage. His skin was still as gloriously golden and dark beneath his waist tunic kilt. You wondered if he had bathed himself nude in the pure light of the sizzling sun. His hard cock jumped in your hand, the veins pulsing against your palm. The God was huge, larger than any human man you had ever seen bathing in the springs.

And for some dumb reason you had insisted he be like this, his natural height and size instead of shifting into an average sized man. He was your god and you were his priestess, his pythia. You wanted to keep him pleased.

You reached between your thighs and rub the wetness there to bring it up and wrap around his cock. He gasped, amused and curious. Did you truly intend to take him at this size?

His large hands bent around your waist, digging into the skin of your soft bottom.

“Careful,” he murmured, “You greedy thing.”

You leaned forward, lining his thick bulb with your small opening, admiring the glitter in his golden gaze he held on you. His fingers ran up and down your spine encouragingly. When you rolled your hips forward you scrunched your face up preparing for the almighty stretch.

Your lips parted wide open, a horrible groan bellied from your mouth as you sank yourself down every inch of his unhuman length and thickness. You tried not to think about the possibility of it being the same size as your own forearm.

A low moan rumbled through his entire body that made your insides jump in delight and tingle. Apollo was happy to let you have this control, but he never took his eyes off you, never shut them. He knew the resentment still in your heart, the aching darkness for revenge. Of course if you tried to strangle him, stab him, even slit his throat he would not die, it would just hurt and perhaps piss him off.

You keened and whimpered, your body trembled as your lower lips pressed down to his soft pubic fuzz. For a few moments you were totally still. Tears streamed down your cheeks. He was impressed. His lips parted. You were admirable, trying so hard.

He moved his hands around. One thumb pressed to your sweet nipple and another to your clit, rubbing circles against them both. You gasped and felt your walls clamp down around him. He coaxed you through the pain, blooming inside you a new pleasure.

Apollo’s starved eyes travelled over your entire body, his eyes trailing low to the land where you both connected as he waited for you to move.

Carefully with your hands shaking on his chest, you lifted a little with a hiss, to roll down and sit perfectly again on his cock, letting him slide deep inside. You both groaned. It was exactly what you needed. The pressure of his cock, the feeling of being flooded with his cock so deep and entirely you couldn’t think of anything else but of your god creating this divine match.

You rode him very slowly. He let you lead at first until he grabbed your waist and jerked his hips up.

Submissively, you braced your hands on his strong glowing chest, feeling the smooth and tight muscles beneath your fingers, you rocked your hips back onto him, hunting the ultimate pleasure that was so quickly approaching, giving him everything you had. His eyes roamed from your face and your breasts, watching the way they moved as you practically bounced on his mighty rod. When he could feel your body growing weak and exhausted, he held you tight against him and began to thrust his hips up, slamming into you.

“That’s it, little pythia.”

He bowed his head, taking your tit and nipple into his mouth. He bit down, sending a shockwave through me, bringing your senses back momentarily. You gasped out loudly, your walls clenching. Your nails dug into his biceps. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirled and he hummed with delight at the sound of your noises. His fingers rubbed harder into your clit. Your soft whimpers began begging as he pushed harder up into you. Your lips pressed just above his ear while he sucked.

“You enjoy this my sweet slave?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. Your sweet tears fell onto his shoulder.

“Yes my lord Apollo,” you whimpered, your toes curled and your fingernails dug up into his long blonde mane. You could feel the tsunami beginning to creep up your spine, your body surrendered to him.

“Then show me! Release your praise,” Apollo ordered, his voice a growl in your ear. It was too great. The bold bright light exploded behind your eyes. You screamed into the side of his neck, sobbing as the wave of desire broke the band.

Your muscles strangled his pulsing cock. Limply you sagged against his body while he steadied his thrusts and dragged the last few out, thrusting hard down once as he flooded your womb with his golden cum. His lips brushed softly against your cheek. He was slow and kind as he lifted you up and off of his cock. Your insides felt bruised.

He held you close to his chest, reaching out for his cape. It was like a wave of glittering white and gold. Like shining white sand, warm and comforting on your wet skin.

He covered your body in it, before lowering you to lay on the marble floor.

He eventually pulled out, and you could feel his seed start to leak out down your thighs and drip onto the cold floor. Your lips parted and your legs closed, embarrassed. He chuckled and kissed your salty sweat drenched forehead.

“You look so beautiful with my cum inside you.”

Apollo’s finger gathered the escaping slickness and pushed it back into your spent body, causing another shaky moan to slip from your lips.

“Best not to waste it.”

You trembled and boldly reached out to him. Tendrils of his long mane were combed through your fingers. So soft and smooth. He smelt like the morning, sweet dew and the warm springs. He cradled you in the crook of his arm, his skin was a great warmth along with his cape. His hand petted your body, trailing his finger tips up and down as you combed his hair softly. Come the rising sun, he would be gone again. He would speak to you daily through the oracle bowl, but you would not feel his powerful body until his next visit.

“Will I see you again?” You croaked, “Next month? Will your duties allow it my lord?”

Apollo was calm. Spent. He was pleased and relaxed. His cock had softened. His palm rested on your belly.

“No.”

Your face fell slightly. You couldn’t believe it but you knew you would miss him, his teasing touch.

“You will see me everyday...” he purred and kissed your cheek, “I have decided, you will return with me to Olympus.”

Your mouth fell open, your eyes widened. You didn’t know what to say.

“But my duties? I am to read the oracle and-”

His brows lifted, his hand pressed your hands above your head, his other finger pointed at your chest squarely.

“Your duties are to serve me, or did you forget the oath you made to me so quickly?”

With a fluttering heart and regretful fear you shook your head, “No, no my lord master. It’s just...what will I be if not your pythia?”

“My slave...my bride maybe...”

He bent down and pressed his mouth to yours before you could say anything further. He redressed himself as you sat up, stunned in silence.

“Br-bride?”

He smirked, and held out his hand to you, “Come with me my dear slave.”

You took his hand and he carried you to his summoned chariot. You would reach the city of the gods and we’d the great Apollo. God of the Sun.

[ourfag]

ed: what else comes in slabs?

stede:

stede: sorry, what?

ed: oh did i not say any of that other stuff out loud

stede: no—

ed: —sorry—

stede: —i don’t think so. what about slabs? just let me catch up

ed: well, okay, so you can have a slab of marble, for example

stede: uh huh

ed: and you can have a slab of cement. but there’s not a lot else that gets measures in slabs, right? marble and cement, that’s it

stede: mm. stone? in general?

ed: huh. yeah, i guess. like, slab of granite—

stede: of granite, yeah. and—i don’t really know any other stones. you could have a slab of wood, maybe? does that work?

ed: i don’t think i’ve ever heard “slab of wood.” i think that’s a plank. or a board…

stede: i came home with that slab of parmesan that one time.

ed: the what

stede: that we grated over the soup and it wasn’t that good? but we kept trying to say it was good because the parmesan was good and the soup was good so we thought together they should be good

ed: oh. the soup cheese?

stede: really disappointing

ed: babe, that was a brick

stede: it was a slab

ed: it wasn’t a slab, it was—

stede: it was flat. it was dimensionally a slab

ed: way too thick to be a slab, man. that’s a brick.

stede: how can you even tell

ed: slab is a slab. a brick, that’s just a specific breed of chunk

stede: a slab is also a breed of chunk

ed: mate if youre not going to take this seriously—

[bearw-me]

Absolutely loved that last Carmilla one you did. Could you do a Carmilla x g/n! reader angst turned fluff. Basically insecure/low self esteem reader starts doubting why Carmilla is dating them, they keep hearing what others say and start to think they don't deserve her, she finds out one day.

the angst! the romance! the carmilla hugs! (also ty! I'm glad you liked my writing enough to request something lol!)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x gender neutral! insecure! reader, zestial/ velvette/ overlords mentioned 𐐒 cw : angst, fluff, self-doubt, hurt/comfort, bullying reader?, hugs/cuddling, crying, reader and carmilla make-out whatt 𐐒 summary : You scroll for too long, obsessed with the idea that Hell is right. . . maybe you don't belong with Carmilla? But then again, she won't really let you go, no matter what anyone says. 𐐒 word count : 946 𐐒 note : just static in my head

You stared with a broken heart at your phone screen, the blue light casting an already darker shadow over your face as you stared at the headlines.

'Carmilla Carmine's New Love Affair?!'

You skimmed over the sub-headers, the bold texts shamelessly poking at you from head to toe, devouring your dignity in one fell swallow.

You groaned, letting your head thump against the cold tile of the kitchen counter.

Is that what they really thought about you? Is that what all of hell was saying? Carmilla. . . The thought summoned tears to your eyes.

Although it was extremely unhealthy to do so, and you thought better of it. You kept scrolling.

The V's, who basically ran the media within the Wraith ring were all talking about it, plastering your face next to hers in an attempt to tear you both down.

The feeling in your hands began to disappear, remembering with darkening vision how the overlords looked down at you like you were something to pity.

Something worth looking down on.

Especially when you stood next to her. . .

The deadliest arms dealer in all of hell.

Even Zestial? The doubt clouded your head like thick rain clouds. Maybe he thought you weren't good enough either. . . just gave you his blessing out of pity.

The way he looked at you, you remember, his shadowy features slumping whenever he turned his attention towards you.

You let the phone go, or maybe it shook out of your trembling hands?

A long, drawn out sigh fled your lungs, quickly replaced by a shaken breath.

At least the marble slab beneath your arms was cool, it felt good against your flushed skin.

Maybe I don't deserve her, the thought tore at your throat, pulling tightly until you couldn't help but let out a quiet sob.

How would you tell her? How would you just. . . let her go without all the questions and hurt?

"Is something wrong, mi corazón?"

You jumped, Carmilla's large hand encasing your quivering shoulders. You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't heard her come in.

"No! Nothing's wrong," you promised. . . unable to look her in the eyes.

"What's this?" She reached for your phone, the blue light flashing momentarily against her grey skin.

"Don't!" you insisted, grabbing the phone from her and practically smashing it onto the counter face down. "I was just- I was just reading something. . ." you tried.

"Why won't you look at me then?" Carmilla grabbed at your face, forcing you to look at her.

The way her eyes softened, a burning rage always locked behind them. . . and her beautiful hair was down. A soft cape draping around her figure and spilling over her shoulders.

You couldn't bear it.

The way she grit her teeth in worry. It felt like you didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve her.

You cried in her hands, closing your eyes so that you didn't have to see her reaction.

And she let you, bending down some to hug you close and tight, rubbing your back until all the pain had fled.

It was another couple of minutes until it felt like it was over, the silence encasing you as you sniffled, trying to hide the embarrassing sound in her skin.

"I know what troubles you these days, my love," she pulled away from the hug, able to properly hold eye contact with you.

You must've looked pathetic.

She smiled, the white fangs biting into her lower lip "How beautiful you are," she whispered, brushing the side of your face and feeling the heat beneath your skin.

"Come here, let's talk about it." Without another word, she lifted you up-for just a moment- and whisked down the quiet halls of her penthouse to the bedroom.

She took up the spot next to you, draping her leg over yours and pulling you closer "I know how you must feel," she stared, propping her head up with her hand, the other coming to rest behind your back. "I just want you to know that I love you, mi corazón, with all my heart. . . that is a promise I make to only a few."

She stroked your side, a bashful smile crawling over her her dark lips "Ay dios mio," she muttered, "You hold my heart like no other will."

The confession, no matter how little or how much you heard it from her, filled your chest with sunlight. A feeling of falling in love that you've felt a handful of times. . . but when it came from her. . . it was new again; and so overwhelming.

"Carmilla?"

Her eyebrows popped up in silent question, before you moved forward, taking her lips in yours. Warm and soft as she kissed you back. She let herself fall into your arms, grabbing at your neck for support while you cradled her head, breaking the kiss for just a moment so that you could pin her under you.

You relished in that split moment.

Carmilla laying beneath you, hair splayed out like a halo around her head, black lipstick smeared down and an evil, needy grin spreading across her face like she'd bite you.

But maybe that's what you wanted.

"I love you," you stated, the confidence in those three words- in the way she made you feel- was enough.

She laughed, a sexy little ringing in your ears that made your heart skip a beat. "Oh mi corazón, you make me feel young again." She pulled you down into her chest, smothering you in kisses, the two of you giggling like a pair of young lovebirds.

[fruitcoops]

After Midnight

Annual pride fic is here! I hope everyone is staying safe, well, and hydrated :) Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for alcohol/ light drunkenness/hangovers

July 1, 1:30 p.m.

“Jesus,” Remus mumbled. Pressure pinched his lower back, runching up his shirt; he dug a clumsy hand beneath himself and fumbled for his phone. It took a few moments to extract it, clamped between weak knuckles, but he managed. Handful of Twitter notifications, a text from his dad, an automatic calendar notification, sticky lips and—good god, did his hair really look that bad?

He tried to sit up and was met with an immediate (and wildly cranky) grumble from the concrete slab resting across his belly.

Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. Getting up was overrated. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the house.

June 30, 10:30 p.m.

“AYO AYO AYO!”

Kasey winced. “Christ, Harz, take some pity on my eardrums.”

“Hey, man, sorry—has anyone seen the margarita mix?”

“Side counter,” Remus noted, tipping his chin toward the kitchen. “By the sink.”

Finn’s face brightened. “Sick, thanks.”

“Gentle pours, please. Not everyone here has a college liver.”

“Please,” Finn snorted as he cracked a screw-top open. “You’re all in much better shape than those guys ever were. Knutty around?”

Remus shrugged and took another sip of his beer. He liked this kind—Sirius had picked well. “Went off somewhere with Reg. Probably gaming.”

Finn whistled through his teeth. “Not getting him back anytime soon, eh?”

“Oh, you bet,” Remus laughed.

July 1, 2:00 p.m.

“We should ban frat boys from the team.”

“Mmm.”

“All of them. Every one.”

“Mmm.”

“Or at least remove the—” Sirius paused to catch another mouthful of water directly from the faucet. For the first time in Remus’ memory, his glossy hair looked slightly dull and flat. “—lead weights from their hands, mon dieu, what did they put in there?”

“Hell. Burning, vicious, alcoholic hell.” He turned his head with utmost caution, and still felt a warning throb in the back of his skull. “I liked those ciders you picked up.”

Sirius groaned; Remus watched his forehead bump the side of the kitchen cabinet with a soft noise. “Don’t talk to me about cider right now. My tongue feels like I licked one of your sweaters.”

Remus frowned. “You like my sweaters.”

“That’s not…” Sirius straightened with a wince. Both hands remained braced on the marble. “The fuzzy stuff, it’s all in my mouth. Wool.”

Remus thought it was rather more like someone had packed his cheeks and sinuses full of cotton balls, but sharing that didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Nine hours of sleep. Dizziness still threatened every attempt at movement. The tap turned off and he heard Sirius’ footsteps approach; pressure compacted Remus’ ribs once more with a wobbly flop.

“I like this shirt,” Sirius mumbled into his left pec. His voice was thick—from his hangover or drowsiness or just giving up on English, Remus wasn’t sure. Knowing Sirius, it was a bit of all three. His stubble scratched gently over Remus’ collarbone, still damp from sticking his head in the sink. “Soft. Cute.”

“It’s one of yours.”

“Ah. I have good taste.”

“Clearly.”

The corner of Sirius’ mouth pulled up in a smile. “Hmm. Harzy and Tremz are going to be doing bag skates until their legs fall off.”

Remus snorted, trailing his fingertips through the squashed curls at Sirius’ nape. “Not to play frat boy’s advocate here, but in their very weak defense, I don’t think the punch alone did this.”

“Non. Margaritas.”

“I still think Lily poured extra in.”

“Ouais, prolab—probleb—oui. She did.”

A phone screen lit up in Remus’ periphery. He grabbed for it, stiff-fingered and extremely stuck beneath a lump of husband, and squinted into the bright light. “Pots says good morning, and that he’s going to go lay on the porch for a few hours. He loves you.”

“Mmph. Love, too.”

June 30, 11:25 p.m.

Sirius loved parties. He fucking loved them. This was the best night of his life. Second-best, after his wedding. Or third? He was happy when Harry was born. But no, his ribs were still broken then. That had to put it under tonight, because tonight was perfectly amazing and awesome, and James was his—

“You’re my favorite person,” he yelled over the music, leaning on James’ shoulder in case he didn’t hear. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” James shouted back. His glasses had gone a bit sideways on his face. That was fine. Lily would totally fix those for him. She liked to kiss his nose, and she had once told Sirius that fixing James’ glasses made sure she got to do it. Sirius thought she might want to pick something that wasn’t so easily broken.

“Hey,” he continued with a pull to James’ shirtsleeve. “I kiss loup on the mouth.”

“I know!”

“And the cheek!”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because Lily kisses your nose,” he explained. Maybe the music was too loud for James to understand. He looked confused. “And you can break your nose. But you can’t break your mouth or your cheeks.”

Finally, understanding dawned on James’ face. “Dude,” he said. “You’re so right. We gotta go tell her.”

July 1, 2:07 p.m.

Remus set Sirius’ phone down on his lower back and reached for his own, wiggling a little when his hips got stuck under Sirius’ torso. A displeased huff followed—he kissed the top of Sirius’ head in apology and let the popsocket slot between his fingers, just in case. He was so clammy all of a sudden.

You Have (4) New Messages From: Lion Den RAHH

everyone not dead sound off

breathing.

Technically alive. Wish I wasn’t.

who made the fucikgn margs

New Message To: Lion Den RAHH

Not dead. Margs were Harz and Lily. You fuckers need to clean up after yourselves.

He had just clicked his phone off when the screen went retina-blasting bright again. Remus let his head fall back against the armrest and immediately regretted it. It took an embarrassing amount of time to lift his head again without the room tilting sideways.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Big words. Small brain. Still drunj

*drnuk

DTUNK.

Three gray dots scrolled, then vanished. Remus smiled to himself. The vindictive part of him was glad to see they weren’t the only ones in Pride-induced misery.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Some1 help knutty is snorng like a fucking chainswa

Remus glanced down. “Did you know Knutty snores?”

“In planes.”

The shallow rhythm of Sirius’ breathing flexed the shirt across his back. Remus gave an appreciative rub along the valley of his spine and felt him arch into it. “Aw,” he cooed. “My poor little hungover lion cub.”

“Nooo,” Sirius protested weakly.

“Poor baby. How will you survive.”

“At least you don’t snore.”

“True.”

“Is Harzy suffering?”

“As much as he can while he’s in bed on a Saturday with his boyfriends.”

“Good.”

July 1, 12:15 a.m.

“Bonjour, hi, hi.”

An arm caught him around the waist—Remus stumbled, but within half a step he had been gathered up against a warm, familiar chest. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, dopey even to his own ears. “Missed you.”

Sirius might have returned the sentiment, but Remus didn’t hear it through the buzz in his veins and the stutter of his heart when Sirius’ mouth found his own. He staggered backward with a sharp inhale and let Sirius carry their momentum. His back hit the wall; Sirius sighed into his lips when Remus dragged a hand through the top of his hair.

He tasted like oranges when Remus bit his lower lip. “Yum.”

“Love you,” Sirius said, smiling. Their foreheads bumped and Remus pushed into it. He was rewarded with another kiss that turned his ankles to loose jello. “Non, non, don’t leave.”

“Mmm, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised through a grin.

His eyes closed as Sirius’ mouth trailed over his cheek and jaw, then down to suck at his neck. “Should’ve done this earlier.”

Teeth grazed his skin with each word; Remus shivered despite the warm night. “Yeah?”

“Before the parade.” The sway of Sirius’ accent did unholy things to his heart. Stubble teased his skin when Sirius nudged under his chin. “That way everyone could see.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Remus breathed.

July 1, 3:45 p.m.

“Did you drown?”

Sirius glared at him across the bedroom, playful and foggy. Remus grinned and took a swig of Gatorade.

“You look like you did.”

“How are you rebounding?” Sirius grumbled.

Water droplets stuck to the mirror with each scrub of the towel through his hair. He’d left it longer than usual in the postseason, fluffy around his ears and neck. Remus was inclined to keep it that way as long as he could. He met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror and took another pointed sip. “Our lady of blessed electrolytes.”

“…give it.”

July 1, 1:30 a.m.

Sweat and glitter burned crystalline in the glow of multicolored LEDs. Sirius wasn’t sure where—or who—the glitter had come from, but finding one culprit in this crowd would be a losing battle, and one that required him to stand up. There was no way in hell he was leaving this perfect place.

Remus’ eyelashes threw shadows over his freckles when he blinked. “Do you think they’ll start leaving soon?”

“I’ve been hoping since midnight.”

His laugh was everything. Quieter at first, a mischievous snicker blooming loud at the end. Sirius let his eyes fall shut when Remus leaned over. His temple nestled against Sirius’ forehead. “Hi.”

The seam of his jeans rippled under Sirius’ fingertip. His quad flexed, and Sirius felt the weight in his lap grow heavier while Remus settled in. “Hey.”

“Proud of you.”

Sirius pressed his smile to a blush-warm cheek. God, he loved how pink Remus turned on nights like this. “I love you.”

It only took a minute adjustment, and they were kissing. He kept it soft and long and chaste, more a series of small pecks brought together by their closeness than anything. The tip of Remus’ nose was cool on the bridge of his own. He nibbled the corner of that grin and tasted bright apple-sugar, chasing it with a flick of tongue.

“You’re bad,” Remus murmured with audible delight, twisting slightly. He hardly went far—most of his weight rested on Sirius’ chest and he came closer without hesitation when Sirius tugged on his hips. His golden eyes flashed in the sudden transition from hot pink to blue lining their walls. “We have company.”

“So did Dumo.” Sirius kissed the roundness of his lower lip. “When we won the Cup.”

“We can’t throw a fuckin’ Pride party and then sneak off in the middle of it. It’s cliché.”

“If this is the middle, I’m sneaking off to sleep in an hour, and you can decide to join me or not.”

Remus’ laugh was loud all the way through, this time.

July 1, 6:00 p.m.

The groupchat had grown steadily more active as the hours passed and more of their friends were revived from their howling, sharp-toothed hangovers. Remus, for his part, had already sworn off alcohol six times in the past four hours. He hadn’t been left this hard-over since his junior year of college.

A gust of wind blew in from one of the many open windows and ruffled his shirt. Remus grimaced. “I still smell like a distillery.”

Sirius (who, despite his whinging, had recovered rather fast) sniffed the air. “Ouais.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Worth it, though.”

Remus gave him a sideways look. “Was it?”

Sirius glanced up and frowned, then set his slice of pizza down. “I liked the party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” One of his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was nice, having people around. The parade was fun. Kind of busy.” He took another bite, tipping his head back and forth thoughtfully even as a gentle blush colored his neck. “I like showing you off.”

Remus liked to think he had grown accustomed to Sirius’ sweetness—to his big heart and kind words, both of which were reserved for a select few that somehow included Remus. Yet he constantly found himself left speechless, cast far out to sea by the sheer honesty Sirius saved for him.

He stretched a leg out under the table and tangled their ankles together. “Love you.” Remus tilted his chin vaguely toward the window. “Here, and out there. For us and them.”

“We should have more parties,” Sirius said by way of an answer. The blush had risen to his ears. His foot ran along the length of Remus’ shin.

“Okay.”

“I want to see everyone, and I want to love you so they know it.”

Remus’ face hurt from keeping his smile from drifting too close to utter lunacy. “Okay.”

“We should ban glitter next year.” Sirius nodded to himself, then nudged Remus’ foot. “And frat boys.”

“They’re gay frat boys, though. They have a right.”

The bridge of Sirius’ nose wrinkled. Fucking adorable. “Well, maybe they just need to pick a side.”

“Lily was partially responsible for the biohazard margaritas,” Remus pointed out, picking a piece of pepperoni off Sirius’ slice and adding it to his own.

“She’s out, too.” Sirius jabbed his pizza at him. “And you’re on thin fucking ice, thief.”

“I’ll pick her party over yours.”

“You can’t pick your best friend over the person you’re gay married to. It’s Pride.”

Remus stole another pepperoni, dodging the smack of Sirius’ hand. “Then I’ll get gay married to Lily.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Any marriage I’m in is a gay one,” Remus informed him, slouching lower in his seat to hook his calf around Sirius’. “I can gay marry anyone I want. I’ll gay marry a dozen people and go to all their parties over yours. Ha-ha-ha.”

Sirius flicked a piece of pineapple at him; it bounced off his chin, and while he was distracted, Sirius stole one of his pepperonis back with a triumphant grin. “Fine. See if any of them put up with you like I do.”

“Thief.”

A foot poked Remus in the back of the knee. “Doesn’t count if it was already mine.”

[fourfoldfires]

we all love to dunk on sharlayan food but i don't think we've given them nearly enough shit for their furniture. "comfy feather bed" my ass that is a slab of MARBLE. pillow approximately 1 inch thick. these inn rooms are a SCAM

[multi-fandoms-posts]

sick days

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

Y/N comes into the bedroom with two cups of hot tea, where James and Michael are lying on the bed with exaggerated sighs. Both are wrapped in blankets as if freezing in the Antarctic, even though the apartment is comfortably warm.

"Here," Y/N says, handing each of them a cup, "I put extra honey in."

"Thanks, darling," James mutters with his deep, raspy voice. He coughs softly and pulls the blanket tighter around himself.

Michael lets out a heavy sigh and stares at the ceiling. "I think I see the light," he says dramatically, closing his eyes. "This is it. Tell my parents I love them."

Y/N shakes her head and sits between the two of them on the bed. "You’re both impossible," she says with a small smile. "It’s just a cold."

James looks at her with his blue eyes, now glazed over. "Just a cold?" he asks weakly. "I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Twice."

"At least twice," Michael agrees, without opening his eyes. "I swear my organs are shutting down."

Y/N chuckles softly and places a hand on Michael’s forehead. "You don’t have a fever," she observes. "You’re not dying."

"How can you be sure?" Michael opens one eye to look at her before letting out another sigh. "Maybe it’s just the beginning of the end."

"Oh, stop it," Y/N says, getting up to grab a box of tissues. "You two act like you’re in the final stages of some terminal illness."

James coughs dramatically on purpose, which turns into a wheeze. "I don’t know how much longer I’ll make it," he murmurs, leaning back. "You should start writing down our last wishes."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah? What’s your last wish, James? Should I carve your final words into a marble slab?"

James looks at her with a serious expression, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. "I wish for you to never forget us. Even if we have to stay in this bed forever... sick, weak, and lost."

"What he said," Michael adds, now starting to sip his tea. "But make sure I get a statue. Maybe in a park somewhere."

Y/N laughs out loud and shakes her head. "You two are such drama queens."

"Drama?" Michael asks indignantly. "This is survival. We’re fighting for our lives here."

"I can practically feel death knocking at the door," James whispers, closing his eyes with one hand dramatically placed over his chest.

Y/N shakes her head, walks over to James, and gently places her hand on his cheek. "You’re not going to die," she says softly. "Not while I’m here to take care of you."

James opens one eye and gives her a weak smile. "That’s what’s keeping us alive, love. Your care."

"And the tea," Michael adds, sitting up to take another sip. "The tea is good."

Y/N grins and sits back down between the two. "You know what?" she says. "Maybe you two should just sleep. It’s the best thing you could do."

"Sleep?" James asks. "But what if I never wake up?"

Michael snorts softly, smiling. "If you don’t wake up, at least you’ll be lying in Y/N’s arms. That’s not a bad way to go, is it?"

"Exactly," James agrees, snuggling closer to Y/N. "If I have to go, let it be like this."

Y/N looks between the two of them, her eyes full of affection. They both knew they were exaggerating, but she enjoyed their silly display. It was kind of sweet how they indulged in being pampered.

"You’re both impossible," she says softly, running her fingers gently through James’s hair and giving Michael a kiss on the forehead. "But I love you both anyway."

"We love you too," both men mumble almost simultaneously, before finally settling into their blankets, their eyes slowly closing, and their dramatic antics fading into soft snores.

Y/N watches them and smiles. Even though it could be a challenge to take care of two such demanding men, she wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

A few days later, Y/N is lying in bed, wrapped in several blankets with a thick scarf around her neck. Her head is pounding, and her body feels heavy. She coughs softly and closes her eyes, trying to find some rest. Outside in the hallway, she hears footsteps.

“Well, well, well,” James says with a wide grin as he enters the room. “Look how the tables have turned.”

Michael follows him, equally healthy, carrying a glass of water and some pills. “It seems like you’re the one seeing the light now,” he teases, sitting at the foot of the bed.

Y/N weakly opens her eyes and murmurs hoarsely, “I hate you both.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” James says, leaning down to her. “You took such good care of us, now it’s our turn.”

“Yeah, we’re going to take care of you, just like you did for us,” Michael adds, gently brushing a hand over her forehead. “And don’t worry, we won’t overdo it like we did. Well… maybe just a little.”

Y/N snorts, trying to suppress a grin, though it’s not easy in her condition. “You were terrible.”

“That’s true,” James says without a hint of remorse. “But we survived. And now you’re going to survive this too.”

“Here,” Michael says, handing her the glass of water. “Drink this and take the pills. You’ll feel better soon.”

Reluctantly, Y/N takes a sip of the water and swallows the pills. She leans back into the pillows with a sigh. “You have no idea how awful this is.”

James sits beside her and gazes at her lovingly. “Oh, we know. Trust me, we were right on the brink of death.”

Michael chuckles softly. “But you’re way braver than us. You’ll get through this faster than we did.”

“And besides,” James adds, lifting her hand to his lips, “there’s no better motivation to get better than having the two of us in peak form around you.”

Y/N closes her eyes and mutters, “You’re both so annoying.”

Michael leans down and kisses her forehead. “And yet, you love us,” he says gently.

“Maybe,” Y/N murmurs weakly as she burrows deeper into the blankets. “Maybe not.”

James laughs softly and pulls the blanket higher over her. “We’ll see when you’re feeling better. Until then, we’re taking care of you—whether you like it or not.”

“Oh no,” Y/N whispers, her voice barely audible. “Now I’m really scared.”

Michael and James exchange broad grins and both lean back against the headboard. “It’ll be fine,” Michael says, placing a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Y/N finally surrenders, letting herself relax. Despite the sickness and dizziness, in that moment, surrounded by the two men she loves, she feels safe and secure.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Kinktober 2024 - Begging (Impact play & edging/OD (orgasm denial))

Our poll winner! Based on this art by @sortumavaara. Duilin falls into a pit of white-hot depravity.

Prompts: Begging (Impact play & edging/OD (orgasm denial))

Pairing: Duilin x Balrog

Words: 560

Warnings: drugging, aphrodisiacs, impact play, temperature play, OD, begging, humiliation, captivity, monsterfucking (I guess)

Duilin recalled the seemingly endless fall that had turned the name of his House into a cruel joke—despite his fleet-footed grace, he’d plummeted like a stone rather than soaring weightlessly through the smoky air.

He’d been sure that this was the end—he now wished it had been.

As the terrible, nameless dread that stared at him from unblinking eyes drew closer with a sound akin to crumbling rock, Duilin tried to crawl away, but his limbs were leaden and his mind unable to tell right from left.

Upon being handed the prisoner like a rare gift, the creature of darkness and depravity that was now looming over Duilin like a nightmare incarnate had at once forced his lips apart to pour some foul-tasting brew down his throat.

Ever since, the Elven Lord had found himself unable to fully control his body and mind.

Old desires, which he’d always denied and suppressed, broke through the cracks of his shattered self-esteem like streams of molten stone, and he whimpered softly.

“Beg, little one,” a voice said as a painfully hot, clawed finger was dragged along his spine slowly.

When he valiantly refused to comply despite the overwhelming urge to arch his back and offer his shamefully pliable, needy flesh to the detestable monster, Duilin felt a palm as broad and hard as a slab of marble come down against his wantonly clenching behind ruthlessly.

He screamed, but his outrage melted into a pitiful whimper before his voice petered out.

“Soon,” the Balrog hummed. “Not long before you’ll be the perfect pet!”

The heat—without and within—was nigh unbearable, and Duilin whispered a shivering plea, though he wasn’t sure for what act of clemency or corruption he was asking.

The ogre—its smouldering, scaly body sliding ever closer—cackled. Duilin was fascinated by the thick, lashing tongue emerging from a lipless, fanged mouth to taste the abused, stinging skin of his bare behind.

Writhing with debilitating concupiscence, Duiling pushed back against that teasing touch and groaned when huge fingers fastened a leather collar around his throat.

Next, a pair of fake ears and a furry tail were affixed to his feverish body before the Balrog leaned back with a satisfied hum that made Duilin convulse with unmet greed.

“Please,” he choked out. “Please, make it stop.”

He was falling still, and his skin was ablaze as his descent into madness sped up inexorably.

“You can do better,” his jailor purred, giving Duilin’s frantically twitching cock a single firm stroke before pulling back again. “Tell me that you’ll take your medicine. Swear that you’ll be an obedient pet.”

“I beg you—I swear,” Duilin keened, desperate for the bone-breaking relief of finally hitting the ground, this ageless horror on top and deep within him.

He wanted to be touched—he wanted to be taken.

Another quick stroke that cut off Duilin’s breath, followed by a long spell of torturous immobility.

“For the love of…” Duilin didn’t get to finish his sentence as five long, scalding fingers closed around the base of his cock and squeezed.

A wall of fire rose between the captive Elf and the liberating climax he so craved; Duilin hastened into another bout of supplication, stumbling over his words as his limbs contorted in the desperate attempt to create any kind of friction.

“Soon,” the Balrog repeated happily.

@tolkienpinupcalendar <3

Thank you so much for reading!

☞ Masterlist

[angelmush]

it's been a while because our oven was out of commission (mice in it) and i was sick w some catastrophic mystery illness and then i was back home in colorado for a few days for the holidays but i'm back now so here's another little post about meals i'm wanting to make soon!!

i want to oven roast wedges of cabbage and mushrooms and maybe some chicken w lots of spices and olives and garlic and oil and maybe char some lemons until all is golden and crispy and then whip up some fresh creamy feta (i splurged on it lol it's a treat) w lemon and yogurt to lay down as a base for the roasted stuff and top w olive oil and dill and fresh lemon and maybe some kind of tahini drizzle if i'm feeling ambitious. this idea has had me daydreaming for dayssss

i have japanese curry cubes that have been waiting for their moment resting in my pantry, an abundance of potatoes (15 lbs LOL), fragrant jasmine rice, some wild carrot, and some very pretty marble-y slabs of pork i could make tonkatsu with, a meal that reminds me of my friends in colorado who made this once for us to eat for a DND session :'')

my gf has been asking me to make alpermagronen, a swiss childhood staple of mine, since we ate it on the side of a mountain when we went back to switzerland to visit my childhood friends. it's a hearty alpine meal that's sort of mac and cheese-y with tubes of pasta and soft cubes of potato in a luscious creamy gruyere sauce topped with thick batons of bacon, a heap of caramelized onions and homemade applesauce. very swiss, very comforting, very filling and something that makes me deeply nostalgic

and a surprise to no one, another chicken soup!!! it's one of my fave foods but i want to do a different kind with a dash of cream and some kale and lots of lemon this time as opposed to the traditional carrot and celery one i've been making every few weeks. i have homemade chicken stock still in the freezer and a butchered chicken as well, all ready to go

i want to bake the nyt gingerbread blondies !! they sound up my ally :)

[ofthecaravel]

Brandy

Chapter Three

Summary: A port on a western bay serves a hundred ships a day, and the lonely sailors flock to the Caravel Cantina, run by the Kiszka brothers (minus one). But when their brother returns with a handsome sailor in tow, the youngest Kiszka brother finds his perspective about his family and himself turned upside down.

Tags: Secrets and angstttttttttt, mentions of murder/blood/trauma, big talks lol

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Woof. Enjoy

~~~

Sam made a point to wake up before his brothers, wanting to repay them for their kind breakfast the previous morning.

Usually when he was up this early, Sam was groggy and irritable, but as he tied his shoes and weaved his hair into two neat plaits, he felt shockingly alert and calm. After doing a sweep of the kitchen, he decided it would be nice to pick up some bacon and fruit at the morning market to make his own breakfast for them. He wasn't as skilled a cook as Jake was, but he had somewhat caught up skill wise in their time without him. He felt pretty certain that he could whip up a meal that would earn him at least a couple of begrudging compliments. 

Sam slipped quietly out the door and found himself enjoying the short walk to the docks, gratefully breathing in the cool, salty air and grinning into the breeze. He even giggled under his breath while he watched a flock of seagulls fight over a bagel behind the bakery. This was strange, and the people serving him at the stalls seemed to be perturbed by his bright, cheerful conversation.

"You feeling alright, son?" asked the butcher as he handed over the wrapped slab of marbled meat to Sam, who thanked him and slipped it into his bag.

"Right as rain," Sam answered truthfully. The other man blinked and hmphed, and Sam felt his eyes watching him as he walked away, humming a shanty to himself as he skirted past the stalls. The woman at the fruit stall watched him with a similar curiosity as he weighed oranges in the palm of his hand and dropped them into his bag, not taking his usual route of haggling for lower prices for lemons and limes for the bar. Instead, he pressed a coin into the palm of her young daughter and walked off without giving them any grief about their citrus stock.

Something had changed. Sam felt it inside and all around him. He found his pace slowing ever so slightly as he passed the inn. His eyes were pressed to the windows, hoping to see the curtains in the first room parted so he could catch a glimpse of dark hair and tanned skin. But they were drawn tight, and Sam knew that Daniel was more than likely deep in sleep, so he pushed away the warmth in his face and hurried on, trying not to let his thoughts linger. He focused on the thought of breakfast, of bacon sizzling in fat on the old skillet, of oranges crushing into fresh juice in clean glasses, of broad chests under thin linen…

-

"Christ," Sam whispered as he opened the door, physically shaking his head in hopes it would knock the thoughts in his brain out his ears, leaving them on the street so he could make this meal in peace. 

When Sam walked in, he was surprised to see that both of his brothers were awake. He was even more surprised to see Josh's standoffish stance at the oven with his arms crossed and glaring a searing look at Jake, who stood by his door with a similarly frustrated look.

"Hey," Sam greeted weakly, the words barely cutting through the silent tension in the air. 

"Sam-" Jake started, looking away from Josh to catch Sam's eye. He looked tired.

"Tell him." Josh said firmly, his usually sweet voice sour and rough. Sam startled at it, quietly setting his bag on the kitchen table and looking between them in confusion.

"What's going on?" Sam asked nervously, his heart thrumming anxiously in his chest. Any feelings of easygoing he had been riding that morning disappeared in an instant as he watched Jake shake his head and look at the ground, his tangled hair obscuring his unshaven face.

"Tell him, Jake," Josh repeated, emotion thick in his throat. "He deserves to know."

"Josh," Jake whispered, his usually confident voice jarringly weak. "I-"

"Or I can tell him," Josh cut in, resting a hand on the counter and angling his body towards Sam. He was all sharp edges and fiery focus and it was starting to scare Sam. "Sam, last night, when you were with Daniel. Tell me what he said about the ship."

"Josh." Jake looked up again, and his round eyes were watering. 

"Uh," Sam faltered as he always did when he wasn't sure which brother's team he was supposed to be on. "He said he was hired a few months ago. He...does the crew's hair. He said he'd give me a tour."

Sam laughed a little, but it wasn't received by either of the twins. 

"The name," Josh snapped. "The name of the ship. What did he call it?"

"Barbarian," Sam recalled, growing more confused by the second. "The Barbarian. Why?"

"It's just, it's funny you say that," Josh laughed tersely and without humor. "Because, you see, when I was talking to Jake, he said their ship was called The Broken Bell."

Sam blinked. Jake scoffed and shook his head but said nothing, chewing on his lip as anger curled off of Josh's small frame. 

"Oh," Sam said. "I...I'm lost."

"So was I," Josh went on, his voice rising as he began to gesture wildly. "See, I asked him about it, and the motherfucker can't seem to give me a straight answer about anything. I started asking questions. I thought I had that luxury, what with the sharing the womb and life and all, but still nothing. Can you believe that shit? So I've been thinking about it. Trying to figure it out. When you were out just now, Sammy, did you see any new ships in the port?"

"No," Sam answered, thinking hard about it. "Not that I remember. What do-"

"So where's Jake's ship docked?"

Sam stood there dumbly as his mind raced, trying to follow the manic string that Josh was pulling him by. The thing that scared Sam the most about this conversation was Jake's silence. Jake was never one to go down without a fight if he felt he was in the right.

"Jake?" Sam asked. Jake didn't meet his eye, still focused on the floor. "Where's your ship?"

"I could give a fuck," Josh interjected, smacking his palm against the table. "Sam, why wouldn't Jake want his ship to be seen?"

"I don't know," Sam replied, his thoughts too jumbled and anxious to do any critical thinking.

"What kind of ships don't want to be seen, Sam?"

Suddenly, there was an answer in Sam's mind. It sank straight through to his stomach, dropping like a rock into a cold sea. He could feel his body temperature drop as he stared down his brother. 

His big brother, whose every move he had copied up until the age of 17. 

Jake. 

Jake, who would never lie about the big things. The things that mattered. 

But as Sam stared at his brother, he couldn't push away the nagging feeling that clawed its way through his heart and into his head. A feeling that he'd been diminishing for a year now. A feeling that, for some reason, Jake wasn't telling them the whole story of his time out at sea. A feeling that there might be reasons that Jake never wrote about certain, glaring details of his job. 

"Pirate ships," Sam breathed, heaving out a bitter laugh when Jake flinched at his words. 

"Pirate ships," Josh echoed, his anger fizzling into a sullen upset as they glared at Jake wilting in the doorway. "Ships that change names. Can't be spoken about. Even to family."

"You don't understand," Jake finally whispered, his eyes flashing as he finally made eye contact. "You don't understand the danger this puts you in. I'm risking enough as it is to see you guys. I'm putting my men in considerable danger just by being here. They don't get the luxury of being out in the daylight on the off chance that someone somehow knows who they are. What they do."

"What do you do, Jake?" Sam asked, his voice quivering. Jake was silent, running his fingers through his hair and looking out the window as he swallowed hard. 

"What I do is show up for you," Jake replied coldly. "Isn't that enough? I'm here, I'm safe. I have it under control."

"Is this what you've been doing the whole time?" Sam prodded, his heart an electric pulse in his chest. "You left us to g-to go be a fucking murderer?"

"This wasn't the plan," Jake hissed, approaching his brothers with tensed hands. "I really did start out on a cargo ship. Hell, I'm still on a cargo ship. I didn't lie about that. We deal, we get our money, we move on. It's just...the stakes are higher."

"They're life or death, Jake," Josh whispered furiously, his eyes brimming with tears as he shook his head in disgust. "Unbelievable."

"We were boarded by pirates," Jake pushed on, his own voice rising and shaking. "I did what I had to do to survive that. These are the cards I've been dealt, okay? I have a lot of people's lives in my hands and I'm going to have to keep doing what's necessary to keep us all alive. And, yeah, it's not pretty. You would not believe the shit I've seen. The shit I've...done."

Jake trailed off, huffing a sob into the sleeve of his shirt before wiping a hand over his face and staring up at the ceiling. Josh and Sam looked at each other, emotions tangled in their stomachs. 

"I just wanted us to be together again," Jake whimpered, cries coming out in strangled bursts that he stifled with the back of his hand. "I didn't want this. I wanted to protect you from it and I'm just, I'm so fucking sorry. This is all my fault."

Silence fell over the house again. Jake tried and failed to steady his breathing, looking into space as Josh and Sam's own tears spilled over tensely and speckled their grimacing faces. 

"So what happens when you leave?" Josh finally spoke, his voice barely audible. "We just sit here and make drinks and wait for you to die at sea? Wait around for a blood soaked letter to show up? Wait for some drunk to mention that they heard another pirate captain on the coast bit the dust?"

Jake didn't reply, his eyes still pressed into his hand as he held his sweaty forehead.

"We get people in the bar all the time," Sam started, fighting to keep his tone even. "Who only started drinking because they lost someone to pirates. Most times, they're drunk before they walk in. How am I supposed to listen to that knowing that's what you do to people? To families?"

"To our family," Josh added cruelly. "That's what you're doing to us."

"I don’t know," Jake murmured, sliding down the door frame to sit on the ground. "I'm sorry."

"I can't deal with this," Sam spat, putting his hands up in surrender and walking back towards the door.

"Sam, come on," Jake tried, lolling his head against the wall and giving Sam a desperate look. 

"No, let him," Josh growled, taking off towards his own room. "We need time to process all of...this."

Sam didn't wait to hear anything more, he just stomped out the door and out into the sunshine. Half an hour ago, Sam had found the weather pleasant and uplifting, but now he felt like it was taunting him as he stalked down the street, headed for the inn. 

-

Sam parked himself in front of Room 1, rapped his knuckles three times on the wood, and stood back. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he knew that he was going to lay into Daniel within an inch of his life. His mind was still caught in the storm of anger and fear and betrayal, and those emotions were pushing what felt like gallons of adrenaline through his body to give him the courage to give Daniel the yelling that he deserved. Sam knew he couldn't channel his upset at Jake because he was clearly already crumpling under the weight of both his and Josh's anger, so he decided Daniel was the next best thing. 

Sam heard footsteps approaching the door, and in the split second while the door was opening, he pulled all his fury to the forefront of his mind and prepared to unleash it on Daniel. What Sam did not prepare for was Daniel answering the door shirtless with a cripplingly sweet smile that knocked almost all semblance of rage out of Sam.

"Hi!" Daniel chirped, resting his bicep on the doorframe and cocking his head at Sam. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Sam kept his eyes very firmly on Daniel's own, trying his hardest not to let the sight of Daniel's bare chest and the faint sprinkling of hair that adorned it distract him from his warpath.

"Pirates?" Sam hissed, narrowing his eyes at Daniel while Daniel's own widened anxiously.

 Daniel looked into the space behind Sam before reaching out, grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt and yanking him into the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

Sam shrieked in surprise and smacked Daniel away, stumbling backwards into a flimsy dresser as Daniel sat harshly on the bed.

"What the fuck?" Sam cried. 

"Listen-" Daniel began, but Sam held his hand up and Daniel's mouth snapped shut obediently.

"No, no, you listen," Sam snapped, approaching Daniel while trying to speak concisely through furious, heaving breaths. "When were you going to let it slip that you've been lying about being a goody two shoes, innocent, box lifting, well adjusted gentleman sailor?"

"I am!" Daniel insisted, letting his shoulders fall as he looked up at Sam. "I just, you know. Have some more sides to me that I'm less proud of."

"You're a fucking pirate," Sam whispered angrily.

"I'm..." Daniel's eyes danced around the room before landing on Sam again with a defeated sigh. "Yeah. Okay. I'm a fucking pirate."

"What the fuck."

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel similarly about the whole situation."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Not before your brother! But I'm guessing that just happened."

"You can say that," Sam scoffed, swallowing back tears that threatened to resurface. None of them made their way to his tear ducts but Daniel leaned forward as if they had, concern and regret writing itself all over his face. 

"Sam," Daniel said simply, reaching a tentative hand up and resting it lightly on Sam's arm. "I'm really, really sorry."

"I'm sure you are," Sam scoffed, curling his lip in disgust. "I can't believe this."

"It's hard to believe," Daniel reassured him, taking a moment to grab a crumpled shirt and slip it on. "I don't believe it myself sometimes."

"I just..." Sam sat defeatedly on the bed next to Daniel, all the fire in him dimming slowly with the emotional exhaustion starting to catch up with him. "Why?"

Daniel sat quietly for a moment, and with a sidelong glance, Sam could see Daniel genuinely thinking about his answer. With all his thoughtfulness and the cute crinkle between his brows as he thought, Sam wished that he could forget that Daniel was a lying pirate scumbag.

"I don't know how much Jake told you about his career, but I got my start in a similar way," Daniel answered, hanging his head and fiddling with his fingers. "We were on the same ship, you know. Before the ship was... I was a real, genuine sailor before we got hijacked by these, well, pirates. A real nasty crew. I don't know how it happened but I got backed into a corner by the captain. You ever heard of  Candlewax Jack?"

Sam nodded and Daniel let out a low whistle.

"He was a real piece of work," Daniel managed a laugh, but Sam saw the far away look in his eyes and felt his heart clench. "Just, this huge, bear of a man with this big, stupid sword. God have mercy on my soul, but he bled like a fuckin’ pig."

Daniel's words halted and Sam, already cold, kept his eyes glued on Daniel's profile, which had gone still and shadowed as his hazel eyes bored a hole in the wall.

"I thought Candlewax Jack was still around," Sam said quietly. "He sails near here 'cause he knows nobody will fuck with him.”

"The thing about pirates..." Daniel paused before looking at Sam. "They don't really die. When they're gone, whoever overthrew them takes their name. Their title. The respect of the crew they had. The guy dies, sure, but the name lives on."

There was another lull and Sam found himself completely enraptured with Daniel's words. It was gruesome and disgustingly real and inspired even more anger that curled in his core, but he was hanging on everything Daniel said like it was a story and nothing more. 

"The thing is," Daniel's voice cracked slightly and Sam fought the compulsion to rest his cheek on Daniel's shoulder. "I didn't want to be a fucking pirate captain. I know it seems all badass and cool when you're little, but when you're on the brink of death and there's this living legend who's turned out to be just a man bleeding all over your boots and you can hear all this screaming on the deck above you, it's just not. It's really not."

Another pause. Sam wondered if he could make himself get angry after hearing all of this.

"I couldn't," Daniel breathed. "Everybody knew that. And Jake seemed like the next best choice. He's the kind of guy who knows what he's doing even if he doesn't think so. I knew he could lead us, and so far he's doing a damn fine job of it. Jack before him was always doing the typical pirate pillaging and bloodshed and whatnot, but Jake's not like that at all. I know you're angry and feeling betrayed and you're more than entitled to that, but I don't want you thinking that we're going around swinging swords and plucking eyeballs on the daily. Sure, sometimes our shipments go awry and we need to make threats and...yes, we follow through on occasion. But we play it really safe. We lay low a LOT. Whatever bloodshed happens is justified, for the most part. And it's few and far between. I guess what I'm trying to say is, whatever feelings you're having are justified, but we could be a lot worse."

"Bold words coming from a pirate," Sam muttered, allowing the ghost of a smile to creep onto his face. Daniel physically relaxed at the sight and both men felt the tension melt a little. 

"I know, I know," Daniel admitted. "I'm not saying I'm the good guy here. Not completely. But I try really hard to be a good guy. Your brother doesn't have to try. He just is."

Sam sat with that for a moment as he curled his legs under him and let out a sigh.

"I just don't want him to die," Sam choked out finally, summarizing his feelings as succinctly as he could considering the state of disarray he was still floundering in. "And I...don't want you to die. Either. Yeah."

"Did you know that's the nicest thing you've said to me?" Daniel teased.

"Yes," Sam agreed. "But you're still a liar."

"I-yes," Daniel stammered, his already rosy cheeks flushing again. 

"And a thief."

"On occasion, yes."

"And you're too tall."

"Now you're just attacking my character."

"Yes," Sam grinned cheekily, looking away at the light tapping of rain on the window over the simple double bed. He hadn't taken the time to appraise the room properly, but he found it very simple and unassuming. It didn't suit Daniel very well at all.

"Of course it starts raining after all this drama," Daniel rolled his eyes, standing and closing the window. "Mother Nature is fickle like that."

"You wouldn't happen to have an umbrella, would you?" Sam asked sheepishly, frowning at the thought of walking home in the quickly escalating weather. 

"No, sir," Daniel confirmed and Sam groaned. "You can camp here until it blows over. Then I'll walk you back, how about that?"

"Sounds good," Sam agreed, hoping his nervousness at being cooped up with Daniel in the room that seemed to be getting smaller and more intimate by the second wasn't being betrayed by his face. He found out very quickly that he was not successful by the smug smile on Daniel's face as he sat next to Sam again, giving him an amused grin.

"I don't bite," Daniel purred, poking Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Unless you want me to."

"You know, maybe I will walk in the rain," Sam declared, standing up abruptly as Daniel laughed. 

"No, come on, relax," Daniel whined, reaching out to grab Sam's arm and yanking him away from the door. Sam let it happen, unsuccessfully masking a smile as Daniel smiled innocently up at him.

"I'm having a hard time pinning you as a ruthless killer when you keep begging me to hang out with you," Sam blurted, and he relished in the shock on Daniel's face as he scoffed and flushed again. 

"First of all, the killing thing is usually very begrudging on my part and has historically been- you don't actually care, do you?"

"No, please, enlighten me about your piratey killing sprees. I'd love to hear your justification."

They grinned at each other, and the odd, hopeful feeling returned to Sam as he and Daniel rode out the storm bickering and trading snippets of stories.

~~~

[busy-baker]

And the final installment of The Mess is finished!

Tav organizes a night of fun and relaxation for Astarion and Gale after a long week but as usual, things don’t go as planned.

f!Tav x Astarion x Gale

CW: oral, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbation

Word Count: 2.8k

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked, hopping up to take a seat on the kitchen counter.

His long legs hung over the edge as he leaned on one hand, letting the cropped band tee he was wearing ride up.

You couldn’t help but admire the fine figure that was cut underneath the fabric as you placed down the knife. His faded black jeans hung on his hips and the way his fingers toyed with the rings on his hand, moving so carefully as he watched you drink him in, it was enough to drive you into heat.

“See something you like, darling?” He lounged even further, resting on his elbow across the marble.

“I do, in fact,” you said, biting your lip. You quickly grabbed a dish towel and started swatting him with it. “That was my shirt! You don’t even like t-shirts!”

The vampire held up his arms to stop the attack. He eventually pushed off the counter to his feet, wrapping his arms around yours to keep you from smacking him. He brought his mouth close to your ear, playfully nipping at the it.

“You have to agree, it looks much better now that I’ve gotten my hands on it,” he teased, letting your arms free.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a mhm, going back to your task before you were rudely interrupted.

Astarion patted your bottom before making his way to the wine fridge, popping the cork from a bottle and swigging from it.

“Now will you please tell me what all of this is about.” He gestured his empty hand at the cutting board in front of you.

The thick slab was covered in an assortment of edible delights for your night you had planned with your boys.

There were piles of various chocolate chunks, rows of strawberry roses, crushed cookies, brownie bits, maraschino cherries, and two bowls, one filled with fresh whipped cream and the other with chocolate sauce.

“It’s an ice cream sundae charcuterie board,” you explained, walking around him to the freezer and pulling out the carton of neapolitan ice cream.

You grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and placed them next to the board along with two spoons from the drawer.

“That is…different,” he mused, “And a mouthful.”

“You’re a mouthful,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“You're damn right I am.” Astarion tipped back the bottle with a smirk and once again, you caught yourself staring. He really did make that shirt look so much better.

“Make yourself useful and fetch Gale. I’m surprised he didn’t slip out when he could smell the brownies baking.”

Astarion chuckled as he left for Gale’s residential hiding spot. You set to work scooping servings of ice cream into the bowls. Using your finger, you pushed off the last bit of chocolate and before you could rinse off what remained, a hand caught yours in a firm grip.

“Allow me to get that for you,” Gale said, bringing your finger to his mouth and sucking around the tip. He bit down gently, staring directly into your eyes.

Your eyes widened and heat flooded your cheeks. You watched as he kissed the point of your finger and patted your hand, letting it fall to your side.

You turned to make sure you had everything to enjoy your night lazing around with your lovers. You had already prepared the movie and built a cozy nest out of every pillow and blanket available in your apartment, even though by the end of the night, Astarion would be the one swaddled in every one while you and Gale held on to each other for warmth.

The week, with Astarion booked to the max with clients and Gale readying his students for finals, had been absolutely chaotic. Everyone was almost at each other’s throats and you decided an evening to forget all the stress was just what you all needed. It wouldn’t take away all of their troubles but hopefully it provided some relief.

“This looks wonderful, love!” Gale clapped his hands together. You grinned at his praise, proud of your work.

“Yes, her knife skills are almost as impressive as mine,” Astarion said, sauntering over to pick up a strawberry. He eyed it over between his pale fingers before dipping it into the whipped cream and lifting it to your lips.

You gratefully opened your mouth, biting piece of fruit and chewing, closing your eyes and humming in satisfaction at the sweetness. You felt a trail a it’s juice leak down the corner of your mouth and stuck your tongue out to catch the remnants.

Gale leaned in, capturing your mouth with his. The kiss was slow and steady, entangling your tongues together, letting him taste the lingering strawberry.

He pulled away, swiping his tongue near your cupid’s bow. “There was a bit of cream on your lips.”

You swallowed, that blooming feeling in your stomach beginning to grow. You watched as the vampire, with eyes full of heat and a scheme plotting in his wicked mind, dipped the pad of another finger into the chocolate sauce. He brought it up and swiped it along your jaw.

He turned to the wizard, leaning in to kiss just below his ear.

“You’ve missed a spot, my dear,” he whispered, garnet eyes glancing towards you.

Gale smirked, turning his head to gently graze his lips across Astarion’s and then when he looked back to you, you found yourself already approaching both of them.

“It seems I did. Let’s fix that, shall we?” He cupped your face, tilting your head to one side and dragged his tongue along the stripe.

Shivers went down your spine and a you gasped at the contact. You gripped onto his arms, bunching the fabric between your hands.

“What do you say we really prepare a feast?” Astarion asked. He walked over to the counter, pushing every bit of clutter out of the way. He scooped you up, breaking your kiss from Gale, and placed you on the counter. He flicked two fingers upwards, motioning for you to lift your arms, and he worked at pulling your sundress over your head while you giggled.

With a toss, your outfit was gone and you sat in only your panties atop the cool countertop.

Astarion reached behind him to grab the charcuterie board and putting it down right beside you. He brought a finger to his chin as he studied your body and then set to work. He gave a slight push of your shoulders for you to lay down, a proper canvas for his edible art.

Fine lines of cream and chocolate were drawn across your neck trailing down to your abdomen, two strawberries were placed just above your breasts, and one chunk of milk chocolate was popped into your mouth presumably for remaining still.

The spawn stepped back, grabbing his wine bottle to swig from and admire his work.

“One last thing.” The wizard plucked a cherry from the slab and place it delicately on your panties near your arousal.

“Cheeky,” You replied. You could feel your heart picking up speed as you awaited what they would do next. The anticipation was agonizing as two pairs of eyes combed over your covered skin.

Gale was the first to make a move, bending down and sucking along your neck. You instinctively started to bend your legs and wound your arms around his neck.

Astarion was by your ear in a flash as Gale continued to lap his tongue down your body.

“If the cherry falls, there will be a punishment, darling,” he purred, nibbling at your ear. You turned your head and he captured your mouth in a heated kiss. You moaned on his lips as Gale’s mouth latched onto your nipple, knocking one of the strawberries to the floor.

Your chest lifted, pressing further into Gale’s lips but he soon let go to stand straight. He grasped the vampire’s chin, bringing him in to speak against his plush lips.

“Would you like a taste, Astarion?” He asked huskily, “I didn’t think she could taste better than she already does.”

“I would love a nibble,” Astarion answered, pecking the wizard before putting his full attention back on you.

You were enthralled as the your vampiric lover took the bottle of Merlot he was drinking from and tipped it, pouring the red liquid into your navel until it formed a meniscus.

He dipped down, closing his mouth around it and took in the shot of wine with ease. You thought he was going to repeat the act as he brought the bottle back up but he quickly tilted it, taking some in, and then shifted down towards your thighs.

His eyes met yours expectantly and you nodded, biting your lip.

Teeth sank into your flesh and gentle kisses were placed on your shoulders and across your collarbone by Gale.

The pain melted into overwhelming bliss as the endorphins from the bite coursed though you. Astarion’s hands gripped onto your thigh as he sucked and you felt yourself beginning to lose control.

Your legs were growing wet in between and you were imagining the two men taking over and doing as they please. At this point, they were merely teasing you with this tasting game.

Without thinking, you attempted to clench your legs together to provide relief but instead you ended up making the symbolic cherry tumble down, bouncing its way from the counter to the floor.

Astarion lapped at the two puncture wounds and then lifted his silver curls to shake his head at you with a disappointed expression.

“Bad, bad girl,” he admonished.

Blush crept up over your cheeks as you sat up. The vampire rested himself between your legs and cupped your face with both hands, making you look into his eyes.

Gale’s demanding side was something that didn’t happen often but it definitely made more of an appearance than Astarion’s. Both were fantastic and you enjoyed having them take the reins, but when Astarion decided to dole out a punishment, you knew you would need the rest of the night to regain your energy.

“You dropped the cherry,” Astarion stated, deadly, quietly.

“Yes,” was all you could whisper back.

“And what did I say about that?”

“I…I would be punished.” You were almost breathless at this point. You wished his body was on yours and Gale’s was at the back.

“You are going to sit on this counter and watch. Slip those pretty little fingers into that soaking cunt of yours,” he said, in a low tone “But every time you are dangerously close to the edge, stop. Understand?”

“I do,” you said. He dropped his hands and strolled over to Gale, taking him by surprise and yanking him close to his slender form.

Their mouths moved as one as Astarion’s hands tangled into the wizard’s mane and Gale’s strong arms slipped up under the cropped shirt to wandering along the vampire’s chest.

Your hand found its way into the fabric of your panties, coating itself in the slick that had already formed there. You began to rub delicate, lazy circles as you watched your lovers enjoy each other’s bodies.

They hastily undressed one another in between passionate words and hungry kisses. Their skilled hands caressed their sculpted forms, eliciting involuntary gasps and groans. It was a scene that made the pleasure inside of you grow immensely until you found yourself already so close to your undoing but you heeded Astarion’s words, stopping your movements until the sensation dulled, causing you to whine.

Gale gradually sank to his knees, teasing at the spawn’s nipples on his way down, pressing chaste pecks against each hardened muscle that flexed at his movements, until he was level with the stiff cock already moistened at the tip.

Carmine eyes locked onto yours as the wizard took the shaft in his hand, stroking up and down. You mirrored his movements, two fingers finding your heat and gliding with more vigor this time.

You did not shy away as Astarion continued to look almost into your soul, his lithe fingers holding Gale’s hair and guiding his mouth onto his shaft to bob up and down. You almost lost control again, withdrawing your fingers as Astarion’s head tilted back in ecstasy.

His eyes closed and he held a delicious smile on his face as he pumped into Gale. Groans escaped him as he spilled over and you thought you would come just from the sight of it all.

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly along Gale’s cheek as he swallowed and released himself from the vampire. You were flushed from head to toe and your punishment had you aching to the core. You wanted to be put out of your misery.

“I hope you don’t think that was all for you, my love,” Astarion growled, coming over to you and lifting you from the counter.

You stood with weak legs as he spun you around and pressed his front to your back. He looped his fingers into the sides of your panties and slid them down, letting you step out of them.

His breath tickled the back of your neck as he came back up and you tried to even out your own breathing.

“I’m going to give you five good smacks while Gale uses those wonderful hands of his on you,” he whispers into your ear, “Now be a darling and bend over for me.”

Your face was burning like the hells as he stepped back for you to place your elbows on the counter and display your ass to him. You spread your legs to provide access for Gale, who was already beneath you.

“Open up for me,” he said, sticking his fingers in your mouth to moisten them. You sucked around the two digits, long and slow, releasing them with a pop.

The wizard pressed them into your throbbing cunt and you loudly gasped. You started to grind against his hand, wanting to finally feel bliss but Astarion grabbed your hips and propped you back up firmly.

“Ah, ah, be still and do count for me,” he demanded. “Ready?”

“Yes, please,” you begged.

His hand came down on your bare cheek and you cried out. It stung and would leave a nice, pink print but it sent a shockwave through you as Gale’s fingers thrusted inside of you.

“Count, my love,” he growled.

It took a moment but you found yourself once again. You were already seeing stars.

“One,” you panted.

Another swift smack came down on the other side with the same force as before. You didn’t cry out at this one as it was expected but instead moaned.

“Two.”

He let down the third strike, you called out, with more effort than the previous two and that combined with Gale now rubbing circles on your clit with his fingers hooked inside of you, had your walls clenching and you clawing at the kitchen surface. With anymore strength, you were sure you would have to replace the entire counter from the damage.

“Four,” you whimpered as the next smack hit you. You were trembling from the exertion. You were so very close.

“Last one, my dear,” Astarion consoled, soothing his hand over the marks he had left.

You felt the orgasm inside of you almost at its very peak as the wizard pressed against the swollen bud repeatedly and as soon as Astarion’s final spanking came down on you, you tipped over that edge you were barely hanging on to and your orgasm ripped through your exhausted body.

You screamed out five, your insides pulsing around Gale as you rode out your bliss on his hand. When he noticed you were finished, he removed his fingers and you immediately collapsed into his arms, dazed and overstimulated.

Astarion knelt down in front of both of you and ran his hands over your hair. You sighed and leaned into his palm, letting your head rest on him.

“As much fun as this was, you are quite sticky, sweetheart.” Gale chuckled as his hand struggled to stroke your arm from being coated in sauce and whipped cream.

“Well, maybe next time we should enjoy it with spoons instead of body parts,” you replied with a yawn. You snuggled in closer to the wizard’s chest, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night.

Astarion kissed your cheek and stood up, taking your hands to pull you up with him. You groaned with displeasure but he scooped you up in his arms.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before you drift off on us,” he said.

You were carried off to the bathroom to be scrubbed and pampered by the two men who treasured you most, ice cream sundaes and movie night long forgotten.

You dreaded the amount of cleaning product you would have to choke through to remove the food residue from the counters.

Maybe hiring a maid isn’t such a bad idea, you thought.

[cerbreus]

my partner of 1 year broke up with me yesterday but i also got a large 1.25" thick marble tooling slab at the thrift store half off so who's the real winner here?

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Masked Menace (Part 1) - Yunobo x Reader (NSFW)

Warning ahead: there are some Tears of the Kingdom spoilers with characterization and setting the scene for Goron City past this point, please take heed!

Alright, bout time I finally made this one (which I was very excited to do 🥴). I want to preface this with: Keep in mind of what that mask did to Yunobo, so he is not acting like himself at all! Also, just an fyi: reader is written female here.

“Phew, the hike to Death Mountain never gets easier…” you sighed, exasperated. Even with your travels going as far out into the Gerudo desert, you still struggled to acclimate with the trip to Eldin. Six months kept you away from the volcanic venture as you explored the other parts of Hyrule, researching plant life and exchanging goods along the way to bring home souvenirs for you and your beau. Upon your walk up to Goron City, you couldn’t help but take notice of strange magenta slabs stacked endlessly in your path. Gorons, who you’d made friends with due to all your time there, didn’t seem to recognize or even acknowledge you really. The constant crackling and crunching at their purpled rock roasts being their only focus. You had an overwhelming suspicion that something was horribly wrong. Trekking carefully into the central city, you took in the sight - a gigantic mass of the same marbled earth standing tall and terrifying in the middle of the normally bustling area.

Yet…bustling wasn’t the word you would’ve used right now.

No, around you elder Gorons and the children of the city seemed downtrod, quiet and keeping to themselves even as they saw you pass. Any of the adults, or worse yet, your mining friends, seemed completely dazed - entranced by whatever this new culinary cobblestone dish this was. Eventually you caught sight of the boss Goron, Bludo, scolding one of his workers.

“Boss,” you approached him slowly, taking in the sight of one of your friends spread out on the ground, eyes splotched a dark reddish-purple as he droned on about marbled rock roast, “…What’s going on? So many Gorons are stuffing their faces but they all look…sick.”

Your nickname for him caught his attention, only for the sigh that left the patriarch to lean on the heavy side. A large finger scratched at his head, “What a time for you to come back, I’ll say…I don’t even know where to start.”

Your head tilted, gaze shifting about the city in search of someone in particular. His absence gave you some slight unease. Trepidation filled your chest as you feared to ask,

“Bludo…where’s Yunobo?”

That got the boss fired up, “Oooooh that crag-craniumed wisecrack! This is all his fault!” You were taken aback by such an animated response from the patriarch. Normally he was a soft worrywart over the Goron champion, to hear him say something negative only added to the notion that something definitely wasn’t right. Bludo growled, his fist thumping into the ground, thick eyebrows turning downward in anger, “When I get my hands on that boy, I’m gonna- AUGHH!” a sickening crack sounded from behind him before he yowled in pain, his hands shooting to his back. After a few moments of groaning and trying to stabilize himself, the boss Goron pointed a shaky finger to one of the higher peaks, closer to the mines.

“Just…see for yourself” he creaked out.

Checking to make sure Bludo was going to be okay with his sore back was your priority before you headed off. When he assured you he’d be fine (especially with one of the younglings fetching him his pain medicine), you quickly zipped to the next mountainous area that the Gorons frequented. At the end of the cart’s destination stood YunoboCo HQ, the main cave systems that Yunobo and his team not only mined in, but addressed business matters. You remembered being incredibly proud of your boyfriend, building a whole new empire of mining services and blue collar trade for Goron City while using his reputation as a champion to generate revenue tenfold into the village’s economy after Death Mountain had completely cooled off. Business quite literally boomed at the birth of YunoboCo. So what could have possibly happened for even his mentor to speak so illy of him? Trying to wrap your head around any possibilities just deemed impossible for you, leaving you with little choice other than to confront the source himself. Thankfully, or rather, unthankfully, you were alerted by the sound of an ill-tempered voice hollering not too far off.

“Offrak! Slergo! I thought I asked you two to move this supply of marbled rock roast out to the shipping carts?”

The two little Gorons looked at one another in timid confusion before the lighter Goron, who you recognized as young Offrak, shakily spoke up, “B-But President Yunobo…you said those shipments weren’t going out until tomorrow…”

The champion leaned forward, narrowing his eyes, “Looks I changed my mind, now didn’t I?”

With a stomp of his foot he shouted, “Now get these roasts to the shipping carts or I’ll make slab stew out of the both of you!”

“YUNOBO! THAT IS ENOUGH!” came your angered yell. The Goron turned to face you, slight surprise adjusting his previous pout. Slergo and Offrak’s faces dropped in shock at your sudden appearance. They’d never seen you so angry before! Your gaze took in the appearance of your beloved: the gaudy outfit sticking out like a sore thumb on him. His sturdy fingers were covered in large gold rings, a leopard print pelt vest covering his back and shoulders, and worst of all - a golden mask covering the lot of his face. Six months and he’d completely changed his entire appearance? That didn’t make sense to you - all you remembered him adding to his wardrobe was his company chestplate. But for the moment that mattered little to you as your eyes quickly shifted over to the two frightened Goron children behind him. The disappointment and fear on their faces was blatant, they were scared of him.

“You leave those boys alone! I can’t believe you’d ever raise your voice to them like this!” your index finger shoved into his chestplate, “This is NOT the Yunobo I know - what’s the matter with you?!”

Yunobo’s mouth turned up in a sneer. His hand jutted out, as if to signal to the younglings behind him, “Boys…watch the door for me. Seems like the lady and I needta have a chat in my office.”

You shot him a confused look, “I don’t understand what’s happening, wh-” Suddenly your arm was snatched up in his vice-like grip, “We’ll talk in my office. Not here.”

Trying to yank your appendage from him did very little other than to cause yourself grief. You reluctantly followed him as he pulled you toward his designated cave. He was careless in how he handled you, not even allowing for you to properly get your full footing as you both walked. When you finally arrived at his office, his grip loosened just enough for you to take your arm back from his clutches. There was anger inside of you that you’ve never felt towards him before, you were stunned at how easily he pulled you around like a mere rag doll - he never tested his full strength on you like that. Rubbing your arm you seethed, “You have some serious explaining to do, Yunobo.”

“Me?” his arms crossed over his chest, “You’re gone for six months and the minute you get back, you’re over here makin’ a scene and yellin’ at me!”

Your hands slotted on your hips, “The way you’ve been acting SINCE I got here, I think you deserve it!”

“You know what I think?” grumbled Yunobo, who was steadily stomping his way over to you. Before you could retort, he had backed you up against his giant slab of a “desk”, his arms slamming at your sides, effectively caging you in, “I think your president deserves a proper greeting.” His close proximity shook your originally stern position, and your hands flew up to his chest to try and create space between you two. His roughened disposition unnerved you, and yet you were falling so weak to it.

“Y-Yunobo, please, you’re too close…” but he would only press closer still. A large hand swooped you at your lower back, forcing you to sit on the hard stone. The Goron shoved your knees apart, sliding his sturdy body between them. You had very little to keep your body shielded from the cold steel on his chest, having disposed of your heavier travel wear before climbing the path on Death Mountain’s trail. The mere tank top, bra, and shorts combination was all you had left on you. So when the solidity of his chest presses against your own, it takes a considerable amount of force to bite back the pleasure just that contact alone gave you. Six months alone really did take a toll on you as you were starting to find out. Trying to close your legs proved to be obviously ineffectual as well, Yunobo made sure of it. A knuckle took under your chin, pulling your gaze upwards to meet his.

“Look at you…don’t you even realize this is exactly where you belong?” His thick fingers tangled into the locks of your hair, and then suddenly gripped tight, directing your head backward. His face buried into the crook of your neck, a sharp inhale sounding before you. You whined, slight pain blooming at your scalp at first, but deafened by the sensation of his wet tongue dragging up the length of your neck. He held you in place as about as flush to him as he could get you. Hyper aware was your body now, your thighs being seized open by the mass of him, nipples pebbling against the slowly warming metal adorning his chest. Yunobo’s lips blazed a trail of love bites down your neck while his other hand busied itself with grasping the front of your tank top. Your first thought was that he was going to shove the straps off of you - but to your surprise, his fist bunch into the fabric, twisted, and shred the thin covering off of your body. A shout of annoyance and protest bubbled at your lips, but it would never surface. Yunobo slammed his mouth over your own, his tongue sliding past your lips with surprising ease. Your instincts fought with your morals, wanting to equally stop and scold him for mistreating you so far AND finding yourself melting under his touch. He unfurled his hand from your hair, dragging it slowly down your body before cupping around the roundness of your breast. Feeling your barely clad nipple rub against his palm had you pressing your thighs harder against his torso.

Another inhale into your neck. His voice held a touch of softness as he said, “You smell incredible…I hated having you so far from me. I waited every day for you.”

That heart of yours, so in love with the Goron above you, thumped with guilt. Your eyes fell away to a random corner of the room, your fingers curling into the fabric of his pelt, “Yuno…I…” your voice trailed away, emotions welling into your throat. Before you could will yourself to continue, you were unceremoniously flipped over, your stomach and chest now pressed against the desk. Peering over your shoulder, you watched as Yunobo stripped himself of his leopard pelt and began untying his chestplate - your cheeks lighting up with such a macho display.

“I’m tired of waiting.”

The thrumming in your loins was becoming too heavy for even you to ignore. You took a deep breath, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shorts. You’d beat him to it if it meant saving you a set of pants from being torn in two as well. This wasn’t the sweet and tender Yunobo you knew - this aggressiveness, this ‘total dominance’ attitude was unheard of for him…but you’d be lying if you said you hated it at the moment. Despite something being incredibly off, you couldn’t pause your feelings for him if you tried, both emotional and physical - and when you looked up, that face was still his after all. There were a billion questions you needed answered, and you swore you’d make him pay for the loss of your shirt, but right now, you needed him.

Six months too long were you without his touch, and today you recognized how it made you ache desperately for him.

You slid off your lower garments entirely, leaning fully forward now, your ass on full display. There was a pause behind you. Deafening silence that kept you waiting and wondering. Your lashes sat heavily over your eyes when you looked back at him. “C’mon, Mr. President,” you goaded, a mix of want and mockery in your tone, “You wanted to see me, didn’t you?”

His chest was hot against your back, one of his big hands now weaving fingers with your own and holding you down against the desk. You spread your legs, arching ever so slightly to give him what he was looking for. Over the cheek of your ass came the caress of his opposite hand, “Don’t forget exactly who is in charge here.”

WHAP!

A sharp smack stung your backside, you had to nearly bite your tongue so as not to squeal. He rubbed the affected area, the grin in his voice prominent, “Hope you’re ready for me.” You shot him a slight glare over your shoulder, though the reddened cheeks of your face registered more embarrassed than anything. Deliberately you pushed back, your ass rubbing against his length to tease him. The rumble that sounded behind you was your last warning. Yunobo grasped himself, lining up with your slit and shoving forward. You hissed, your forehead baring down into the stone beneath you - the stretch, how he filled you, you swore you were already so close to cumming. His hand slid over your ass once more and up to the small of your back, flattening out against it. A slow withdrawing slide out - a quick thrust back in. His hand smoothed over the length of your spine, keeping you still while the Goron worked inside of you. The pace he set already had you whimpering: slow, but hard and very deep. You grasped at the stone under you, desperately trying to find purchase. With your feet planted, you shoved your hips back on him, his thrust filling you all the more as he met you halfway.

“Y-Yunooo” was your wanton whine. Shoulders heaving, your hair beginning to stick to your forehead as the heat of being fucked was beginning to overwhelm you. Yunobo grunted harshly above you, hunger evident in the grit of his teeth and the way his eyes roamed over your frame. Your ass bouncing off of his thrusting hips, the obscene sounds of your pussy taking every inch of he had to give. The Goron Champion felt for you like no other - love of his life that you were; but ever since you came back, something coerced him to stake claim to you. He didn’t understand this need, but his body moved on its own. There was something primal in his chest that made the growl in his throat surface when you cried out, “Oh! Ohhh god, Yunobo!”

You were his.

“You’re mine, understand?” he echoed into your ear, his chest caging your body to the desk. Yes, he had to take you. It was him you wanted. Him you needed. You came back to see him after all. His sight was blurred with flurries of red but still he drank the sight of your ecstasy in. What he was doing to you.

It only made sense.

You belonged to him.

“You belong to me,” he repeated over your dampened skin, his hips picking up speed. Your throat was drawing horse from your constant panting and whining, and you felt yourself clench tightly when Yunobo’s tongue traced the curve of your shoulder.

“Yuno, please nghh, I can’t ! I-I’m gonnaaa” you sobbed out.

His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you back onto his cock harshly, the series of grunts and groans above you giving you the impression that he was getting closer. You were teetering over the edge yourself, one of your hands clasping onto his at your hip for purchase. With no warning the Goron above you closed his mouth over the junction of your neck and shoulder and sucked hard. The prick of pain flowed into a tsunami of pleasure as the scream of Yunobo’s name echoed all throughout the cave - your orgasm slamming into you at full speed. Yunobo clapped his hand over your mouth as you came, silencing your pleasured sobbing behind his thick digits. He fucked you mindlessly now, thrust after thrust after relentless thrust, chasing his own end as your pussy milked him. He came shortly after - his teeth sinking into your flesh, not enough to break your skin, but definitely enough for you to feel it. You gasped, hot liquid heat pumping you full as your boyfriend finally slowed his hips. Yunobo’s mouth left your neck with a hum before he finally easing off of your overstimulated body. He drank in the sight of you: sweating and spent, fucked out and trying to find the strength in your legs. Just how he wanted you.

You felt his eyes on you, and though your legs trembled, you mustered the will to turn and face him. His dark blue hues were almost purple - a reddish hue swimming in them. This concerned you, you knew your gut instinct was spot on - something was wrong. Your hands reached for his face, “Yuno…what’s hap-“ but as soon as your fingers touched his golden mask, your hand was smacked away. Yunobo clutched his head, groaning in pain now as he backed away from you.

“Someone’s…here.”

Puzzled, you looked around, hoping to understand or catch sight of what your beau was talking about. But before you could ask what he meant, Yunobo was already pulling his leopard pelt back on and rushing to the entrance of his headquarters. He left you alone, confused and half naked. After some rummaging around his office you found his champion’s scarf with which you tied around your chest. You heard a cart descending back toward Goron City; you felt it in your best interest to wait for him at his home then - at least this way you could get to the bottom of what was going on in private.

Suddenly you winced, pain and soreness scattering across your shoulder. Your fingers found the indentations of broad marks on your shoulder blade - the remnants of your beloved’s lust ridden bite. Rubbing the aching skin you looked over to the window, some structures of Goron City visible from where you were standing. Worry panged in your heart.

Yunobo…what’s happened to you?

[scream-xoxo]

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐃. 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 (preview)

A/N: If you like this, read the rest of this chapter and all future chapters on my Wattpad!

Summary: Valerie May awakes in the midst of the end of the world without her memory, and nothing but the clothes on her back and a crossbow-wielding redneck.

The rain tapping on my face awoke me - not the stench of decay, the hollow pit in my stomach, nor the merciless pressure on my chest. A storm had settled overhead. High in the sky, the sun stood, concealed by a veil of dark clouds. 

In the gray, a silhouette looped around, staggered by the rain. From down here looking up, even vultures were beautiful. Jagged wings reformed into ridged crags, beaks like silver daggers instead of a pick to chip flesh away. From here the bird looked like a hawk, which meant I was the bunny it was preying on.

While, the panic of my plight — an unnamed, stark-faced, Jane Doe — should’ve long taken me in with its tide l, the only thing that had come over me was a melancholic confusion — soft, foggy, like easy waves washing over me. My mind was a blank-slated slab of marble.

Something that I could feel right down to the cave of my stomach had me pinned. I palmed the ground, coming up with fistfuls of glass shards that stuck in my hands like needles. Though I could not see it, for tufts of my blonde hair and the weight that obscured my line of sight, I knew that the rest of my body would not look that much different from how I imagined my hands to look — marred and bloody. 

A dull throb bore through the base of my skull, with it a feverish sweat that began to bead on my forehead. As my coarse lips quivered against my teeth, a tremor clawed up the ridges of my spine. I was soaked through, a dish rag tossed lazily over the edge of the sink. 

I needed to move, to hurl this anchor off and seek warmth. Fear was not a thing in me then, only hunger and pain.

I lunged my knee into the mass, a feeble attempt to create room to maneuver, for my bones had weakened far too much. A despairing groan slipped passed my lips. Substituting panic, dread began to pool in my stomach — perhaps the result of self preservation instincts, perhaps the foretelling of what more was to come. 

I was a mouse stuck in a trap. 

I balled my fists, biting back the pain of glass embedding itself in my skin. I shut my eyes for a moment to soothe the sting that threatened tears. Moving in slow shaky motions, I hugged my hands to my chest. I clamped my teeth down on my lip until I tasted metal. 

With the adrenaline of pain rushing through my veins, the object wasn’t nearly as heavy as it was initially. Straining my muscles and gritting my teeth, it finally fell to the ground with a sickening thud, cracking like an egg against the cement. Blood swirled to the storm drain as the unrelenting downpour continued.

My breathing halted to a complete stop, the walls of my throat collapsing in like an avalanche. The smell of death crushed me, making the air thick and putrid. My vision blurred like looking through a smoke screen, shoes sloshing across the slick pavement. I turned to heave air onto the sidewalk - my stomach was a barren desert. Breath returning ragged and uneasy, I turn back to face the gruesome sight. 

Though drips of blood and the early signs of decay obstructed her skin, the woman’s face was sweet even in death, face unscathed by the sun and earth. Her blonde hair, bits stained copper with blood, laid out in matted rows framing her head. Her pale blue eyes had lost their light, yet they were stunning even as they began to sink back into their sockets. Her plump lips, the color of a pale blueberry, rested around the muzzle of a gun.

Hanging from her neck was a silver chain and a locket with the name Abigail in a plain scrawl, as if engraved by a typewriter. The knowledge of her name racked my body with another tremble. I moved one hand to turn it over, clicking it open with gentle care. The picture inside was drenched but not destroyed, though I wished it was. Abigail and her two daughters, the oldest no older than 10, smiled at me, eyes crinkled with unknowing happiness. I pinched the picture in between two fingers and rolled the paper into nothing. 

I did not want to wonder what had become of her daughters. All I knew was that this woman would never receive a proper closure to her life. There she would stay, with vultures picking away at what scarce meat clung to her bones.

Carefully, as if not to wake her, I shut her eyelids with a soft movement of my fingertips. 

I would not allow myself to mourn this woman. Instead, I analyze my surroundings - the fallow bones of a city left behind.