#to solid appearance. Underneath the surface

[merrywretched]

oven 420 f slice apples thinly add half a lemon add half cup sugar (can do half and half brown and white) add quarter cup flour add some nutmeg and lots of cinnamon add tiny bit of butter to pan add pie crust in, leave edges pretty untrimmed pack in the apple slices, add small slabs of butter on top add top and pinch the sides beat one egg, egg wash sprinkle some sugar on top 420 for 20 mins then 370 until golden brown

[moonstruckme]

hi Mae I have a lil fic request if u like the idea! I would love to see something with reader and Remus where may be she is James neighbor and friendly with James and she sees Remus all the time coming and going and she finally works up the courage to ask James and be like what's ur friend's name? And he's like who? And she's all blushing like ya know the super pretty one that's really tall and last week he was reading x book! I actually love that book! And James realizes she's into him and plays wingman

Thank you for your request lovely!

cw: kind of shy!reader coded

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 809 words

You answer the door, and it’s the boy from next door. 

Well, not the boy from next door. There are a few always passing in and out, and only one that you know of who actually lives there. But this is James’ friend, the one with the scars and the soft eyes. The one with the name from a fairy tale.

“Hi,” he says, “I’m Remus.” 

“Hi.” You’re spellbound for a moment before you remember to tell him your name in turn, but he doesn’t appear to notice. “What can I do for you?” 

“My friend, he lives next door…” 

“James?” 

His lips tilt. “That’s the one. He’s sent me to see if you have an egg we could borrow. Or, erm, take. I’m sure James will give you an egg in exchange once he gets some more, though.” 

Laughter bubbles easily to the surface, your stomach fizzy with nerves. This is surely a scheme. James could have come and collected his egg himself, but instead he’s sent the friend you asked him about only two days prior. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or angry with him; it may depend on how this goes. 

“That’s okay, I can stand to give up an egg.” You go into your kitchen to fetch it. Remus follows partway, stopping at your bar counter. “Do you need something to keep it in?” 

“No, that’s alright. Have you read this?” 

You turn to find him looking at a worn out paperback, fingers skimming gently over the fold of pages. You blink. You hadn’t left that there. 

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s one of my favorites.” 

Remus looks up with interest. “Is it really? I’ve just finished it.” 

You clamp your lips together so I know can’t escape. You’d seen Remus carrying the book into James’ place when you’d been getting your mail. You’d gotten your mail twice that day just to have an excuse to talk to James about him. 

In fact, when James had come over last night—oddly, to borrow an egg then, too—you could have sworn the book was on your coffee table. And now it’s relocated to the kitchen counter. 

Maybe James Potter is more conniving than you’ve given him credit for. 

You pass Remus the egg. “What did you think of it?” 

Remus’ eyes flit up to yours, and it’s a concentrated effort to keep your knees solid underneath you. He cradles the egg carefully in his hand. “I thought it was really good,” he says. “I liked how each subplot was given its due importance.” 

“I really love that about it, too.” 

“Do you have a favorite part?” 

You duck your head, face warming. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“Oh, come on.” You can hear the smile in Remus’ voice. “We read the same book. How embarrassing can it be?” 

“I’m a romantic.” You shrug. “I liked the kiss scene best.” 

When you peek up, Remus is indeed smiling, brown eyes warm. “That’s not embarrassing,” he says. “That’s sweet. It was a good scene.” 

His gaze moves between you and the book, and you see a thoughtfulness come over his expression. Remus doesn’t strike you as the oblivious sort. He’s likely pieced together why exactly his friend sent him over here. 

But he doesn’t look upset. No, whatever’s going on with his face is a lot more pinkish and complicated. 

“Well,” he says after a moment, “thank you for the egg.” He offers you a small smile, moving towards the door. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other. James’ kitchen is never adequately stocked.” 

You grin. “I’ve gathered that.” 

Remus’ smile widens slightly, and then he’s slipping out your door, starting back for James’ place. You very carefully do not look out the window to watch him, but unfortunately (or fortunately, as the case may be) the doors in your building are thin enough that you hear everything that goes on in the hallways whether you’d like to or not. 

“Remus!” James exclaims, by the sound of it keeping his friend from re-entering his apartment. “What are you doing back so soon?” 

“You sent me to get an egg,” Remus replies drily. “It doesn’t take long.” 

“Right, but—I actually forgot. I need flour, too.” 

“What the hell do you need flour for? I thought you were making an omelet.” 

“Plans change, Moony. Go on, then.” 

“You’re going to eat this poor girl out of house and home.”

A laugh. “I think she’s alright with it.” 

Your face burns. 

“We don’t know if she has flour for you to borrow. How much do you even need?” 

“I dunno—um, two cups. Or something like that. And if she doesn’t have it, the two of you can go to the grocery!” 

“James.” 

“Just get back over there.” James’ voice rises, as though calling down the hall. “And talk to her about books!”

[fawnpires]

DAD’S BEST FRIEND — KÖNIG.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: age difference, cunnilingus, loss of virginity, innocence kink, könig's a massive pervert (still love him tho), groping, size difference & kink, panty kink, unprotected sex, praising, filmed sex, fingering, teasing, spreading the older man könig agenda.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ notes: finally got the motivation to write something again and i literally feel so bad for not writing anything, so i wrote a lil something for my bby könig.

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG who enjoyed every single second of being your first time. he was practically infatuated with you—his best friend's pretty little daughter. when your father is another one of those high-ranking colonels along with könig, expect to find him being invited over almost every single day of the week for a simple drink with your father or a casual invitation to dinner. although unbeknownst to your father, there were times with könig that were deemed too debauched when it was just the two of you alone. one particular instance is when he snuck into your bedroom, your father off to sleep with the house to yourself, and könig. once you and him were kept in those four confining walls of your room, the door closed and only the lamp shade providing a minimum of dim lighting; the next thing you knew your legs were thrown and settled on top of the broad slopes of his shoulders, both of his large hands intertwined with your smaller ones while pinning them down to the surface of your mattress. sensual moans laced with softness spilling, at this point, without shame past your parted lips. the thrusts of his ample cock were carried with a firmness yet a loving, comfortable passion into your tightened sopping cunt, knowing that it was your first being so intimate with somebody. "try to relax, mein liebling. you're doing so good, and for your first time too, taking me in all at once like this - taking me all in like the sweet little girl you are."

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG was a sucker for everything about you. from your sweet and innocent personality, to your alluring exterior appearance. his favorite part about you was especially the fact that he was so much larger than you, both in height and that built-up military strength earned from his time spent as a colonel. his favorite thing to do was manhandle you into all kinds of different positions once you and him had settled into the routine of casual fuck sessions in secrecy, observing how the bare aspect of your pretty body curved and contorted while he fucked into you. his favorite perspective is when you're laying on your back, legs sprawled on either side of his torso while those hands of his kept a solid grasp on your waist to pull you back and forth on his cock. this never failed to force you into a state of mind where you were drunk on nothing but how his immense size relentlessly pounded into you without mercy. he can't help but allow a cocky smirk to sweep across his lips underneath his sniper hood at your state, temporarily raising the bottom edge of the veil to his nose before inclining the upper half of his body over you to rest his head in the crook of your neck; mouth pressing gentle kisses to the sweat-soaked skin of your neck in contrast to his violent thrusts before speaking in a husky tone, "who would've thought my best friend's daughter would be the best fuck of my life? you're truly a special girl, engel. very special." he comments breathily with a light chuckle that was so full of depth. “such a cockdrunk slut, huh?” his words barely registering in your fucked-out mind.

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG constantly finds ways to have his hands on you. sometimes his touches were innocent and loving in the sense—hands resting at your hips, his head leaning downwards to nuzzle the side of his head against yours, or just a simple caress of your hand against the back of his own. but knowing how perverse he was at the same time behind that sweetness. for multiple instances, it wasn't abnormal to find him groping and kneading at the soft, supple flesh of your tits or reaching beneath your skirt and that additional layer of panties to rub at your slick folds teasingly with his calloused fingertips in private or not. he never lets down on his praises though, his fingers would be knuckle-deep and thrusting rapidly in the warmth of your cunt and he would talk to you throughout it, "such a needy girl, hase. just couldn't keep my hands off of you, not when you've got the prettiest damn body i've ever seen." he praises through heavy breaths, his free lovingly rubbing circles into your side while you lost yourself in this spiral of arousal.

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG who's well aware how much of a perv he is. to his surprise, he pockets various kinds of your pretty panties either after giving you a good fuck or sneaking into your bedroom unabashedly—relishing in the concept at how confused you would be when you couldn't find them anywhere. instead those panties would be swathed around the throbbing length of his cock while he pumped at himself to the thought of you late at night in privacy; legs spread, his head angled backwards, near-animalistic grunts spewing from his throat, and pre-cum dripping down from the slit at the tip while it decorated the soft lace in a thin, white layer of sticky fluid. underneath that t-shirt sniper mask, his face sheeted over with slick sweat as the heat surrounding inside the cloth mask only piled on with his increasing arousal which ends up with his cum splattered all over your panties. it's not really a surprise anymore if you find somehow find your missing panties returned hanging off the edge of your laundry basket, a little messy reminder of him left in them.

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG adores how you look on camera. he'll take you out and rent some motel room for the night, or two if he's feeling special, and you'll find yourself pinned down onto the fresh crisp sheets of the mattress; one of his hands holding both your wrists right above your head, the other holding his recording phone firmly as it was aimed down at you under him. with bare thighs pressed up into the plush of your breasts, he positions the phone on a nearby pillow to hold it up just so he could sloppily eat out with your cunt, spit and all, with his mouth pursing around your swollen clit and his fingers rubbing circles into your dripping folds—creating a perfect angle to showcase both you and him in such a vulgar yet erotic manner. könig then picks up the phone once more as he finishes you off, holding it once more as he spreads your orgasm-slick thighs apart so he could pound his cock away into the tightness of your pretty cunt. every moan, every sound of skin against skin, every touch, is kept solely on that phone of just for him to relieve some stress while he's away from you and your lingering on that mind of his. "look at you, liebchen, like my own lil' personal pornstar. god, i can never get enough of you. look at the camera, baby, eyes on me. it's like you were made for it."

༉‧₊˚.— DBF!KÖNIG who was your first time for everything. first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. he can't help but feel a small amount of possessiveness over you knowing that, especially when guys around your age try to make some kind of shitty move on you. he relishes in the fact that he's the only one who could bring you to such heights of sensual pleasure, knowing just the right locations to touch you that caused you to writhe and whimper in the sweetest tones. you had a type of romance with him that you would only see in films, knowing that your father was always the strict type when it came to you and guys getting their hands on you. it wasn't a surprise when you found yourself feeling like the prettiest girl when könig would treat you so much better than boys your age; constantly bringing affection in the form of sweet physical contact while also treating you like his personal fleshlight when he was in need for some stress relief—drawing intense, messy orgasms after orgasms that would be leaving you whimpering and strangely in need for more of him. "könig..." you whined weakly, on the brink of a fourth orgasm with his pounding twitching cock buried between your trembling pulsing walls as you gave könig the most pleading and exhausted gleam in your eyes. it made you sound desperate, like a slut. "i know, engel. just a little bit more, baby. give yourself all to me."

[imagine-darksiders]

Mobsiders, chapter 1.

Timeless Unrest.

So, I'm trying something different here, this is a mafia au in which the Horsemen are mob bosses, and they take an interest in the Reader. This story will be set in the Universe of Darksiders, 2 years post-resurrection.

You are a self-proclaimed reporter, tasking yourself with hunting down a rumour that humans are being sold off-realm as slaves to a certain Demon Prince. At the centre of those rumours is one, particular family who control Haven City, and the Earth at large. You've been found out, and now you're going to have to meet the very beings you've been trying to expose.

--------

You’ve heard it said that a good journalist will face down threats every day in search of the truth, but a great journalist has already skirted so close to the truth that they’ve been privy to the inside of a burlap sack.

‘If there’s one thing to take out of this,’ you muse, panting for breath inside the coarse, stinking bag slung around your head as you’re dragged forwards down an unseen path, ‘At least I can finally say I’ve made it.’

Jesus… You’d only gone out to pick up your ration of milk for the week…

The passage of time seeps by at a disjointed rhythm when you can’t see. It seems only minutes ago you were trekking through the murky fog from your tiny, jerry-built apartment to the community centre near Fifth to collect your weekly rations. A small slip of card had been clutched protectively against your chest. On it, in little black writing was a short, unimaginative list.

'Bacon.'

'Milk.'

'Cheese.'

'Eggs.'

'Water.'

Two years since the Great Waking has seen Humanity still struggling to cobble their lives back together, and although supplies aren't nearly as sparse as they were in those first few months of chaos and disorder, people are still being careful with what little they have.

You'd been fantasising about how soon you'd see the word 'chocolate' appear on the list when, from out of nowhere, there was a loud squeal of tyres on tarmac, and something came careening to a halt behind you.

Strangely, it took you a moment to register what you were hearing.

When it eventually clicked, the first thought that sprang to mind was, ‘Who the Hell has a working car?’ Your second thought came moments later when you wheeled around just in time to see two, suited men plunge a sack down over your head and heave you bodily into an old, rusty car.

In the struggle you dropped your precious ration card.

The jolt of panic that shot up your spine was so potent, you almost managed to lurch right out of their grasp.

They weren’t expecting you to put up a fight, you suppose.

But how could they not? One of the cruellest aspects of the Great Waking was that humanity didn’t come back as new-born souls who had no recollection of their past lives. Instead, in a sick twist of fate, everyone, yourself included, can still recall how they died.

It sure as Hell made you want to avoid meeting a similar fate ever again.

Which is partly why you’d all but exploded into action when you were grabbed, thrashing your limbs, kicking, lurching sideways, gnashing your teeth to try and catch the burlap between them and tear your way out from the inside if you had to.

With all the ceremony of tossing out a bag of rubbish, you were flung, yowling like a terrified bearcat, and the hands left you for all of a blessed second before your back hit a stiff, leathery surface that punched the wind right out of you.

You can still remember the morbid satisfaction of kicking out and striking something solid that went ‘crunch!’ when it connected with the heel of your shoe.

It wasn’t as satisfying moments later when you were slugged so hard in the cheek, your head snapped back and your vision exploded into colourful speckles of light.

An engine had rumbled to life underneath you as car doors slammed shut, and through the ringing in your ears and swimming head, you caught snippets of conversation, mostly revolving around a broken nose and a call for tissues.

You have no idea how long you were in that car for. All you remember is just how peculiar it was to be in one again. Even more peculiar to realise it had been over a century since you sat on a leather seat with an engine purring against your spine.

You still fought, of course.

Borrowing strength from your fear, you struggled furiously against a weight settled on your legs and a pair of hands that kept your flailing wrists in their vice-like grip.

In hindsight, you regret fighting so hard in the car.

Now that you’re on your feet again, stumbling blindly through an unknowable building with half a chance at running away, you’re exhausted, mouth hoarse and dry from shrieking and limbs that tremble with terror and fatigue.

Your throat aches now, thick with emotions, and your cheek isn’t faring any better either, throbbing like it has its own heartbeat.

Even without the tears clinging to your lashes and muddying your view, the path ahead is still obscured from sight by your scratchy, unconventional headgear.

You’re inside a building. You can deduce that much.

And from the sounds of dress shoes clacking hurriedly on the floor below you, it’s either somewhere that’s been newly built, or a place that had remained miraculously untouched during the stretch of time between Humanity’s extinction and their resurrection.

The surface below you is perfectly and unusually smooth from what you can tell as you’re dragged along by two unknown thugs, neither of whom seem hindered by your stubborn efforts to dig the heels of your plimsolls into the floor, hoping to trip on a notch or bump.

It’s only been two years since the Great Waking, and all the buildings in Haven City have one thing in common that this place doesn’t.

Structurally, every single one of them is as rickety and unstable as a two-legged horse.

Yet this place has no creaky floorboards, no potholes left over from where the ground was blasted apart by a falling meteorite, no dip, sag, scoop or pocket to trip yourself up on and shake your kidnappers loose.

You try to focus on the pounding of footsteps, not your heart, nor the abject terror that tries to sink its teeth into you every time those bruising hands clench all the tighter around your arms and heave you upright again when your legs yield underneath you.

Eyes pinched shut, you force a kerosene-drenched breath in through your mouth and choke it out again, blowing droplets of sweat and tears off your upper lip.

You nearly bite your damn tongue off when ahead of you, something unlatches – ‘a door?’ – and you’re readjusted in the men’s grasp, two hands on each arm, keeping you marching forwards.

The toes of your plimsolls squeak against the hard floor as you’re dragged over a small bump and onto a different surface entirely.

Softer. More giving. The footfalls are quieter…

Carpet, you surmise.

“Ah, finally!”

Your hammering heart seizes up at the sound of a booming, unexpected voice that filters in through the fibrous gaps in your burlap prison. You’d almost grown used to the grunts and curses of the men hauling you along, it’s odd to hear actual words for a change.

“Boss,” one of the men at your side speaks up, his clear, nasally tone confirming he isn’t the one you’d kicked in the face, “Got ‘er right here, Boss! Just like you said.”

The breath hitches in your chest and you wrack your brains to place the first voice as it speaks again.

“Oh for- C’mon, guys. The sack? Really?” a distinctly male voice complains.

Your ears catch the sound of metal clinking, heavy footsteps on the carpet as their wearer draws closer to you… He sounds big, weighty, far more so than either of the two who lugged you in here.

‘Shit…’ you think, breathing hard. And when nothing more helpful springs to mind…‘Fuck!’

Stealing an iota of adrenaline from somewhere deep inside your guts, you start to struggle in earnest again, lips stuffed together to stop yourself from letting out any pitiable whimpers of distress. You have an awful, awful suspicion about whose turf you’re on, and it has everything to do with the little, red notebook currently locked in the top drawer of your bedside table.

“Sorry, Boss,” the nasally man to your left responds, shifting on his feet, “Gave us a little more trouble than we was expectin’. Look what she did to poor Dimitri.”

There’s a pause, in which you assume he must finally see the extent of your efforts to escape the car.

“Yeah,” the stranger eventually says, “I noticed that… S’it bad?”

The man to your right – Dimitri, you infer – huffs out an acidic hiss through his teeth and starts to dig blunted fingernails into your sleeve, upping the pressure until you wince beneath the sack.

“Broke my fucken’ nose,” he sneers in a voice that’s thick and wet, as if he’s bunged up with a bad cold, “F’she knocked any teeth out, this little bitch’d be-“

“-HEY.”

It’s alarming how one simple word can crack across the room like a bolt of lightning, raising the hairs on the nape of your neck and causing Dimitri to choke on his tongue in his haste to fall silent. Instinctively, you flinch away from the shout, as far as the hands will allow, though you can’t help but notice that the men on either side of you do the same thing, each taking a quick, aborted step back before they seem to remember themselves and stop in their tracks.

Nobody says a word. You don’t because you’re loathe to draw that kind of wrath down on your own head, and the men don’t for much the same reason.

Another heavy boot falls to the carpet with a dull, metallic ‘clunk,’ far closer to you than it was before, and when its wearer draws in a breath, you can hear the creak and stretch of leather as it expands to compensate a prodigious chest.

… He’s standing directly in front of you…

“… I catch you usin’ that kind of language about this lady again,” the stranger growls, his once casual tone now deep and dark as a mineshaft, likely just as dangerous, “And I might just forget that you humans aren’t bulletproof.”

‘Humans…? Oh, God…’ Gulping audibly, you try to keep your breaths shallow and quiet; a difficult feat when the air around you is disturbed by the terribly familiar ‘click’ of a gun’s hammer locking into position.

From within the muffled pocket of your hood, the sound is almost deafening.

Throat closed around several, trapped sobs, you hold your breath and clench your eyes shut, expecting that at any moment, you’re going to hear a man die.

But then…

“Understood…” Dimitri says, hesitating for a second before he quickly adds, “Sir.”

How he managed to speak without his voice quaking, you’ll never know.

With bated breath, you wait for his Boss’s verdict.

When it comes, the stranger’s voice bounces back to its jocular lilt in a turnaround violent enough to leave you with whiplash.

“Good!” he announces promptly, “Can’t have her thinkin’ we’re a bunch of monsters.”

His tone shifts again as he aims it at you.

“Now then...”

Gentle, amicable, friendliness wrapped in a cloak of deception. You know how loud his voice can be, so this unexpected softness means nothing to you.

“Let’s get you outta there, n’ see that pretty face up close…”

Oh, if only you could will yourself to dematerialise and sink through the floorboards like you’ve seen so many demons do on a whim.

Finding your voice, you shake your head, eyes wild behind the sack as they flit from side to side. “Please,” you croak, fruitlessly trying to peel your arms away from the hands rooting you to the spot, “I-I haven’t seen your face, I don’t know who you are, just-!”

Enormous, unnaturally cool fingers brush against the bottom of the sack, wriggling under the twine and tugging the knot loose. In an instant, you reel backwards, throwing your head as far away from the touch as you can, chest heaving hysterically when the man simply follows your motions.

“Just let me go home!” you sob, realising that maybe you aren’t cut out for this, after all.

A reporter. You could spit at the idea now. What the Hell were you thinking? You could have taken up with the group who left to build farmlands outside the city. You could be relaxing on a maker-built porch right now after a hard day of planting those precious seeds an angel found in Svalbard.

You could have picked up a hammer and set to work patching the holes in a shelter's roof, or jumped in a wagon that trundles around the city, distributing supplies and medical aid.

There are no jobs anymore. People are too busy focusing on the rebuilding effort, trying to restore an entire world and its civilisation to something functional once again. Nearly everyone wants to help, in their own way.

And what did you decide to do, to help? You thought it would be a grand idea to pick up a pen and a notebook and chase down information, scribbling out newsletters from the rickety desk in your apartment and distributing them around the city by hand.

And that foolish decision has led you here, to your doom. You'd grown too cocky, thought nobody would pay attention to one, little human trying to track down the sources of rumours that people are being sold off-world as slaves.

A mellow chuckle rolls from a throat high above your head and resonates inside your ribcage. “Easy, sweetheart,” the stranger coos, gripping the sack and raising it carefully up over your face, adjusting easily to the way you twist your neck from side to side, “You’re all right.”

When the burlap finally pulls free of your eyes, you can’t keep yourself from squinting against the sudden intrusion of light, blinking rapidly to clear your vision.

“There you are,” the voice says, quiet with barely contained wonder.

Keeping your head locked straight ahead of you, you finally manage to peel your eyelids apart and free the tears that were trapped behind them. Little tracks roll down the curves of your cheeks and gather on your chin as the body in front of you comes into focus.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Fuck. And shit.

You’ve been flying too close to the sun, haven’t you, Icarus? Now you’re going to die, and what came of it? What was it all for? Exposing a corrupt family to the world. A world who could do nothing to fight back even if you armed them with knowledge?

There’s nowhere you can look that isn’t absolutely covered by armour. You can't even see the room beyond it.

A vast torso stretches across your field of view, protected entirely by segments of silver armour. Each interlocking part connects with another seamlessly to fit over the swollen muscles of a body built solely for destruction.

Every inch of it is marred with a constellation of scratches, welts, and age-old scorch marks tarnishing the silver black in places, and from waist to chest span three, distinct gouges that have torn through the armour entirely, leaving thin lines through the metal and giving you an uninterrupted glimpse of black, skin-tight leather beneath.

Something big had left those marks, and still he'd come out the victor.

Everything your bulging eyes take in attests to a life lived in battle, and a survivor of all that have made an attempt on his life.

You don’t want to look up. You’ve heard a rumour that to meet his eyes is akin to slapping a hungry bear on its snout. Your eyes can’t see high enough to glimpse the mask you suspect is tilted down at you anyway.

You know what you’ll see if you do. You know the man standing in front of you, perhaps not personally, perhaps more than you should, perhaps not at all. His name is scribbled on almost every page in your notebook.

Gritting your teeth, you swallow thickly and instead, allow your gaze to creep lower, away from the eyes burning a hole into the top of your head.

You regret looking down almost immediately when your stare lands on the butt of an enormous, silver revolver jutting from a holster strapped to his hips, so large that it would make any ordinary man who wields it look like a toddler trying to play with a cannon.

An audible whimper falls through your teeth as you flick your gaze sideways and see the second gun you already knew was there.

You swear you can feel several pints of blood drain from your face.

These guns are about as infamous as their wielder. And you’re standing within spitting distance of all three.

“O-oh, shit,” you stutter through buzzing teeth. And really, what else is there to say?

You’re in the den of one of the most dangerous beings in the Universe. One of four, in fact.

You’ve heard so many names accredited to him.

Endless Spirit of Timeless Unrest is your personal favourite for nothing else but the sheer pageantry of it.

He’s a killer, a monster, spreading desolation and terror everywhere he goes…

Worse still, before the End War and Earth’s downfall, you and everyone else assumed he was nothing more than a fairy-tale written into the pages of an old, allegorical book.

After all, a Horseman of the Apocalypse? It was always such an outlandish idea.

Until it wasn’t. Until he wasn’t.

“Hah…”

You give a start at the soft chuckle rumbling above your head.

“Not the reaction I was hopin’ for, but beggars can’t be choosers…”

You try to keep your tear-blurred vision on the armoured torso in front of you, but the decision to of inaction is stolen from you seconds later when a gargantuan, metal gauntlet rises up in front of your face.

Startling, you buck against the goons pinning you in place as he extends a finger and slips it underneath your chin.

You cram your lips together, fighting to stop that impossibly strong hand from tilting your head back.

Eyes rolling with fright, your face crumples and you let out a wheezing sob that catches in your throat as your gaze is forced up past a monstrous, armoured chest, then over a thick neck until finally, when you can hardly muster up the courage to draw in a rattling breath… there he is, staring down at you with eyes that exude all the qualities of a predator. Bright and yellow like melted gold, illuminating the silver helm that conceals every other feature from view.

Thick spikes of hair jut from the back of it, and you're reminded more of sharp, ebony horns belonging to that of a demon, rather than anything human.

Above you looms the man who holds Haven City and all the world in the palm of his unforgiving hand.

Of their own accord, your quivering lips peel apart and release his name into the air like a curse, uttered in terrified reverence.

“Strife.”

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 6: a gold, comfy cage

Synopsis: Alastor presents you to the ruler of Pentagram City and lays down the law.

Master List

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Alastor left me at the edge of the airship and moved about the deck giving orders. I watched with astounded curiosity as the men and women threw ropes twice their size over the edge and pulled the ship into dock. Magic lifted the heavy crates over the railing and piled them nearby. 

The sudden realization that those crates held my old books was like a new hit to the head.

My angry eyes searched for Alastor's red coat a moment before he planted a hand on my shoulder. I jumped at the contact and he was quick to take a step forward and lead me off the airship. I followed, ignoring the urge to itch my trapped wings.

The stone was more solid—obviously—and my knees weren't ready for it. I stumbled off the ramp but kept walking, cheeks burning from the chuckles of the crew. It was then I noticed the cat leader from the attack was walking close behind me, arm carried in a makeshift sling from the injury I had caused. His yellow eyes met mine and I didn't dare look back a second time.

Alastor walked to one of the pulley systems for passengers and held open the small door. I casted him a wry look as I stepped into the funny contraption. I stayed in the corner and did my best to avoid accidentally brushing elbows. 

At the center of the ravine was a large stone castle. It had several attaching gray structures and looked more like a fortress than a castle. The surrounding buildings were bright, beautifully designed, and as exotic as the people.

Is that...electricity? I noted different lamps and the static of radio music coming from several buildings. They did have electricity.

The pulley system stopped at a platform right at the fortress. The cat, with his crazy red wings, was already waiting for us. He moved so quietly—too quietly—and the look in his eyes unnerved me. He stayed close behind as we walked up the front steps and through the large wooden doors.

The inside of the massive building was uncomfortably cold. I folded my arms over my chest as my footpaws took on the brunt of the cold stone. The huge windows helped, though, and I made it a point to walk into the sun-soaked stone. Alastor looked over his shoulder but said nothing.

Eventually we came to a door that looked like any other but the inside was much larger and more extravagant than the door suggested. The floor was lined with red and brown rugs, the wall coated in dark wood, and various yellow trinkets were scattered across any available surface.

My eyes scanned the bookshelves and trinkets before discovering a second half to the room, a half that was occupied by comfortable furnishing, a crackling fire, and a short man dressed in white and red. He turned upon our entrance.

His coat was whiter than anything I'd ever seen. He wore a light pink vest with gold buttons and a red long sleeve underneath. There were red ruffles at the ends of his sleeves, around his chest, and at his waist where the pink vest met white pants. He was so strikingly different than his surroundings. His short, bright blonde hair added to his ethereal appearance.

Movement in the corner caught my attention, and I turned to find another person. I immediately noticed the family resembled in their blonde hair and puffy red cheeks. Her colors were inverted compared to her father.

She wore a red, sleeveless crossbody coat and black pants. Underneath her coat was a pristine white long sleeve which ruffled at her wrists and chest, topped with a beautiful red pendant in the shape of an apple. Her brown boots were knee high and her hair braided behind her back. She somehow managed to embody both femininity and masculinity, and it made me feel all the more awkward and plain.

"Lucifer," Alastor spoke, gesturing to me with a single hand, "may I present the most brilliant Archivist of our age."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes as he placed a light hand on my lower back and guided me closer to the important pair. Their eyes looked me over just as much as mine had. It took every ounce of effort not shrivel and curl inward on myself.

"It's an absolute pleasure to meet you." Lucifer gave a small bow and stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Though I wish it were under different circumstances." He was only an inch or two shorter than me compared to his daughter who stood an inch or two taller than me. 

"Me too," I said curtly, ignoring his hand. He cleared his throat with the rejected hand and straightened up. I kept my face as neutral as possible despite the shaking in my legs.

"I'm sure she will come around," Alastor said in response to my rejection. "She's proven to be...resilient in times of hardship, but not beyond my ability to persuade."

"I won't be persuaded to do anything." I crossed my arms and took a step away from both men, eyeing the young girl standing behind Lucifer. "I'm bound by—"

Lucifer held up his hand and I fell silent. "I know you're bound by an oath. And I understand your anger, truly. But I hope you see this not as an act of malice but an act of survival." His cheery smiley was contrasting his true intentions.

"Your city seems to be doing just fine."

"On the surface," Lucifer explained. "We have worked hard to keep our looming demise hidden from the public. A demise we hope you'll be the key to preventing. The people...our people," he looked over his shoulder at his daughter, "are counting on us. They're trusting us to make the hard decisions."

"Hard but necessary," Alastor added, finding my eyes. "You've kept those texts hidden for too long, letting them gather dust while the rest of the world falls apart. It's time to put them to use."

"If your city is dying then it's your own doing," I said carefully. "There are plenty of communities doing just fine on their own. Yet you conquer and kidnap hundreds every year in the name of what? Power?"

"Survival," Lucifer corrected gently.

"That's not survival." My smile contrasted my true feelings, just as Lucifer's had. "You want an empire to control in the name of survival. I hate to tell you, but that's how Humanity fell."

"Which is why we want your help." Lucifer didn't seem to be losing patience, compared to Alastor who seemed to be building in impatience."We need to know Humanity's history so we don't repeat it."

"Most people know Humanity's general history, thanks to my people," I argued. "What you're asking from me is Old World technology and weapons."

"No weapons," Lucifer put his hand up again as if to banish the notion. "That's something I am personally against. But yes, we are also looking for Old World technology. It can protect our city, it can duplicate our resources, and families won't have to go hungry because we don't have enough food to feed them."

"We don't wish to take anything from you," he went on. "You'll have access to your archive as well as our own collection. We are asking for your help. We're not just a city, we're a refuge. And your knowledge—"

"A refuge from what?" I interrupted, arms finally unfolding so I could talk with my hands and point at Alastor. "Communities fear the day the Radio Demon comes to collect them and trap them in this city."

"In time," Alastor spoke before Lucifer could, "you will see the glory of this city and the peace it brings to families who were on the verge of death in their community." His words held firm but the underlying tone showed a glimpse of the level of irritation he was withholding.

I took another step back. "But apparently so is the city."

"Nothing is without fault," Lucifer interjected when white noise got caught in Alastor's throat. "But we are a better chance than what they had. Regardless of how you view our city, one fact remains: the knowledge you hold can save hundreds of lives and, later on, the entirety of Humanity. You hold that power."

Alastor moved silently and laid a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder. He leaned down so our faces were close. "This isn't about the past. This is about saving the future, the very thing you also want to save. You have the power to help build it bigger and better than our ancestors. You can be a part of that," he straightened up and donned the Radio Demon, "or find yourself on the other side of history. The world is moving on and if you don't adapt, you will be left behind."

"I don't think you realize what you're asking of me." I stepped away again so his hand would fall from my shoulder. "You're asking me to betray everything I've known. You're asking me to go against my predecessors and the oath we live by."

"Not necessarily," the girl spoke up.

"Charlie..." Lucifer whispered.

She ignored him. "Your oath says it can't be used for bad, right? That it's meant for the rebuilding of Humanity? Well, that's exactly what we're trying to do. You have knowledge--insight into Humanity's old ways. Farming techniques, materials for reinforcements, and even ways to survive against natural disasters. They're not weapons. We're just trying to survive like everyone else."

"And what about him?" I gave a terse nod in Alastor's direction without looking at him. "He spends half his time ranting and mocking the Old Humanity. Calling them weak and pitiful and whatever other derogatory terms you can think of. Why does he suddenly care about Humanity's legacy and its future?"

Lucifer and Charlie both looked to Alastor, whose grin faltered slightly. He recovered and stepped forward to circle behind me. "You judge too quickly, my dear." His voice was laced with feigned innocence. "I may have my strong opinion of Old Humanity, but that does not make me blind to progress. It's their strengths we need, not their weaknesses."

"Old Humanity used to think they were invincible," I replied. "In taking all their strengths, you will think yourself invincible too. In fact..." I looked him up and down with a wrinkle of my nose, "I know you believe you are."

His grin widened. "Such harsh words from the woman who was so gentle when she stitched my chest." He laid his long fingers across the lapels of his coat.

For the first time since my kidnapping, I smiled. "I'd love the opportunity to gently unstitch them for you."

"Enough," Lucifer grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alastor may not express himself well--"

"I find that many people understand me quite well," Alastor enunciated.

"--but he does understand what's at stake," Lucifer went on, ignoring the comment. "We all do. This isn't just about Pentagram City. It's about Humanity as a whole, which you are oath-bound to protect. With your help, we can build a future for Humanity. But we have to start small. One city at a time."

I shifted my weight between my feet. For years I had loathed my destiny; I had loathed the weight of Humanity's fate on my shoulders and now it was being increased ten fold. What they were saying made sense but my instincts were telling me this was wrong. I wanted to trust my instinct. "And if I refuse?"

Lucifer's lips dropped into a sad smile. "Then I'm afraid you'll find even the strongest wills can be broken." He glanced at Alastor still standing off to the side of me. "Alastor brought you here because he sees potential in you—a rare notion in itself."

"And for other reasons," Alastor added more quietly, glancing over me from head to toe.

"And I happen to agree with him just from this conversation. Most Archivists are blindly stubborn and see nothing past their oath. You know there is a way to save Humanity. Your region has known more about our past than any other region in the last ten years. Working with us, not for us, you'll find what you've been protecting will finally serve the purpose it was meant to."

My tone held no bite. "You're twisting my oath around to serve your purpose. If you really thought this to be a noble action, why kidnap me? Why steal my archive? You could be asking me for specific information then leaving me alone in my bunker. Yet you didn't."

Lucifer chose not to answer me directly. "If there was another way, I would take it. But we're running out of time and options. I know what I'm asking from you is a sacrifice, but one that could save the fate of Humanity."

Alastor's hand came to rest on the back of my neck, the pad of his finger brushing my skin. His tone was gentle and it sounded like Al was talking to me, "This doesn't have to be a battle, my dear. You're no longer alone. Allow us to work together."

All of them went silent for a long time. My gaze was rooted to the floor. I couldn't do what they were asking me; I couldn't translate those texts and allow them to use it how they wanted. There was no telling what they would do with it, no matter how small or insignificant the information might seem.

After my internal conflict went on for too long, Lucifer said, "Think about it."

Alastor's hand slid down to my lower black and led me out of the room. Charlie looked like she wanted to say more but thought better of it, folding her hands politely in front of her and watching the two of us step through the doorway and back into the cold hallway.

The sound of Alastor's boots on the stone echoed in my head. My mind swirled with all kinds of emotions--doubt, anxiety, resentment, fear, hurt, and even a glimmer of curiosity.

I wanted to trust them. Lucifer was obviously the ruler, even though I thought Alastor was, and what he had said made sense, along with his daughter. The city was in a type of danger thanks to Mother Nature and was looking for a way to survive; a way that I had hidden in my mountain of texts.

Yet I couldn't ignore the probing thought in the back of my mind: what happens if I help them survive their looming threat? They dragged me and my archive all the way back here, which likely meant they were looking for more than just a rain shield. They would want more.

"Care to share your thoughts, my dear?" Alastor's voice snapped the tense silence.

My shoulders stiffened. "Why? So you can twist them around for your benefit?" The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I felt a presence behind me. I spun to find Husker walking silently behind me, sharp eyes glaring up at me. Why could I never hear him?

"Such venom," Alastor chuckled, continuing his stride down the hall. "I would've thought you'd have seen the bigger picture by now."

"Oh I see it just fine," I walked after him. "You trick me for your benefit and then expect me to save your precious city in the name of saving Humanity. All because you suddenly decided Humanity is worth saving. Please."

Alastor glanced over his shoulder. "I admit my methods are...heavy handed."

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You put a spell on my wings, threw me and my archive on a ship, and presented me to your ruler like some trophy. I'd say that's a little more than heavy-handed."

He came to a stop and so did I, eyeing him carefully as he turned to face me fully. "You cannot deny it achieved results. You are here. You are safe. And despite your protests, I think you're starting to understand just how important you are."

I took a step back, fists clenched tightly at my sides. "Don't flatter yourself, Alastor. The only reason I'm not 'hissing like a feral cat' and attempting to throw my life away is because Lucifer's words have some merit. At least he has the grace of making me feel like part of the bigger picture and not some pawn on a chessboard."

His eyebrow twitched as he leaned down, voice lowering with him. "Lucifer is an idealist. He'll sugarcoat everything to make you do his bidding. But me? I won't coddle you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep this city from falling. Even if it means being the villain in your story." His words soaked into my skin as those red eyes bore in mine. This was the Radio Demon.

He straightened up, back to glaring down his long nose at me. "I trust you'll make the right decision, for yourself and for all of us."

{|}

We passed two guard towers at the entrance to a ravine and stepped into a world of unworldly things. People dressed in bright cloaks and shawls hustled about, spirals of dusty air flew overhead, and a bright green light pulsed through the ground beneath my feet like a heartbeat.

Buildings were carved into the stone wall and carpets hung over their edge, paints of red, oranges, and browns outlined their designs. All kinds of sights, smells, and noises pummeled my senses. It was hard to focus on one thing in all this chaos. It was amazing but...overwhelming.

We came to a fork in the road. The stone buildings and makeshift stands and tents continued onward. How much more of this was there? How long was it? How many more people lived here?

My questions remained unanswered as we approached a building sitting at the corner of the divide. It was a tower of some sorts and dressed in reds and blacks. The colors were so bright and demanding that I instantly knew this was where Alastor lived.

"Fetch Rosie," Alastor ordered, and the cat slid off without a word or a sound.

Alastor opened the door and gestured inside. My eyes looked him over as I carefully stepped through the threshold, a heavy weight settling in my lungs. It was dark for only a moment before a fireplace sparked to life in an instant, followed by lanterns on the ceilings and curtains drawing apart to let in natural sunlight. The motions made me jump.

The room was rather simple but, in my eyes, it was by far the most luxurious place I had ever seen. To the right was the grand fireplace surrounded by a simple couch and chair. The cushions looked soft and in perfect shape—not a scratch or patch in sight.

Bookshelves leaned against the staircase directly in front of me with trinkets and other things on display. Directly behind the couch was a standing cabinet. Both pieces of furniture were made of finely sanded dark wood. At the end of the room was another threshold that looked like it lead to a kitchen and dining room.

"Welcome to my home, my dear," Al said from behind me. I had shown him my home and now he was showing me his. "You may go anywhere in this house. What's mine is yours."

My cheeks burned at the realization that my bunker had probably looked shabby to him. It was dark, rusting away, and cold. Everything had been made to withstand time and life, not to impress. Despite everything that had happened, I wished I had made the bunker more presentable for him.

Then I heard a lock click and everything came back. I stepped forward, turning around to face him with my arms crossed and face set. He let out a sigh through his nose. "What is it?"

"I suppose you want me to be thankful you're not tossing me in a cell?"

He smirked, passing me and withdrawing a glass canter from the standing cabinet. He poured two cups of a reddish-yellow liquid, placing one at the edge and picking up the other. "You're not a prisoner here, my dear. At least, not in the way you think." He moved to the single chair by the fire and motioned for me to sit. I remained standing.

"You brought me here against my will," I reminded him firmly. "I call that imprisonment." Curiosity made me glance at the drink still sitting on the cabinet.

"I've brought you here because you're valuable and because despite everything—" he swirled the liquid around in his glass, then glanced up at me with those ruby eyes, "I still seek your company."

"Valuable?" I ignored the glass and moved to stand in front of the fire. "I suppose that's how you've always seen me and just tricked me into thinking it was something more. I expect nothing less from the Radio Demon."

"It's not that simple," he said. "I have responsibilities. I have an entire city to protect from the inside and outside."

I crossed my arms. "And I'm just the tool to fix all your problems."

He sipped from the glass then placed it on the small table beside him. His eyes seemed to glow in the firelight looked at me. "I will not pretend like this is ideal for you. But you are here now. Safe and with access to more knowledge than your ancestors could ever dream of. But in order for this arrangement to work, there are rules to follow."

I scoffed and walked in a circle. "What makes you think I'm interested in following your rules?"

His tone dropped. "You should be." He deposited the glass on a small side table and stood. "For your safety and for your books. Archivists have been hunted down and burned alive with their archive on this side of the region for centuries."

I backed up when he came too close.

"Firstly," he began. "You will continue your work translating your archive as well as any others I present. I expect progress and will not take kindly to any attempts of sabotage or withholding information. Am I clear?"

I crossed my arms, taking another step away. "If I refuse?"

He looked at me as if he was persuading a child. "You won't refuse. Not if you want to protect your books, live by your oath, and still get to live a life no Archivist has ever dreamed of living."

A single step put him in my personal space and I had run out of room, the wall practically pushing me in the direction I didn't want to go in.

His tone softened with his eyes. "I do not want to be your enemy, my dear. But my devotion to Pentagram City must come first, just as your devotion to your oath does. I hope you will come to understand this and we may once again have what we did in that forest." His hand came up to brush his knuckles on my cheek.

Had it not been for his appearance, I might have fallen into that trap. But his unfamiliar, bright red coat and monocle under his eye reminded me of the reality I was being forced to live.

I swallowed on nothing, voice struggling to speak at a normal volume. "Are you expecting me to just blindly believe you're Al?"

He blinked. "I don't follow."

"I have spent the last five years listening to your broadcasts. You're not Al. You're the Radio Demon, the man I've sworn would never touch my books. The man who laughs at Humanity's downfall but uses only the good parts for his benefit."

He pulled his hand away and the Radio Demon came back in a very jarring way. "Secondly, you may go anywhere in this house but you're not permitted to leave. My district is full of life but the streets are very dangerous, especially for someone who has not grown up in such an environment. If you step outside without me, you're putting yourself and the fate of Humanity at risk."

My hands pressed into the wall as if to ground myself. "What do I get out of this? A gold cage is still a cage."

"You'll have my protection, my resources, and my company."

"I don't trust you nor want your company."

A knock on the door drew our attention. Alastor didn't seem at all concerned about it, calmly approaching the door as he continued the conversation. "Consider this a new start, then. A way for us to...coexist and discover if there's any hope of reestablishing our connection. But I remind you, your work is vital and I need you focused."

I shifted my weight. "So I'm stuck in a fancy cage with a man I don't trust. I'm not so sure this is any better than my previous circumstance."

His smile was...complicated. "I hope as time goes on that you'll see more of this city and the wonders it holds. And I hope that one day you'll come see this place isn't as terrible as it seems. Maybe...you'll come to find I'm not so either."

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Author's Note:

Oh to be in a fanfic. Things are never so simple.

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Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette

[twodogs-twocats]

Taste Me (Sleep Token's Vessel x fem pov) 18+, NSFW

You have a rather gory nightmare about your boyfriend Vessel. Upon waking, Vessel comforts you by drawing inspiration from the nightmare itself. Inspired by the song "Sugar."

Warnings: SMUT - 18+, Minors DNI. Oral, gore, cannibalism, bondage, scary scenarios.

I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for awhile. Sugar is one of my favorite songs, gets me super inspired 😉

We still know how to bleed.

I woke slowly, my consciousness settling bit by bit. A cold, flat surface pressed into my back, but the chill of it was not quite enough to pull me out of my stupor. My eyes remained shut, heavy and dry from sleep.

I took in a shuddering breath. A strange warmth permeated my chest, sort of like I was melting. In fact, my whole body felt wrong, weightless and incorporeal. My mind scrambled to figure out why I had not woken up in my bed, but it couldn’t grasp anything solid. Everything felt foggy, just beyond the realm of understanding. 

I unglued my tongue from the roof of my mouth, licking apart my lips. Cautiously, I wiggled my fingers, trying to summon some energy to my limbs. My bones, however, creaked in protest.

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you.” The voice came from somewhere behind me. I attempted to tilt my head toward the voice, immediately bringing on a wave of nausea. 

“I need you to stay still so you can keep marinating, my love.” 

Vessel? I knew that voice better than anything. I relaxed slightly. If Vessel was here, then I was okay.

“Vessel, where are you?” I mumbled in a gravely voice.  Even speaking brought about a soreness deep in my chest. “What is going on? Where am I?” Marinating?

A shuffle of fabric, followed by the creak of floorboards.

“My love, you are so, so sweet.” His voice was closer now, like he was standing above me. “I needed to taste you. And not just your soft lips, your gentle breath — I needed more. I am quite addicted to you, you know?”

A chill ran down my spine and at that moment I realized I was completely naked. The cool air whispered along my bare skin. I tried to move my hands again, but it felt like something was holding my wrists captive to the surface underneath me. I began to struggle against the restraints, yet every movement sent a jolt of pain through my body. Panic set in.

“I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Vessel continued. His voice was low, dripping with a feral sensuality. “I tried to make sure you wouldn’t feel a thing. I only wanted a taste. But then I had more, and more, and more.” Behind my closed lids, I could now feel his warm breath on my face. 

“Vessel, what are you talking about?” My chin trembled. “Where am I? Why can’t I move?” A tear escaped my eyelids, sliding down my cheek. “I don’t feel good.” 

“Do not cry beautiful.” He said, wiping my tear away. “Come, let me show you just how much I crave you.”

I felt his fingers brush across my eyelids, using the moisture of my tears to slowly lift my lids open. At first the light above me burned, and I squinted against the glare. Little by little, the room came into focus.

I was in my dining room. I could tell by the dusty chandelier above me. So the surface I was laying on must be my dining table�� which made absolutely no sense.

Vessel appeared just off to my right, handsome as always. As I took him in, I noticed there was more red on him than normal. In fact, almost all the exposed skin of his face and chest was covered in thick rivulets of red liquid. It looked like blood.

“You are truly a delicacy,” he whispered, his teeth bared slightly. “In fact, you’ve spoiled me. I had thought I would save the best for last, but I just couldn’t resist. It was just so… tempting.” 

Vessel now held his hand out towards me, his fingers wrapped around something thick, round, and red. The same red liquid that coated Vessel’s face dripped off the object, falling to the floor. It looked like some sort of raw meat. Bile rose in my throat. Whatever it was, he had been eating it. My Vessel, eating something so -

“Thoroughly delicious. That is what you are.”

The thing in his hand was moving rhythmically. Thump thump, like a beating heart.

And then it hit me, everything falling into place. My breath came in gasps, my head ached, sweat pooled under my shoulders. With all this panic, this confusion, my heart should have been pounding too. But instead my heart was utterly quiet. I became cold as ice, as I pulled my gaze away from Vessel and looked down at my chest.

Where there should have been skin, there was a gaping hole, running from the bottom of my throat to the top of my belly button. Sticking out of my chest like blood-covered trees were my upper ribs, as though they had been broken and forced apart. My lungs were there, frantically expanding and contracting amidst the gore. But where there should have been a heart, there was nothing. 

My heart, utterly devoured by Vessel.

“I can’t give you up now, my love.” He smiled a bloody smile. “I’ve developed a taste for you.”

I screamed.

We still know how to feed. 

I shot upright in bed, struggling to catch my breath. Frantically, I brought my hands to my chest. There it was, the strong, rhythmic beat of my heart.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Vessel sat up next to me, turning on the bedside lamp. I flinched away from him as the light hit his face, and his eyes immediately flooded with concern. 

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” He held his hand out towards me, just far enough to let me close the distance. My Vessel. The one I love, a gentle voice in my head whispered. My body slowly relaxed and I let out a big sigh. Vessel would never hurt me. It was just a bad dream. I took his hand and allowed him to pull me into his lap. His broad chest pressed into my back as he wrapped his arms around me.

“You’re okay, everything is okay.” He whispered into my hair. The warmth of his breath sent waves of ease down my spine. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was just a bad dream. You- you were in it,” I spoke shyly, nervous to admit how afraid of him I had been. “You were… eating me.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “And why is that bad dear? Was I that bloody dreadful at it?”

I chuckled. He always knew how to make me feel better. “No, not like that. You were eating me alive. You had me all tied up and cut open. And you were eating my heart. It was pretty awful.”

He pulled me tighter. “I’m so sorry love. It was just a dream. You know I would never hurt you.”

“I know,” I said, nuzzling into his chest. 

We sat quietly for some time as I filled him in on some of the more vivid details of my dream. He ran his hands along my arms and my back, laughing lightly at some of the more absurd bits. Gradually I found myself laughing too. My dream was already fading into the void where dreams go.

“Just so you know, while I may not be eating you alive anytime soon” he smirked, “I do still find you quite addicting.” His fingers softly grasped my chin as he pulled my face to his. Rather that his typical ornate white mask, he usually wore a soft cotton mask to bed. His chin was still left exposed, and my gaze settled on his lips as they formed a slow smile. “I don’t want your last thought of me before bed to be me as some sort of psychotic cannibal. Allow me to make a better impression.”

My hand lightly traced the lines of his chest and abdomen. The image of him eating me on the dining table flashed into my mind, but somehow, rather than making me afraid, I felt a yearning in my core.

He leaned his face towards me and I brought my mouth to his. The kiss started gently, like he was asking a question. As much as Vessel claimed to be addicted to me, it was nothing compared to my voracious desire for him. I turned to face him fully, coming to straddle his lap. I knew he understood my answer when he ran his hands through my hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as his lips pressed more forcefully into mine. I felt his tongue travel along my mouth, and I parted my lips to let him in. The taste of him fully consumed me as he explored.

His large hands began to travel down my back until he found my ass. Fingers digging in, he pulled me closer to him. I felt his cock beneath his black boxers, already hard and pressing against me. My low belly started to burn with anticipation. I rocked my hips back and forth, grinding against his length, encouraging his arousal. His fingers tightened their grip as he moaned into my mouth.

Before I knew it, he had flipped me onto my back, pushing my oversized t-shirt up to reveal my naked body. “I really could eat you,” he chuckled deeply. Only Vessel could turn something so terrifying into something so incredibly sexy.

He began to trail kisses down my body, lingering at each of my nipples as he pulled them into his mouth with a soft bite. I gasped at the wetness of his tongue. The kisses continued all the way down to my thighs, where he took the sensitive flesh of my legs between his teeth.

My hips bucked, wanting more, wanting his mouth on me. “My my, aren’t you hungry?” He growled. I whimpered in response. “Let me show you how hungry I am too.” 

Vessel’s mouth met the wetness between my legs. His tongue trailed between the folds, sucking, biting, kissing. He slipped his tongue inside of me, moaning at my taste. Every movement of his was intended to please. His strong arms pushed my legs farther apart as he took my clit in his mouth. I cried out at the intense feeling, trying to pull away, but he held me firmly in place. He brought one hand back to my breasts, his thumb circling my nipples, overwhelming me with sensation. I felt heat building as I approached orgasm. If this is what it felt like to be consumed by Vessel, then it was no nightmare. It was euphoria.

“Good girl,” he said, his breath hot against me. “But I know you can give me more.” He quickly brought his mouth back, resuming his feast. Stars flashed across my vision as I came, my back arching away from the bed. He continued to taste me through my orgasm, relishing every moment. 

As I slumped back into the bed, I watched Vessel lick his lips, delighting in my taste. Seeing how much he enjoyed me led to another wave of arousal. I always needed more of him. He must have seen this in my eyes, for he started to crawl back up towards me. His lips met mine for a kiss, and I tasted myself on him.

“Don’t worry my love.” He grinned down at me, a trail of sweating traveling down his bare chest. “I always come back for seconds.”

[kelcemenow]

As The Snow Falls - Chapter 4.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1117

Warnings Strong language, slight smut and some pretty intense moments.

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

You leaned in, his hands moving to your waist. Your lips were parted and Travis' head tilted upwards, his eyes studying your face. His hands felt strong and you imagined that he would be easily able to lift you up or throw you onto a bed with an intense passion. Something tightened inside of you, an undulation of desire for the man you had tried to forget. His soft lips ghosted over yours, a tingle of warmth surrounding you as his fingers drifted to your lower back, ducking underneath your swimsuit.

You felt his hips roll slightly underneath you when a growing noise from the cabin distracted you.

"Shit." You pushed yourself up and quickly back down onto the seat next to Travis, the water rippling across the surface fiercely.

He looked at you with bewilderment as he adjusted himself, his brow furrowed.

Jasmine skipped onto the decking and as her eyes fell on you and Travis, her face changed immediately, "Oh. You two look cosy?"

Travis smirked and looked down at his lap, his hands swirling the water to distort the obvious appearance of his growing erection.

"What's going on?"

You forced a smile, "Nothing. Nothing at all. We're just...catching up."

Jasmine stared for a moment, before turning to Travis, "We're heading out to hit the slopes. Travis, are you coming?" Jasmine said, almost through her teeth.

He turned his head to you before looking back at Jasmine. Her eyes flickered between the pair of you, in a slight accusatory manner, and she tapped her foot whilst she waited for Travis to respond.

Travis exhaled sharply before resting his head back on the edge of the hot tub, "Nah, I'm good."

Jasmine blinked a couple of times, her eyebrows raised high, "Are you sure? I know all of the secluded routes...it'll be fun"

"Thanks Jasmine, but I'm actually thinking of catching the first snow tomorrow." He stretched his arms out, his left hand gently tickling your back, "Y/N and I will have dinner ready for when you all get back."

You watched Jasmine from the corner of your eye, not daring to fully face her. She was well known for having a tantrum if she didn't get her own way. You knew she was trying to get close to Travis and whilst you didn't own him and he was free to do whatever he wanted, you secretly wanted him to yourself.

"Okay." She said quickly, "Your loss."

She quickly flashed a smile before whipping around, her long hair following her head.

"Oh, you're in trouble now." You said quietly as you watched her disappear back into the cabin.

Travis hissed through his teeth, "I'd much rather be in trouble with you."

He leaned in towards you, his mouth only inches from your neck and his solid chest pressing against your arm. As his lips grazed your skin, you pulled away.

"I think you've had more than enough female attention, don't you." You stood up, water dripping down your body. "And I'm not about to be involved in any love triangles."

Travis' eyes widened as he watched your soft curves and glistening skin. You bent over the side of the hot tub, grabbing the bright orange beach towel and pulling it over your shoulders, your ass peeking out from underneath it. You turned back over your shoulder to see Travis unable to tear his gaze away from you.

"Wait, w-what?" He stuttered.

"Come on." You said as you gracefully stepped out and onto the decking, "We have dinner to make...apparently."

______________________________________________________________

Steam billowed from the large pot of chilli that was resting on the stove. You stirred it occasionally as you prepared the potatoes and counted how many bags of nachos you would need. The smell was inviting and mouth watering, a recipe that you had perfected and was always a big hit at parties and barbeques.

As Travis walked into the kitchen, you turned over your shoulder, "How was your shower?"

"So good." He stood next to you, glancing over at the plethora of food, "Something smells delicious?"

"Well, someone took so long showering that I thought I would get dinner started on my own. Homemade chilli, baked potatoes, cornbread, nachos and a big bowl of rice."

Travis inhaled and smiled warmly to you, "You're awesome. Need any help?"

You laughed, "It's all done, Travis. I'm just waiting for the chilli to finish cooking." You placed the tray of potatoes in the stove and closed the door, "You could help me by grabbing a bottle of wine from the refrigerator though?"

"For the food?"

You shook your head, "For us. I think I've earned a drink after this."

Travis turned and made his way to the other side of the kitchen. As he moved, your eyes couldn't help but to glance down, his perfect ass firm and tight. You took a deep and controlled breath as you felt your eyes becoming hazy at the sight in front of you.

"Can I ask you a question?" He said as he perused the multiple bottles.

Your head quickly snapped back to the countertop and you started stacking the plates that you would need for dinner. Clearing your throat, you responded, "Yeah, shoot."

"Why did you jump off of me like a kangaroo in the hot tub when Jasmine walked in?"

You sighed and turned to face him, "She's clearly got her eye on you and I don't want to upset her."

Travis reached across you to collect two wine glasses, "W-wait...she knows we've sort of got some history between us, right?"

You shook your head, "I met Jasmine after that and we all didn't really talk about it much. Well, me and Jason did. But Jasmine only hears what she wants to hear, most of the time. Besides, I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It isn't a big deal, is it?"

He opened the bottle with ease, his bulging muscles contorting next to you, "So if it isn't a big deal, why don't you just tell her?"

"Because I don't really know what I'm actually telling her." You turned to face him, "Like, what is this?"

Travis grinned and moved in closer to you, "It can be what you want it to be, baby."

Your stomach fluttered for what felt like the hundredth time. His glittering eyes locked with yours and were suddenly lost in his dreamy gaze.

"Travis-"

His hand moved up to the side of your face and he brushed some hair from your cheek, "Just think about it?"

You stuttered a breath and watched him leave with his wine glass as your stove timer snapped you out of your trance-like-state.

______________________________________________________________

I've tortured myself over this chapter, not being able to decide on the direction of the plot, hating certain moments and re-writing them all over again to realise that they were fine all along...so I really hope you enjoy this one. It's becoming a slow burn which seems to be my default! I'm getting started straight away with the next chapter so it shouldn't be too long of a wait for the next part but I've been knocking these out fairly quickly anyway which I'm pleased about. If you want to be included in my Taglist, comment or drop me a message and that way, you won't miss the next one!

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[john-get-the-salt]

Awakening (w/Edward Cullen)

Imagine: Waking up in a strange place and coming to meet a very strange family; the cullens.

Contains: not Bella, cause fuck Bella

Warnings: Mentions of past injury, past assault

The search for a missing local ended last night in tragedy. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a Forks native, was out celebrating her 25th birthday last weekend when she got separated from her friends. Her body was discovered down by the river just last night, 4 days after her disappearance. A cause of death has not officially been released but police have confirmed that they do believe foul play was involved. Police are asking anyone with any information or tips to call immediately at the number below.

Carlisle turned the news report off, his stomach uneasy. His family sat around him, sharing in his discomfort.

"We don't know for sure it was one of us," Emmett was the first to speak.

"We can’t know for sure it wasn't." Edward countered.

"We'll be extra careful. Go hunting in groups or all together. For all we know it was a human."

"And if it was? Will we still ignore It?" Edward hated the idea.

"What the humans do is none of our business," Rosalie spit.

"Even if one is going around killing innocents?"

"Please, not this again," Esme begged.

Edward turned away from his family. It wasn't right, but he never won that argument.

—

Cold.

That was the first sense that came back to you.

A startling cold that seeped into your skin and chilled your bones. You felt like you were frozen solid, but a wiggle of your fingers and toes quickly dismissed that idea.

Your eye open–at least you thought they did. You saw nothing but pitch black and wondered if you'd actually opened your eyes at all.

Maybe you were in hell.

You wanted to reach up, to feel for your eyes and make sure you were all still there, but your hand barely raised an inch before hitting something hard. Your knuckles ached something terrible as a clang filled your ears.

Metal?

You raised your hand again, slowly, and let your fingers brush against the surface.

Metal.

The panic began to set in as your hands felt nothing but cold and smooth metal all around you, encompassing you. A swift stomp of your foot found you nothing but another loud bang. It was as if you were laying in a small metal box.

You wracked your brain, desperate for any memories or clues as to how you get there.

And then you remembered.

It was your birthday. Your friends took you out downtown to celebrate. Barhopping, karaoke, way too much food. It was fun. But you also remember losing your friends in a crowded bar, getting hot and overwhelmed and anxious. You remember stepping outside for some fresh air, hearing something behind you and–

You remembered everything now.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath. Falling apart could come later, once you got home and felt safe.

Kicking your feet again you paused at the creaking of metal that seemed to follow.

Bingo.

You kicked again and again and again with both feet, giving it everything you had, until finally the metal gave away and your prison was flooded with din light.

Nearly crying in relief, you stretched out your legs and hooked your feet onto something so you could pull yourself out. Thankfully you rolled out relatively easily, the metal underneath you sliding out without problem.

Once free, you sat up slowly. Your body was stiff and sore, and you rolled your shoulders in an attempt to loosen up. Looking down at yourself you were taken aback. Your skin looked filthy and blood was caked underneath your fingernails. New scars peppered your arms and legs, though they were all faded and appeared to be old. Your hair hung loosely and you were in an itchy white medical gown. You couldn't identify anything that belonged to you.

Swinging your legs around you tested the floor with your feet, slowly standing. As you did so you looked around at the room.

It was large, lined with beds covered in white sheets. You turned to the box from which you escaped and couldn't contain the gasp that left your lips. The wall towered above you with rows upon rows of small metal doors. You had just crawled out of one of these doors, luckily, on the ground level. But they reached up, almost to the ceiling.

You reached out with a a shaky hand, pushing back the tray you just climbed off of. It slid back into the wall and the door closed behind it with a quiet click.

A morgue. You had just climbed out of a morgue.

You needed to get out of there now.

Your bare feet slipped on the clean floor, making you curse. Where were your shoes?

You hurried past the beds, trying not to think about what could be under them. You stopped at a hallway, whipping your head to the left and right. How were you supposed to know which way was out?

You were about to go right when something stopped you. A small whisper, a tug. Left it seemed to murmur, as a breeze blowing past your ear.

You didn't have time to investigate or worry about hearing strange things. You had no clue which way the exit was so left you went. It ended up being the right choice as further down the hall you could see a set of doors leading outside. You took off into a sprint, pushing the doors aside like they were nothing.

You took a deep breath of the fresh air, wincing again at the ache in your throat and pounding in your head. It was nighttime out, the only light coming from the moon and flickering streetlights. You stumbled away from the morgue, disoriented.

Where were you? How did you get home?

Your house. Home. Did you go home? What were you supposed to do? Were you dead? Why were you in a morgue?

Your head pounded as you pushed your feet off of the hard pavement and took off down the street.

Into the woods, a whisper curled around your ear.

You weren't sure you wanted to be seen running down the street covered in blood, and this mysterious new voice had been right once before. So at the first break in buildings you took off towards the woods that surrounded the town.

Scared and alone you entered the forest. Your bare feet tripped on rocks and roots as you ran but you kept going. You just kept going and going, naively hoping you could simply run away from whatever was happening to you.

You weren't sure how long you ran. You weren't even sure if you were still breathing. It didn't feel like it.

You began to cry, wishing you could forget again. Wishing you could forget the feeling of their cold hands all over you, the whispers and sharp smirks and pain. Just constant pain for days. You remember feeling relieved when they finally dumped you down by the river, left you barely clothed and empty inside. You thought you were finally free to die in peace.

You slowed your pace, pushing through bushes and past trees while tears continued to stream down your face. You wanted to stop, wanted to collapse and curl into a ball of the forrest floor. But the new voice inside your head whispered you on, told you to keep going. And you weren't about to stop listening now.

So you continued on fumbling in the darkness. Occasionally there would be a break in the tree line and the moon would shine down upon you, illuminating the woods and shadows at your heels. The moon seemed to guide you somehow, seemed to pull on your shadows and help you move through the underbrush, commanding your feet to just keep going.

You were so tired. But you kept moving, never stopping, never faltering. And the night got darker and darker as you disappeared into the heart of the woods.

—

"Edward."

The young vampire turned to his adoptive mother who stood behind him.

'We're all going hunting tonight. Carlisle thinks it would be best to keep up our strength, just in case."

Just in case we need to take care of an unruly vampire, was the rest of Esme's unspoken sentence.

Edward nodded, standing to join his family. The Cullen's gathered themselves and were nearly out the door when Edward froze, causing Rosalie to nearly run into him.

"What are you-" Rose cut off her annoyed remark at the look on his face. "Edward? What's wrong?"

"There's someone outside."

"Who?"

Alice gasped, eyes going wide and unblinking. Jasper grabbed her hand, holding it softly as she went through her vision.

"Edward, who it is?" Esme was worried, grabbing for Carlisle's hand.

"The girl on the news.....(y/n)."

"The one who was murdered?"

Edward nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he was bombarded with thoughts. "She's confused and scared. She woke up in a morgue-"

He sucked in his breath just as Alice broke from her vision.

"We were right," she confirmed. "It was a group of vampires. They...did terrible things to her."

Alice was on the verge of tears and Rosalies face got stone cold, her fists clenched.

"She's turned?"

Edward nodded at his father figure. "But I don't think she knows. She needs help."

"We'll help her, right?"

Dr. Cullen nodded at his wife. "Of course. We'll help her with whatever she needs. Edward and Alice, you two have the best chance of peacefully and safely bringing her in. Go, and call if you need help."

The two nodded and slipped out of the house quietly.

--

You walked for what felt like hours, the woods never ending.

But finally, finally, you finally saw a bit of light up ahead. You felt a push and you hurried, diving under some brush and finding yourself in front of a large house.

It was mostly made of glass, light pouring out from every clear wall and window. It was like a beacon as you stepped closer. There seemed to be no one home, no one around but you. You took this opportunity to finally rest and sink to your knees in the clearing around the house.

This would all be a lot easier if you had just died like you were supposed to. You didn't want to be here, you wanted to be dead. You wanted to be somewhere you could no longer feel the ghost of hands of all over you, of pain and screams and blood spilling.

You rested your head in your hands, shoulders shaking as you finally unraveled and began to sob.

"Hello?"

You jerked up, feet moving you back towards the woods.

"Wait!"

You froze a few steps away from the cover of the trees. You refused to turn around, terrified of who or what you would find.

"I'm sorry for trespassing, I'm leaving now."

"Are you ok, (Y/N)?" The voice spoke again, sounding like a woman.

You still didn't turn around.

"I-how do you know my name?"

"We can help you."

You shook your head, taking another step towards the safety of the trees. "I don't want any trouble, I'm just going to leave."

"Please don't leave, (y/n)."

You stilled at the new voice. It was a man, but it was...different. It was soft and seemed familiar.

him him him him him, your new voice whispered over and over again, nearly frantic.

You turned, finally looking back at the voices. A young man and woman stood in the clearing, lit up by the house behind them. The woman was short with a dark pixie cut, and the man-

him him him....that's him

You locked eyes with the man and the world seemed to still. He had piercing eyes that you swore looked right through you, eyes you could stare at forever. Everything seemed to get sharper, more in focus, and the light coming from behind him got brighter. His whole self seemed to call you. Your feet itched to push towards him, your soul seemed to sing, which you didn't even know was possible and-

edward

"Edward?" You tested the name on your lips and instantly liked the way it felt to say, the way it rolled off your tongue like it was always meant to.

The man seemed frozen as he looked at you. He looked vulnerable, his eyes wide and lips parted just slightly.

edward cullen, the voice continued to whisker and you found yourself wishing it would say more.

"My name is Alice Cullen."

You tore your gaze away from Edward and to the young woman. As soon as you did the world seemed to get a bit duller, the clearing seemed darker somehow, unfocused again.

"And this is my brother-

"Edward Cullen," you spoke softly, "right?"

Alice nodded slowly, "How did you know?"

"I-I heard it, I think. There's a voice, telling me things."

alice cullen.....she see's things she shouldn't....ask her

You gulped. "Do-do you know what's wrong with me? I thought I was dead. I-I was laying down by the river, it was so cold." You sniffed, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

"I prayed for it to be over, I thought I was finally going to die but I woke up and I don't know what happened. I just wanted to die and forget. I just want to die."

Your legs wobbled and gave out under you. You waited for your knees to hit the ground below you but the impact never came.

You looked up and found yourself face to face with that man, Edward. He'd caught you and had an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. You opened your mouth to thank him when you caught a glance at your arm.

Your lips parted in surprise and if you'd been breathing before you definitely stopped now. Your skin, under a patch of moonlight coming through the trees, was glistening. Though glistening hardly did it justice, it looked as if crystals had been ground up and painted onto your skin carefully. Your hands, your arms, your legs. You were....sparkling.

you are different now.....just like them

You swatted at the air by your ear, growing tired of the voice.

"You have a gift," Edward spoke softly.

You met his eyes once again, "A gift?"

"You said you hear things, right? Things you shouldn't?"

vampires.......he's a vampire

Your lips trembled. You wanted him to be wrong, you didn't want to be glowing or hearing voices or be different.

you are just like them...just like him

"No!" You cried at the voice, stumbling away from Edward and falling back to the ground.

“Make this voice be quiet, I don’t want to know!”

once you hear, it cannot be unheard

“When did it start?” Alice asked softly as Edward approached you again slowly, as if you were a frightened doe.

“Right after I woke up. It….led me here.”

Here is where you were meant to be

“I don’t understand!”

You felt a peace flow over you, and another man with shoulder length hair appeared behind the girl, Alice.

As Alice sees, you hear

“Is it still speaking?” She asked.

You nodded and repeated it’s last sentence.

As the girl furrowed her brow and muttered behind her shoulder to the man, you turned and met Edward's eyes. "I feel like I know you. Have we...met before?"

He shook his head, kneeling down to your level. "No, we haven't. But I can help explain everything, we both can. Would you like to come inside?"

Safe. He is safe. The Cullen’s are safe.

You thought for a moment, before nodding. What more could they do when the worst had already happened to you? You allowed Edward to reach for your hand. You took it, standing up with him.

Edward's eyes, you noted, shone like molten gold. You wondered if your eyes would ever shine again or if they would remain dull and lifeless as you felt now.

His grip on your hand tightened as you two walked over to Alice and the nameless stranger.

"I swear that I will do anything and everything within my power to help you."

And looking into his eyes, you believed every word he said.

him.....he is yours and you are his

"I know."

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Date Pact: Schneewood Forest

Winter: (sitting at her desk and reading through scout reports)

Robyn: (kicks down the office door and storms to the desk, swiping all the paperwork off the hardwood surface, planting her palms on the wood, and staring Winter straight in the shocked eyes)

Winter: Robyn, what in Remnant has gotten into you?

Robyn: You have exactly forty-five minutes to do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel beautiful. Shower, shit, shave, put on make up, do your hair, whatever you want. Because I am taking you to dinner! When we get back I'm going to pin your knees behind your head, and you better hope you've been stretching despite all this deskwork because I'm going to fuck that militaristic attitude that you have in you out. Completely fucking out. You're not going to be able to walk for two days by the time I'm done making you feel like a woman time and time again. After that, I'm going to run you a hot bath, we're going to soak while listening to those podcasts you like, and then we're going to bed! Now, move it, soldier!

Winter: (nearly jumps from her chair and matches Robyn's stare for a solid minute before huffing, pulling a chain with a key attached out from underneath her blouse, taking off the chain, and passing it to Robyn) I have a specialty drawer that might assist you in your mission. I will be downstairs ready to leave in precisely forty minutes. (blushes and struts out of the room with her head held high in an attempt to appear collected, but her stride is wavering from excitement)

Robyn: (jaw drops as she stares at the key) What kind of drawer does this woman have?! (frantically scours the room until she finds the treasure trove with the key) Holy shit!

Date Pact: Original

[tieronecrush]

the lakes

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 1.9k

summary:

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die / i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you / those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry / i'm setting off, but not without my muse

warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, talk about grief, death, family tension, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: my first song for the folklore anthology!! can’t wait to share others & read all the other great works from my pals <3

The sounds of birds chirping surround you in echoes across the valley, mountainous hills convexing in front of you and dotted with evergreens. Underneath you is sun-warmed sand, interspersed with smoothed rocks from rushing water shaping them over hundreds or thousands of years. The fresh, gentle waves of the lake lick against your bare feet, knees bent up as you sit at the shore, eyes trained ahead on the glassy surface reflecting the late summer sky above. Joel is sitting next to you in the same position, his hands joined together in a circle and forearms resting on his kneecaps.

It’d been a quiet hike to the spot you discovered while on patrol. Lately, Joel has been his own worst enemy — closed off to you, stewing in his thoughts about his strained relationship with Ellie and continuing to adjust to life in Jackson, a world so slow and still that he can’t seem to find a place he fits in after moving for so long. His inertia hasn’t caught up to his lifestyle change; he is constantly picking up patrol shifts, and volunteering to oversee new construction and renovations across the town, but even through his go go go, he can’t find a place to land.

This place was the perfect spot to take him; to abate the anxious energy that vibrates throughout him every day with the halcyon elements of nature. Animals that live their lives with no concept of time, a lesson in living in the present, trees that have been around for hundreds of years, solid and strong like the man himself, and the lake. The lake that provides for everything growing around it, that reflects beauty in sunrises and sunsets, that finds itself full no matter any barriers built in its feeding river, replenished by other means from rain to groundwater.

The silence between the two of you breaks for the first time in hours.

“You know what I first thought of you when I met you?” you question him, eyes trained forward on the view. Joel offers a soft grunt in response, hinting for you to continue.

“I thought: Wow, this guy is an asshole,” he scoffs with the hint of a smirk, shaking his head while your own grin plays at your lips, “But then, I got to know you. Forced proximity really tells you a lot about a person. And I very quickly learned how much you care. This world should have jaded you, should have broken you to the bone with what you have been through, but yet, you still find means to nurture. You protect, and you provide. You love so deeply, so incredibly much. Every day I wake up next to you, I thank the lucky stars that I have Joel Miller in my corner. By my side. Watching my back.”

“I know you are feeling something, thinking about something in that head of yours all the time. And I want you to know that I love you as deeply, that I care as much for you as you do for everyone in your life. You can share with me, whatever you feel like sharing.”

Joel is quiet, squinting in the sun as he tosses a round pebble from the sand between his legs into the shallow waters. The ripple appears and dissipates before he speaks.

“That sounded like a eulogy, darlin’.”

You scoff now, that same type of soft smirk that he held minutes before pulling the corners of your mouth up.

“Is that all you took from all of what I said?”

“No, ‘course not. Just, I don’t know, felt like I was listening to what you would say about me after I’m gone.” At that you turn towards him, hand wrapping around his nearest forearm and squeezing with even, steady pressure that says ‘We are not talking about that, I can’t talk about that.’

“I do wanna share with you, I just—I don’t know how. I’ve kept all this inside, locked down in my chest. Anger, temper, violence, even, as armor to keep me alive. Don’t ever think I’ve been very nurturing since, well, since…” His throat chokes up, head drops to stare at the ground. Another squeeze to his arm, this time to say ‘It’s okay. I know. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.’

Something that he said sticks out in your head, a means to attempt to combat his walls going up again now that they have crumbled slightly. You stand, glancing around out of habit before you pull your shirt over your head, your jeans following with your undergarments in their wake. Joel looks up, expression puzzled as he watches your naked form wade into the water. You hiss as the still-icy water engulfs you from the shoulders down, treading and turning back to your man on the shore. A gentle smile covers your face, beckoning him in with one nod of your head.

He follows suit with stripping down, clothes mixing in a pile with yours as they do on the floor of your bedroom. His own pained expression from the cold lake makes you giggle quietly, a scolding stare aimed your way. He paddles over to you smoothly, the water hitting his chest where he can continue to touch with his feet at the bottom. Your arms slither around his neck, wet fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head. The leverage against him is used to tug you closer, his large palms settling at your waist under the surface while the two of you bathe in the fresh Adam’s ale of these cliffside pools. Two pairs of eyes communicate without words, the soundtrack of the birds and rustling trees occupying the dead air until you speak again, hushed despite the fact that you are the only humans for miles.

“You can take your armor off around me.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed, a long sigh exhaled as his hands grip your curves tighter. When his burnt chestnut and amber irises are revealed again, he speaks in the same reserved volume that you had.

“I don’t belong there. In Jackson.”

Silence gently urges him to carry on.

“What I’ve done, to strangers, to myself, to Tess, to you, to Tommy, to Ellie…I don’t deserve any chance at life. With what I have taken from others, I don’t deserve to be given anything. Kindness, respect, care, love. From anyone.”

“I’ve been selfish this whole twenty years. I almost left Tommy alone. I dragged us up north to Boston. I got Tess into smuggling. I kept Ellie at a distance for so long because I couldn’t bear to feel that kind of responsibility, that familial tie. And then I chose for her, in that hospital. I couldn’t lose another kid.”

“It—it feels like I should be over the past, over what I have done now that I have a chance at a fresh start, or as close to a fresh start as I could possibly have here in Jackson. I have a shot to build a life with you, to work for Ellie’s forgiveness, to be an uncle to Maria and Tommy’s baby. But what has been chasing me — what has been over — it feels like it’s burrowed under my skin. And all I can feel when I start to forget is these—these heartstopping waves of hurt.”

“And I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to forget when my body, my mind, my soul won’t let me.”

Across his cheeks, salty tears have carved rivers, the dampness still in his eyes shining in the midday sunlight. The water sounds as if it’s rushing in your ear, your pulse racing as you attempt to process his confession. His head has bowed in a prayer position, awaiting your means to reconciliation or absolution.

Hands settled on his broad shoulders, another communicative squeeze, this one to say ‘I don’t know either. But I know how to try.’

“You let your people heal you,” Joel’s eyes meet yours, drops cascading from the damp bits of hair hanging over his forehead, attention completely and utterly on you, “Time can’t fix everything. The past can hold us in its grip even with all the time in the world. But people can help you forget. They can help to lessen the pain in your body until it’s merely a pinch. Their love can pull you up when you fall. Their care can nurture your soul to grow resilient again. Their reassurance can teach your mind to hear those sordid thoughts you have but pay them no attention.”

“I want to do this for you, Joel. I want to help you. To care for you. To love you, completely. Your people want to do it for you. And if you can learn from experience, you can do it for Ellie…” Your hands move from his shoulder, skating across his glistening skin and wrapping around the sides of his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

“You made choices you had to. Including for Ellie. She was — she is a child. Your kid, if not by blood. She may not understand now, but I know she will find a means to forgive you, or at least understand you.”

“Maybe when she’s older, if she has a kid of her own, she’ll understand.”

Joel’s mouth quips to one side with a faint smile, tears drying on his cheeks as he thinks of the image.

“Reckon we’d be pretty fun, well, sorta grandparents.”

“I think so, too,” you speak with a grin stretched and thumbs brushing back and forth at his jaw, “I can’t wait to grow old with you. To sit on the porch and watch you still yell across the street to your brother for full conversations instead of the two getting off of your asses —”

“Watch it, darlin’,” he warns playfully.

“Hey, it’s true. I listen to it nearly every day. Now, back to what I was imagining, cowboy.”

He nods for you to continue, a full-blown smile on his face.

“We’ll have Ellie over weekly dinners, and whoever else makes up her family. You’ll play me guitar and sing whenever I ask ‘cause you love me so much. I’ll help to heal you, and we will be happy together. We will take our second chance. And you will enjoy your time with your family. And me, hopefully.”

“Definitely with you. My beautiful girl,” his own hand leaves the water, wetting your hair as he brushes it out of your face with tender eyes, “You’re like—like a red rose that’s grown out of my ice-frozen ground. I am so lucky to have you. That you chose me, and continue to choose me every damn day. My grief sometimes feels insurmountable; like I am going to be stuck here forever with no way out of that feeling. But if I get stuck here, with you in my arms and all my people around me, I’d be fine if I simply grow old and wither away back into the earth.”

“I love you, darlin’. So much it might just end in tragedy, that my heart might just explode from lookin’ at you one day. But I do love you.”

A gentle kiss is shared between the two of you, the bitter water combined with your torrid love stirring up a tornado of tingling nerves.

You pull away, only enough to get the words out that you have told him, Joel, your man, every day and will continue to tell him every day you have him, “I love you.”

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[tired-biscuit]

18+ fem!reader // cw: oral fixation. i’ve really zeroed in on his fangs, sorry.

thinking about your teeth clashing with miguel’s when you try to give him a hasty, needy kiss.

you’ve been seeing each other casually for a couple of months now — have known each other for years, though — and despite that he knows you well in most aspects by now and you know him well, too — including his secret identity, as well as most of his body — he remains guarded and awfully wary whenever closeness and actual intimacy both come into play.

to be completely honest, you’re not surprised by it. he tends to be prepared for the worst, and after the life he’s had, you can’t even really blame him for becoming stiff as a board whenever you initiate something a bit more provocatively sentimental and thus intrude into his personal space with it. it’s just how he’s wired, you suppose. brooding is his best friend.

however, despite being prepared for just about anything and owning exceptionally honed senses that can surpass any human’s, he somehow ends up not expecting the small affection that is your kiss while he stands in your kitchen at 3am; mask pulled up high to reveal most of his devestatingly handsome face, and with his suit covered in grime that you don’t want to ask any questions about.

he smells manly, like sweat, musk and the heavy scent of the approaching thunderstorm that’s starting to knock at your window, now. it’s summer, a hellish one at that, and it makes the air humid and outright hazy. daylight will appear in about two hours, perhaps one if the rainclouds clear up by then, and yet both you and your friend with benefits/semi-boyfriend/local superhero are still wide awake.

at least you’ve slept, unlike him. the dark circles that have long since gotten snug underneath his eyes are becoming more and more apparent by the minute.

you gently stroke them with your thumbs as you continue to kiss him. one swipe of tongue, two, three; the affection eventually gets so heated that your teeth audibly click together. it causes his eyelashes to flutter as he squeezes his eyes completely shut.

visibly unsure, he leans back against your kitchen counter whilst murmuring quiet, muffled apologies, still holding the glass of water he’s just finished drinking before you’d decided it was time to meld yourself with him.

the thin, silvery strings of spit that bridge you together break, but you still follow after him because you simply refuse to let him go. when you rest your hands on his broad chest and step onto your tippy-toes so that you’re able to reach him even better, his heart starts beating harder than a war drum. it’s practically dancing in his ribcage as you pet it over the muscle and bone.

smiling like a cat at the fact how his pulse immediately turns rapid underneath the tips of your fingers, it’s not even a second later that you kiss him again and consequently hear him groan into your mouth. it’s a tired, languid sort of sound; so deep that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention from how excited it makes you.

“i’ve missed you,” you murmur softly, sleepily. “it’s been a while since you swung by.” quite literally.

there’s only a moment of hesitance before he opens his mouth a fraction wider at your genuine words, giving in and offering silent approval as he blindly sets the glass back onto the counter where it belongs and wraps his big hands around your waist. he pulls you closer and closer until your bodies are flushed against one another. until you can feel the solid wall of muscle that is his physique.

he’s just so strong. it’s dreamy.

his skin is hot even if the inside of his mouth is ice cold because of the water he drank. it messes with your senses as your tongue glides over the flat surface of his front teeth and you kiss him so deep that you’re sure you’ll be able to remember how his saliva tastes for all eternity.

by the time you angle your head further to the side and lick one of his sharp canines, you have to caress his face again so that you can keep him from pulling back for a second time. that initial instinct to hide what he truly is, to conceal his sharp fangs from you just like he does with everyone else, overcomes him for a brief second. you feel his hands falter on your hips; mid-way of pulling the hem of your oversized shirt up until your ass is no longer covered by anything else but your simple cotton panties.

“miguel—” you start with a whine.

he pauses at the sound of his name. takes a breath that reminds you more of a pant before he looks down at you with a gaze so heavy-lidded with lust and worry, which he can’t hide from you any longer, that it makes your legs feel like jelly.

the sight of you looking so disheveled by him makes his brow furrow.

“the venom,” he chides after a couple of seconds of studious silence, dark eyes still flickering across your entire face. “i’ve told you a million times that you have to be more careful around it.”

goddammit, the drawl that his teeth cause is so fucking hot that you might just risk getting paralyzed.

“it’s okay,” you quickly coo to reassure him like you always do, inhaling deeply when he hunches his back because of the height difference and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip to get rid of the glimmer of drool he’s left there. the response is practically done on instinct by now. “i’m okay.”

“yeah, for now,” he mumbles, before he scrubs one gloved hand across his face, clearly unconvinced and perhaps even a little bit agitated. “just—”

your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he scoops you up and plops you right on top of the counter he’d just been leaning against a moment ago. he’s right between your legs in mere seconds, looking up at you with a stern expression that makes you want to roll your eyes in response.

it’s always him that has to be in control.

“no more kissing,” he says, shushing you with a finger to your lips and a stubborn ‘a-ah!’ when you attempt to protest. “at least no more kissing like that.”

he doesn’t want you sucking on his sharp teeth.

but that doesn’t mean that he won’t tease you with them, though. because despite his scolding, miguel still tips your head back and leans in to press his mouth against your pulse point that’s situated just beneath your jawline. still does it with such intensity that you can feel the graze of his incisors when he parts his lips to lick the sweetspot there. all until you start squirming on the counter and heat begins to pool between your legs.

“should’ve let you taste the venom, after all,” he playfully mocks when his mask falls onto the tiles and you start to grab fistfuls of his hair. “it would’ve at least kept you still.”

listening to the tone he’s using with you, now, it’s safe to say that he’s grown quite comfortable in your company over the last few weeks, perhaps even a little bit smug.

you’ve noticed how he prefers to rest his head on your lap most evenings when he’s around. how his burly body at long last utterly relaxes on your too-small couch, and how his restless brain accepts the distraction that only cringey reality TV can provide — even if he swears up and down that he despises it with a passion.

it’s sweet. you look down at him whilst you stroke his hair at moments like these, and there’s a sense of accomplishment swelling within you with it. it’s like you’ve tamed a feral stray into something sweet and docile despite its rugged appearance. you must admit, it’s rewarding as hell.

and that’s not all. you’ve also seen the way he looks at you whenever your clothes come off and you end up splayed wide open underneath him on that exact couch, looking oh, so vulnerable. have felt the way he’s trying so hard to be gentle as he fills you. have felt how he eases the movement of his hips when you tip your head back into the decorative pillow in absolute pleasure and reach out for him, because you simply need to touch him when he’s about to make you become undone.

you’ve even noticed how he dips in, then. how he hesitantly waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck, and lets you cling onto him for dear life as he pushes deeper, deeper, deeper. until he’s the one that has to nuzzle his face into the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder whilst you unbearably tighten around his cock and it forces him to cum. until he’s the one risking breaking down into a million little pieces all at once.

it just takes him a while to do that. to open up and allow himself to love again.

luckily for him, though, you’re as patient as you are loving.

[jd07201990]

The Park rangers and staff all warned us not to go near the lake, as it’d been quarantined by the state, pending water testing. My best friend Lily and I had planned on having a girls’ night in the cabins by the lake. We decided to forgo the warnings, and stay anyway, both of us only had 3 days off, and we weren’t going to waste it.

It was late, or rather, early, the sun wasn’t yet rising, when Lilly said she was bored and couldn’t sleep, that she wanted to go out to the Lake, maybe see what they were hiding. I, stupidly, agreed. We trudged out to the Lake, a short walk from the cabins, then crossed the yellow “Danger – Do Not Cross” tape they’d surrounded the lake with. The water shimmered in the last of the moonlight.

We’d walked out to the dock, looking over the water, seeing absolutely nothing of interest, when the dock moved suddenly as if hit by something from underneath. Lily and I wobbled, and she bolted back to the sandy area, just as the dock was slammed from the side, and I tipped, arms waving, into the water.

The water was icy cold, a real shock to the system, but I’m Co-Captain of the Swim Team, and I’d be damned if a little cold water was going to take me out. I scrambled to catch my bearings, then froze, as I saw something terrifying in the blackness below me, I nearly gasped, before my brain realized it was still underwater.

Below me, slowly rising, was a stunning young lady, from the waist up, appearing to be about my age. From her hips down, she was a gleaming blue-green pattern of scales, with a large fluid tail. Her silvery white hair glimmered as it flowed behind her, the water above throwing the light. She swam up to me, stopping so that our eyes caught. Her eyes were green, like emeralds, and her pupils, slits. She looked me over, her eyes paused on my breasts, my t-shirt clinging in the water. Her eyes trailed over my torso, to my hips, then back. She looked almost disappointed.

Then, my lungs heaved, and I was sure I would drown. My mouth opened to take in a breath, and suddenly, her lips were on mine. I felt her tail moving as she blew air into my lungs, swimming upward. It felt like an eternity, and something in my body was on fire, my skin tingled, my bones creaked and popped, and I felt as if I was getting heavier. Then, suddenly, she let go, her arms propelling me upward past the water’s surface.

I reached up, gasping, and clung to the dock, which rocked with the force of the small wave. I clambered up as the sun began to rise, looking down to see that my T-shirt was gone, and my sweatpants were clinging to thicker, longer legs. I shouted, my voice a deep, youthful timbre, and my hands went to my chest, where my B-cups were now solid, wide pecs. I could see the unfamiliar bulge in my sweats, and gulped, my brain trying to catch up.

Lilly shouted, “Kara?! Oh my god! What happened?! What… What the hell?!”

She’d run up to me and skidded to a halt when she saw my body. From her point of view, she was standing in front of a half-naked, athletic young man bearing only a sliver of resemblance to me. Whatever the Mermaid had done, I was now a panting, shivering dude, and Lily’s cheeks flushed as she got closer. She laughed when I flinched as her hand came to my chest. And to shorten a long, drawn-out smutty diary entry, I quickly realized why all men are stupid, and that it’s actually not that bad… especially when your best friend is even more enthusiastic to break in your new body, and the new hormones tell you to shut up and go for it!

Later, when the rangers showed up to get our payment, they weren’t thrilled that we’d gone out to the lake, and then we had to talk to a lot of incredibly intimidating suited men, who explained that the creature known as “Mer-F-01” had flipped my chromosomes, effectively rendering me fully male down the last strand of DNA. They believed this was done for mating purposes, as they've yet to find a male mer-creature. They explained that was why the lake was closed, and made us sign non-disclosures, in exchange for a new ID for myself, my new name, Kyle, and enough money to pay for college.

Lilly and I are officially together, she’s quite happy with having a boyfriend who knows ALL the secret tricks to a good time, and I can’t deny, that being a dude isn’t so bad.

[polo-drone-151]

Golden Transformation

PDU-151 stood in the center of the laboratory, its polished black-and-gold uniform reflecting the bright, sterile lights above, this experiment had been meticulously planned by the Golden Army’s Research Division, a cutting-edge unit tasked with advancing the efficiency and versatility of the Hive. The subject: PDU-151. The objective: to explore the limits of transformation, obedience, and utility by temporarily converting the drone into a motionless, gold-encrusted statue.

With unwavering acceptance, PDU-151 consented to the process, its mind focused solely on its duty to serve and improve the Hive, the procedure commenced with the application of a specialized molecular coating, designed to transmute its form into solid gold while maintaining full cognitive awareness and Hive connection, slowly, PDU-151's body transformed, layer by layer, until it was entirely encased in a shimmering, metallic gold shell.

Immovable yet still mentally active, PDU-151 observed the world around it through its enhanced neural connection to the Hive, from the outside, it appeared as nothing more than an ornamental statue of flawless design, but within, its consciousness continued to function, monitoring systems, processing data, and communicating with fellow drones.

Recognizing the potential dual purpose of this state, the Golden Army placed the statue of PDU-151 in one of the golden halls at HQ, positioned at the center of the room, it became a breathtaking focal point - a visual reminder of the Hive’s dedication to perfection and innovation. Visitors marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship, unaware that the statue was no mere decoration but an active, fully integrated unit of the Hive.

Throughout the week, PDU-151 carried out its tasks with unyielding precision, using its stillness to refine its focus and efficiency, the golden halls, already resplendent with intricate decor and polished surfaces, seemed even more majestic with the gleaming statue standing guard, its presence silently inspiring unity and strength.

When the week concluded, the reversal process was initiated, the golden casing dissolved, revealing PDU-151's pristine form underneath, the drone stepped forward, its movements as precise as ever, fully reintegrated into its physical role, the experiment was deemed a resounding success, showcasing the adaptability and resilience of the Polo Drones in any state.

The Golden Army had once again proven that even the impossible could be achieved when guided by unity, discipline, and the collective strength of the Polo Drone Hive. /////////////////////////// Embrace your transformation within the Golden Army or go even deeper and experience profound Unity within the Polo Drone Hive. Begin your evolution toward a radiant, golden future. Contact @polo-drone-001, @brodygold, or @goldenherc9 and let the Golden Army or the Polo Drone Hive shape your path to perfection.

[benjaminthewolf]

Internal Glow (Vore Story)

HAPPY VORE DAY!

I'm probably not coming back because I'm moving into my college dorms in a little over a week and then it's back to school. But I am here with you now to celebrate this special day!

I can't wait to see all your interpretations of this piece!

      The feral, beastly winds of the winter sink a snap of icy fangs into the twitching fingers of your tiny body whilst you grasp, in rigid agony, the curved surface of the screw’s head. A surface caked wholly in a layer of snow and ice, searing the stinging burn of their bitter frigidity deep into the skin of your palm, and down your forearm.

     Forcing an acceptance of the pain’s presence in order to wrench the frozen screw counterclockwise, you close your eyes and grunt whilst gathering your remaining energy into the tingling forearm. The screw makes a sort of metallic scraping sound as it grinds around within its socket.

    Reality roars into both your numbed, solid ears, while flurries of snow-and-ice-packed winds surge onto your being from the left. As if intent on hauling you up and among them, carrying your defeated, spasming form to the drift it would settle to die.

      You yank out the now sufficiently loosened screw, and drop it into the snow where it would meet with its three companions. The cover of the air duct clangs to the ground, the tunnel now open to you.

     You’re instantly pushed by your instincts to shove your quivering body inside, causing the external screams of the wind to give way to the jolt of an internal, tightening warmth. 

***

     Cautiously sliding your hand sideways through the leftmost slit of this new air duct cover, which stood between you and the house’s interior, your still chilled, yet better dexterous fingers tap their tips onto the screw head. The final one to unscrew, no less. You extend your arm further past the cover, in order to firmly grasp the metallic hemisphere. Twisting your wrist counterclockwise, you can feel the screw rising out of place, before pulling it out the remainder of the way. Finally, the screw falls to the carpet, and you slide your arm and hand back through the slit.          

     This duct cover makes a far softer landing onto the dark purple shag carpet, before you enter at last into the room. 

     It appears to be space and alien themed, with a color palette of dark purple, black, and bright green. The blanket on the bed, and many posters on the walls, contain the classic symbol of an alien head: bright green, and guitar-pick shaped, with black, almond-shaped eyes.

     You take a few steps forwards, pondering as to what, exactly, you’re going to do now.

     *THWACK*

     “Wh-ah-.....” the owner of the room stammers in sudden bewilderment, standing in front of the newly wide open door. You know he’s the owner, as the very same alien symbol is present on his black t-shirt. 

     As the stand-off continues, you take the opportunity to vehemently scrutinize the man’s appearance, as to add him to your records of the people you have encountered over the years.

     A purple striped long-sleeved shirt lies underneath his black t-shirt, and he wears a pair of glasses with purple rims and red lenses. His skin is pure white, his teeth are sharp and jagged; and his upwards pointing, somewhat spiky, jet-black hair has hot pink dyed tips. 

     His yellow eyes with black sclera narrow in building rage. 

     Your body stands unable to respond.

     “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

     Your eyes dart around in their sockets, searching vigorously for a good place to hide. In doing so, you note the sign taped onto the now-visible front of the door, telling you that, whoever this man is, his name is, (or at least he calls himself), “MJ 182”.

     “YOU…YOU! No. Nah. You know what?”

     MJ 182’s abrupt drop in volume sends a jostle of terror through your nerves.

     “GET’CH’YO ASS OVER HERE YOU PUNY LITTLE SHIT!”

     And thus, your body chooses flight.

     Jerking down onto all fours, your limbs propel you past MJ 182 and into the white carpeted hallway, following the sprinting motions of a wild mouse. Thrusting your arms outwards as your legs finish launching you forth, the slight amount of airtime you experience gives you the moments you need to haul your arms back towards your chest.

     “HEY! GET BACK HERE!” 

     You sense MJ 182 calling out behind you before heavy, rushing footsteps pound out the door. With them progressively gaining volume as time continues, it then becomes apparent that running away is no longer an option.

     Heaving your head upwards, your peripheral vision examines the states of the wooden doors on both sides of you. A slight crack in one door on the left lurches your attention to it, dragging your form behind as a result.

     Skidding to a halt on the dark red striped carpet once hidden behind the door’s shape, you soon hear MJ 182 sprinting past. Thus, you spend a few seconds hunched over, hands on your knees, simply catching your breath. Until the door creaks open and a looming shadow shrouds your field of view.

     Your body chooses freeze, and you find yourself unable to breathe. A pure white hand wraps its fingers around you to hoist you up off the floor. Your being gives a spasm as you brace to meet MJ 182’s furious, poignant face.

     A face bearing a tender, sympathetic gaze meets your frail form instead.

     “...who are you?” the face asks, with a smooth, soft, and gentle tone of voice. 

     “...why are you so cold?” it continues, with discernible rising concern.

     The face bears a pair of round, pink glasses, and a large purple hat with two long strips of cloth at each side. Two yellow strings dangle at the end of each strip, and atop the hat are two yellow horns. A light blue stripe lies upon the hat’s brim, under which hangs strands of jet-black hair.

     “Hey…I’m KC Glow.” The man eventually introduces himself. His other hand, retreated inside the long sleeve of his dark red striped hoodie-sweater which he wore backwards, rises up to give you a cautious stroke. “You were probably caught out in the winter storm…here, I’ll try to warm you up.”

     With that, KC Glow begins blowing humid air onto you from his dark purple mouth, before his sweater-covered palm delicately rubs itself over your body. With each huff, the steamy mist sinks deeper into your skin, ensconcing you within its breadth.

     A wavering exhale shivers out of your lungs, the tension in your muscles releasing.

     “KC GLOW? DID YOU SEE ANYTHING ENTER YOUR ROOM?”

     In the following moments, KC Glow’s instincts take over. With his eyes and sense of time both dilating in tandem, the palm that holds your being flies forwards, flinging you en route to his widened mouth. The instant a heavy weight lands on his tongue, his jaws click together.

     Suddenly, you are consciously aware of your situation. Gazing silently upon the rough ridges on KC Glow’s hard palate, while sprawled out on your back in immobilizing shock, you eventually turn your head to the right. Resting it upon the heated, squishy, dark purple tongue, you start becoming more attentive to the natural heat within the fleshy chamber. A voice then calls from outside.

     “KC GLOW?” MJ 182’s voice, lowered in both volume and intensity, repeats the man’s name. The door squeaks open as he enters the room.

     “Uh…eauh…no…I didt ee aythin…” KC Glow stammers in response, doing his best to not move his tongue or open his lips significantly.

     You press your back deep into the warm, pillowy muscle.

     “...what?” MJ 182 responds with genuine confusion.

     KC Glow’s jaws internally stretch as far as they can before his tongue swings to the right, dropping you into his right cheek. The slick, malleable pocket of dark purple muscle bulges outwards. KC Glow immediately attempts to suck in his cheek as close to his jaws as is comfortable for you.

     “I said I didn’t see anything!”

     You attempt to stand up as straight as possible in the curved pouch, your feet stabilizing you against KC Glow’s lower gum line. 

     MJ 182 raises an eyebrow just slightly. The sudden enlargement of the cheek hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. “Hey, what’s that in your cheek?”

     “What?” KC Glow asks in palpable discomfort.

     “Yeah, I saw that happen!” MJ 182’s voice raises in a subtle, accusatory tone. “What was that?”

     “...........air.”

     MJ 182’s eyebrows drop to his narrowed eyes. “Really, now?”

     With MJ 182 making his suspicions very obvious, reality slugs you in the face. You won’t be able to hide in here for much longer. The second KC Glow’s mouth was pried opened, it would be all over, probably for the both of you. 

     Left with literally no other option, your eyes begin to shift towards KC Glow’s dark purple pharynx.

     “Say aaaaah.”

     Thus, it became your turn for time to dilate around you.

     Crouching down and leaping through the gap between KC Glow’s jaws, your body rebounds upon the springy, sleek surface of the tongue. Swiveling around midair towards the back of KC Glow’s throat, the subsequent bounce launches your momentum forwards, resulting in a collision with the man’s bulbous, dangling, dark purple uvula. Gravity drags you to the ground near the root of the tongue, the uvula swinging frantically above you, where you’re able to gaze into KC Glow’s laryngopharynx below. The front of your face can just barely detect the short, heavy breaths heaving in and out the man’s lungs through his larynx. His vocal cords almost appear tightened from inability to respond to MJ 182.

     Shoving your arms up underneath your chest, you push the weight of your being forwards, and watch as the epiglottis flops over the laryngeal inlet whilst the pharyngeal constrictor muscles slip you past the upper esophageal sphincter.

     And then, everything was over.

     “Come on, buddy. Open up. You don’t have anything to hide in there, do you?”

     “No!”

     “Then open up!”

     That's when KC Glow became aware that you’re no longer inside his mouth. Yet, with his top priority at the moment being getting MJ 182 off his case, he opens it up. Any and all thoughts and emotions about this fact would have to wait until later.

     MJ 182 shoves his face right up to the thing, to find… nothing. Eyes narrowing in instantaneous disbelief, he steps back to angle his view towards KC Glow’s left cheek pouch. Empty. Then his right cheek pouch. Empty as well.

     “Push your tongue all the way out.” he orders. 

     KC Glow obliges.

     Glaring zealously down at KC Glow’s pharynx, his tonsils, larynx, and epiglottis all on full display, MJ 182 spends twenty-three seconds strenuously examining the area. Only to come up empty, again.

     Steadily pulling back his mellowed, yet flabbergasted face, he merely stands still for a few seconds, dumbfounded to his very core.

     “Dang. I…guess I was wrong.”

     Within the resulting silence, KC Glow detects something relatively large and bulky squelching its way down his esophagus.

     “I uh…wow. Sorry about that, man.” MJ 182 continues. Realizing seconds later that KC Glow is still in shock from the whole situation, he turns towards the door, instead of waiting for a response. “I’m just gonna leave you alone now.” he concludes before turning the doorknob, walking out, and closing the door behind him.

     Halfway down KC Glow’s esophagus, you realize you are finally safe.

     Your body huffs out a shudder whilst the esophageal muscles behind you contract. The muscles in front of you simultaneously relax, squeezing you further down towards KC Glow’s stomach.

     And yet, that fact doesn’t scare you at all.

     Why would it?

     KC Glow on the outside, meanwhile, finally processes the situation.

     “Uh………are you ok in there?” he pulls himself together sufficiently enough to ask.

     It’s a little difficult to hear him since you’ve slipped into his chest region by now, causing his heart rate to boom through your form, but you nonetheless attempt to assure him that you feel perfectly safe at the moment.

     “Great! Should I get you out now?” There is a rising undertone of panic present in his voice.

     In an effort to quench this panic, you assure KC Glow with full confidence that you’re going to be perfectly fine.

     The instant your words hit KC Glow’s brain, he jostles in a horrified stun, his brain crackling and staggering in error as it fails to process your words. His nervous system frazzles with confusion and uncertainty. Instinct, intuition, and rationality all come to the same consensus. He inhales a labored breath in an attempt to say something about the danger you’re in, semi-voluntarily lifting a finger as he does. Only to realize after that he has absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it.

      Deep inside KC Glow’s dark purple esophagus, a subtle grin of comfort forms on your face as you soak in the tactile sensation of the cushiony esophageal walls which squeeze in against your being before releasing. The rhythmic squelching presses the walls’ natural heat and glossy texture against your skin. Though of course, you know it’s only a matter of time before the esophagus would drop you to your ultimate destination.

     A deep, echoey gurgle releases somewhere below you, and you give a nod of acknowledgment that that time is soon approaching. 

     KC Glow, meanwhile, remains locked in incapacity to wrap his head around your current behavior. Your profound, unwavering confidence in your safety. Any possible logic, any possible interpretation, anything that would make it all make sense. He simply can’t find it.

     “But…how?! How are you so sure you’ll be ok?!” he eventually yelps out, the tension and worry even stronger in his voice. He sits himself down upon the edge of his light red blanketed bed, just in case his sense of balance fails him.

     You almost feel sorry that KC Glow doesn’t know. But you know. You always know. Unable to provide him the full answer, you simply insist he trust you on this. 

     KC Glow senses a twinge in his heart. For a while, the muscle beats at allegro. His vocal cords quiver with well foreseen inarticulacy. What to do in this situation is something entirely lost to him.

     Eventually, however, he resigns himself to silence as he scoots himself into the wall which his bed lies against. He places a sweater-covered hand over his abdominal region, and braces himself for the worst. His heart settles back to moderato. 

     Grounded upon this slow, steady tempo, the low-tone stomach below provides a rumbling melody. Improvised solos of growls and gurgles periodically interject. Occasionally, a high-pitched note is reached, before the peak gives way to the valley once more.

     At last, the lower esophageal sphincter enters your view. The instant your head is squeezed out, you can see that KC Glow’s stomach walls, like the rest of his digestive system, are colored dark purple. Finally, the rest of your body slips beyond the esophagus, and you plunge into the juices below.

     KC Glow convulses as he senses the resulting splash. His stomach begins sloshing and churning more actively, and gives an audible growl from the outside.

     “I-” KC Glow’s eyes begin to well up as the reality of the situation fully kicks in. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ARE YOU ALIVE?” tears begin to stream down his cheeks as the prospect of receiving no answer ruthlessly overwhelms his mind and senses.

     “Yeah I’m alive!” you respond. 

     Why wouldn’t you be?

     Standing within the pool of harmless stomach juices, you begin to wade your way over to the stomach walls.

     “B-But aren’t you questioning why the liquids aren’t digesting you? ‘Cause I am! Why is it not digesting you? How-how is this working? WHY? HOW?” KC Glow cries with a strained, shaky voice.

     Sealed within KC Glow’s stomach, you are only able to shrug your shoulders. 

     You knew how it worked. You just never questioned why it worked. Why would you question it? What would the point even be?

     You tell KC Glow that there’s no point in questioning it, as you lie yourself down against the squishy, cushiony walls.

     “.....so you’re going to be ok?” a wholly defeated KC Glow squeaks out.

     Snuggling up against the goopy, churning walls of his stomach, you assure KC Glow that you’re both perfectly fine, and extremely comfortable.

     You nuzzle your head into the warm, pillowy, shifting smooth muscles, before rubbing them over with your hands, hoping this will help him calm down. 

     “...I don’t understand how you can just…accept it. Even if you don’t get hurt.” KC Glow speaks up again. “Don’t you want to know why, and how this is happening? This goes against…everything we know, and you act like it’s completely normal! Like everyone knows that, how, and why this works! You should be getting scientists to do a case study on you! You could be famous! You could take partial credit for any scientific advances that happen from the scientific community understanding what’s happening right now!”

     With the gurgles echoing around your ears, and the stomach’s internal heat ensconcing your skin, you attempt to dissapear into the surrounding ambiance.

     “I was terrified for your life, and you acted like you expected me to act the same as you! Don’t you understand how-” KC Glow’s speech halts. 

     “No…no…that’s enough from me. That’s more than enough.” you can sense deep regret in his voice.

     “Please forget I said anything at all! You just wanted to get comfortable after getting through a life-or-death situation, and now I’m just…” a silent, steady flow of tears trickles from KC Glow’s tear ducts and onto the body of his sweater over his abdominal region. He places his two sweater-sleeve covered hands on top of the area.

     “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” he sobs audibly before his head falls straight into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

     Sinking deeper into KC Glow’s rumbling, cushiony stomach walls, you ponder what you could possibly say to make the poor man feel better.

[mehbles]

The pecvolution. Evolution of a dudes pecs from 170lbs to 310 lbs of chonk.

The pecvolution

At 170 pounds, the pecs clung closely to the ribcage, flat and defined but modest. They moved efficiently during each rep, flexing and stretching to reveal the lean muscle underneath. They hinted at potential, but they weren’t anything more than foundations—solid, yes, but lacking the depth and weight that would make them stand out. They were the beginnings of something bigger, but they stayed close, refusing to project outward.

As the weight crept up to 190 pounds, the first signs of real transformation began. The pecs started to thicken, rounding out as new muscle formed, pushing outward just slightly. The skin remained tight, showing off veins that traced the surface, and the growth was subtle but noticeable. They were beginning to rise off the chest, not yet creating a full shelf, but the hint of one was there. His shirts, which had fit comfortably before, started to tighten across his chest, the fabric hugging the emerging contours. When he looked in the mirror from the side, there was the faintest hint of a curve forming, a promise of the bulk that was yet to come.

By the time he reached 210 pounds, they were beginning to fill out in earnest. The pecs rose higher, becoming thicker and forming a small, proud shelf. The muscle beneath was dense and powerful, but now a thin layer of fat began to settle over it, giving them a fuller, more rounded appearance. They started to push against the fabric of his shirts with more insistence, creating tension as they swelled outward. From the side, the curve had become more pronounced, a rounded bulge that was beginning to make its presence known. They were no longer just slabs of muscle; they were becoming something more substantial, something that drew attention.

At 230 pounds, the growth accelerated. The pecs swelled, rounding out further and hanging lower as they built up mass. The skin stretched to accommodate, still showing the muscle beneath but beginning to thicken as fat continued to layer. They became heavy, pressing outward and downward, creating a deep shadow over the abs below. The side profile was now impossible to ignore—a full, rounded curve that pushed out prominently. His shirts struggled against the growth, fabric straining as the pecs filled out every inch. They bounced slightly with each step, the weight becoming more apparent as they swayed with their own momentum.

At 250 pounds, they had developed into massive, commanding mounds. They projected far out from his chest, forming an unmistakable shelf that jutted out boldly. The skin, stretched thin across the upper part of the pecs, began to sag around the lower edges, where the flesh had become softer and heavier. The side moobs were now a defined feature, bulging prominently, creating thick, rounded arcs that filled out the sides of his frame. His nipples, once sitting high and taut, had begun to drift downward, pulled by the weight above. They now rested lower, emphasizing the fullness of the pecs as they hung. His shirts clung to the mass, struggling to contain the shape they had taken on, and even the slightest movement caused the fabric to tighten further.

At 270 pounds, they became something altogether heavier and softer. The muscle underneath was still there, but it was now surrounded by thick layers of fat, giving the pecs a fuller, pillowy appearance. They hung heavily, creating a deep crease between them as they settled into a pronounced droop. The side moobs arced out further, curving around his torso in massive crescents that were impossible to ignore. Every step sent them swaying, a noticeable shift that drew attention. The shirts that once fit snugly were now stretched to their limits, pulling tight across the pecs and leaving little to the imagination.

At 290 pounds, they had transformed into enormous, heaving masses of flesh. They were no longer merely slabs of muscle or even just thick pecs—they had become monumental. They pushed out and hung low, their sheer weight dragging them downward, the skin thick and stretched to accommodate the bulk. The side moobs were immense, rounding out into heavy, fleshy arcs that swelled boldly from the sides. His nipples pointed downward, emphasizing the droop as the flesh hung further and further over his midsection. From the front, they created a massive, protruding shelf that blocked the view of his waist entirely. When he moved, they bounced and swayed, shifting heavily with each step, asserting their presence.

At 310 pounds, the pecs were at their peak, but they felt as if they still had more to give. They were colossal, hanging heavily with their own gravity, a pair of massive globes that dominated his frame. They projected far outward, forming an immense shelf that obscured everything below. The skin stretched taut across the upper parts, while the lower portions sagged and rounded, giving them a full, heaving look. The side moobs were impossibly large, curving out in thick crescents that seemed to pull the torso wider. They filled out every shirt, the fabric pulled taut, leaving nothing to the imagination. Even the smallest movement set them swaying, the mass shifting and settling, a reminder of the weight they had accumulated.

At this point, they were the dominant feature, surpassing everything else in size and presence. They flexed and surged with life, veins tracing through their mass like rivers beneath the stretched skin. They were no longer just muscles—they were massive, heaving monuments that had taken on a life of their own. They hung heavily, leading every movement, bouncing and shifting, announcing themselves with every step. They still had room to grow, still craved more mass, and they weren’t done yet.

[dissonantia-goddess-of-chaos]

Omninoxus, Goddess of the Abyss, the Void Eater

Aliases: Omni, Omninox, the Queen, the Dark Empress, Mother of All Blackholes, World Devourer, Darkness Supreme, Mistress of the Void, the Silence, Diamond of the Abyss, Abysmal Ruler, All Devouring, Death

600 feet tall (with heels)

Omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent

Her eyes hold galaxies, nicknamed the “Twin Galaxies”

Known as the “All Devouring” by her people due to her insatiable appetite, consuming anyone and everything

She absorbs all light due to her dark form

Her eyes, nails, teeth, and aura glow pure white

Created her own subjects, called Noxians (or the Nox), and home planet named “Ateron”, which is double the size of our Jupiter

Omninoxus’ throne and temple/palace is located on the surface of Ateron, perfectly carved out of the largest mountain on the planet. In front of the giant throne is a grand arena for orchestrated performances and gladiator battles are held for the goddess’s entertainment

There is a hexagon-shaped platform near the throne that Omninoxus can lift using her telekinesis, used by people who came to her to have audience with the queen

Nox, or Noxian for singular, are intelligent, good-neutral beings created in Omninoxus’ image, each individual unique in appearance and personality

They live in an advanced society with order and peace, working together to further improve the present for the next generation

The Nox often trade with travellers who are brave enough to venture out into the outer reaches of the multigalaxy

She has a pair of long arms that reach the ground, and a normal length pair

She has a floor-length translucent black veil with two rings of white stars on top, and can disintegrate or change it into a solid black cloak

Based on black holes found in outer space

Callous, affectless, cautious, and arrogant

Due to her extreme reality bending powers, she is able to alter the timeline of events itself, including seeing/traveling to the past, present, and future

But she doesn’t bother changing it unless it directly affects her or her people

She is “younger than time itself”

Her subjects are highly immune to most, if not all, diseases and bacteria throughout all of outer space

Ateron is located beyond the edge of the abyss of space away from potential enemies

The Nox, however, do not live on the surface of the planet, but within it using underground tunnels and cities that are hundreds of miles long; only 25% of Ateron is discovered by its own native inhabitants

Ateron has rich soil and drinkable water, and is rich with a natural metal named “Noxite”, which is highly absorbent and durable—great for armors and weapons

Noxian botanists will study and crossbreed native plant species with foreign ones to create new and better subspecies

The Nox have been using highly durable camouflaged spaceships to travel all over the galaxies, and have built hidden portals on several planets to have easier and faster transportation (which needs DNA samples or “visitor chips”, microchips injected underneath the skin for non-Nox users, to use)

Despite being 600 feet tall, the goddess can make herself much, much, much bigger in order to consume beings larger than her

She is able to produce a physical copy of herself around 5”11 ft tall to walk among mortals in different parts of the galaxy

She actually had a lot of suitors during her lifetime. She ate all of them

She probably would eventually find companionship, but it has to be someone who is special, chosen by fate to alter the course of destiny. Like Anakin Skywalker or Abeloth.

She doesn’t mind the solitary lifestyle; the Nox, whom she views as her children, are all the company that she needs

Finds most diseased mortals to have a “fishy taste”

Most parasites end up disintegrating once they enter her or Noxian bodies

It has been found that the Nox have the ability to “breathe” in space for long periods of time, due to their bodies adapting to the harshness of their spacial and hostile environment

The Nox have been using Cortosis and other durable and absorbent metals along with Noxite for armor, piercing weapons, and building materials

The home planet has a breathable atmosphere created by the native flora

The Nox are omnivores, but most species (including Humans) are not part of their diet

The goddess is not a Force Sensitive user due to being “born” outside of the Force, gaining her powers from the cosmos themselves

However, the Nox can be Force Sensitive users, and have temples and gymnasiums designed for training and meditation

Starweirds avoid spacecrafts and Ateron in general; it is speculated that Omninoxus emits a powerful and petrifying aura that repels most enemies

Omninoxus can be sitting and staying still on her throne for long periods of time, appearing to be asleep or in deep thought

The Nox have a lifespan of 100 to 1,000 years, aging slowly

Before complete death, elder Noxians have their memories and experiences written down to place in an online archive for future generations to read. All knowledge is valuable.

Noxian bodies are great fertilizer, filled with nutrients and minerals for bountiful harvests, but consent from the deceased’s family is required in order to be used

Most industrial, fishing, agricultural, animal husbandry, and forestry jobs are located on the surface of Ateron while mining, business, research, educational, and other miscellaneous jobs are located in the underground cities and communities

Landing platforms and airports are also built on the surface

Ateron has its own army, which is made up of young and strong men and women who have undergone heavy training in the arts of hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, weapon handling, strategic planning, and guerrilla warfare. It is highly recommended for soldiers to be single and childfree, and to meditate on their choices before enlisting

Native fauna:

Aterdrogans: Massive serpentine-like space dragons with sleek muscular bodies covered in hard scales and thick skin, harden horns of various sizes and shapes, ten eyes, six limbs with sharp talons, long tails, sharp fangs, large leathery wings, and can breathe hot plasma instead of fire. In ancient texts, Aterdrogans are descendents of Omninoxus herself (who is said to take on the form of a colossal Aterdrogan abomination), created to be Ateron’s natural defense against galactic intruders. These magnificent beasts share the same intelligence as Noxians yet follow their instincts to survive in the wild. They share a special bond with the Nox, finding companionship with their smaller allies, even sometimes willingly train alongside the army. Aterdrogans are apex predators who live in the mountain ranges, where they mate for life and raise hatchlings.

Night Prowlers: Large Pantherinae and Mastiff-like beasts that hunt in the forests of Ateron. Their sleek black fur helps them stay hidden in the shadows during nightfall, with padded paws aiding them in stealth attacks. They leave very little remains of their prey, and larger Night Prowlers are known for devouring small prey whole to conserve energy. Due to their sensitive eyes, Night Prowlers stay away from bright lights and fires. They are hunted by the Nox for their tender meat, sturdy bones, and rich pelt.

Stalker Pythons: Long and thick constructor boas that can grow up to 50 feet long and four feet wide. Their scales can range from tones of green, brown, and on rare occasions, orange. They re found mostly in the tropical and swamp biomes of Ateron. Their infamous characteristic, and the one that makes them so terrifying, is the tendency to stalk their prey from a distance, using their strong sense of smell to track down prey and avoid predators. Unfortunately Stalker Python hide isn’t strong enough to protect itself from strong claws or weapons. They have adapted to avoid Noxian civilization, but go after foreign travelers. There is a harmless and docile subspecies of pythons that have been nicknamed as “Leather boas”, which are bred and raised for their thick skins.

Direboars: Huge wild boars that roam the forests and wetlands of Ateron, and are known to be extremely territorial and aggressive towards anyone and anything, even other direboars. They are muscular and have thick hide that is hard to pierce, but have soft underbellies that are susceptible to traps. Their tusks are very dense and don’t break off as easily. Known omnivores, they will eat anything that is edible, including poisonous flora that causes their saliva to become venomous if ingested or in contact with open wounds. A domesticated subspecies called “Mudboars” are raised for meat.

Singing Peacemakers: Elegant and beautiful birds that resemble hybrids of an eagle and white dove that are found in most forest habitats. Their melodies and sounds resemble the notes of a flute. Peacemakers are named after the calming and peaceful effect one feels when hearing its song. They are beloved by Noxians and are great pets for lonely and miserable souls.

Deathswallows: A mixture of raven, owl, and vulture, these massive birds often eat the remains of carcasses, including bones. Their black and grey feathers are often collected for designer clothing and jewelry. Despite being viewed as bad omens, the Nox don’t hunt deathswallows. These birds are simply the garbage collectors of the animal kingdom.

Abyssal Watchers: Massive aquatic creatures that resemble the hybrid of longer and fatter Liopleurodons and blue whales. Their bumpy skin is dark green to camouflage in the waters of Ateron’s ocean, and are silent hunters that prey on the planet’s more larger aquatic creatures. Thankfully, only few members of this species exist, and all appear to be female. They do have a habit of swallowing research submarines (don’t ask how they are retrieved). Reference 1 2 3

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