#trying to figure out how a design on fabric like this is a punishment I would wish on my worst enemy

[milimeters-morales]

[libby-for-life]

Omg! I just thought of a funny idea! Adam having to play Santa at a mall for community service. He’s pissed but also, naturally wonderful with children. Becoming super popular dispute himself. The one thing that keeps him sane is the cute elf girl that works with him. Always willing to swipe cracks with him when no kids are around.

Basically by the end of the last day, Adam pulls up the courage to flirt, inviting ‘her’ to sit on his lap. Ready to wave it off with a laugh when they actually do. And it’s only then that Adam feels through the tights and costume, the very male elf giving him the hottest bed room eyes.

I hope I do this Christmas Special justice!

Adam let out a long, exasperated sigh as he studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The stark fluorescent lights illuminated the deep bags under his eyes, remnants of sleepless nights and restless thoughts. He couldn't believe he was actually going through with this. A recent run-in with the law had branded him a public menace, and now, as a consequence of his reckless behavior, his punishment was to don a red velvet Santa Claus suit and play the role of a babysitter for a group of unruly kids.

He glanced back at the costume hanging over the edge of the sink, the fabric soft yet slightly itchy against his skin. The suit, complete with a floppy red hat and a fake white beard that looked somewhat less than authentic, was a constant reminder of how far he had fallen from the carefree life he once enjoyed. The mall manager—the same guy who had smirked as he handed down this ridiculous sentence—was an insufferable jerk, but he had laid out reasonable expectations for the role in the coming month: keep the kids entertained, spread holiday cheer, and don’t let anyone see how much he secretly despised every moment of it.

Gathering himself, Adam took a deep breath and tried to muster a bit of holiday spirit. The thought of spending hours in a crowded mall, surrounded by boisterous children and their weary parents, was far from his idea of fun. But he knew he had no choice; he needed to serve his time, and if he was going to do this, he might as well try not to make it a complete disaster.

“Hurry up! Customers will be arriving any minute!” The urgent shout echoed from outside the bathroom, accompanied by a loud bang against the door that made Adam grit his teeth in frustration. He shot a glare at the door, envisioning his manager standing there with a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face, undoubtedly reveling in the spectacle of Adam squeezed into a bright red Santa Claus costume. Adam could almost hear the manager's teasing remarks about how his ample frame seemed tailor-made for the jolly old figure.

With a deep breath, Adam hastily pulled off his clothes and slipped into the scratchy red suit, the synthetic fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He winced as he adjusted the belt, feeling the pressure tighten around his midsection. As he attached the fake white beard, a scratchy sensation pricked at his skin, and he grimaced at the unflattering reflection staring back at him in the mirror. The oversized hat sat awkwardly atop his head, making him feel more like a caricature than the cheerful figure he was meant to embody. With the clock ticking and the thought of amused customers looming, he forced himself to take one last deep breath before stepping out into the open.

His manager scrutinized him from head to toe, the frown on his face deepening as he assessed the Santa costume's fit. "I suppose you'll do," he muttered with a hint of reluctance, his tone dripping with skepticism. Adam clenched his fists, the temptation to lash out bubbling beneath the surface, but he held his tongue as the man gestured for him to follow.

They approached a grandiose throne that seemed to demand attention, lavishly adorned in rich gold and vibrant red. The seat was embellished with intricate designs that sparkled under the lights, while a plush, red carpet extended towards it, inviting yet imposing. A velvet rope, deep crimson and lustrous, encircled the throne, forming a barrier to manage the eager children and parents waiting in line.

With a resigned sigh, Adam climbed onto the throne, feeling the plush fabric envelop him as he settled into the seat. The manager’s voice broke through his thoughts, curt and authoritative. "Just sit here, smile, and play the part," he instructed, his eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing Adam’s every movement. "If you do this right, we can finally put that whole fiasco of you spray painting our store's wall behind us."

Adam nodded, forcing a smile to his lips, despite the irritation simmering just beneath the surface. The manager leaned in, patting Adam on the head with a condescending air that made his skin crawl.

As the minutes ticked by, the atmosphere in the store began to buzz with the arrival of more employees hurrying in, eager to make their way before the impending flood of customers. Adam leaned against the chair, his gaze drifting around the room with an air of indifference. However, his attention was suddenly captured by a small, blonde employee sprinting toward him. For a moment, he paused, contemplating their gender; the uncertainty lingers in his mind, but ultimately, he settled on referring to her as a girl, swayed by her petite stature and an endearing face that carried a hint of youthful exuberance.

She came to an abrupt stop beside him, her breath coming in quick, excited gasps. "Sorry....traffic was killer!" she exclaimed, her voice surprisingly deep, though he had encountered deeper tones in others. He waved away her apology, shrugging it off with a casual, "Eh. You're fine." The girl was dressed as an elf, complete with a green tunic and pointy hat, perfectly complementing Adam’s own festive attire as Santa. The slight twinkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks added a touch of vibrancy to the holiday spirit that enveloped the store.

Adam was just about to inquire about the girl's name when the first wave of customers flooded into the mall, filling the air with excited chatter and laughter. A group of energetic children soon followed, their eyes wide with anticipation as they rushed toward the elaborately decorated area where Santa Claus awaited. The scent of cinnamon and pine wafted through the air, enhancing the festive atmosphere.

The girl deftly managed the line of eager children. Her short, blonde hair framed her face perfectly, adding an unexpected charm to her spirited demeanor. She maintained an infectious enthusiasm while ensuring that each child patiently waited their turn, working diligently to keep the peace and minimize any scuffles among the excited little ones.

As the line gradually thinned out after nearly an hour, Adam couldn't resist commenting with a chuckle, "The kids get weirder every year." His eyes sparkled with amusement as he observed their quirky antics—some practicing their best poses for Santa, while others giggled amongst themselves, their imaginations likely running wild. The blonde-haired girl turned to him, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "And taller," she replied, shaking her head slightly in disbelief at how many kids seemed tall for their age. They both laughed as a new parent came up with their child. Adam was surprisingly good and many of the children love him.

The week unfolded in a familiar rhythm, punctuated by laughter and lighthearted banter that echoed through the mall when the rush of customers had temporarily subsided. Adam would catch glimpses of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief as she teased him about his infamous stunt with the spray paint. Their playful exchanges provided a welcome distraction from the grim reality of his community service, turning long hours into something unexpectedly enjoyable. As they exchanged smiles and flirtations, the atmosphere crackled with a sense of camaraderie that made the monotony of his situation feel almost bearable.

But then, on an otherwise ordinary day, a shift occurred. Adam noticed a subtle change in her demeanor in her laughter, more flirting in her teasing. It was a shift he hadn’t anticipated, and it left him wanting more.

Late that night, he had said in a husky voice to climb on Santa's lap. The mall would close in five minutes and there was no else here. He expected her to laugh and brush him off. Instead, she climbed on and wrapped her arms around his neck. Adam's eyes widened and she smirked as she took control. "Hey, there. It seems to me that you've been naughty..."

Adam blushed heavily, the fake beard hiding most of it. The girl laughed gently, her voice sounding even huskier than Adam's had been. "You have a little problem." She shifted and gently pressed herself to his growing election and Adam stopped himself from moaning. She smirked and whispered. "I bet we can take care of it later..."

Adam felt his brain buzz when he felt something poke at his thigh. Something he wouldn't have thought she had in a million years. He felt a large and thick dick poke him. This girl...was a boy.

"And by the way....my name is Lucifer since you never seemed to ask." He said, gently kissing his cheek and giving it a playful nip before hopping off and saying, "Well, it's my break! See you later, Adam!" Adam could only watch, completely numb as the short man walked away with a wink and wave.

Adam looked at his lap and saw a piece of paper with Lucifer's number on it. (XXX-XXX-6666— I can't wait to play with you~)

What the fuck?

———

Sorry, I would have written more but I've been feeling down lately. Merry Christmas, Inubaki!

[imkittyjustkitty]

② are we dancing after death?

🔱 — i'd meet the sea ༄ ⠀finnick odair x gn!tribute!reader ⚔️ 🔖) [one] CHAPTER TWO [three] [four] [five] [six] [seven] [eight]

chapter synopsis; The Quarter Quell nears. warnings; blood & veins mentioned once or twice, implied/mentioned prostitution (doesn't happen to reader), reader imagines strangling someone, like one swear word A/N; paragraphs in italics are flashbacks, i got a bit excited about mentioning other canonical district 10 victors (plus an oc who may or may not show up later 👀), i'm also not too sure how mentors are chosen for the games each year? also i just want to say thank you so much for the support on the first chapter, it makes me so happy to know people are enjoying this series as much as i am!!

It's warm, as it always is in District 10. It may be winter and the temperature is noticeably colder, but you still find that walking around outside with a warm coat on does more discomfort for you than if you were to walk around in the vaguely-cold weather without it.

It's been almost seven years since you'd entered the arena and emerged from the other side a victor. Since then your life in 10 has been undeniably empty, a lonely existence that seems to only serve as a reminder that tiptoes dangerously on the border of a punishment.

You've even found yourself looking forward to the games, if only for the possibility of being chosen as a mentor that year and being able to see.. a certain someone.

You'd met Finnick a couple years ago, when some very enthusiastic 'fans' of yours had practically begged some rich public figure in the Capitol to invite you to a party they were holding. They'd said it was an invite you were free to decline (Though it would 'break their hearts' if you did), but when a group of peacekeepers showed up at your doorstep the morning you were expected to take a train to the Capitol, it was made very apparent you had no choice but to play along with the rich snobs who had demanded your attendance.

You couldn't bring yourself to care too much, very well aware that you were not special in any regard in this situation, victors don't get a day of rest if even one Capitol citizen decides they want you around. You supposed you could even go as far as to say you were lucky, considering they didn't ask for anything other than your attendance.

The Capitol is suffocating, though that should be no surprise. The lights are bright and music beats out of speakers like thick blood pumping through heavy veins.

Your surroundings pound against your walls, a heavy throbbing in your head as you try to seclude yourself to a corner of the giant roof-top party. Your outfit — a 'gift' from a particularly enthusiastic designer — is as ugly as it gets, a green shade that resembles animal faeces more than the it does the tree leaves in 7 that the designer was undoubtedly trying to replicate. It sticks like honey, clinging to every inch of your skin that it covers, almost like a portable prison cell as you try and fail to even lift your arm above your waist.

You calm your frustration by imagining a scenario in which you can rip this fabric prison right off your body and strangle the woman who practically forced you into it.

You'd never do it, but — as some bright red drink that you haven't taken a single sip of sits in your hand heavy like a a threat begging to be heeded, and the world around you is completely out of control full of people who view you as less of a human and more of an accessory, — it doesn't hurt to daydream a little.

You're aware of your resting facial expressions usually resembling that of someone planning a murder — which to be fair is rather accurate right now — so as you notice a shadow in the vague form of a person approaching you, you prepare yourself for the same overused ice-breakers that tipsy Capitol citizens seem to love so much.

What catches you off guard, is the when the figure simply rests against the same wall you're leaning on beside you, not yet saying a word. You blink quickly, trying to clear the fog in your eyes to see who stands beside you.

You think that maybe this stranger finds the silence comforting, maybe they're just trying to get away from the loudness and crowdedness of the party like you. But for you, the silence is anything but comforting, the fact this person has not said a word to explain why they're now standing with you, and you can't even make out who they are in the dim lighting and fog that's building up behind your eyes all night, only scares you.

It's a whisper straight into the wind — when the stranger finally talks — almost like a test to see if you care enough to listen. You do.

He says your first and last name quietly, not like a greeting but rather just a statement void of any goal.

And then he introduces himself, Finnick Odair. You can tell he's known since the moment his eyes landed on you that you're not a Capitol citizen, he says he doesn't make a point to remember the names of every victor that gets tossed aside and forgotten by the Capitol, but he recognises you.

You recognise him too, by name. He had been someone your mother had compared you to late one night, a boy who had won the games so young, just like you were meant to.

But now he wasn't a young boy you'd resented for less than a moment after being basically told he was everything you weren't. In fact, he was better company than anyone you'd met in your whole life.

You carefully make your way through District 10, the wide fields and twisting footpaths granting you a world where for a moment you can pretend you're the only one here, that beyond blades of grass and unstable barns sits only empty land and freedom.

And then your feet hit the pavement of the Victor's village, your silent bubble immediately broken as the sounds of life and activity echo through the rows of houses.

You can hear the sounds of footsteps hitting the ground, and slight conversation mixes with the wind as you watch your neighbours living their lives around you.

The house closest to your left is dusty and not well-kept — as it always has been — the only sign of life being the open curtains, which slightly reveal an old woman by the name of Tule standing with her hands leaning against a kitchen bench, and a slightly taller old man — Greir — sitting on a stiff armchair in front of a television, both undoubtedly preparing for what everyone else is.

To your right, is the Yule household. The houses in the Victor's Village are big, spacious in a way that makes you feel lonely, but in a way that has served yet another victor; Phox — and her family — very well. You can hear through the slightly opened windows that most of them must be gathered in the living room too.

Neighbouring Phox's home, is Karter Breer's, District 10's most recent victor. They won 3 years ago, a year which you couldn't remember anything about other than who won. You know very little about Karter — you've slowly learnt little things here and there about your other fellow victors purely from living near them for so long, and Karter's only lived here for a shorter time than you — but you expect that once their extents of self-isolation lessen and they leave the house more, you'll know just as much about them as you do about every member of Phox's family.

As you keep walking — your shoes hitting the uneven concrete rather ungracefully — you pass an empty house or two, Tule's home, and even the home of Alto; possibly the only other inhabitant of this row of houses who can compete against Karter for loneliest Victor.

You pass more houses — at least four — until you reach yours. It sits right in the corner of the tall fences that surrounds the community here, purposefully as far away from the entrance gate and all your neighbours' houses.

You unlock the front door and try not to wince as it creaks loudly. The inside of your house is undeniably yours. As much as you isolate yourself, you're still human, and you've still slowly made this place your own... and possibly in the process made it Finnick's too.

One of the details that makes it very clear that this house — while you may still be the only one who lives in it — is not yours alone, is the ribbons.

They're tied to chair legs and door handles, each one taking you back to all the moments in which Finnick had tied the different colours around your hair, or wrapped around your wrist like a homemade bracelet, or even daintily tied around your finger when you weren't looking.

They admittedly look a bit tacky, they make your house look almost unkempt to anyone else. But to you, they make this hollow shell of a building more of a home, or at least a reminder of a home you do have, even if it may not be right here.

"Someone is staring."

You don't want to say it any more than he wants to hear it, but the Capitol woman that can't be any more than a few years older than you and Finnick hasn't stopped watching the two of you since she's noticed you.

The ghost of his hand moves away from yours just slightly, an inaudible sigh leaving his lips.

"I should leave..” He whispers to you, making no move to actually walk away.

He’s right, there’s people everywhere, you may not be the only Victors in attendance — although you’re definitely the only ones who look like one of you is about to get down on their knees and ask for the other’s hand in marriage — but that doesn’t mean there's no eyes on you.

You’ve known this all night — known that you’re constantly under surveillance here — but you and Finnick haven’t seen each other in months, haven't been able to speak let alone hold one another. You can’t decide whether you regret risking it all like this or not, him just being close to you feeling like a good enough reason to risk it all.

You don’t answer him, you don't usually do, in a world where you could say so much but have so little time to do so, it grows overwhelming. So your solution is simply say nothing.

Finnick knows this, and loves you for it — not despite — but he also knows that though while you may not say it, you want him to stay with you in this moment where you'll pretend that all is well, even though you both know you shouldn't.

There is a whisper, one purposefully intended to only be audible to you.

"See you later."

Simple. To the point. No room for argument. But you can see, for the fraction of a moment that Finnick's eyes stay on yours and he smiles ever so slightly, there is something more left unsaid.

There's an 'i love you' within that phrase which holds such certainty that you can't help but believe he means it. There's a 'stay safe' almost as a light joke but also meant with full seriousness. And then, for only split second now lost to time, there's a flicker of a sorrowful reality, of something that tells you you both know that later could very well be years.

Later could be later tonight, it could be a moment where you run into each other leaving the party, where you get a chance to pretend no one needs to say goodbye again. Later could be within months, where you could both be chosen as mentors for your districts. Later could be within weeks, one of you could just drop dead at any moment, the other would have to beg and plead to even be allowed into the district where the funeral would be held.

Yet for a moment, it's like Finnick has walked back over to hold your hands in his again, as you mindlessly fidget and simply stare at nothing, your movements freeze when you feel something new around your skin.

And there, wrapped around your pointer finger, is a small yellow ribbon tied in a bow, no doubt the same ribbon that was wrapped around the glass Finnick had been holding not long before.

You may be reading into it too much — as you fiddle with the ribbon, refusing to untie it — but it feels like a promise. That while yes, later will come one way or another no matter how much you try to stop it, but maybe — for now — there is comfort in that.

You can't help but be excited for whatever parties that will be thrown in the coming days, if just to see him as soon as possible.

Your thoughts are only of the possibility of seeing Finnick soon as you walk through the echoing halls of your house, pulling your jacket off tiredly and laying it on the first flat surface you see, then moving to pull your slowly-falling-apart shoes off from your sore feet.

The mundanity of the ritual brings a sort of comfort, your house and dull clothes an unchanging factor in your life (No matter how much several parts of your outfits have been slowly unravelling from unkind weather and getting caught on fences).

For a moment you just stand in the foyer, not too far from the front door. Thoughts don't really cross through your mind as you stand there dully, your gaze simply zoning out where you stand.

A buzz and sudden music coming from your living room pushes you out of this state, your steps calm and un-rushed as you move through your house to eventually find your television showing you the beginnings of a Capitol broadcast.

You sit down on the couch in front of it, slightly leaning forward as to not miss what will soon be said.

Quarter Quells are scary, they're unpredictable, but something deep inside you says it will all be okay, because soon you will see Finnick again at whatever trashy party you're both invited to, and you won't have to give less of a shit about the games.

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[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 13: Chaab (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Chaab. n. fear.

Chapter Summary: Your rescue from Coruscant goes better than you anticipate, but the squad is still fractured.

Chapter Warnings: self-starvation as a form of resistance; mentions or possibilities of torture; Tarkin is mentioned; canon-typical violence; angst; if I missed any please let me know!

Word Count: 4,171

A/N: ask zero questions about the timeline of this story because i genuinely don't know. this is purely vibes. enjoy!

Read it here on AO3!

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A guard brings you a meal again. This is the third, maybe fourth one, your only real way to measure time here. You leave it untouched. Partly, you’re unwilling to move from the corner of the duracrete cell, your body warmth having long since leached into the cold, unyielding surface. To move would mean to lose what little comfort you’ve scrabbled out of nothing. Partly, you’re not entirely trustful of the prison system food. 

Mostly, though, you’re trying to figure out if it’s even worth sustaining yourself when you know there’s a very high chance you’re going to be dead soon. 

Crosshair had said your punishment was capital. There are few greater measures of capital than a being’s life in this galaxy, particularly under the Empire. Even if you ate, even if you tried to keep your strength up, how long before they sent in an interrogator droid? How long before your trial? How long before the seemingly endless reserves of power and people overwhelmed your singular attempt at resistance? 

Punching out a sigh, you shift on the uncomfortable stone platform. Your entire right leg has gone numb sitting here. The jumpsuit they forced you into when you arrived is stiff and itchy; every nerve in your body screams for you to scratch, to soothe, to relieve. Ignoring the impulse is becoming a losing battle. 

When the guard returns to collect the food tray, still full, he says nothing, and you don’t, either. Try as you might, you can’t figure out how long you’ve been here. How much time has passed between finding Crosshair on Iridonia and now? Chewing at the inside of your mouth, you taste blood. Karking hells. You spit the blood onto the floor. 

Your world consists of dark-wash gray walls, staticky red electrobarrier, and gleaming white plastoid as guards march past on regular surveillance patrols. You can’t see any of the other cells on this block, even if you crane your head from where you sit. Probably by design. Can’t plot an escape without backup. Gray, red white. 

Jerking awake, heart pounding, you scan the small cell you’ve been confined to. Kriff, you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep. As you look around, trying to determine exactly what woke you, you rub your palms on the coarse fabric of the jumpsuit. Maybe a bad dream.

“616F, 616G, 616H, 616...ah, 616I, here we are,” comes a muffled voice. 

You draw yourself deeper into the corner, eyeing the glowing red barrier. On the other side, you catch a glimpse of white armor and a light gray uniform, and then the barrier flickers before powering down fully. Your eyes narrow, heart jumping into your throat and making it hard to breathe properly. 

Polished shoes clicking on the duracrete steps, an Imperial officer descends into the cell. Uniform pressed and ironed to perfection, rank insignias aligned in neat rows, hair swept back underneath an officer’s cap, a dark-skinned woman faces you, her face twisted into something like disgust, like you’re a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of her otherwise impeccable shoe. You breathe through your nose, trying not to betray any emotions on your face. You studied intimidation tactics at the academy; you have an inkling of what this woman is here for. 

The red electrobarrier snaps to life behind the woman as she appraises you with dark, glittering eyes. You meet her gaze, lifting your chin just a hair, wanting so desperately to curl your lip in a sneer.

She mirrors the expression you’re failing to hide. In a clipped Coruscanti accent as polished as the rest of her, she says, “(full name), chain code 06Z25T891, parents unknown. Raised here on Coruscant. Admitted to the Academy under the previous regime, graduated with honors, and assigned as a supply officer to the Outer Rim. How...wasteful.” She clasps her hands behind her back, disgust growing more evident with every word. 

You remain silent. A part of you, the part that wants to claw your way out of this suffocating detention center, hopes. You hope beyond hope that the squad will just forget you, live full lives, safe and hidden. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” the woman asks. “No matter. I believe you’ve said enough, as it is.” 

She produces a holographic puck from her pocket and holds it flat in her palm. In spectral blue light, a recording of you and Arien—your heart clenches—flares to life. 

“—out of here,” your past self says in an undertone. “I don’t like this, Arien. Come with me.”

Swallowing against the lump in your throat, your brain conjures the memory of this conversation as it plays out in real-time. In your memory, Arien is not a translucent being, but flesh and blood, purple eyes shadowed with worry and doubt. 

“It’s not safe,” she says. She places a hand on the shoulder of past-you. “Stick it out until your contract is out, and don’t re-enlist.”

The small, flickering version of you shakes their head. “That’s five years away. I won’t be complicit in this bantha—”

The Imp officer clenches her fist around the holo puck. Your and Arien’s likenesses vanish, leaving an afterimage burned into your retinas. Your eyes find the woman’s again, and you drop the neutral facade. 

“What do you want,” you ask, voice as flat as you can manage. 

With a twitch of an eyebrow, the woman sweeps an arm out as if to encompass the entire cell. “You’re smart; I’m sure you can figure that much out.” 

“Humor me.” 

“I am not in the business of humoring criminals,” she says imperiously, drawing herself to her full height.

You glower up at her through your eyelashes, not deigning to give her the satisfaction of making you move your entire head. “No, it seems you’re in the business of being an insufferable di’kut with an overinflated ego.” 

For a beat, neither you nor she moves. Then her face splits into a wide, beaming smile, one that is so saccharinely false that your blood freezes in your veins. “Admiral Tarkin will be pleased to know that you are in custody, (full name). Consider yourself lucky that you are still, as yet, of use to the Empire.”

The name is unfamiliar to you, but if you’ve caught the attention of an admiral, you can only imagine what kind of hell your life is about to become. The woman turns on her heel.

When her foot touches the bottom step, you shake your head. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” 

Her smile grows as she slowly faces you once again, but her eyes remain cold, menacing, uncaring. “No,” she says, softly, “you are about to find out exactly with whom it is you are dealing.” 

With a hum, the electrobarrier powers down, letting the Imp out, and immediately flickers back to life behind her. She throws you one last baleful glance before striding out of view, two troopers flanking her. After her footsteps fade, you count to ten. 

And then you sob. Pressing the back of your hand against your mouth, you screw your eyes shut. Your chest tightens. The room tilts off its axis. Heat and ice fuse into your spine, melding you in place, locking your limbs where they’re wrapped around each other. Thoughts spin wildly in your mind. Disjointed. Frantic. Panicked. 

Omega—is she safe? Will she stay that way? Will Hunter forgive you? Will you see Echo again? Are you still going to die? Are they going to interrogate you? Your brain conjures up an image of Tarkin—you’ve never seen him before, but in your mind, the unknown figure takes on a looming, oppressive presence, larger than life. You blink: in the flash of darkness, there’s Hunter, his kind, tired eyes vacant and glossy. There’s Echo, blood leaking out of his mouth. There’s Omega, screaming for you. 

Another sob rips itself from your lungs. You heave, stomach emptying onto the dark flooring.

Time passes strangely here. You’re unable to account for how much of it passes around you, whether the officer visited you seconds, hours, days, eons ago. It could be any of them. It could be none of them. You sit in the corner, eyes unfocused. When you blink, returning to the present moment, you glance around. A new tray of food rests near the barrier. All the same food sits there—mush, a dry biscuit, and a dented cup—just in different order. Or maybe it’s the same. You’re not sure. 

The sight of food makes your stomach twist. Breathing through your nose, you turn away, angling your body so that the tray is out of your periphery. If you’re lucky, you’ll starve to death before this Tarkin person arrives. The realization that you’re willing to die for your squad, even knowing that they may never forgive you, is as natural as the breath you draw into your lungs. Of course you’d die to protect them. They’d do the same. 

Wouldn’t they? 

You’re glad you won’t have to find that out. Eyes sliding shut, a tear glides down your cheek and drops onto the coarse jumpsuit. 

Apparently, you’re not the first prisoner of the Empire to attempt this tactic. You have no way of knowing how long it’s been since the officer came to you, but the dryness of your mouth, the fatigue weighing your head down, the trembling weakness in your hands when you raise them all speak to the toll your self-imposed fast is wreaking on your body. When the electrobarrier power whirs down to nothing, you blink against the bleariness clouding your eyes and raise your head. A soft groan escapes you at the effort. 

In the doorway, another uniformed Imperial hovers, with a trooper and a floating droid behind them. Panic seizes your heart, arresting its beating for a moment, before exhaustion floods through you again and you find you don’t have the energy to be afraid. Have they finally come to interrogate you? 

The Imp tsks as he descends the steps into the cell. Both the trooper and the droid follow; the barrier shimmers back to life. 

“You really are lucky you are needed,” the Imp says. His voice is scratchy, rough, grating. You grimace. “Elsewise, we might actually let you starve to death. As it is, the Admiral has requested you be in good condition for him.” 

The Imp snaps his fingers and the droid bobs in the air toward you. 

“Don’t,” you mumble, eyeing the needles on the droid. Now that it’s this close, you can do nothing but gape at the array of needles, buzzers, prods, and other instruments on its black domed surface. 

“Don’t be silly, now,” the Imp says. At a wave of his hand, the droid hovers closer and jabs a needle into your arm. You flinch, the pain intense—but brief. It is immediately replaced by a familiar cool sense of relief that emanates through your entire body. Bacta. 

Sighing, you relax. Stars, that feels damn near heavenly. When the needle retracts, you don’t even feel it. Nor do you feel the second jab, and your exhausted mind succumbs to the pleasant, airy sensation of the bacta, dragging you into a light slumber. 

When you wake next, you feel stronger, more alert. Rubbing your eyes, you push into a sitting position, groaning at the ache in your muscles. You’ve been here too long. With a glance at your arm, you find a transparent catheter taped below the crease of your elbow. Ah. That explains the reason your hands no longer shake as you hold them up for closer inspection. Karking Imperials.

You’re unsure if something woke you, or if your body finally seems to have rested enough. Standing, you shuffle across the bare floor and scale the steps to peer through the red barrier of your cell. Nothing seems to move beyond it, the lights in the hallway no brighter or dimmer than they usually are. Something is going on out there, though. In the distance, so faint you think it must be a figment of your imagination, blaster fire repeats. Shouts, incomprehensible, echo off the hallway walls. 

Even from this vantage point, you can’t see the entrances of the cells across the hall from yours. The barriers are set too far back into the wall, blocking your view. Even so, something quiets your tongue, stalling the impulse to call out and ask if anyone knows what’s going on. 

You’re glad you stay quiet. A few more long, tense moments pass; the blaster fire and shouting gets louder with each breath, until you catch the sound of footsteps approaching your direction. You scurry back down the duracrete steps and resume your position on the bench. If the footsteps coming this way are Imperial, you don’t want to be caught with your nose in their business. 

A hulking figure sprints past your cell, then seems to skid to a halt, if the clatter of armor is any indication. The figure reappears in the doorframe, walking backwards. Gray armor with white and yellow accents. 

The gasp that escapes you is nearly a squeal. “Wrecker?”

“Nav!” 

You gape, open-mouthed, at the man before you. He pushes his helmet up onto his forehead, his face creased in a massive grin.

“S’good to see ya, Nav! C’mon, we gotta go!” Wrecker raises his blaster and shoots out the door’s control panel. The humming red barrier flickers before winking out of existence for good. He  beckons you, glancing up and down the hallway.

Without a second more of hesitation, you scramble up the stairs. Heart thumping wildly in your chest, the familiar, fuzzy warmth of happiness radiating into your very toes and fingers, you tackle Wrecker in a hug. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, face buried into his chestplate.

He awkwardly pats your back with his free hand. “Well, we—”

“We could ask you the same thing,” comes Tech’s voice from behind Wrecker. 

You step away from Wrecker. Panting, Tech stumbles to a halt, and though his helmet obscures most of his expression, his eyes meet yours briefly behind the yellow tint of his goggles. He inclines his head in greeting. 

“We received a coded transmission that you were at these coordinates,” Tech continues. 

“What?” You frown. “I didn’t— my belongings were taken from me.” 

“So who sent the message?” Wrecker asks, voice hushed. 

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. The answer springs immediately to mind: Crosshair. You can’t make yourself say it aloud, not here, fearing that speaking his name into existence will shatter this reunion. With a sigh, you decide to tell them on the ship, when you’re all safely back in hyperspace. 

Before your silence can become something awkward, another set of footsteps rush up behind you. Your lungs feel like someone’s squeezed all the air out of them and swapped your heart for a rock. Everything seems to slow, your focus drawn in on the skull-like helmet and your warped reflection in the visor. 

“Hunter,” you breathe. 

Wordlessly, he draws you into a crushing embrace. You gasp in surprise. Of all the possibilities you ran through when imagining reuniting, this one never occurred to you, not with the way things were left on Iridonia. The hard plates of his armor digging into your skin, but you don’t care about that. All you care about are his arms around you, the tremble you can feel in his hands where they grasp at your jumpsuit, the breath he exhales that crackles through the vocabulator. Your hands find purchase around his waist. His warmth smothers all of the fear and confusion of the past two weeks. 

“Thank you for coming,” you say, loud enough for the others to hear, but you intend it only for Hunter. 

He tightens his arms around you for a moment before releasing you. You step back, a bit dazed, nose full of the acrid scent of carbon scoring mixed with gunmetal oil and musk. Looking up at him, you hope your gaze meets his behind the visor. He nods once. 

“Tech,” he says, “get us out of here.” 

“Already done,” Tech says. “Our primary route will take us back parallel the way we came in, and I have several backup routes identified should we need them.” 

“Let’s go,” Hunter says. He gently nudges you to follow Tech.

Wrecker plasters himself to the wall to let you and Hunter pass by first before taking up the rear. He taps his helmet and it slides back into place over his face. 

“Omega is at the ship,” Hunter says behind you. His voice is close—closer than he’s ever been to you before. “We’ll be lucky to get back without much resistance.” 

“Hey, at least we haven’t tripped the alarm,” Wrecker says. “Gotta be a record— oh, for kriff’s sake.”

At his words, a klaxon alarm blares to life. You wince, covering your ears as the ascending note pierces through the hallway. “You just had to say something, Wreck.” 

“Sorry,” he says, and he sounds genuinely sheepish. 

Breaking into a jog behind Tech, you refrain from peeking into any of the cells you pass. You doubt you’ll recognize anyone here—but you also fear you’ll recognize all of them for the same hopelessness you wallowed in not that long ago. The same pervasive, heavy dread that weighed on your lungs, slowly crushing them. 

You stumble, jarring out of your reverie. Hunter catches your arm and steadies you. 

“Where’s your gear?” he asks, like he’s just now realizing what you’re wearing. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “I didn’t see where it got taken.” 

“Kriff.” Hunter sighs. “Tech, detour us to—”

“The processing office,” Tech interrupts. “Done.” 

Tech leads you all down a dizzying number of turns, hallways, service tunnels, and yet more turns. It’s not until the processing office is in sight that you encounter resistance. Ducking into an alcove, you cringe as blaster bolts scream past you. Hunter and Wrecker respond in kind, the rings of blue stun blasts expanding as they travel the length of the hall. One of the men at the other end grunts in pain and the telltale sound of plastoid against durasteel echoes around you. 

“I have eyes on the intruders,” says a familiar voice—a clone voice—at the end of the hall. “They’re in Detention Block 68—hrgh.” 

“Nice shot, Tech,” Hunter says. “Nav, we’re clear.” 

Nodding, you peek around the corner of the alcove. Two clone troopers lay sprawled, unconscious, in awkward positions on the floor in front of a square room. Through the transparisteel walls, you catch sight of neat rows of cubbies, most of them empty, but in one of them you spot your faded and worn pack. 

You rush forward, stepping gingerly over the downed troopers. Your pack, blasters, and clothing are all here. On top of your pack rests a single toothpick. Eyes widening, you brush the tiny piece of wood away, then grab your belongings. The familiar, comforting weight of your pack on your back and your DC-17s in both hands settles the spike of adrenaline. Crosshair again. 

“Time to move,” Tech calls.

You glance up; more troopers rush down the hall you just left. “Coming.” 

Behind Tech once more, with Wrecker taking up the tail again, the four of you dash in what feels like an endless circle. You lose count of the turns, the backtracking, the levels you scale down. Only your absolute trust in these men, in Tech, keeps your hands steady as you fire over Tech’s shoulder, his own hands occupied with the detention center schematics on his datapad. 

“The hangar is just ahead,” he says. 

“Thank the stars.” You’re panting, a burning stitch in the side of your neck, but as the hallway doors whisk open, you nearly sob at the sight of the Marauder. 

“Intruders!” The shout echoes around the massive hangar bay, several troopers taking up the call and radioing for reinforcements. 

Putting on a burst of speed despite the way your legs feel like molten lava, you duck under the lip of a stack of crates just as blaster fire screeches toward you. The bolts impact the crates, but you don’t stop moving. The Marauder ramp begins to lower. 

“Go, go go!” Hunter urges. “Wrecker, get on board and get on the guns!” 

Tech, Wrecker, and you practically sprint for the ramp, Hunter providing covering fire behind you. You fire blindly to either side, hoping that at least one stun blast catches a trooper, or at the very least deters them from shooting at you. Tech reaches the ramp first, leaping the few feet off the ground and clambering up the rest of the way. By the time you and Wrecker reach it, the ramp is finally on the ground. Wrecker disappears to the right, but you hesitate. 

“Hunter!” you call. 

“I’m coming,” he says. 

Still a few dozen feet behind, he’s crouched behind a long rectangular supply crate, head ducked low to avoid being shot at. A quick glance shows a number of troops advancing on his position—and another squadron falling into place in the rafters at his back. Under your feet, the ship lurches. 

“No, wait, Hunter!” Your voice cracks. “Now!” 

He follows the line of your outstretched pointer finger. Stumbling, he rushes toward the ship just as the firing line opens, raining blue blaster bolts onto the crate he was just behind. You raise, aim, and fire your DCs without a second thought, nearly every shot connecting with a trooper. One, two, four go down, unconscious, and the rest scatter. 

Twenty feet, ten feet to go—the ship rises several feet into the air. You toss your blasters behind you into the ship. Like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times, Hunter jumps and you catch his forearm, fingers digging into him as his dig into you, and you pull for all you’re worth. The ship pitches to the side; blaster fire narrowly misses the both of you as Hunter’s feet find purchase—

With another jolt to the side, you lose your footing and stumble back into the ship cabin, yanking Hunter with you. You collapse onto the durasteel floor, Hunter landing on top of you. The air whooshes out of your lungs; for a moment, you panic as the cabin grows darker. Only the pneumatic hiss of the ramp sealing calms you, though not by much. Your chest is tight where you imagine your diaphragm is, the muscle not working properly. Dimly, you’re aware of shouts being thrown back and forth over your head, Tech and Wrecker trying to get the squad to safety. 

Hunter removes his helmet; it bounces and rolls across the floor. “Nav?” 

You nod weakly, lungs still refusing to work. Pushing at his chest, you try to get him off of you, to get the extra weight off of your chest. Thankfully, he understands and lifts himself onto his palms, but he doesn’t go farther than that. Worry lines crease his forehead, his gray eyes searching your face, his lips turned down in a frown. 

Finally you heave a lungful of cold, recycled air into your aching lungs. Coughing, you gulp down a few more breaths before you become aware of the relief spreading over Hunter’s face. This close, you could count his eyelashes. Heat blooms in your chest. 

“Hi,” you whisper. 

“Hi,” he says. 

Two feet appear in your periphery, and you crane your head around. Omega’s features are upside down from your perspective, but the puffy, reddened eyes and tear tracks clench your heart. Scooting out from underneath Hunter, you rise to your knees, arms open. 

Omega throws herself into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs coming up around your waist, fully latching onto you. Hunter’s hand steadies you as Omega’s added weight tips you off-balance. The girl sniffles, her hair obscuring your vision, the red dye faded to pink. The ship jolts as it makes the jump to hyperspace. 

“I missed you so much,” she says, her voice thick. She hiccups. “Please don’t leave us ever again.” 

Rubbing her back, you squeeze her tightly. “So long as you all want me here, I’m not going anywhere again, kid.” 

“Promise?” she says. 

“I promise.” 

With a sniffle, she slowly lowers her feet back to the floor. When she pulls back and you look at her face, you offer her a smile. She doesn’t return it. Instead, fresh tears well in her eyes. 

“What’s the matter, bug?” you ask. “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re safe.” 

She shakes her head. “E-Echo—”

Your eyes widen. Heart thudding in your ears, you look up at Hunter, the worn, tired light in his eyes only serving to deepen the sudden dread in your veins. Echo can’t be gone. He can’t be—no. You refuse to even entertain that thought. Pushing up to your feet, you take quick stock of the ship, like he’s going to jump out at you, that they’re just playing a joke for your return. But he’s not here.

“Where is Echo?”

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @skellymom

[darklotuspublishing]

Stitched In Shadows: A Love Bound By Obsession Chapter 3

The sun started to set as I slept. It was evident that I wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. After the events of the past two days, I needed to sleep. Sleeping this long meant that I would be oblivious to my surroundings. At this point, not even an earthquake could wake me up. I didn’t even hear my bedroom door opening just a few feet away because of how deep a sleep I was in.

Quiet footsteps could be heard in my bedroom and yet, I remained asleep and blissfully unaware of the intruder creeping closer to my bed. A hand gently brushed over my cheek, moving a few loose strands of hair out of my face. The person standing at my bedside studied me for a few moments, taking in my sleeping form and studying the way my silk night dress clung to my figure. At that moment, I was vulnerable and completely at their mercy. Was I about to suffer the same fate as Hajime?

The mattress dipped as the intruder got into bed with me. One would think that the sudden shift in weight on my bed would wake me up, but the movement didn’t wake me at all. The intruder silently moved closer to me, grazing my bare thigh with their fingertips. They gently pushed my thighs apart making just enough room for them to move between my legs. In that position, the intruder had a full view of the red lace panties that I was wearing. The sight must have been a turn-on for them because their eyes were transfixed on my clothed cunt. If this person was thinking of anything, it was probably about folding me into a mating press and fucking me until I forget my name.

For the sake of not waking me up with too much movement, the intruder pushed my panties to the side. Slowly they ran their index finger through my slit, collecting the aftermath of my sudden arousal. My breath hitched at the sudden feeling as two of their fingers rubbed gentle circles on my clit. They must have noticed my reaction because their movements became harsh. It was as if they were trying to elicit an orgasm from me as I slept.

My breathing became heavy as they continued their movements. The all-too-familiar heat building in the pit of my stomach became more intense as breathy whines and whimpers left my lips. Whoever was touching me let an audible groan slip out, causing me to wake up startled. The room was dark, obscuring my vision and keeping the intruder’s identity hidden. I could make out a faint silhouette from the little moonlight peeking through the curtains. The intruder looked familiar even though I couldn’t see their face.

“Go back to sleep princess. Just relax and let me have my fun with you.” A familiar voice spoke. Who was between my legs? Why did that voice sound familiar? I knew for a fact that I didn’t invite anyone over, and Ryusei would never do something like this. My heart began to race, and I struggled against him.

His hands flew to my wrists, pinning me against the bed. I kicked and thrashed as much as I could, but it was no use, this guy was a lot stronger than I was. He lodged his knee against my aching core and every time I tried to kick, my clit rubbed against the fabric of his jeans. The friction caused me to gasp, my body betraying me. I wasn’t supposed to like this. It wasn’t supposed to turn me on. Every move I made felt like blissful torture. I should be crying, screaming, begging him to stop but I couldn’t even do that.

The man leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of my ear, “Now princess, are you going to be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty pussy, or am I going to have to punish you?” He chuckled; his voice low with a nearly menacing tone to it. What did he mean by “punish me”? Was he going to beat me? Would he rape me? Did he mean that I would die in the same way Hajime died? Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes; I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t comply with his demands.

I remained silent and looked away even though I couldn’t see his face. He took my silence as consent and brought his lips to my neck, gently planting kisses on my skin before biting down on the sensitive spot by my collarbone, eliciting a gasp from me. His hands traveled from my wrists down to my breasts, giving a rough tug to my hardened nipples through my night dress. A breathless moan slipped past my lips as I arched my back slightly. This guy chuckled as he started licking and sucking at the spot by my collarbone, more breathless moans and whimpers being ripped from my throat.

The man pulled away from my neck, “Good girl, now open your legs so I can taste that sweet little pussy.” He commanded as he sat back on his knees. I silently complied with his command and spread my legs, planting my feet firmly into the mattress and bending my knees. He had a full view of my now-drenched pussy, and I’m sure that if I could see his face, the intruder was drooling at the sight of my arousal leaking from my needy hole. I felt desperate and disgusting. Here I was, spread out on my bed like a cheap whore and in desperate need of being fucked like one.

The intruder lowered himself down until he was lying on his stomach and could easily hook his arms around my thighs. I remained motionless as he held my legs open and flattened his tongue, licking a stripe up my slit. My breath hitched at the feeling, I didn’t know whether I should moan or try to fight back again. He flicked his tongue over my clit, causing my back to arch and a breathless moan escaped my throat. This shouldn’t feel good, I should be crying, screaming, begging him to stop. Why does this feel right? It shouldn’t feel right, everything about this is wrong.

He wrapped his lips around my clit, harshly sucking on it. My back arched and a moan escaped my throat. The intruder continued to suck on my clit as I bucked my hips against his face. His lips detached from my clit as his tongue slipped into my wet hole and his nose brushed against my clit. Broken moans escaped my lips as I started to grind against his face. My movements made it obvious to him that my orgasm was coming up fast. I was grinding against his face like a desperate nymphomaniac chasing after a much-needed sense of euphoria.

As he lapped at my walls, my back arched even more and one of my hands flew to the back of his head, pushing his face further into my dripping cunt. My orgasm came washing over me, my cunt clenching around his tongue. The intruder released his hold on my thighs, allowing me to trap his head between them. I continued grinding against his face as I rode out the high from my orgasm. After pulling away, he crawled between my legs until we were face to face.

“Look at me princess, let me see that pretty face while I fuck your pretty pussy.” The intruder said as he unbuttoned his pants. I felt too ashamed to respond and simply turned my head in his direction. His pants and boxers were pushed down his thighs in one fell swoop. As he lazily dragged his tip through my folds, my breath caught in my throat. He settled between my legs, plunging into my quivering hole. I gasped at the feeling of my walls being stretched by the thickness of his cock.

“Taking my cock so well princess. Your pretty pussy is sucking me in so fucking good.” The intruder groaned as he bottomed out.

Needy whimpers escaped my lips as I waited for him to move. He slowly started thrusting, making sure that I felt every vein along his shaft. Lustful groans left his throat as my pussy clenched around him, the sound only adding to my arousal. I couldn’t help the desperate moans and whimpers that were being ripped from me with every languid thrust. Why was he being so gentle with me when this was meant to be an assault? My already cock-drunk mind couldn’t make sense of it.

The intruder hooked his arms underneath my knees, bringing them to my chest in a mating press as his thrusts became more aggressive. By that point, I was a moaning, crying mess with how deep he was and the way the tip of his cock abused my cervix. That familiar coil of heat began to build again, growing even tighter with every thrust. I soon found myself trying to push back and meet the speed of the intruder’s thrusts. He held me in a nearly bruising grip as he continued pounding into me, groans, insults, and praises alike leaving his lips.

“Such a good little whore. You’re doing so good for me. Look at you, so fucked out and completely dumb on my dick.” He groaned as my cunt clenched around his shaft.

“I’m close. Don’t stop!” I cried out in ecstasy as I gripped his shoulders. Even through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel the definition of his muscles as they flexed. His thrusts became unsteady, signaling that he was nearing his orgasm. My grip on his shoulders tightened and I dug my nails into them once I felt his dick throbbing in my pussy. The intruder groaned at the feeling, quickening his pace to chase the orgasm he was so desperate for.

“Fuck princess, that’s it, milk my cock for everything I’ve got. I’m so fucking close pretty girl. Take it like the slut you are.” he moaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. I could only moan and whimper in response, the coil of heat building within me becoming unbearable as the tip of his cock tried to bully its way past my cervix. After a few more harsh thrusts, that coil snapped, and my orgasm hit me with such force that my entire body was trembling as I cried out in ecstasy. The sound of my broken moans and cries of his name sent him over the edge, his movements coming to a stop as he pulled out and shot thick ropes of cum onto my thighs.

The intruder groaned and then breathlessly chuckled, “Fuck princess, your pussy didn’t want to let me go. I would’ve filled that pretty little cunt up, but I can’t make you a mommy just yet.” He told me as he pulled his pants and boxers up. I just lay there silently, unable to form a proper sentence because of how foggy my mind was from my orgasm.

[adversitybloomed]

🌸  ┊ letter received from @sparesovereign        𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂 :  Be honest; What are your true feelings about your family? / SEND ME “BE HONEST…” WITH A QUESTION YOUR MUSE HAS BEEN DYING TO ASK MINE AND THEY’LL ANSWER TRUTHFULLY.

          mulan stared at anna for a moment, her eyes wide in shock before a soft frown touched upon her lips. casting her gaze away, she began to play with the ends of her hair, as it distracted her from the feelings that ached her heart.      ❝  before i begin, i need you to understand, my family has my complete devotion... but things are... complicated...  ❞    she loved her family, she truly did ━━ but how did she explain their complex ways without making it come across poorly ?

        ❝  i love my little sister, her name is Xiu and she is so cute.  ❞    she figured that she would start off with the easiest, a small smile touching her lips as she remembered her little sister fondly.     ❝  she is very talented, you know ? she has the ability to create such beautiful fabric designs and has a dream of creating her own hanfu line. i try to send money back to help support her dreams of this, as i would love to see her shine so brightly that the world knows her name. when we were little, we were close ━━ i especially took great pleasure in her running to me when she was scared for i felt like i was important to her and that i could protect her from anything...  ❞   

          she paused for a moment, before laughing,    ❝  we would especially love to play while my grandmother watched over us, 祖母 ( zǔmǔ - grandmother ). i used to be very close to her, but she passed away around two years go... i miss her terribly... i miss her little knowing smiles, and the way she called me her 小猴子 ( xiǎo hóuzi - little monkey ) because i liked to climb things i should not. even when she grew sickly, i would enjoy my time with her, because she taught me how to cook and accepted my naughty nature.  ❞    there was a sad fondness in her eyes, as she began to braid her hair partially.

        ❝  my relationship with my bàba is a bit more complex. i know he cares about me... but i struggle sometimes to feel it from him... i long for his approval ━━ for him to tell me he is proud of me, but those words between us are not spoken. he is a very stern man, who works hard and is often times far from home... but he takes care of us and he taught me how to fight so that i may do my duty and protect our family.  ❞    she shifted for a moment, before loosening what she started to begin again,      ❝  but i love him. he is... so strong and has faced so much pain in life. i just want to be a good daughter to him, i want him to know that there is nothing in this life i would not do for him, you know ?  ❞

          biting down on her lower lip, she did not wish to continue for she knew it would only get worse from here.     ❝  my, 後媽 ( hòumā - stepmother ) Li and i are not very close. we tried, we truly did ━━ and though i care for her and would protect her, i cannot say for certain how i feel about her. she devotes herself to Xiu who is her biological daughter. she gives her everything she can and while she did try with me... our personalities do not mesh well together, due to my stubborn nature. she is very quick to punish me and she pushes me to seek a hand in marriage to bring our family honor despite the fact i have proven myself as a hero of china. truthfully,   ❞    she paused as she never said this out loud before,      ❝  i am a little envious of my little sisters relationship with her, for i wish we could be on that level and that i can feel a motherly care from her...  ❞

          taking in a breath, mulan looked at anna before looking away, her eyes holding a bit of a shame for even speaking that out loud.     ❝  i also have an elder sister, which of whom was disowned by my bàba. her name is Hua Daiyu, and should you ever meet her, run. she is a very dark soul. she blames me for our 母親的 ( mǔqīn de - mother's ) death ━━ which is true, as i am responsible for her passing... but as a child, she would torment me... bring me such pain... when i was seven she nearly successfully downed me, which was one of the reasons why my bàba disowned her.   ❞    mulan paused once more before letting loose a sigh,     ❝  my 母親的 ( mǔqīn de - mother's ) side of my family disowned me since my birth, so i do not know them, save for an uncle that i swore i would not mention, due to the fact it could lead him in trouble... but he is the only one on that side i truly have a connection with, as he has shown me such kindness over the few times over the years that i have seen him.  ❞    lifting her gaze, she looked at anna, a sadness in her eyes though she smiled at her.

        ❝  do these answers satisfy your curiosity ?  ❞   

[pastxlscorp]

Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.2)

Chapter II: Exigence

✿ Word Count: 2.6k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, manga spoilers, slight angst + smut

“You look so pretty while you’re sleeping.”

The tender voice-- so gentle, so sweet-- it began to echo within his mind. He, at first, had thought he was dreaming but that voice-- oh that beautiful voice, it tempted him so dearly. He began to chase the voice, following it through the mess of his mind, his thoughts, firmly clasping it and--

It isn’t you.

He opened his eyes, closing them instantly again as the light burned them intensely. He waited a few seconds before trying again, his eyes beginning to readjust as the light became calmer and more bearable. He was face to face with a woman-- he couldn’t seem to recognize her. Her voice, her pleasant voice… it had sounded too similar to your own, he could’ve sworn it was you, laying beside him naked with your head drooping over him as you admired him sleeping. Looking closer upon the woman in front of him, he recognized her as one of his classmates and member of his Home-Economics club. It began to come back to him slowly, how exactly he ended up here. It was just the usual after all, sleeping with women to satisfy his needs-- or rather, his suppressed desires.

He happened to only share one class with you-- of course, it was Designer-101. In this class, the professor would instruct and teach you about the most trendy styles going on, or some older styles that were coming back in fashion and how to incorporate them into your works. It was a very intricate class but you both were determined to accomplish your dreams, even if it meant passing this dread of a course. However, as hard as it might be, Mitsuya fully enjoyed every aspect of the course because it was fun to clash styles, colors, and fabrics just to accomplish the final design. He had noticed you took great pride in this class, too, and even incorporated these color schemes into your lighting and filter ideas. While he’d never admit it to your face, his heart fluttered seeing your eyes gloss over your masterpiece and grin, taking a few moments to admire your work. He rarely bothered you in this case for this exact reason, although he couldn’t help the occasional tease, just to see your squirm.

┃ “Y/N, dear, are you alright? You seem to be struggling a little bit with this embroidery pattern.”

┃ “Sorry, Professor! I’ll get the hang of it quickly, I’m sure, just a small obstacle!” You reassured him, giving him the warm smile Mitsuya mourned losing and wished he could see from the receiving end just once more.

Unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had eavesdropped on the entire conversation table next to yours. You had attempted to choose a seat that was far away from him, but he picked up on that quite quickly and decided, just out of spite, to sit the table directly horizontal from you. Desperately yearning for a small scrap of your attention, he quickly stepped besides the Professor but composed himself before saying

┃ “Professor, if I may… since Y/N seems to be having a rough time, I can help them out. If that’s with your permission, of course, sir.” He said with that bastardly shit-eating smile that made your stomach turn inside out while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. It was the smile that captivated teachers with it’s innocence and purity-- if only they knew that it was the mischievous smile that you were accustomed to seeing after he was done with you.

Before you could offer a rebuttal, your professor smiled genuinely and nodded, thanking Mitsuya before walking off and mumbling how he was such a good kid. As soon as your Professor had made it to the other side of the enormous classroom, Mitsuya turned to you, shit-eating grin beginning to form into a devious smirk as he finally had some alone-time with you.

┃ “Hey baby~” His voice came out smoothly like butter, words falling out of his mouth as if this was the entire script planned out in his head. Little did you know, it was.

┃ “You’re only helping me figure this embroidery pattern out, that’s it, no rebuttals, nothing more. Got it?” You spat harshly, making that smirk on his face quickly turn into a scowl as you once more rejected any flirtatious opportunity he threw at you.

He scoffed, not acknowledging your question with a nod or even the common courtesy of a reply, but he moved off to the other side of the table to grab the needle that was engraved in the cloth you were attempting to sew on. Even though he moved on pretty quickly, your words had stung him deeply, as it made it clear to him any romantic opportunity he had with you had been reduced and diminished into nothing. He placed it in front of you, motioning his hand for you to continue what you were doing before folding them over his chest. You growled, assuming that this was him punishing you for not reciprocating his flirts. However, it ended up being the exact opposite, as he intently observed your stitch, attempting to pinpoint where you were going wrong. Your accuracy was fine, your hands enwrapped the needle firmly but gently as you intertwined it within the cloth and there, he had picked up on what you were doing wrong. He carefully set himself behind you, having his chest press against your back as he wrapped his arms around you to hold your hands. The surprise caught your breath and made it hitch, feeling his ice-cold hands gently coddle your warm ones, balancing out the heat. Catching on to your growing flustered state, he smirked but his voice disguised it perfectly as he explained your mistake to you while beginning to guide your fingers through the cloth.

┃ “Your accuracy, your grip, all of that is perfect, sweetheart. Your mistake is you pull the needle out too early before allowing it to catch proper depth within the cloth. That’s why the final design comes out messy.” He explains, his words sounding almost like a textbook, professional, informative, while also comforting your tensed shoulders with his velvety voice and pet names as he continued to guide your hands until you reached the end of the segment.

Subconsciously, you had begun to relax in his grip, leaning your back into his chest as you finally perfected the technique with little help from his assistance as he withdrew his hands and allowed you to continue without him, setting his hands on the table and caging you in. He took the moments of silence to indulge in the warmth of your back pressing against him, a moment that came so rarely yet drove him insane every time your skin happened to graze him. You, on the other hand-- your mind was far from relaxed. You questioned why he was being so tender with you when he was so rough with you earlier, unprovokingly shoving you to the ground and humiliating you in front of your classmates. You opened your mouth to question him, but reluctantly closed it once you realized you wouldn’t get a real answer if you questioned him. After all, after being so kind the next day he’d return to normal as if nothing happened-- as if there was no spark between you both. He awoke you from your thoughts by placing his fingers below your chin, softly lifting your face to meet his own.

┃ “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe I will, soon~” he giggled to himself, grinning down at you, this time a genuine smile that expressed pure delight.

┃ “What happened to us, Mitsuya?” You bluntly asked, causing him to tense, his smile forming into a poker face as he contemplated your question carefully.

Months-- months ago, you were standing there after school after one of their club meetings next to the campus entrance, waiting for someone as she told him. He offered to wait with you but you told him it was okay-- no, you shooed him off, giving him some excuse as to why he couldn’t wait with her. A little arrow pierced through his lovestruck heart but he nodded and walked away, however he did not leave. He remained across the street hiding in the corner, far enough for her to not notice he still remained on campus grounds but close enough to still see her patiently waiting. He insisted his duty as her club president was to watch over her and ensure her safety, of course, there was nothing special about that. Any club member would do a little spying just to ensure their kohai’s well-being. She was pushing him away, that wasn’t normal, so surely something must be wrong. That was when that little shit Takemichi came along and his mouth fell open, in shock she knew a loser like him. Hanagaki Takemichi did not attend their university, however, he was a part of Toman, which was still growing in power. Takemichi had only joined recently but he had quickly won the hearts of Mikey and Draken, therefore anyone would think Mitsuya liked him too. How far from the truth that statement was-- Mitsuya despised Takemichi. His dumbass couldn’t fight for shit-- no brains nor brawn. During the fight with Valhalla, he was tasked with saving Baji and couldn’t even do so. Thankfully, Baji had survived his stab wounds, although the doctors informed Mitsuya and the others he was very lucky to have lived. On lesser issues, Takemichi also shows no signs of respect-- going as far as to punch the recently appointed 3rd division captain, Kisaki Tetta. What the fuck were you doing with someone like him? He watched your interaction so diligently, taking every note of laughter, smiles, and nods you gave Takemichi until Mitsuya began to feel himself clutching his knuckles so tight they looked like they were about to pop right out of his fists. Was everything you had gone through for the past few months nothing more than a game? Had he misunderstood your feelings-- was there really no spark between you both? The thought of this made his stomach drop, hitting him like a truck. No no, that was clearly the case, there was no other reason why you'd giggle so much around Takemichi, smile at him so fondly, or gaze at him as your eyes began to sparkle whenever he got enthusiastic about whatever the fuck it was he was talking about.

The next thing he knew, he was yelling at you after club hours the next day, shouting about how much of a dumbass you were, and how you failed to pick up on social cues around you. Many other insults came flying out his mouth, hitting you like bricks, piling up and causing the tears to build up. Truthfully, the entire situation was an entire blur to him. All he could remember was the close proximity of your faces as he yanked your chain when you attempted to talk back, which is when he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall if provoked any further. You were released from his grip instantly and in a calm voice, he allowed you to exit, a loud sniffle accidentally slipping out of your lips as you ran out of the room before he could see you cry. He stared at you blankly, reminiscing before releasing your chin from his gentle fingers and backing away from you as he replied:

┃ “I could ask you the same.”

You remained looking at him for a few moments, before deciding it wasn’t worth engaging with him. He watched as you carried your project back to your designated locker, locked it, and put on your backpack before asking the professor if you could leave since it was time to go. Glancing at his watch, he announced class was dismissed and you quickly rushed out before bumping into Hakkai directly outside the door to the left, who was waiting for Mitsuya. You apologized to him instantly, to which he smiled and patted your head. A conversation ensued between the two of you and as Mitusya walked out, he saw the two of you engaging and laughing. It almost identically mimicked the way you acted with Takemichi, innocently smiling and staring at him so adoringly. He envied the comfortability you both shared in your relationship, the air bubbling with chemistry. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s staring until one of his club members taps his shoulder, greeting him and complimenting his outfit.

┃ “Hey, Kashi! Love your jacket, is it new?”

Now he’s here, back at his place with one of his kohai’s as he pushes her into the wall, roughly kissing her and quickly unbuttoning her shirt as she unzips his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and soon the rest of their clothes follow. Moans and groans fill the room, although most of them are hers. He’s painfully silent throughout their session, too frustrated to really focus on her-- however, she’s too accentuated on her own pleasure to notice he’s simply using her as a stress reliever and nothing more. There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s beautiful, she’s skilled, talented, kind, but she’s simply not you. She looks nothing like you but her voice, oh god her voice, it sounded almost just like yours. Her moans made his skin heat up, imagining it was your warm silky hands embracing him, you begging him to love you more. It was enough to satisfy him for now, just enough to pretend the woman he was pleasuring so much was you. She moaned his name and he bit his lip, using all of his might to fight the instinct to moan out your name instead. His slams grew harsher and tougher, releasing all of that pent up desire and anger in single strokes. The rest of the night was a blur, as soon as he pulled off the condom he went to sleep, bored of her.

┃ “Kashi~”

He sighed, remembering his idiocy of yesterday evening and how he’d now have to gently reject this girl without letting her know he simply used her as a distraction. He spent a good minute contemplating her name before she spoke to him again.

┃ “Kashi? You alright?”

┃ “Mmh, sorry... just tired.”

┃ “Ah, it’s fine sleepyhead~ you know, yesterday was really fun, we should do it more often. How about a date tonight?.”

┃ “Awh...dear… that’s awfully sweet of you… I’m just not looking for something serious right now. I’m just into one-night stands at the moment.”

┃ “Oh… oh! Maybe we could be sex partners then?”

┃ “Ah, Sure… sure.” He privileged her with a smile of pure pity, relaxing his head back on the pillow, hoping to drift back to sleep so once he awoke she’d be long gone. The plan was if she ever reached out for sex again, he’d just come up with some excuse on how he was busy finishing a project. His mind drifted off, thinking about seeing you in class, only to remember it was a Saturday and that meant he didn’t have class with you-- in fact, Saturday’s were a relatively free day for him. He booked himself with classes every other day and decided he should have at least one day off. You know what that meant? He’d have to fucking dread it with this chick until she took the hint and left. The faster he fell asleep, the sooner this day would be over. He didn’t bother to listen to the woman as she continued speaking to him, closing his eyes as he censored her out and slowly drifted back to sleep.

tags: @haiq-trash, @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron

a/n: f in the chat for anyone who thought bully! Mitsuya had healthy coping mechanisms, also you should check out @darenimo if you already haven't because she helped me proofread this chapter and gave me all of her commentary while reading it and I sobbed for a good 10 minutes straight. I love she.

[cxsmicmyeon]

TEASE , PCY [M]

park chayeol x fem! reader

IN WHICH you’re extremely needy while at a business meeting with your mob boss boyfriend and you decide to be a brat and tease the daylights out of him.

genre: mafia au, smut (like pure filth) word count: 1.2k warnings: exhibitionism, thigh riding (in a public setting! i don’t condone this lmao), small instance of orgasm denial, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex (do not try this at home! wrap it before you pack it), bit of choking, cock warming, hard-dom & mob boss! yeol (that’s a warning all on its own)

author’s note: another req from anon!! hope u like the little spin i put on it <3 GAH hard dom mob boss! yeol got me all worked up helpppp 😫😭

You wanted him.

You wanted him bad. 

You wanted him to fucking use his power as the most notorious mob boss in Seoul to kick everyone out and have his way with you right then and there.

You weren’t in the mood to hear Chanyeol’s right-hand man prattle on and on about rising cocaine sales and other bullshit you could not be bothered to know about. You wanted, no, needed Chanyeol’s touch.

He had you on his lap, ringed hands resting on the curve of your back and your ass as he listened intently to Baekhyun’s incessant ranting. You internally groaned, reaching over to grab Chanyeol’s glass of scotch and downing it like it was your last drink. 

Clearly the alcohol did not help your situation; it only left you needier and yearning for Chanyeol to fuck some sense into you. Everything he did turned you on: how his hands rested on your body, his short hums he’d utter to indicate he was listening, the way his silver hair fell perfectly over his forehead. 

You wanted him so bad.

You wanted him so bad, that you decided to try and tease him a bit. Smirking, you pressed your already soaking crotch down onto Chanyeol’s thigh. At that, he looked up at you with a hardened gaze, silently warning you to behave. You only grew wetter at the thought of not listening to his command, opting to grind down on his thigh even harder and trailing a finger down his cheek.

“I want you,” you whispered, rolling your hips down. “Want you so bad.” You had to hold in a moan as Chanyeol’s grip on your ass tightened, not halting his conversation with his newest business mogul. You quickly picked up the pace, making sure to put utmost care into each of your movements, wanting his beige slacks to be completely stained with your arousal. You wore your sheerest panties for a reason, after all.

You felt some of the men’s eyes on you as you continued rubbing yourself on him. Your small hand reached down to Chanyeol’s crotch, feeling his hardening bulge through the fabric of his pants. He gripped your wrist and tilted your head down so you were looking right at him. He placed both of his hands at your hips, stopping your motions.

“Behave, baby girl.” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. The sound of his husky baritone sent a chill down your spine. Now more than ever did you want to stain his slacks and come all over his thigh, to show all of those seedy mafia men in the club what their boss did to you. 

As soon as Chanyeol’s grip on your hips loosened, you jumped right back into what you were doing earlier. You grinded more and more against Chanyeol’s thigh, each thrust causing you to hold back a loud cry of pleasure. You knew that everyone’s eyes were on you at this point, hearing expeltives and soft wolf-whistles from Chanyeol’s men. It drove you nuts, giving all of these mafia men a show that your boyfriend so obviously did not want you to do. Oh how you wanted him to show them that you were his and only his.

Your lips teetered toward Chanyeol’s ear, moaning oh-so-softly as you worked yourself closer to your orgasm. Just as you were at the cusp of coming all over his thigh, Chanyeol stood from his seat, wrapping your legs around his torso.

“Get out, all of you. Get out of here before I fill all of your godforsaken brains with lead!” he boomed, taking his lucky pistol from the table and holding it in the direction of most of the men. They quickly obeyed, rushing out of the seedy nightclub while Chanyeol took you to your private bedroom above the club.

In an instant, he tossed you onto the bed, hovering over you with anger and lust swimming in his blown pupils. He grabbed your cheeks in one hand and tilted your head down to his pants, showing you just how much you’ve stained his slacks.

“Do you see what you’ve done, baby girl? Teasing Daddy like this and ruining his best pants? Do you like disobeying me? Huh?” he rasped, releasing your face from his grip and immediately tearing your designer dress in half and tossing it aside.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” you pleaded, moaning out when he squeezed both of your breasts. Hard.

“You better be sorry, princess. Daddy doesn’t like it when you moan in front of my men. Only I can hear you, got that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You watched Chanyeol rid himself of his attire from the night, growing wetter and wetter as you took in the sight of him nude as the day he was born. You reached a hand down to your panty line, pushing the fabric away and dipping your hand inside. Chanyeol turned his head and took in the sight of your hand inside of your soaked panties.

“You better not touch yourself. You’ve misbehaved enough tonight.” Chanyeol ordered. Sporting a cheeky grin, you sat up and pressed a finger down on your clit, moaning as you began to rub. Your boyfriend uttered an animalistic growl, stomping over to you with his black necktie in his hands. In one swift motion, he removed your hand from your panties, pinned your arms above your head, tied your wrists to the headboard and ripped your panties right off of you, the fabric tearing easily due to its thinness. “You’ve been a really bad girl tonight, love.”

“Then teach me a lesson, daddy.”

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you. He kissed you roughly before sliding himself inside of you, causing you to cry out in absolute bliss. He wasted no time in beginning a relentless pace, the quickness catching you off-guard yet fueling your arousal. 

“Daddy! Fuck!” you moaned, gripping one of the metal bars of the headboard. The silk tie was slowly yet surely loosening at how fast Chanyeol was pounding into you, but at this point you were too far gone to care.

“You liked everyone seeing you get off on my thigh like the slut you are, huh?" you mewled in response, feeling his hand wrap around your throat. He squeezed slightly, constricting your airways for a split second. With every moan you emitted as he continued moving against you, he’d squeeze your throat, effectively blocking the sound.

“As much as I love hearing you moan out only for me, you do need to be punished, princess.” Those words sent you completely over the edge, feeling yourself clench as you let go all over his pulsing cock, crying out his name as you came. His quick pace only grew quicker as he neared his own release, coming inside of you as he let go of your throat. 

He reached over you and untied the tie from your wrists, tossing it aside as he wrapped his strong biceps around your sweaty figure. 

“Yeollie? Aren’t you gonna... y’know...” you pointed down to your bottom halves, seeing that his softening cock was still inside of you.

“What, you don’t like my cock inside of you?”

“No no, I love being stuffed full of your cock. But you usually... pull out, right?”

“Right, but I don’t feel like moving right now. And you still need to be punished, don’t you?”

With a sigh, you pressed a chaste kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. “Yes Daddy.”

You were in for a long night.

[byuntrash101]

PARAPHILIA - Part 2

Pairing: Privé!Baekhyun x Reader; CEO!Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: EstablishedRelationship!AU, CamCouple!AU, slice of life, smut

Tags: dom/sub dynamics, bratty OC (a lil' bit), orgasm control, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, toys, (light) bondage, masturbation (f), oral (m), angry sex, name calling (at the end)

Raiting: +18 (what's new though? 😂)

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: when your (very) busy boyfriend Baekhyun is called back to work to manage his company you decide to make him regret it with (very) suggestive videos.

A/N: I don't know how many times I discarded and started over this chapter but I actually like the way it turned out 💃. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think! My asks are always open!💖💖

Tag list: @lovebuginlove @calamell​ @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession  @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist

(Artifical love will forever be that bitch! Also the way he pushes his jaw to the front, and breathing heavily like that 🥵🥵)

Paraphilia #2: AUTAGONISTOPHILIA; Being on stage or on camera

S P O T L I G H T

"How come he's still in his office... Isn't it Sunday today?" you impatiently whisper to yourself as you turn your face to the calendar that's hanging in the fancy kitchen.

You were right it is Sunday. It's already noon and you haven't seen him yet today. Baekhyun, that is. Your boyfriend. Your incredibly successful but incredibly busy boyfriend but boyfriend nonetheless.

In the quiet of the luxurious house you can hear him speak on the phone. He's probably in a business meeting with some important partners... Yeah they must be really important because he usually always makes sure he saves the Sundays for you.

Baekhyun had always been this way. When you started dating he already was the CEO of Privé. Back then he was already very busy even though it was just a very young brand at the time but it's only gotten worse over the years or better depends on how you look at it...

"The richer, the busier" you say out loud to yourself as you move to the couch of the living room.

You sigh and pull up the cover on your legs as you switch the drama you were watching back on.

Time passes and you are completely caught up in the drama. The romance displayed is very cute and you wish you could be in Baekhyun's arms right now. Then you hear steps in the staircase, you whip your head in its direction and see your boyfriend wearing an expensive and very sleek Armani suit, with his raven black hair brushed back. He impatiently looks at his gold rolex.

His high cheekbones paired with the outfit makes your heart flutter when he appears in front of you. He looks stunning, like a dream.

But something is off about his attitude...

"Are you leaving ?" you ask a tint of sadness underlining your voice.

"Yes I have to... Something came up..." he says fixing a strand of hair in front of the mirror. You bite your lip.

"But... It's Sunday today" You say sulking, giving him puppy eyes

"I know baby but it looks like our website is under a cyber attack and I have to go fix it right now. The banking info of the customers might leak..." his voice is a little harsh and you can't help but to feel hurt by his tone.

"Ok" you say, giving up with a sad smile trying to not let him see how it affected you.

"I'll be back as soon as I can" he says waving in your direction before grabbing the keys of the Audi and walking out the front door...

You sigh once again. And try to forget Baekhyun's harsh tone and furrowed brows... but after a while you realize that you reqlly can't...

You squirm on the couch, working yourself up... The Sundays are supposed to be for you. He employs hundreds of people, couldn't one of them handle the cyber attack? Plus, Baekhyun is an expert in designing styling and marketing but he knows nothing about programming and other geeky stuff you can't even name. Why is his presence mandatory? You know he's the CEO but still... Would Elon Musk run off to the office if Tesla.com was under a cyber attack?

Probably... the voice of reason in your head answers. But you shake your head, chasing away the annoying truth.

You sigh but in annoyance this time. Then an idea blooms into your mind...

"What if... I made him want to get back as soon as possible" you smirk to yourself.

You grab your phone and press record. You perk up your lips and speak in a seductive tone.

"Babe. I miss you so much..." You say as you bring your other hand to your breasts.

"I think I need you right now" You stop the recording and press send before you can change your mind.

You wait for a second and think it's not enough... And to be quite frank, the idea of Baekhyun having to hide his boner at work because of you made you eager for more teasing.

Without even thinking you start to rub yourself between your thighs as you fill the immense living room with very soft moans.

You took your shirt over your head and slided down your pants leaving them on the marble flooring.

You laid on the couch only in your matching navy blue lingerie set. You took your phone back and made another little video for your busy boyfriend.

"Baby come home" you moaned as your fingers played with your bud through the thin lace. You lower the angle to let him see the sexy lingerie set but also where your fingers were. You felt the thrill of doing something so naughty on camera. You bit your lip as you pressed down harder on your core sending electricity throughout your body.

You hit send and drop the phone. You imagine Baekhyun getting these at the board meeting  and secretly stroking himself underneath the table, his dick threatening to rip out of his pants at any time.

Your phone buzzes as you receive a response. You smirk evilly knowing it's your powerful boyfriend being distracted.

"Stop that" he demands.

The smirk only spreads further on your face. You always liked to be a dissident little brat. So you decide to go even further.

You videotape yourself again. This time you slip your hand inside your panties and gasp at the cold sensation of your fingers against your hot folds. You dip them inside your center, moaning shamelessly.

You set your phone to the side and rub yourself over your panties again. You let the room be filled with soft moans and whimpers. Already picturing Baekhyun's clenched fist underneath the meeting table as the shareholders talk to him about the cyber attack. His mind only being preoccupied with your needy moans and sweet dripping pussy.

"Mmmh... Baekhyun... If you want me to stop..." You pump your fingers inside your heat, you feel your walls tighten around them, excited by the thought of being disobedient but also on tape. "Come and make me" you say showing the camera the long strings of juices coating your fingers. Quickly you press send again.

You smirk again as you moan louder, circling your clit through the drenched fabric of your panties.

Then you hear your phone buzz again. You read the text from, you're sure of it, your very angry boyfriend.

"I'm in the car I'll be over in 10 minutes I want to see you in the R-Room"

A huge smile spreads on your lips. You made it, you made your boyfriend return to you. You were so happy you didn't care about the consequences. You happily hopped off the couch and shuffled to the R-Room. You even left behind your clothes, still on the ground , knowing damn well, the mess was going to piss off Baekhyun even further.

You pushed in the door of the R-Room. This room was the only one of the villa that didn't have any windows. It was completely dark. You pushed on the light switch. In the middle was a table, with leather straps at every corner. One camera right over the table, filming it. Another one was on a tripod on the side. And a third one was for the close ups. Because in fact, the "R" stood for "Recording".

In this room,  you and Baekhyun made sextapes. Baekhyun initiated you years ago. Before it felt so wrong and you refused to be filmed from the neck up. You didn't even want to be fully naked. But now, you would simply slip on the black lace rabbit mask and you let Baekhyun bind you and do whatever he pleased to you in front of the camera.

Recently Baekhyun even convinced you to start a livestream show of your escapades. Quickly you two became really popular. Of course, Baekhyun is kind of a public figure due to his job so he never shows his face but you don't mind.

It was the most thrilling feeling. Imagining thousands of strangers touching themselves to you. Suggesting to Baekhyun things to do to you.

You slipped off your bra. You wanted to be nice and ready for Baekhyun when he came back. You put your hair up in a neat bun, even set up the cameras. You're so busy that you don't hear Baekhyun ruffling up the stairs.

He pushes the door open. Making you jump. He's mad sure but he can't help but to smile when he sees you completely naked, already waiting for him. But he doesn't intend on being easy on you, not after what you did.

You stiffen up as you see his smile fade away, walking towards you. He presses his clothed body against your naked one. He takes your chin in his cold slender fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You think you can make me this mad purposely just to make me fuck you?" You feel your cheeks grow red. "I don't think so missy" He lets go of you and turns around, ready to leave.

No no no, you think. You worked yourself up so much. You knew you were going to get punished but you didn't imagine that... It never crossed your mind that Baekhyun could actually just leave you hanging like this.

"S-should I turn off the c-cameras?" you stutter in a last attempt to make him change his mind. He stops as an even better idea blooms in his mind.

"You know what? No... keep them rolling"

A smile grows on your unsuspecting lips. Baekhyun goes to the laptop and to your different social media platforms where he types a message:

"Surprise live show to punish a disobedient little bunny rabbit"

Within seconds comments start to flow in. People were really excited to get a surprise unscheduled live. And so were you, cause you had no idea what Baekhyun had in store for you.

Baekhyun handed you the familiar bunny ears black mask. Your fingers trailed the lace details before you placed it on.

Baekhyun did some arrangements before switching the live on. The red light of the cameras started to blink and you knew you were on for one hell of a ride.

"All right everybody! Good evening! We are live today" Baekhyun said as the three cameras stared at your naked body.

You saw the first comments on the screen of the laptop.

"Wow already nice and ready"

"Ugh Bunny is so cute"

"I wish I was there to see Bunny irl"

Goosebumps poked up on your bare skin.

"Everyone today Bunny was very naughty and I had to punish her. So, I told myself why not let all of you enjoy it as well. Bunny..." Baekhyun turned to you. "Explain to our friends what you did" You looked up at your pissed off boyfriend.

"I... I disturbed master as he was busy... and was defiant"

"Good girl" Baekhyun caressed your cheek with his thumb.

You read some comments again.

"Oooh Bunny is in trouble hehe"

"Master!! Can't let this flow! gotta show her who's boss"

"Ok, so Bunny" Baekhyun starts "You will start by pleasing master" You looked up at him again you knew exactly what it meant. Baekhyun's hand left your cheeks to press on your shoulder. "On your knees Bunny".

His hand takes a tight hold on your bun as the other one unbuckles his belt and takes out his already rock hard cock.

"Open wide." he says his teeth shining under the indirect spotlight of the dark room.

You open your mouth and Baekhyun doesn't give you time to approach. Instead as soon as your mouth is open he rams his cock inside, hitting the back of your throat right away.  By reflex you want to pull away but his hand around you bun maintains your head right in place.

Right then and there, you finally mesure how mad you have made him. He's never this rough, at least not right at the beginning before you had any chance of teasing him and running his patience thin. But you did all that… just with your videos… Teasing him until he can only process the desire he has for you through rough angry sex.

He starts the thrust himself in your mouth. You gag loudly on his cock, trying to catch a breath, but he doesn't let you.

"Come on, look at the camera, baby. Let them see how pretty you are with my cock down your throat" Baekhyun whispers in a low husky voice. Your tears filled eyes turn to the camera where you have a look at the comments.

"Uh ohhh... Master really IS mad"

"Bunny's mouth must feel so good"

Baekhyun gradually slows down his pace, allowing you to finally breathe. He pops his dick out of your mouth, while you pant. You look back excepting more face fucking but instead Baekhyun is turning the cameras to the table.

Already? you think. But you still get up and walk to the table, quickly checking the comments again.

"Are we bounding Bunny already?"

"Oh yessss!! The fuck-table!!!"

You sat and one after the other, Baekhyun tied your wrists and ankles to the corners of the table with the attached straps. You were now laying there, leg spreads wide, completely exposed to the +15K people that were watching you right now. You bite your lip feeling the familiar thrill swell up in your chest again.

Then Baekhyun approached with the vibrator. He pressed the button and turned it on. The buzzing sounds made you anticipate the feeling of it. You lightly squirm in your restrains. Baekhyun skipped directly to the most powerful setting. You looked at him, he was wearing that same evil smile again...

He places the vibe on your drenched heat. First at your entrance, you gasped loudly. Goosebumps spreading on your skin. With agonizing slowness he brought the vibe to your clit. The incredible speed of the vibrations took you by surprise and you immediately threw your head back, pulling hardly on the straps as unexpected pleasure took possession of you.

Your moans filled the cramped dark room. Tears started to form again, your body didn't know how to react to such an intense and unknown sensation. You felt you juices rundown your legs and coat your thighs.

"Aaaah Master... I'm cumming" you warned Baekhyun and he instantly switched the vibe off. You looked back up at him with pleading eyes, a desperate whimper escaped your lips.

"M-Master p-please" you stuttered.

"Bunny, you really think you can be disobedient like this and expect master to let you cum?" Baekhyun's low voice sent a shiver down your spine. His hands traveled to your folds, slightly playing with your sensitive bud, he coated his fingers with your juices before bringing them to your lips.

"Taste yourself baby" you hungrily sucked his digits, grazing your teeth on them. But he took them back before you were even finished. Your eyes laid on the screen.

"Ohhh Bunny how do you feel?"

"Bunny's desperate moans are the BEST!!"

Again, you heard the buzzing sound of the vibe. Only this time the vibration was really low, barely audible.

You felt the soft vibrations directly on your swollen clit. You didn't even have time to process the feeling that Baekhyun was pushing himself inside your wetness. You moaned loudly as you felt his hot cock stretch you deliciously. When he reached the bottom of you he gently pulled out. He then grabbed a piece of duct tape and secured the vibe on your clit. You moaned again, instantly missing him inside you. But it wasn't for long because he thrusted himself back in with all his might. A strangled moan escaped your lips, Baekhyun chuckled coldly.

"Oops, sorry baby. Had to check if the vibe was well secured... Yeah it didn't move"

Yes, you knew that much as the delicious sensation of the soft vibrations didn't stop for a second.

Soon he started to move at a comfortable pace. His length explored the deepest part of you and you completely lost yourself along the way. Between the vibe and his never ending back and forth your mind went completely blank. 

"Look at the camera baby. Show this beautiful expression." Baekhyun's deep voice said.

You looked straight at the camera that was a close up of your face. You looked at the tiny return of the image. Your hair was an absolute mess. Your now loose bun was violently jumping with each of Baekhyun's thruts. Your eyes were fluttering close, rolled back. You looked delighted... and god knows you were. Baekhyun's big bulging cock felt like heaven inside you. You were so so so close to your release. Your toes curled upwards as you felt Baekhyun dig deeper inside you, his hands gripping tightly on your widely open thighs.

"Master, aaaah...  I'm so... aaah... close" you said. But then again. Baekhyun abruptly pulled out of you and switched off the vibe. Leaving your desperate little cunt hungry for more of him. You whimpered and looked at him again.

"Not yet baby" Baekhyun's low voice said. You squirmed, pulling on your restrains, protesting. The comments flew in again.

"No orgasm for Bunny!"

"I bet Bunny really regrets being disobedient now hehe"

You felt tears of frustration form in the corner of your eyes. You looked at your still pissed boyfriend.

"Please Master" you pleaded as you bucked your hips upwards, shamelessly showing him and the viewers your red and completely desperate pussy. Baekhyun chuckled coldly.

"Look at you acting like a bitch in heat, pushing up your swollen little cunt up in the air like this" you felt shame but the straps kept you from closing your legs. You could only whimper and squirm. Baekhyun brought his thumb to your mouth and you immediately sucked on it.

"You want to cum baby girl?" he asked, his voice somewhat softening. You nodded sucking vigorously on his thumb.

"Then fucking beg for it like a proper slut" he said back with his harsh tone, through greeted teeth, popping his finger out of your mouth.

One single tear rolled on your cheek. But you would have done anything. Anything in the world for him to finally let you cum.

"Master, please... I-"

"To the camera baby girl" Baekhyun interrupted you. You turned your head to the close up camera.

"I'm sorry for disobeying my master. I'm sorry for being dissident. I will do everything to make master forgive me." Baekhyun raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"What do you say everybody?"

Your eyes went to the screen again.

"That was weak!"

"Make her beg again"

"I would just leave her like this tbh"

You turned back to Baekhyun as he smirked again.

"Gotta have to do better than this Bunny" You took a deep breath and looked at the staring camera.

"Please, Master. This bitch is yours. She would do everything to please her master, She really has learned her lesson. If you accept to fuck me more I promise I will make master feel better then ever." That intrigued him.

"What do you think guys?"

"Yes she was good enough. She deserved it."

"#dickforbunny"

Baekhyun then suddenly thrusted inside you. You gasped as the delicious sensation filled your mind again. You missed him so much these past few seconds. Your pussy was tightly gripping around his fat cock. Holding onto it like it was scared to lose it again, suffocating it in the process. And Baekhyun bit his bottom lip as your warmth enveloped him. He grunted loudly, fucking you senseless.

"Aaaah... master it's so fucking good..." you said moaning shamelessly in front of thousands of strangers.

Without a heads up, he switched back on the vibe, all the way up. The vibration was so powerful, that even Baekhyun felt your whole pussy vibrate and twitch around him. Your nails dug in your palms as you felt immense pleasure wash over you.

"I'm cumming master" You screamed, thrashing your head around, unable to contain your orgasm anymore.

"That's right cum for me baby. Cum on this dick" Baekhyun groaned in a low lust filled voice.

And finally you crossed the edge. Your orgasm washed over you, making you completely drunk on the filling as your eyes rolled back while facing the camera. Your eyes could barely read anymore.

"She's cumming like a real slut haha"

"Wow look at her legs shaking"

But then. Baekhyun didn't stop, nor did the vibe.

"Master, please I just came" You cried out as your voice was cut everytime Baekhyun thrusted powerfully inside you.

"Baby girl. Once begging me to continue, now begging to stop? Make up your mind" He grunted still powerfully slamming his length inside you.

You screamed to the sensation of your sensitive clit being over stimulated. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as you continued to shake. Gradually the pleasure took over you again, not asking permission or even announcing itself. It just simply won you over.

Baekhyun and the vibe both forcing you into a second orgasm, even stronger than the first one. You arched your back and pulled hard on the restrains, the leather dug into your skin. You screamed again, completely losing to Baekhyun's fat cock.

Baekhyun continued to thrust inside you until your pussy was throbbing and sucking him in so much that he had no other choice to release his thick cum inside you. Grunting and cursing, indulging himself in the pleasure.

He slowed down his pace gradually as you fell quiet. Completely exhausted from the forced orgasm. Baekhyun pulled out and you felt his juices mixed with yours slowly drip out of you. Your mind felt numb and you weren't even able to process the words your eyes were reading.

"Bunny won't forget that punishment."

"I came so much watching Bunny shake like this"

"Bunny was fucked out of her mind... look at her... fuck so hot!"

"That was the greatest live EVERRRR"

Baekhyun laughed while reading them.

"I'm glad you guys enjoyed. I'll end it now and will put Bunny to bed" he chuckled looking back at you, chest still heaving up and down, glistening with sweat.

Baekhyun picked you up and carried you to your bedroom where you instinctively snuggled under the blanket. You had a content smile plastered on your lips.

"I'm going to disobey everytime now" you said before immediately passing out. Baekhyun just lightly chuckled before laying soft kisses on your forehead.

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist  

Please tell me what you thought in my asks or the comments 💖💖

[loganmarloe]

Prompted Writing #10

Prompt: You wind up in hell. You are confused at first until you see a row of people in front of you, crying profusely. You weren’t sent to hell to be punished, you were sent as the punishment.

—————

Nusha rolled over in bed, eyes still shut. “Mmmm,” she said to nobody. She lived alone. “Uhhn.”

Something felt different. The sheets were nice, but a bit nicer than she thought she remembered. Maybe that new fabric softener really worked like the ad promised.

She sat up and unhooked her eye mask from one ear. Instead of bright sunlight from her window, she saw a soft orange glow. Curiously, though, it didn’t come from the window. Indeed, there was no window.

Nusha threw off the covers, stood, and walked over to the wall that wasn’t her wall and patted it where the orange glow was emanating. It was unexpectedly cool.

She tossed the eye mask onto the bed, which also wasn’t hers. She turned around and around, trying to figure out where she was. The room was nice, but she’d definitely gone to sleep in her own bed, so was appropriately confused.

She opened the wardrobe that stood against a non-glowing wall. Inside were some of her favorite clothes. She was pleased, but confused even more because these items represented various periods of time over the course of her 63 years.

She selected a rainbow t-shirt and pair of short overalls she’d worn when visiting a glacier as part of a climate change summit she attended in her 20s. They fit amazingly as well as back then.

She found a pair of sneakers she remembered wearing in junior high school. They were far cleaner than when she’d last seen them. She stuffed her feet into them without socks, as was her way back then.

She went to the door and tentatively turned the knob; it opened easily. She cracked the door open a few inches and peeked out. She saw no one, so she opened it a bit more and stuck her head into the hallway.

Looking up and down the long corridor, she noted the air was a bit stale, but otherwise pleasantly cool.

She shrugged inwardly and walked out of the room. Initially unsure of which direction to take, she decided to go left.

The corridor seemed longer on first inspection, but she must have been mistaken. She reached a double set of ornately enameled doors very quickly.

She admired the birds of paradise design for a moment before turning the equally ornate handles.

When she walked in, she gasped at the opulence. There was a large table set with piles of food on fancy silver and gold platters.

There was but one chair, but it was beautiful. It looked very old, but made of a rich, dark wood she’d never seen before. There was scrimshaw work up and down the sides. The upholstery was of the softest silk.

She helped herself to coffee in a porcelain cup of elegant design. As she sat down, she sipped. The taste was the best she’d ever had and the chair was the most comfortable.

She sighed happily as she set the cup in its saucer. Then she spotted a mirror at the far end of the ridiculously large room. She strode over and looked at herself, gasping again. She was young again - no more than 25 years old.

As she gazed at her long-lost reflection, she decided she must be in Nirvana. She returned to her seat and began to eat. A little while later, someone joined her.

The door opened softly behind her, so she didn’t hear him coming as she finished a chewy bite of delightful baklava.

“Ah, baklava, one of my favorites” the man said with a soothingly deep voice. Nevertheless, she jumped slightly. “I am sorry, dear Nusha, I did not mean to startle you.”

She set down the fork and looked up as he came around to the front of her table. She looked him up and down. He wasn’t particularly tall nor short. His hair was a beautiful, silky dark brown. His cheeks had a trim beard with just a touch of lighter brown on either side of his face. His caramel brown eyes smiled as merrily as his full lips.

Finally, she said, “How do you know my name? Who are you? And where am I? I’m assuming I’m dead, considering my apparent youth despite my greater years.”

The man chuckled and sat down opposite her in a chair that wasn’t there a moment ago. He poured a glass of wine for himself and refilled hers. “I am Gerian and I know who you are because I pulled strings to bring you here. You are neither alive nor dead.” Before she could utter a disbelieving sound, he held up a staying hand. “There’s no more that I can explain. Please, finish your meal. Afterward, I will escort you to your, ah, project room.”

She looked at him through squinted eyes for a long moment before picking up her fork again. “You’re a weird little man. Normally, I’d get up and leave, but I don’t know where I am. Also, this is the best baklava I’ve ever had, so I’m going to finish it.”

Gerian watched her enjoy the dessert and then stood after she’d satisfactorily wiped her mouth. “This way,” he said with a flourish toward a door she hadn’t noticed before. It seemed to be in shadow, though the room was brightly lit.

He held the door open while she walked through. It took a moment before her eyes adjusted to the darkness within. She walked toward curtains that seemed to split the room in half. Where the fabric met, a bright slice of light shone. As she approached it, Gerian pulled it aside. On the other side were people. They were lined up against a wall under harsh light and looked confused, sad, anxious, and varying degrees of annoyed.

As her eyes further adjusted, she began to recognize some of them. The last one on the left was her gym teacher from junior high school, though Nusha had heard she’d died more than a decade ago. The one just to the right of center was a woman she’d worked for briefly after college. Amazingly, her own father, who she’d known only until she was six years old, was the second to last one on the right.

After several minutes, she realized she knew all of these people and they were all supposed to be dead. She turned to Gerian, who’d anticipated her questions.

“Yes, you know them. No, you’re not crazy. Time has little meaning here, so it was simple to bring them all together for this moment.”

Nusha looked at all of their faces in turn as she thought frantically about what this all could mean. She stepped forward out of the shadows. In doing so, the others could now see her. Some of them gasped. Others just looked at her, eyes wide. A few of them started to cry quietly. The woman she’d worked for after college started to bawl loudly. On her father’s face, there was no sign of recognition.

Nusha sucked in a breath and looked at Gerian. “This isn’t Nirvana or some other sort of heavenly place, is it?” He merely smiled blandly, eyes twinkling as they looked back at her.

“Am I in some sort of hell? What did I do? I wasn’t a bad person!” Gerian’s smile turned to an amused smirk.

She looked at the people again and it suddenly dawned on her that every one of them had done her wrong in some way. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

She slowly paced back and forth along the lineup of people, then stopped, turning toward her host. “Am I… Am I their punishment?”

Gerian’s smirk deepened. He watched Nusha for a moment, clearly struggling with her thoughts, and then sighed dramatically.

“Yes, darling, you are their punishment,” he said, flapping his hand at her as her lips began to open. “No, you don’t have to do any actual physical punishment, if you don’t want to. If you do, please give me a moment to grab my popcorn.”

He looked at her expectantly. “No? Oh, well. Moving on! The objective here is to make these contemptible creatures regret their mistakes. Once you finish, you can go back to your life.”

Nusha staggered back into a column she hadn’t seen upon entering. She straightened and then relaxed against it, face pensive, for several long minutes. Her former employer, Laurie, started to beg her for mercy.

She looked at the pathetic fool. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered how she tormented her on the job. She also remembered crying in just such a manner when Laurie fired her over the phone when she’d been injured and unable to work after a car accident that hadn’t even been her fault. Nusha had also begged. Laurie had no mercy then.

“Let’s do this.”

[raamyun-and-rambles]

Utterly Foolish

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Xiao x Reader

!! Character death and angst !! *Use of Alatus rather than Xiao*

He won't let himself get too close. Alatus thought.

Your voice was much too precious, too heavenly to lose to the nauseating miasma of death that seeps from his skin like a poisonous haze. Your smile - which sets his heart ablaze - was as bright as the morning sun, warming his heart in the most gentle of ways. Your touch, as he remembers, is often laden with care. Even for a being such as he, you embrace him with a kindness that he's never known until now. Alatus remembers the way your touch seared against his skin, fingers dancing over his bright tattoo, delicately tracing the intricate design as your eyes twinkled in fascination and delight.

(He won't ever admit he found you breathtaking in that moment.)

Alatus is convinced he won't ever forget the way you call his name.

Lilted with a childlike excitement and a joy that he couldn't understand. There was no reason for you to possibly want to be with him now is there? Surely you understand that he was naught but a weapon, a being whose only purpose was to kill and to take while you were anything but. To Alatus you were everything good, everything he wasn't and he was afraid of tarnishing that light with his tainted hands. But for some reason he can't bring himself to tear his eyes away from you as your gaze shifted onto patches of orange and yellow blossoms, an usual bashfulness as you refused to meet his gaze.

The worry in his chest had bubbled and an apology was ready on the tip of his tongue but your hand suddenly shot up and grabbed his sleeve, wrinkling the fabric with your tight grip.

"Because I love you." You muttered to no one but the wind.

But Alatus had heard.

As loud as his heartbeat drumming against his ears and - Alatus figured, in a moment of disbelief - it was the first time he forgot how to breathe.

.

.

.

Oh how foolish he was to forget his own warnings.

Trapped in the sweet poison of the words on your tongue, entranced by your warmth and ensnared by a promise of a morrow that would never come. Alatus had nearly forgotten he was cursed. He has fallen deeper than he initially thought he would, surrounded by the sweet scent of lilacs and a scent that he could only call as yours. He has grown weak, bones weary and heart heavy from the weight of his sins and yet when you are settled around him like this he feels as though he could fly. Your lullabies lull him to a sleep he didn't know an immortal could ever need and it scared him how quickly you seemed to change him yet fitted against him so perfectly as if you've always meant to be there, like a puzzle piece needed to complete himself, Alatus can't ever remember how life had been without your presence. Tomorrow will come and that morrow will bring about more slaughter and sin and he knows it will stretch him apart until he's spread thin, sanity teetering over the edge. But for now he'll indulge in the illusion you've prepared for him, empty promises filling the air as the moon wanes outside the window of your humble home.

Perhaps...Just maybe, he'll allow himself to indulge just once, Alatus thought, muttering the same words you had into the crevice of your neck.

"I love you too."

.

.

.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

It repeats like a mantra in his head as he stands amidst a house burnt to nothing but ash and dust. Alatus scurries over to your side, panicked gaze flitting from your ashen face to the wound on your stomach that gushed blood onto the earth beneath you. He had only been gone for a few hours, summoned by the god to do his bidding, he should have known - he should have been here - any punishment would have been acceptable so long as he knew you were alive and well. He should have- he should have- he should have-

Your breathing was shallow and black speckled your vision and yet despite being in such a state you could still hear how loudly he wails.

Alatus flinches when he feels your hand against his cheek, smearing red against his porcelain skin as you attempted to swipe away his tears. You smile despite yourself, ignoring the pain as you willed yourself to sing.

Perhaps even in your last moments you can bestow upon him a song to drive his nightmares away. You can allow yourself a little wishful thinking.

"Hush... Now my angel, I will always be with you In your pretty smile In a glow of tears I'll be there with you."

"Look how the stars shine.." You trail off, more a whisper than an actual tune as your senses start to numb. Alatus catches your falling hand, scrambling closer to you as he hoarsely cries out your name.

"Know that my love for you will always ring true."

Foolish.

Alatus curses every god in Celestia - curses every heavenly being - as the light left your eyes and your hand grew limp against his own. He doesn't remember what happens next, much of it has become a blur but Alatus remembers screaming and crying until his voice withered away, remembers the way his hand gripped yours tightly in his and shaking you as if you'll rouse from your sleep.

Alatus knows now that he'll never see your eyes shine with the reflection of the stars or gaze upon him with so much love and affection that his heart swells at the mere thought of it. Your voice will never reach him again, whether in jest or in song and it hurts to know that you've been robbed of your lullabies and joyous laughter. Alatus knows he'll never feel your warmth again or your lips on his and the mere thought of spending his remaining days in solitude as he always had before meeting you pricked tears into his eyes.

He regrets not saying he loved you more often when he could or doing more to have made you happy despite claiming his presence alone was enough to make your day.

He had trapped himself in a false security, drunk on the prospect of the happiness that you provided and that ultimately became his sin.

Alatus figures he's being punished.

For trying to obtain something that was never supposed to be within his reach, for dreaming that he too, could one day deserve the happiness he has prayed to countless gods to but have alas fallen onto deaf ears. He laughs, a bitter kind of laugh as he rests his forehead against yours.

.

.

.

How utterly foolish he has been.

[thewildwaffle]

The Prisoner - Part 4

I was on a roll after part 3 and had this cute little scene pop up into my head. Plus, Garn really needed a moment to rest and take a breath, he’s been through a lot these past few days!

Part 1       Part 2        Part 3

The ship was relatively quiet. Or at least as quiet as a ship can be while bumbling around in space. Perhaps the more appropriate description was that the ship was peaceful. Garn decided that he liked peaceful. He wasn’t sure he understood what it was that he was feeling at first, he’d had so few peaceful moments growing up and working under the Syndicate, but once he figured it out, he decided that it was quite agreeable with him. It seemed to be for Porter as well. His smaller human friend had been recovering quickly after their run-in with Maika the assassin back at the Tupiti Space Port. He could now walk on the leg, albeit with a noticeable limp. Thankfully, it hadn’t seemed to affect his bright and energetic personality, much to Garn’s relief.

Right now though, Porter was asleep. As was Embry, the ship’s medic of sorts. During his time on the ship, he’d been able to piece together a bit more information about his new companions. Embry, he’d learned, had never actually received a medical license. She had training but had never finished. When he inquired more as to why, Embry changed the topic and became much more curt with any further additions to the conversation. Porter was a lot more forthcoming with his backstory. The gist of it was that he’d taken part in some big trading agreement with a private Earth organization and a splinter group from the Bartu Sovereignty that went bad. There’d been some illegal business “under the table” as Porter put it, and he’d been set up as the “fall guy”. The fact that he was a weapons expert and many of the illegal going-ons had to do with the criminal trade of experimental weapons only helped solidify his ��guilt” to the authorities that cared. Porter had spent a good part of an entire rotation explaining in great detail how he’d talked, bribed, and fought his way out of the hands of bounty hunters, angry crime lords, sneaking under the radar of law enforcement, and in general living life on the run before he stowed away on The Shasta, this ship, where he met Kaya and Tig.

Then there were those two. The elder human and the kloxan’s story were still a mystery to him. All he’d really gotten to know so far was that they’d been part of a Galactic Confederation crew together. Garn didn’t know much about the Galactic Confederation, other they were considered a continual, pestering antagonist of the Trinn-Har’rups. He’d guarded prisoners of the GC captured by the Syndicate before they faced an unknown, though likely grisly, punishment for the crime of standing in the Syndicate’s way.

Garn felt that among the ranks of guards and soldiers, the Galactic Confederation and those that aligned with them were thought of to be pretentious, power-hungry manipulators. He’d always been around that sentiment, so he never questioned it before. He’d had no need to. Now he was on a ship that had two of them as acting captain and first-mate. Granted they were former Galactic Confederation, so maybe that old profile didn’t fit them. After all, he was now a former guard of the Trinn-Har’rup Syndicate, the stigmas tied up with him probably no longer fit so well either.

And anyway, Porter stayed with them, so they couldn’t be so bad.

Garn rose from the small pile of blankets, pillows, and towels that was currently acting as his bed. Porter had Embry help him scour the ship for as many soft fabrics and items that could be spared to make a spot for Garn to sleep until they could install an actual bed for him. It was nice, but he’d never slept on anything so soft before. Comfortable as it was, between the unaccustomed softness and the overall unfamiliarity that surrounded him, he’d had a hard time finding sleep. As carefully and quietly as he could, he made his way out of the sleeping quarters and down the short hall toward the main hangar room he’d been in when he’d first entered the ship.

The ship was old, but he had to admit that it had been well kept and he’d almost say lovingly maintained. He gave a small half-smile as his eyes ran over the designs in and around the ship. They were outdated. He might even call them antiquated. He liked it though. It felt right and… well he wasn’t sure how else to describe it. Inviting? Warm? Graceful? It was… he felt… like he could belong here. And that made him all the happier.

As he shuffled into the main room, he stood for a moment before he sat down on a bench along the wall to continue processing his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that, listening to the hum of the ship’s engines and systems when he heard a small quiet grunt to his left. Snapping his eyes open, he searched in the darkness for the source.

His eyes caught a glint of movement from a chair. He felt his fur rise as he instinctively anticipated having to defend himself from an attack. None came though. His brain finally took in what his eyes were trying to see. There was no secret attacker, just human Kaya sitting in a very regal-looking chair. His fur dropped back down and he sighed a breath of relief.

“Sorry I startled you,” Kaya chuckled quietly. Garn could see her shoulders bounce slightly as she shifted in her chair. His eyes ran down her arm. Or where her arm had been. He’d been right earlier that day they’d first met. She hadd stopped what she must have thought was him going to attack Embry. The prosthetic he’d seen her wearing that day and every day since was now no longer attached. Her arm ended just above where her elbow should have been.

After a few tries, he was able to successfully look away. It was hard though. He’d heard humans were capable of surviving attacks or accidents even after losing a limb, but it had seemed like such a far-fetched tale that he wasn’t sure if he’d believed it. The shock alone of having lost a body part was enough to kill many species, but humans, as he now knew, were hardy and stubborn when it came to staying alive and continuing on.

“I… I didn’t realize you were here. I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he murmured as he stood up, feeling like he had intruded on something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re fine, Garn. Sit back down.” It wasn’t a command, it came out softer, like an invitation. He paused and considered that. An invitation. He slowly nodded and sat back down.

“Having a hard time sleeping too, huh?” the human sighed as she leaned further back in her chair.

Garn nodded sharply, then unsure how well humans could see in the dark followed up with a curt, “Yes ma’am.”

Kaya laughed again. “I told you before, you don’t need to call me ma’am.”

“Sorry ma-... uh, sorry. I will try to remember better.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure it’s what you’re used to. I, for one, know old habits die hard.” Her tone was soft and quiet. So unlike the interactions and reprimandings he was accustomed to in his life up to this point.

He settled down a little more, muscles finally starting to drop their worried tension as the two of them sat in the darkness. He eventually relaxed enough that he felt comfortable to break the silence.

“Are you… are you having a hard time sleeping ma- uh, human Kaya?”

She didn’t laugh this time, but Garn could hear the quiet smile in her voice, “We’ll get you through all your formalities yet.” She sighed and stroked her hand over where her left arm ended. “I am. Just some old phantom pains acting up again.”

“Phantom pains?” That sounded serious. Should he go wake Embry?

The worry in his voice must have been picked up because Kaya gently waved him back down as she reached to the counter and picked up a dark mug and sat back in her chair. “My arm may be gone, but sometimes my brain forgets. Sometimes it feels like my arm itches, sometimes it hurts, or at least my brain thinks it does. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but still more than I’d like. Especially when I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She sipped slowly from the mug in her hand. Whatever was in it smelled sweet and calming. Kaya noticed him watching as she lowered the cup and rested it on her lap.

“Mint tea,” she explained. “It helps. Or at least, enjoying a warm cup of it helps me take my mind off the pain.”

Garn nodded silently, not sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for this situation. He couldn’t take his eyes off her arm and where it ended, but he also knew that for many species, staring for too long at a person could be considered a challenge to a duel, or at least considered rude. Kaya didn’t seem to notice though, more focused on the mug in her hand.

“I brewed it myself,” She continued. “We’ve got a room here on the ship that we’ve filled with plants. It helps keep the air fresh, takes a bit of the strain off the o2 systems. That and sitting in the room or taking care of all the plants helps keep star sickness at bay.”

“Star sickness?” Garn cut in, unfamiliar with the term.

“Void sickness, star sickness, planet separation anxiety, there’s a lot of names for it. It’s not so much a physical sickness, but a mental one. I don’t know how many space-faring races have to deal with it, but it affects humans pretty frequently. It can get pretty nasty too, if it’s not dealt with. I make sure Porter, Embry, and I each spend a chunk of time in the plant room pretty regularly. It’s grounding. And relaxing. Smells nice too. A lot of the plants are, of course, good at filtering the air of impurities, but quite a few of them smell nice. Like the mint, for instance.” She took another sip from the mug and chuckled. “Even Tig likes going in there sometimes. You would think he’d find the humidity levels a pain on the circuits, but he says it doesn’t bother him. I think he finds the plants interesting. Sometimes I notice him laser etching bamboo stalks on packaging scraps when he’s bored.”

Garn hummed and nodded. He’d seen the kloxan do that too. Thinking of him and the human next to him now, he again started wondering at how different they were than what he’d always expected of someone from the Galactic Confederation. Just even in the past few solar rotations, the hard, no-nonsense shell he’d immediately attributed to her when they first met was actually more just her being firm and strong when needed, but thoughtful and gentle at her base. He’d learned so much in such a short amount of time. The galaxy was such a bigger place than he’d ever thought, so much more detailed and nuanced. It had all been so cut and dry and simple when all he knew was what the Syndicate told him. He exhaled deeply as he leaned his head back to rest against the wall.

“That’s quite the sigh,” Kaya noted. “Got a lot on your mind?”

Garn grunted an affirmative. Kaya sat silently as if waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she leaned her head back to rest against her chair and they both sat silently for a while.

Garn’s mind was racing, and at the same time, it felt like it was stuck in a sticky zawki pit. His thoughts were starting to run into each other and stretch or slow down until nothing was making sense anymore. Maybe he should return to the sleep quarters and try again to get some rest. He looked over to the human who also looked like she was having trouble with her thoughts.

“If I may ask,” he asked quietly so as to not startle her, “what made you want to leave the Galactic Confederation?”

Kaya tilted her head down to consider him a moment. Even in the darkness, he could see the lines around her eyes pull.

“I left,” she began and thought about it a moment, “I left to find my partner.”

Garn wasn’t sure what that meant, so he waited unmoving until she finally continued. Her voice was slow and deliberate, like she was carefully picking through every word.

“We… we were on a scouting mission and there was… an accident. We were separated. I was, well, I was recovered, but he wasn’t.” She paused again and looked down into her mug. Or maybe at her arm, Garn wasn’t sure. “I tried to convince them to go after him. They said he was gone. I appealed. I appealed again and again to higher and higher powers, but I kept getting nos. They told me he was gone and that trying to… recover him would… that it wasn’t worth the risk. He was a good man.” She frowned and looked up sharply. “He is a good man. I think he’s still out there. He survived. I can feel it. And I decided I was going to get him, by myself if I had to. Tig was on our crew as well. He’s been... a dear friend. Both to Ahmad and I before, and now. He believed me. He came along to help me find Ahmad.”

She looked back up at Garn. “Since we left the GC, we’ve found evidence that we were right, that he made it out alive. We just need to find him. And along the way, we’ve picked up a few other lost souls.”

Garn matched her gaze as he listened and thought on the information. She was on a mission. He, well, he was now for all intents and purposes, a fugitive on the run. Other than staying alive, he had no real plans, no goals. What was he going to do now? He must have spoken his question out loud before he realized it, because Kaya cocked her head and gave a small chuckle in response.

“What are you going to do indeed, dantum? I think that’s what everyone has to figure out. Until you do, though, I suppose you can tag along with us for a while.” She took another sip of her tea before she set it back down on the counter. “After all, it’s not like we’d be able to get rid of ya any time soon. Porter’s gotten attached.” She smiled and gave a short hum, “and I think you’d make a decent enough late-night conversationalist. Granted, you do need a little more practice.”

Garn felt a flicker of surprise and returned the smile. He’d like that. Here on this antiquated but cozy ship, surrounded by terrifying but welcoming aliens, he thought he’d really like that.

[icefire149]

An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Eight (Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning)

When Claire had regained control over her laughter, she was leaning heavily against the store shelves. Her face was red and her whole abdomen hurt from laughing so hard. Cas and Jack watched her with identical bewildered looks.

Finally, Cas turned his attention back to Jack. He raised an eyebrow. “Now that wasn’t an answer. No more moving things with your mind until we get home. I need your word.”

“Yea-h, Da.”

“Okay. Good,” he said, losing the gravity in his voice. “Do you want to ride in the cart or do you want to be held?”

“Carr-cart!” Excited, Jack started squirming in Cas’ arms.

The whole exchange set Claire off laughing again. Cas paused putting Jack in the cart mid motion. He raised an eyebrow. “No, I know kids are allowed in the carts. I’ve seen it.”

Claire shook her head while she tried to stop the giggles still escaping her. She pointed at Jack. “No. He  swore, and you’re….okay with that?”

“Should…..I be punishing him instead? Not letting him ride in the cart?”

“Nooo,” Jack cried.

“No! It wasn’t Jack’s fault…..He was mimicking...me.”

“Humans and their intricate unspoken rules,” Cas sighed and mumbled quietly. “At what age does swearing become okay?”

“It’s...uh, a little more complicated than that.” Claire rubbed at her arm, feeling uncomfortable under Cas’ scrutinizing gaze. “But babies….generally that’s a no..no.”

He turned his gaze back to Jack. “So...you’re saying that his vocabulary is advanced?” Claire failed at stifling her next laugh. Cas raised an eyebrow.

“It’s more….” Claire’s mouth pulled into a grin. Her cheeks were still red from laughter. “Inappropriate? Rude, I guess.”

“Oh,” Cas said, finally putting Jack in the cart. Happy, Jack sat in the middle and ran his fingers along the cold, metal cart. Cas shook his head. “Why is it every so many generations swears change? It’s too much to keep track of and care about. And….none of my parenting books covered any of this….”

The smile on Claire’s face widened. She raised her eyebrows and said, “You read parenting books?”

“Of course.” He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t know anything about babies. Especially-” They both glanced at the cart. Jack smiled softly. “-nephilim. I’m...uh, figuring it out as I go.”

“So...you’re deeming with your parental power that swearing is okay?”

“As long as it doesn’t become his favorite word, I don’t see why not. It’s a perfectly good response to frustration.” He leaned over and smoothed back into place the front sandy curl of Jack’s hair. “And….while he may have been mimicking you today...this wasn’t his first time hearing that word.”

Claire leaned forward, curling her fingers around the end of the shopping cart. “What drove you to use bad words?” Jack reached forward, trying to grab the curls of her hair. He missed.

“Have you ever tried to figure out how to change a newborn’s diaper with no help, on the run, and in a stolen car?”

-

The next couple of hours melted away in a storm of poking through every bit of clothing in the baby and toddler sections. There were some textures that Jack didn’t like, but that barely limited them. Jack seemed to enjoy nearly every color and pattern they came across. It wasn’t long before they had the cart filled around the nephilim.

At a certain point Cas pulled the cart over to the side. He took a few steps ahead and looked around. Claire leaned against the front handle of the cart. Cas looked at both of them, “I think that’s it for his age group.”

“Probably,” Claire answered simply. She glanced down at Jack. He was holding a light yellow, fleece jacket. The hood design was to make the wearer look like a giraffe. She cracked a small smile. “Sooo…”

Cas’ raised a curious eyebrow. He took a few steps closer, stopping at the foot of the cart.

“How are you paying for all of this?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in confusion. “Money?” Unconvinced, Claire crossed her arms. He continued, not making eye contact. “Despite not needing to eat or sleep, Dean was always particular about making sure I had plenty of emergency money.” He shrugged. “Gas money aside, the rest of it surprisingly adds up fast.”

A loud laugh rumbled through Claire. Unsure, Cas watched her baffled. She placed a hand on the cart to steady herself. “He...he...gave you..an allowance?”

“I...I thought he was being..kind,” Cas said in a quiet voice. His shoulders slumped.

All the mirth in Claire’s expression bled away. “No. No. No. It is...kind.”

“Then why-”

“I’m laughing because it’s fucking hilarious how married you two are without realizing it.”

“Oh.” Cas ended up placing both hands at the end of the cart. His fingers curled around the metal. The thoughts in his head started going lightning fast. So many moments and conversations needed to be adjusted under the lens of this new information.

His gaze lifted to meet Claire’s. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, you don’t get more married than that.”

“I see.” He turned back to his thoughts. Nothing made any sense to him. He knew Dean, well. Dean always labeled his feelings directed towards him as fraternal. His heart skipped a beat. Why would he lie?

“Cas?”

He blinked. Both Claire and Jack stared at him oddly.

“You...okay?”

“Yeah.” Cas stood up straight, collected. “And besides,” he shifted the subject, and took a small black card out of his wallet. “We have this as well.”

Claire’s stare narrowed skeptically. “A credit card. I thought we were laying low?”

The card got slipped it back into the wallet and then into Cas’ his jacket pocket. He leaned a bit over the cart so he could speak quietly. “We are, but by the time the Winchesters notice we’ll be long gone. It’s unlikely they’ll find the house from here.”

“That’s why we drove an hour away?”

Jack reached up for Cas’ blue striped tie. His little fingers curled around the end of it. Cas lightly unhooked the baby’s fingers. “It played a role. I hadn’t intended on using the card unless I absolutely had to. I….I may have taken it without their knowledge.”

A devious look lit up Claire’s expression. “Well played.”

“No, I realize it was underhanded on my part,” he pressed, wishing she didn’t condone his actions. “But….” Cas sighed. “There’s unlimited funds.”

Gripping the front handle of the cart, Claire bounced forward and cracked the end of the cart into Cas’ gut. “Unlimited!”

He fell forward gripping the side of the cart, and Jack took the opportunity to strike. He tugged hard on the tie. “Das! Daaaas!” Jack continued to pull. The whole incident set Claire into another fit of giggles.

“Jack,” Cas began. He tried to stand up, but Jack’s grip remained firm. “I can’t fit in the cart too. Let go.”

Jack’s head tilted slowly to the side. He didn’t let go. He didn’t blink. “No.”

Cas’ eyebrows raised in surprise. “No?” He looked up at Claire for help, and her devilish smile grew.

She shrugged. “You heard em.”

Jack tugged on the tie until Cas turned his attention back. Cas started prying Jack’s fingers off again, but he latched on with his other hand. “Honeybee, if you don’t let go you won’t be allowed to sit in the cart.”

The nephilim let go immediately as if the fabric burned him. Cas stood up straight and took a deep breath. His tie was askew, but he didn’t bother fixing it. Claire chuckled.

“We should probably pick out some things for you too while we’re here.”

Confused, Cas’ eyes squinted. “What things do I need?”

“Don’t you want other clothes?” Claire asked gesturing at his outfit.

Cas pulled at the sleeves of his coat so they laid the way he preferred it. “I’m happy with my outfit.”

“I’m not suggesting we burn it. You can like more than one outfit, you know?”

“Feels cumbersome in my opinion.”

“Oh, come on. There’s nothing wrong with having a few looks. Besides, Jack is going to strangle you at this rate.”

Taken aback, Cas looked at his tie and then back at Claire. “I thought you liked it when I wore a tie.” The words came out quietly.

“I do,” Claire answered immediately. She wasn’t expecting that. “That doesn’t mean it has to be your forever look. What you what matters too.”

Cas sighed after a long pause, “Fine. We can take a circle around the department since we’re here.”

Tag List (Feel free to ask to be added or removed):

@nightandwine  @autumnapologist

[cosplayinamerica]

Spiderman from Marvel 1602 // Cosplayer: kammospark

Tell us about Spiderman1602, I’ve seen many versions of Spiderman but  thiis is a new one to me! What led you to this concept of this version of Spiderman?

Well I've always had an appreciation for lesser know outfits of popular heroes. Looking through many wardrobes and outfits, the obscure ones always stood out to me, "Wow, I've never seen this one before!" I'd think to myself, and I figured others who know the characters well would love to see them brought to life too, or even people curious about the stories of them would enjoy seeing it. I feel everyone has a love for Spider-Man; he's such an iconic superhero and has so many suits, and even though they can be quite diverse, they still feel recognizable as one of the Web-slinger's costumes.

While I was looking at different Spiderverse characters for inspiration on a new Spider-Man cosplay, I saw Marvel 1602 and it immediately caught my attention; I thought it was such a fun looking design. Definitely away from a modern or futuristic look, it's charm won me over, and I had to put it together. And as a fan of the fantasy genre in general, thanks to many years as a GM from D&D as well as other media, I also enjoy Ren-faires and wanted something to wear to show my love for Superheroes and Renaissance.

When you wore it out to conventions, what was the response? Obviously they knew you were Spiderman because of the mask but were they confused about the rest of your outfit? What were some of their guesses?

Oh people certainly get a kick out of seeing the outfit. Some people have called Me 'Lord Spider-Man', 'Ren-Spidey', 'William Spider-Speare', a lot of creative names for it that never fail to make me smile as much as it does for them. Whenever I wear a Spider-Man cosplay, I always want to try and take pics with as many Spider-Men as I can find, and most of the time it's the other Spiderman cosplayers that recognize who the character really is. I love having people laugh and get excited over the character, it's part of that Con Magic where people just can't help but feel like a kid when they see something that fills them with joy; its my favorite part of this fun hobby, just making someone's day memorable, even for a moment.

Besides conventions , I see you wore the costume to a Renaissance Fair. What was responses there? Was it different from conventions?

Ren-faires in general are a great time! And when I started this costume, I was excited just thinking of the reactions from people and how happy they may be. I've taken 1602 to quite a few Ren-faires: Central Coast Ren Faire, NorCal Ren Faire, and Kingsburg Renaissance of Kings.

The first place I ever debuted it was as CCRF, and I was stopped by about 20 people before I could make it past the first 3 booths. It really does feel like a different environment going to faires. D

uring them, I'd be a bit more 'theatrical' and introduce myself as Peter Parquagh, and try my best to make people smile or laugh. I've gotten the opportunity to meet many wonderful people and people with stunning and gorgeous Renaissance outfits. Kids come walk by amazed that they actually got to see a Spider-Man at a Ren Faire.

One instance, a bard played the spider-man theme song on a lute as he traveled around me. At two different faires my presence was requested by the Queen, and I was escorted to her, one even knighted me! Everyone just has a blast role playing and getting caught up in the fun, the energy is so infectious and delightful! 

Take us through how the outfit was put together?

Well, I cannot take full credit on the cosplay. My mother was actually a large part of it. Growing up, my mom was always really involved and loved making costumes for Halloween for me and my sister. And one of her favorite aesthetics is period piece era fashion and she loves Jane Austen.

As I was looking for ideas for a new cosplay and showing her, she was drawn towards 1602 and offered to do as much as she could to help create it, and she loved helping putting it together. The suit is a handmade outfit following a 14th century cavalier pattern. The design called for detachable sleeves and very baggy slops, but we decided to have the sleeves attached and slim down the slops slightly, to give it a mix of authentic and Spider-man's sleekness.

We went looking online and found this wonderful blue velvet fabric with Fleur De Lis imprinted onto it and thought it'd really help the outfit pop! We had to make sure we kept the fabric in the same direction: it has a difference in shimmer if facing a certain way, and we wanted the Fleurs facing the same way as well, so we tried to be mindful of that. We pleated the red fabric in the front and it was quite stubborn, but we tried our best to make it look similar on both sides of the torso. The back has a spider and has legs that lead unto the front; we cut out red fabric and hand-stitch embroidered on, and was quite meticulous.

Me and my mom kept an eye out online for just the right buttons we wanted for the costume. Something antique and era appropriate but also thematic, and after a while, we stumbled across a web-designed antique gold button set. We also looked for a thick ruff rather than the costumes original thin look. The original costume look also called for the mask to have open eye holes, but I opted out of that, and felt that a traditional mask look better complemented the costume. After that I acquired socks and shoes and then it was finished! 

How did you discover cosplay?

As mentioned earlier, my mom loved making mine and my sister's costumes growing up. She's a seamstress as a hobby, and is so creative and artsy. Halloween was probably my favorite holiday growing up, and I was so happy I got to wear something made with much love from my family. Some of my favorite notable costumes growing up was a knight, an astronaut, and Pikachu.

As I got older, around high school, I still liked the idea of costumes, even bought a cheap Captain America outfit for The Avengers premiere night, but I mostly dropped off on dressing up. I grew up in a very small town, but eventually, after I moved out to the city, I heard about 'conventions' and I was interested and wanted to try and wear something to one. I decided to make a classic Punisher costume, and wore it for the con. It was a small venue, but even then it finally hit me, 'This is a thing people do. People love to dress up, go make friends, bring smiles and show their love for their Fandoms and interests. THIS is what Cosplay IS'. I finally understood what this little hobby of mine was, and I embraced it.

Have you discovered something about yourself through cosplay?

I've always thought of myself as a people pleaser. I'm someone who really only want others to be happy. I'm also someone who loves to share their interests and engage with others about things that we can share and discuss and geek out over.

When I was young, I often felt left out from social circles, due to my often eccentric personality. I found it really hard to make friends, and I am forever grateful for the friends that I have made and been with me for years.

Cosplay has opened up another avenue as far as friends and socializing. My first couple of cons I was initially intimidated, but I have to say that I'm so glad I got into this hobby, for I've met many people with interesting stories and wonderful personalities, and people I still talk to often. It's really helped me feel like I can make good friends and memories, and I'm sure that others have felt similarly and that's something I treasure.

What are your future cosplay goals?

As with most cosplayers I'm sure, I have way too many projects in my head with very little work on a lot of them. I suppose my current goal is to rework the headpiece of a cosplay I finished last year, my Bioshock Big Daddy Doll. The head was massive and too cumbersome so it needs to be redone.

As far as new projects, I would very much like to do a Prince Link cosplay, inspired by the creation of theLostSindar. Another idea would be to do more superhero variants and make a Blue Lantern Flash that 8ve been eyeing for a couple of years.

One thing I definitely want to get good at is working with foam. I am massively inexperienced with foamsmithing, and I strive to learn how to be good at it and learn how to make wonderful things with it. It's just like when I first went to cons; starting off can be a bit scary or even overwhelming before we really get it going, but that exposure to things we really desire is all we need to get hooked and make it our passion.

https://www.instagram.com/kammospark/

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Teacher’s Day

（©GIF cred)

A/N: Happy birthday to our comedic meme material prince Hendery!😘 This is a re-upload from my old acc so I hope you guys enjoy! (P.S. Reuploaded again since the previous one failed to show up in tags)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3027

Warning:  Bratty Sub!Hendery, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Profanity, Hair pulling, Spanking, Wedgie, Degradation, Anal play, Sex toys, Titty sucking/worshipping, Writing lines as punishment

  “How much longer?” Blindfolded Hendery whines while you are leading him to the designated room for his birthday playtime, but this impatient boy obviously can’t wait.

  “What is my surprise, to be exact?” The boy continues to inquire. “I hope I won’t be walking blindfolded for too much longer or I am starting to think that you are taking me to the slaughterhouse like I am a piglet!”

  “I’ll make sure your surprise is worth the wait if you stop being this inquisitive.” You stop your leading steps. “Seriously? A piglet? Can you not ruin the mood by goofing around and exaggerating things this much?”

  “Okay okay I am sorry.” Hendery playfully apologizes. “First asking me to wear the uniform from the Back to School Kit, second blindfolding me like this, I am really dying to know what it is!”

  “Shh be patient.” You smirk while finally leading him inside the room, instructing him to sit down in a chair. “Do you know what’s special about today?”

  “My birthday, of course! Why ask?” He asks, puzzled.

  “It’s also Teachers’ Day in Taiwan as well.” You half-whisper in his ear while taking off his blindfold. “So I’d better teach you some manners as well as something unforgettable on this day…”

  Hendery’s vision clears up as he glances around his surroundings: a blackboard with capitalized letters “DETENTION” written on it, a podium in the front left of the room, and several sets of desk and chairs arranged in neat rows while he’s seated in one of them, with a typical school bag hanging from the hook on the right side of his desk.

  “Wow this looks legit…” He compliments. “So this is why the school uniform?”

  You reply in a sly hum, picking up the 50-cm iron ruler originally leaning against the podium before approaching him. “I remember you mentioning role-play to spice up our sex life, so I figured this can be the peak of your birthday. You like that, my naughty schoolboy?” You smirk alluringly while tilting his chin up with the ruler.

  “Fuck yeah, this will be amazing…”

  You slam the ruler menacingly loud against his desk, startling him a bit. “Words, Hendery. No profanity allowed in this class. Aren’t you aware of the trouble you are in right now?” You motion toward the capitalized words on the blackboard.

  “Hmmm...I have no idea…” He feigns innocence in those bright piercing eyes, in an obvious attempt to annoy you.

  “Such an impudent lad. You are in detention because you don’t hand in assignments on time, slacking off in your studies, and last but not least, bad-mouthing your teacher.” You close in on him while maintaining a glare. “Are you sorry for what you did?”

  “No, y/n-”

  “How dare you call me by my first name?”

  “Look, Miss Y/L/N I don’t really care. I am a very busy guy and you are just wasting my time.” He grins cheekily. “I am going to miss my club practice. I promise I will do better, so can’t you just let it go this time?”

  “I don’t trust your empty promises, Hendery, especially this isn’t the first time you let me down.” You cross your arms. “And you shouldn’t be allowed any club activities since you fail to prioritize things correctly. You should sit here, properly complete the assignments you have missed under my supervision, and you are free to go after that. It’s that simple.”

  “Why are you giving me such a hard time, Miss?”

  “I am not being hard and unreasonable on you, all I am asking you to do is something that aids your learning and done by the rest of your peers, plus, you won’t know what your problems with learning are without these practices.” You sigh while taking out the workbook from the schoolbag and place it right in front of him. “Now stop complaining and do it.” You order as you sit down next to him.

  Hendery huffs and reluctantly flips through the book to find the marked pages for this session. “20 pages of mathematics with 30 questions on each one? Are you insane?”

  “This is the accumulated result of your indolence, boy. And you sure it’s appropriate to call your teacher insane?”

  “Right right I am so sorry Miss-” 

  “Apologize properly.” You grab his arm to get all his attention, starting to get sick of his dismissive attitude and playing nice with him.

  “I am really sorry that I called you insane, Miss Y/L/N...” His voice trails off at the end of the sentence while he diverts his attention to the questions in front of him again.

  You watch him scribble down answers on the pages intently to see his every move, so when his arm scoots suspiciously close to the corner of the page where he’s writing something, you immediately take notice of it.

  You abruptly stand up and snatch away the book from him with a strong force, making his eyes widen with disbelief. “‘Miss Y/L/N is an annoying bitch’? This is what I get after being this patient and communicative with you?” You continue to read the contents of the page. “And none of the answers are correct! You are really giving me attitude, huh?”

  “Why should I listen to you when you’re such a pain in my ass?”

  “Pain in my ass isn’t it? Now I should really inflict some real pain on your ass.” He yelps as you yank him by his hair, forcing him to stand up. “Bend over.”

  Hendery winces at the burning sensation on his scalp as he complies, then you let go and press his waist down firmly against the desk as your other arm immediately delivers a sharp blow on his bottom.

  “Apologize.” You order sternly after a dozen spanks.

  “Never.” He retorts with a grunt.

  “Such a shameless brat.” You muse while pulling down his trousers, then pull up his boxers between his cheeks and give a firm tug on it, causing him to whine in discomfort.

  “Still unapologetic?” You sneer before giving a harsh slap on his bare flesh.

  “Please stop...Miss...and I am really sorry…”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I-I am sorry for disrespecting you!”

  “Then? What about your horrible work on your assignment?” You resume spanking him again.

  “Mmmf- I am sorry for messing up my homework! Please stop wedging me I beg you, Miss.”

  You snigger at his plead and how easy it is to break him, but still you aren’t satisfied. “Combine your apologies into a sentence together and I will consider, and you’d better be earnest enough.”

  “Ahh-I apologize sincerely for calling you bad names, a-and slacking off in my studies then failing to do my homework properly! Please Miss I feel so guilty right now…” He whimpers and shifts his butt, trying to minimize the soreness.

  “Very well.” You decide not to be too hard on him at first to save it for later and release the fabric. Hendery sighs in relief, only to experience a similar mishap soon after again. 

  “You forgot to thank me, you poor-mannered lad.” You smirk at his misfortune, tweaking the clothing harder than last time, feeling amused that your boyfriend always falls into this trap by forgetting to express his gratitude when you just decide to have a little mercy on him.

  “P-please Miss I am sorry for not remembering to thank you...ahhh…please I’ll be good...just spare me some mercy please…”

  “How should I believe that you will have the brain to remember such basic manners next time, you airhead?”

  “I-I will endure whatever it takes for you to believe in me, Miss. I am truly sorry…”

  “Whatever, huh?” You mock his tone while shoving both his undergarments down his ankles. “You are going to take a sound spanking. Better remember to count out every spank and thank me afterward. Is that clear?” 

  “Yes, Miss. I won’t forget it this time.”

  You swing the ruler in the air, warming your arm up, before striking his bare bottom.

  “One! Th-thank you, Miss.”

  You smack him again, but harder this time.

  “Two! Ahh-thank you, Miss.” He kicks his legs, but only to find them restrained with his garments, which just excites him more.

  You then continue to mercilessly redden his ass, interspersing the punishment with some sensual soothing rubs in between to prepare him for the sting and arouse him, and remain the same dynamic and rhythm until the twentieth spank, when you suddenly pick up the pace and inflict him with four consecutive blows.

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Hnngh-thank you, Miss…” His voice falters.

  “See? You are not that bad at calculating. Why did you mess up your math homework that much then?” You ask before smacking him for the twenty-fifth time.

  “Twenty-five...thank you, Miss. I am sorry that I deliberately screwed up because I am just a defiant brat!”

  “Then you promise to do your best in your work in the future?” You inquire, amused by his admittance while continuing his punishment.

  “I will...I promise I won’t let you down ever again, Miss.” He assures you after counting out and thanking you.

  “You promise you will be a pliant pupil that listens well to his teacher?”

  “Ah-twenty-seven, thank you, Miss. I promise I will listen to you and obey you like a good student should do.”

  “Very well. So you should never violate any school rules again, right?” You foreshadow what the plot of your session will lead, before whipping him for the last time.

  “Twenty-eight...thank you, Miss. I promise I will abide by the rules.” He replies obediently, oblivious about the whole thing since it’s arranged as a surprise event.

  “Good boy.” You praise before caressing his sore butt, brushing his inner thighs from time to time as he moans at your sensual touches. “You didn’t just miss out on math, but other subjects as well. Should I take out the other study materials for you so that you have an overall understanding of what you should do?”

  “Yes, please. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. May I sit down now?”

  “Just a minute…” You reply, searching through the schoolbag while taking your mischievous plan to work. “What are these doing in your bag, Hendery?” You demand sternly, laying two objects in front of him.

  Hendery becomes speechless at the sight of the large, rounded realistic silicone boobs and the veiny, ridgy dildo.

  “Care to explain what this is for?” You deliberately ask while pointing at the tits. Excitement boils inside you as you expect his answer.

  “This…is to fuck myself between them.” He shamelessly responds, with a devilish grin and a twitching dick, indicating his liking toward this turn of the plot.

  “How about this?” You motion at the dildo.

  “This is what I use to get a hot girl like you to fuck me to paradise…” He smirks dreamily, thinking of what you will do to him with it as you smirk at his sudden compliment.

  “Now I see the main reason that your grades are slipping. You are not only unwilling to study hard, but also you are a lecherous slut! You should know well porno stuff is obviously prohibited in school, but I remember you promising me that you will not break any rule just now?”

  “It was too late then, I already brought them before promising you.”

  “That still doesn’t justify your behavior. You should be punished again. Remember you saying that you will obey me?” You grin knowingly as you lightly patted the ruler against your palm.

  “Yes, Miss. Please punish me all you want as long as you won’t tell the authorities.”

  You simper at his literal beg to get punished. “Why should I report you to my superiors,” You position the fake boobs right under his face, “when I can have all the fun and enjoy the little show myself?” You tap the ruler against his ass once again. “Now suck it just like what you will do to your dream girl, filthy boy whore. You may not be the best at your studies, but you’d better not disappoint me with this.”

  Hendery happily commences engulfing the artificial mound while grimacing at the blooming tingle on his behind. The lewd sounds of him greedily slurping and lapping on the toy, the sight of his body squirming under your punitive ruler, and the corruptive contrast of his aristocratic profile doing the most sordid thing ever, all turn you on with the growing need for him to pleasure you.

  “Are you wiggling your naughty ass just to direct me to hit where you crave the pain the most, you seamy little slutboy?” You comment on his writhing backside as he nods in affirmation while continuing servicing the tits.

  “Perhaps you will love it when I abuse you here, right?” You wickedly tuck the ruler between his cheeks, earning a moan from him.

  “Would you like sucking real tits, or maybe you just prefer fawning over silicones?” You sneer, knowing the answer too well as you rub the ruler on his rear entrance.

  “I love real beautiful boobs more, of course, especially those of yours, Miss…” Hendery replies through moans, finally looking up at you from the saliva-covered toy while not forgetting to flatter you.

  “Hmm you finally know how to properly treat your teacher now, huh?” You remark as you unbutton your blouse then free your boobs from the lacy cups. “Worship them.”

  Hendery starts sucking on your breast after an admiring stare. “Since you’ve got your mouth worked up, I think I should stuff your other orifice too…” You say while coating both his ass, your fingers and the dildo with profuse lube. After gradually adding fingers to stretch him wide enough, you begin to slam into his needy prostate with the dildo, savoring the feeling of his wetness and vibrations coating your sensitive areas as well.

  Both his hands grab and fondle the base of your boobs for support as his knees buckle a little at the sensation deep inside his behind. You tangle the fingers of your free hand into his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with you with a firm tug.

  “Why do you turn to sex toys and risk bringing them to school, while your teacher is here to counsel you with both your studies and insatiable needs?”

  “B-because I want you to f-fuck and punish me for being a slut…” He flicks his tongue on your erect nipple after replying.

  “Is this why you got yourself in detention in the first place? Acting bratty in hopes of the opportunity to get some sexy discipline?”

  “Mmm yeah…” Your “student” that used to be so deviant is now moaning mindlessly between pants and sucking while looking up at you so lovingly yet indecently, urging you to ram his ass even harder and faster. Blissful tears start to stream out of his lust-filled eyes as you shove his uniform jacket down below his shoulders, loosen his tie then undo his first few upper buttons to turn him into a disheveled mess even more. Seeing him rendered to a state like this plus the stimuli on your nipples cause your core to drip with satisfying needs.

  “Such a messy needy baby...do you want to cum?” You coo as he quickly nods in response.

  “Then will you manage your time well and complete your assignment properly?”

  “...Yes, I will, Miss.”

  “Will you be respectful to your teacher from now on?”

  “Mmm of course I will, especially to my favorite teacher…”

  “Last but not least, will you turn to your teacher for help when necessary instead of wanking with stupid toys?”

  “Definitely, because my teacher feels so much better…”

  “Good. Now you are allowed to cum as much as you want.” 

  Hendery cums after muttering some gratitude, not forgetting his manners this time. You indulge in a slow sensual kiss with him afterward, drawing him out of the orgasmic haze while whispering some praises to him, slowly guiding him back to his senses as well as doing a quick clean-up of body fluids.

  “Did you know you just came with your dick completely untouched?” You playfully taunt.

  “I know you are that good…” He sheepishly grins at you.

  “Now one more thing for you to do as a reminder to always be a good boy.” You gesture toward the blackboard. “Write 28 repeated lines of ‘I will respect my teacher at all times’.”

  “Sure.” He quickly answers while reaching down to pull up his trousers.

  “Did I give you permission to re-dress?” You disapprovingly question.

  “No, Miss…” He slightly blushes. “But it’s so embarrassing…” He mutters in protest while wobbling toward the board. covering himself.

  “That’s the purpose of this punishment, making you so humiliated and disheveled that you will never forget your lesson.”

   Hendery sighs while picking up the chalk, and starts scribbling down the requested line. The first ten lines look passable but after that, his writing begins to get sloppy.

  “Rewrite this.” You erase the line that you deem intolerable.

  “But-”

  “No ‘buts’, unless you want some thrashing again.”

  Your schoolboy groans but still has no choice but to comply, peeking at the board eraser in your hand while making efforts to win your approval. Finally, he reaches the 28th line without the need for you to demand him to rewrite anything.

  “Well done, that’s my good boy.” You continue to compliment his obedience and hard work, embracing him while massaging some cool lotion into his still rosy ass, before helping him to re-dress.

  “Do you like my way of discipline?”

  “A lot. But you hit me so hard…” He jokingly glares before nuzzling against the crook of your neck, planting some wet kisses on it.

  “I am already giving you enough privilege to suck my tits for this long, so be grateful.” He whines in response upon hearing this but holds on you even tighter, while subtly grinding against your chest.

  “Happy birthday.” You utter affectionately, completely immersed in the intimacy while sensing his gorgeous features beaming in return.

  “Happy Teacher’s Day.”

[elaz-ivero]

The Worldbuilding Diaries- Chapter seven; How to establish culture in your work

Image taken from- www.fgukmagazine.com

Fantasy cultures can veer on the side of absenteeism in a story or feel deeply understood and grounded in fantastical realism. When I transitioned from my main characters' perspective in my WIP, The Sun Ballad, to my secondary point-of-view character I entered a completely new world with an equally diverse culture I was bound to unearth. I found myself describing lavish rooms decorated with hand-woven tapestries, trays laden with sweetened milk and manuka chocolate trying to contrast the two perspectives of my characters with their environments.

It's easy when drafting a culture to simply write what feels right for the scene, describing clothing, dance, music and culture to better emulate a feeling or surroundings as opposed to conveying a culture. Implementing cultural concepts should emulate your own cultural design and feel niche in it's design.

This post will cover:

-Creating a distinct and realistic feeling culture

-How to contrast cultures

When creating a culture it's important to communicate a sense of unity in its design, these are a group of people with similar ideas who have not yet grown apart or diversified, although there must be a common ground, a common goal. For example, in the freezing arctic, it might be difficult to convince settlers that fasting is the best way to devote one's self to their chosen god. It's important to think about what percentage of a persons life can be dedicated to supporting a cultural evolution, In a place where life is hard and food is scarce there might not be as much time to whittle wood into little figures of gods or paint elaborate tapestries to gift the new king. Places that are prosperous and established can afford to put energy toward storytelling, arts and culture and people can turn these cultural arts into occupations and live their lives depending and developing it.

Start from the ground, the region, the ideas, the religion and begin working up if your god survived a fight by being protected from encroaching fire, settlers might vouch for modesty and punctuality, with armour on always. Build on, how might rulers and preachers control the populous? With story tales, ideas, threats, warnings on how the gods punish wrong-doers, are defenders of the law dressed in distinctive clothes or are they secretive in their duties taking on the role of spies instead of soldiers. What is enlightenment to these people, what is luxury, what is the worst crime someone can commit and how do they protect themselves from it?

Asking these questions allow you to think deeper on how culture originates, remember there is a reason why we tell stories, why we make things up and add value to shiny rocks and formulate a hierarchy within our groups it's because we're social animals, pack animals at heart. Acceptance and happiness is desired and culture is what is acceptable and what brings one happiness.

Around a laden table, people tell stories of the gods, of hunts and of heroes and villains, they feast on the favoured dishes of the area. What are these foods, if your people live around open seas and little rivers they may eat more fish, crustaceans and shore dwelling plants. If the region is surrounded by thick mountains, mountain lion meat and goat milk might be on the table. I've found that creating a list of all the foods fantastical or not, meat and vegetarian on a list to reference whenever my characters are eating, if they are feasting the delicacies come out. This way the food my characters can access in each region stays consistent and helps cement the culture of the region and its people.

It may also be interesting to explore how do different cultures in your story interact with food, is it something to be respected and treated with care should no one touch another's plate while they are eating, are religious figures required to bless every meal. Research how different cultures interact with their food, is it purely animalistic or inventive in design. How is the food presented and what table manners are vouched for?

People interact with food differently and how a culture or group of people eat can say a lot about their home region and culture.

From headresses to full-length ball gowns, information on your cultures treatment of modesty and accesability of decorative metals can help with a cultures memorability and impact in descriptive scenes. Clothing can be directly tied to a religion or wholly separated, certain characters or groups can be recognizable by a piece of unique attire or emblem. Remember you can also communicate classes through clothing, there will always be a simpler, mass-produced piece of cultural attire common amongst most of the masses. Diversity in cultural clothing is often the result of most of the populace trying to save some of their money and make life easier for them, painted on flowers as opposed to embroidered one, weaving old fabric into new to create a checkered pattern. Do not overlook heirlooms, keepsakes and smaller attire like jewellery and coin purses, clothing tells a story look to your own and see how much it tells you, the colours you like, cuts and fabrics most accesable to you, favoured animals or cuts.

Contrasting Cultures

All of these features and ideas to explore are enhanced when used to compare and contrast two cultures, what are the differences and how do they impact communication and collaboration between two groups. If one group respect and worship deer and another routinly eat it a relationship between the two groups might struggle to form and will likely fail to be established. Always note the impact of a cultural idea or development on others in the surrounding area and take advantage of these differences and dillemas afterall we fear what we do not understand and misunderstandings or mistranslations from one culture to another can create an interesting ripple-effect.

Cementing your characters cultures and worldview is paramount to crafting an interesting and believable world that strays far from our own, never underestimate the power of consistency and clarity.

-E