#would have included his tattoo as well if the angle allowed it

[nebulousboops]

...and they're all out of puzzles. I put the l4d2 survivors in the Professor Layton style! Because no one can stop me. Soon enough the entire cast will be blasted with the layton beam. the cure to the green flu will be found via a sliding block puzzle.

[trudemaethien]

Shoulda Put a Brii’rud On It

Part 5 | Merverse Part 6 | Part 7

rated e, bacara/rex, violence, misunderstandings, size diff, great white shark rex is roughly 4x bigger than a human, depression/PTSD, Rex is mad, Bacara is sad, Neyo Is Complicated, plot holes

Neyo and Bacara are out on the waves in their boat. It’s a nice day, and Neyo is skinny dipping.

Bacara is the one to spot the fin. “Neyo!” he screams and Neyo flails, looking around alarmed. He abruptly goes under and nononono!

Bacara snatches their harpoon and dives in. He is the actual idiot who is going to try to stab a huge ass shark and see if he can at least catch his brother’s body in time to take him home one last time.

If they both go down, well. At least neither of them will be around to miss the other.

He cuts through the water, ignoring the drag of his waterlogged clothing, and sees them going down. Neyo’s fighting. Something about it looks strange from this angle but at least he’s not dead yet. Bacara nicks his arm on the sharp edge of the spear and kicks up a fuss. Hopefully the big beast will let go of Neyo and Neyo won’t be too injured to make the surface.

The shark turns, enormous and imposing and …impossible. It’s flat black eyes burn with hatred in its human face. Blonde hair and gills ripple. Menacing tail swishes side to side behind sharply jutting dorsal fin. It has teeth, so many teeth.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Neyo’s distinctive tattoos; he’s alive and kicking, rising to the surface, to safety. Good.

Bacara darts up and away, even knowing there’s no chance for him to outpace the shark. A man. A shark-man. A …mermaid? Merman.

The huge body slams into him, jarring his whole frame. It feels like getting hit with an IED, and Bacara wishes he didn’t know that. They glance off each other; Bacara is rather more affected than his adversary. If he could breathe right now, he would have called it getting the breath knocked out of him. His lungs burn. His flannel shirt is shredded, flapping behind him. He fights the urge to let himself inhale and desperately hangs onto his weapon.

The shark turns several meters below him and farther away, and Bacara orients himself towards the surface again. He can see in his peripherals that Neyo is nearly to the ship. Bacara decides he will go straight up and trust Neyo to come to him. He keeps his eyes on the shark even as he kicks hard to ascend.

The shark’s uncannily human face swiftly triangulates between him, Neyo, and their boat, calculating its next move. It charges at Bacara, deadly swift. He times it, rolls away at the last moment, stomp-kicks it in the side as hard as he can, stabbing with the spear held close to his leg. Hopefully this maneuver will injure it, or at least allow Bacara to steal some of its upward momentum.

He’s lucky his training included how to swim in boots. His foot hurts but so does the predator. A small spume of shark’s blood colors the water, trailing from its gills. His plan had worked, somewhat.

It writhes away, angry and in pain, not debilitated for more than a few moments. Bacara strains to make it up to the air he desperately needs. Spots dance in front of his eyes, but he’s sure he sees the boat nearing. The shark turns in a wide radius, less agile because it’s so big. Almost there. One last kick will see him to the surface, lungs burning.

It catches the shaft of the harpoon and his foot along with it, rips through the leather like it’s wet newsprint and tears the weapon out of his grip. He kicks and struggles but it wraps its enormous hands around his ankle, the one he had kicked it with, and yanks.

A shot cracks, muffled. The projectile cutting through water is a sight Bacara is glad to see, the spirals and ripples it cleaves as it travels, slower than it would through air.

The shark heard it too and its intelligent expression shows it’s wise to the danger of such a sound. It releases him and twists to avoid being hit. Immediately Bacara reaches for the surface and there’s Neyo, hauling him up with one arm and keeping the rifle aimed with the other.

Neyo’s still stark naked, of course. Of course. The silly detail is the only thing Bacara lets himself register as he chokes and heaves for the air he requires. His head spins. His leg hurts.

They are both on the boat, though, and neither of them is dying. They breathe a sigh of relief through their adrenaline surge, laughing with the grim joy of having survived.

The moment is broken when the boat shudders from stem to stern with the impact of a large body slamming into it from below.

“I didn’t get him?” Neyo asks, suddenly all business again.

“I don’t think you will. It’s too smart,” Bacara answers seriously.

As if to prove his words true, a pair of huge clawed hands grasp the rail and heave the creature over the bulwark, even as it breaches with the strength of its tail.

Their boat isn’t that big, only 12 meters. The monster is probably half its length. It flops and slithers around the small cabin toward them, intent on violence.

“Nervohd! Keeramood,” it snarls, clearly choosing Bacara as its first target.

“Naysh!” Neyo shouts. The shark and Bacara both startle and stare at the tattooed man in abrupt confusion.

read on AO3 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/35453905/chapters/88373716

[apompkwrites]

reader impact || first meeting

series masterlist characters: xiao, albedo genre: fluff summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you. notes: have i read a few genshin impact x game character reader stories and impulsively decided to make one too? maybe. you can't prove anything. i don't know if this will be a series but we'll see :D

xiao's playthrough -

xiao, named as alatus on his streaming platform, has made himself known as a gaming streamer with an awkward personality and blunt words.

he's the type of streamer who wouldn't have a set type of game and would, instead, play whatever his viewers recommended.

valorant? sure, he'll try it out.

hitman? why not?

animal crossing? it's a complete 180 from the other games, but sure.

when one of his viewers recommended genshin impact, he was quick to say yes and search for the game.

once the game finishes downloading, he quickly begins the game.

once the opening cutscene passes, he compliments the overall aesthetic of the game, pointing out the smaller details such as the footprints made by his character and the sound their clothes make when they move.

as always, his expressions are quite monotone to a point where it seems nothing draws his attention towards the game.

one of his mods, however, knows xiao well enough to where he knows which character he would like.

they convince xiao that the game is worth sticking with towards the second half of chapter 1, act 1.

he doesn't understand but he trusts his mods so he promises to continue.

it takes a few hours, especially because of the grinding, but a few streams later he's finally made it.

after fighting a one-sided argument with cloud retainer, he immediately begins his trek to the wangshu inn. and yes, trek, he enjoys walking/gliding through the world of teyvat rather than fast traveling everywhere.

he walks up the stairs to the top floor of the inn, resting his hands in his lap as the cutscene begins.

"to the blind, everything may not be as it appears..."

xiao is normally stoic during games, even ones with scenes made to fluster the player and catch them off guard.

but not this time.

once xiao's character is faced with yours, he just stops. his chat is spamming messages, asking if he's okay and if he's actually emoting for once.

he just stares at your character for a good five minutes.

and trust me, at least half of his viewers clipped that.

"... who are they?"

that was his only question after those minutes of silence. never before had he been attached to a character within the first few minutes of meeting them. his mind is racing and all he can think about is how amazing your character design is and how nice your voice is and how cool your character is and--

oh right, he's streaming right now...

anyway, the more your conversation goes on, the more he loves your character.

you're just so sassy and snappy but he loves you either way.

once you turn away with your back towards the camera, he just stares.

he stares at the intricate tattoo on your exposed arm and the mask hanging off of your belt.

and then you're gone.

his face drops so quickly and his viewers are very quick to point it out. he grimaces once paimon starts talking and he's very tempted to just speed through her dialogue.

he just wants to see you again.

once he hears from verr goldet that you've never smiled (at least around her), he immediately turns to the camera and says, "we better make them smile in this game."

once he finds out about your favorite food, he's already asking his viewers if he's able to get the recipe for it.

the next time he gets to talk to you, his face just lights up once he sees your character standing on the balcony.

however, once his characters tell you about rex lapis's death, his heart sinks when he hears how sad your voice becomes, even if your tone is still as harsh as before.

he gets all sad again when the quest ends and he has to wait to unlock the next archon quest.

he ends the game there and decides to spend the last few minutes talking to his viewers.

"i'll stream genshin again soon."

his viewers all know it's only because he met you.

albedo's playthrough -

albedo often does art streams and the occasional science-y stream.

if he does games, he mainly uses them to admire the art/mechanics of the gameplay.

genshin impact was one of those games he decided to play on his own solely because of the beautiful scenary.

(and the opportunity to draw more characters).

he's definitely the player that cares about elemental reactions above all else. pretty much every character he uses is built for elemental damage instead of physical.

most of his genshin streams are him walking around teyvat and pointing out the scenary.

he was definitely excited for the dragonspine event because that meant a better view of teyvat!

what he wasn't prepared for, however, was the reveal of a new character: you.

he isn't too into looking at the updates for genshin on his own, so he didn't find out about who you were until his stream asked about it.

he decided to react to the newest updates live since his chat seemed excited to hear his input.

once he pulled up the latest update details, he spent a few minutes talking about the new subzero mechanic.

but once he scrolled down to the characters... OH BOY

he's able to keep his composure but he definitely spends longer talking about you.

he almost gasped when he saw you were the chief alchemist of mondstadt.

combine that with the fact that you rely on elemental damage instead of physical...

your honor, he's fallen hard.

he'll put a countdown on stream to when your character and event drops, even on his non-genshin streams.

speaking of those streams, on the week just before your event, his streams will all be based around you and the information he's seen on you.

his art streams will consist of you and how he thinks your attacks will work just based on the description (he purposely avoided all pictures of your attacks for this stream).

his science-y streams would probably be based on your element.

once your event drops, that's the only thing he'll stream until it's over.

your assistant used to be his favorite character to play as but they just never clicked. it's not like he hates your assistant, it's just he didn't immediately fall in love with them.

his party definitely has your assistant in it, though.

he would have normally taken his time to look around dragonspine and admire the new scenery, but he couldn't help but speed through it until he finally gets to see you onscreen.

once the cutscene officially introduces you in front of a canvas, he's internally panicking.

you like art too?! and science?! how perfect can you be?!?!?!

he will genuinely feel bad when he scares the hilichurls because he knows that that's what you were sketching.

"who are you? why did you alarm them?"

NOW HE FEELS EVEN WORSE

even when you tell him you've finished sketching, he wants to make it up to you :((

if he were able to, he would've lured more hilichurls to let you sketch more.

some people in his chat would probably spam him to skip your dialogue because it's so wordy, but that's the exact reason why he listens to it all.

he likes listening to your character ramble on, especially because you have a soothing voice.

anytime your character does their idle animation where you give life to something, he will always let it play. even if your dialogue is finished before the animation, he would not progress until it's completed.

once your character asks for help, he would immediately agree before you finished your sentence.

man just wants to spend more time with you.

he likes staring at the tattoo on your neck whenever the camera is close to you. he just thinks it's really pretty on you.

once your other nonplayable assistant begins talking, he'll skip through the dialogue. he doesn't care if it goes more in depth into this world's alchemy, he just wants to hear it from you.

"hmm, looks like the potion's ready. i'll try a little first."

"please don't..."

he doesn't want you to try it just in case it hurts you :(

anytime he is allowed to walk freely with you around, he'd definitely put his traveler character next to you for a few minutes and just let you two stare at each other.

someone asks him why he spends a few minutes doodling on his desk when you talk.

he shows them the notebook that he had been writing notes in. it's filled with little doodles of you and some more information you give on the world of alchemy.

for future streams the involve you, he'd set up another camera to show the notes and doodles he's making about you.

sometimes he'll spend a few minutes on a single section where the camera is focused on you just to recreate the picture in the notebook.

he absolutely loves whoever planned out the camera angles because of how cute you look in every one of them.

he definitely gets a bad vibe from rosaria when she hints at the fact that you may be using alchemy against him.

he will defend you and alchemy to his grave!

that one scene where you create a flower in front of you is one he will always treasure.

he makes sure someone clipped that moment just so he can draw that, make it a print, and put it on his wall.

since most of his viewers most likely consist of artists, he will encourage them to draw you and send him fanart. he will put them all on a wall and dedicate every picture that goes there to you.

"if i one day lose control... destroy mondstadt... as well as everything around it..."

"huh?"

"will you be there to stop me?"

"wait... no."

if people were only listening to that portion, they would still be able to hear the pout on his face.

he'll end the game there but change his stream into an impromptu art stream.

he will only be drawing you in nice situations to distract himself from the fact that there is something going on with you.

"hm? what do you mean something's wrong with (name)? i have no idea what you're talking about."

poor boy's in denial...

[binnieboyswhore]

SKZ AS...

Stray Kids as receiving a blowjob Pairing: Skz x Reader Genre: smut Word count: 1,994 Warnings: Oral (m receiving) and face fucking, if there’s anything else i need to add please let me know! Authors note: This is kinda garbage but also i love it so much. I also just love seungmins so much cause i often think about it too much lol anyways further a do here it is. (also if you can write in korean and know korean please DM me i’m trying to get a skz tattoo but do not trust google translate in the slightest)

Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

Chan: 

Getting in studio blowjobs was one of Chan's favorite things. He’d always be the one to ask, with his puppy dog eyes he’d complain how horny he is and how if you hadn’t worn such a short skirt he wouldn’t feel this way. He’d complain how well, technically TECHNICALLY you made him this horny as you are the root of this problem you should be the one to take care of it. Eventually you give in and get on your knees for him constantly playing the big doe eye angle with his dick in your mouth making him lose his mind. You watch as he squirms trying to continue mixing songs with one hand while holding onto the chairs armrest with his other. He’s an absolute slut when you focus on the head of his cock so that he has enough time to tell you and release on your face, his favorite place, with your tongue sticking out. He’d also be an angel and clean your face off with a tissue while kissing you and mumbling what a good girl you were.  

Minho: 

You and Minho always had a voyeuristic relationship never shying away from a bit of public sex but when you reached your hands down into his pants in front of his hyung at dinner and continued to tease him he knew he had to put you in your place. He’d give you a deadly side glare that only fed into the pumping of your hand around him. He would excuse himself from the table for a second and as he was just out of sight your phone would go off and you’d scurry off after him making a quick excuse for the table. As soon as you make it behind the door he has you on your knees slipping his throbbing cock between your lips. Rutting his hips into your face not caring about the speed. Essentially he’s face fucking you in the middle of the mens restroom and neither of you could care less. He watches as your mascara runs down your face cooing at how gorgeous you looked with your mouth stuffed full of him. He grips your hair as he cums down your throat then tells you to meet him at the car after you clean your face and goes to tell the boys you felt sick. You were in for a long night of being put in your place.

Changbin: 

Changbin would come home in a rage, something about someone not listening to him during rehearsals or something. He’d just be fuming with no way to let it out so he just rants and rants to with clench fists. You have him sit on the couch as he keeps going on and on while you get on your knees between his legs, shaking your head and agreeing with his anger. You take out his member and slowly start to pump him and his ranting slows down and his moans become more frequent. He slides his hand into your hair so he has some control over your movements. You slide him into your mouth gagging as he moves his hips a bit. He looks down apologetically and you just take him further in your mouth, you allow him to take control using your head and his hips to get himself off. He watches as spit falls out of the sides of your mouth and your tears leaving mascara tracks down your cheeks. Seeing how wrecked you are with his cock in your mouth he can’t help but let himself release down your throat. When he removes himself he pulls you onto his lap whipping away your drool and tears very lightly before giving you a sweet kiss as a thank you.

Hyunjin: 

Hyunjin has been busy working on some lyrics or some new dance moves for stray kids and you couldn’t care less. The more attention he gave to his work meant less attention for you and you well you were feeling extra needy since being abandoned by your boyfriend. You stand behind his chair, your arms wrapped around his shoulders watching him work as you kissed his neck and nibbled at his ear. He hadn’t said anything about it while occasionally leaving little kisses on your arms. You were growing irritated at how  he was just blatantly ignoring your neediness. You whisper little things in his ear and he just tells you later and that he’s busy right now. You stand behind him weighing your options. You can either wait and see if he follows through or you can take control here and seeing as he needs a break anyways you choose the latter. You make camp between his legs and put your head in front of his desk so that he couldn’t not see you. He smiles down at you with all the love in his heart and you explain how he needs a break anyways. He finally leans back and let’s you do your thing as he holds on to the armrest of his chair constantly cooing how beautiful you look when you take him like that. He begins to get whiny when he’s about to come so you take your mouth off his full length paying attention to just the tips and he moves your hands away so he can pump himself and finally release all over your chest. He’d watch as you take your fingers swiping up his release and slowly licking it off, his eyes grow darker and as he shuts his laptop you scurry off to the bedroom with him not too far behind you excited to finally have your Hyunjin back.

Han: 

An empty movie theater would be the perfect place for a Jisung blowjob. It wouldn’t take much to convince him either, you’d just have to say well since no one is here and then the sound of his zipper meets your ears. You grin from ear to ear as you reach your hand over the shared arm rest, Jisung letting out quite whimpers. When he was hard enough you bent over the armrest and started moving your head at a rather fast pace as you started to grow nervous of getting caught. You added your hand to jerk off what part of his shaft wouldn’t fit in your mouth and soon he was pulling at your hair and whispering that he was about to come. As he releases in your mouth he bends over his chest hitting the back of your head causing him to go further in your throat and making you gag. Your throat tightens around his already sensitive member causing him to let out a bit louder whine and that’s when someone from the front room sat up and looked back to try to figure out what was happening. Jisung and you look at each other in shock and embarrassment as you both thought the place was completely empty

Felix: 

You guys would be backstage at some show waiting for stray kids turn to go on stage and poor Felix, the worst part for Felix wasn’t the performance, it was the waiting, the anticipation. He would constantly get in his own head with the what if’s and shut down and get real quiet. You quickly noticed this process happening and grabbed his hand trying to help calm his nerves but when that didn’t work you looked down at your watch noticing you had enough time. You kissed below his ear pulling him out of his head space for a second then whispered to meet you in the bathroom. He walks in with a confused look as you turn to lock the door really fast, you get on your knees hooking your fingers into his waistband and explaining that you’d help him relax. He’d agree almost immediately, i mean he’d get out of his hand and have your pretty lips around him? Win win. He’d mostly stand there holding his shirt up so it won’t get in your way as you held onto the back of his thighs using it as leverage to force your mouth down his length, the eye contact between you two never wavering. He fed off the intense eye contact only breaking for seconds at a time to watch as you took his length so well, only gagging when he used his hips. You fed off his tiny moans and how he tried so hard to keep his eyes open to stare you down. He’d come in your mouth just because you guys did have to go back out but in his head he came all over your breasts. By the time he got back to the boys he had to go on stage and he was out of his own head all thanks to you and that magical mouth.

Seungmin: 

I can see Minnie saying yes to a blowjob while he’s driving like homeboy thinks it’s so hot to do things you’re not supposed to do. Like you guys would be stuck in standstill traffic and with nothing else to do and you’d just have to ask him once and he’d start unbuttoning his pants. He’d gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail and let you do your thing. Your thing including everything from licking him up the bottom of his shaft to suck your cheeks in when you got near the head of his cock. He’d try to control you in little ways like holding your head still periodically, scared you might try to pull something while he moves the car little by little through traffic. He’d let little moans and whimpers slip past his lips trying his hardest to not make it completely obvious to those around him what was happening inside his small car.  He’d eventually come down your throat as he hits the brake a little too hard, shoving himself down your throat and you can’t help but moan at the new depth. He’d let a rather loud strained moan out as he holds your hair in his grip. He’d also beg for a kiss from you wanting to taste himself off your mouth and yes it would be the hottest thing you’ve ever done.

IN: 

Jeongin loved nothing more than to finally get out of the dorms and stay the night at your apartment, getting away from the boys and their constant babying towards him to seeing you and kissing you whenever he wanted. After staying up all night catching up on what the other has been doing all week you both passed out without even an I love you in exchange. When you woke up, your body curled into Jeongin like a perfect puzzle piece. That was until you felt him poking your lower back. You smiled to yourself rolling over and peppering his face in soft kisses to wake him, he smiles at you grunting at you. When you make a comment about what he must’ve been dreaming about his eyes burst open and his cheeks redden but you kiss it away assuring him that you’d take care of it. You crawl under the blankets but not without a little protest from Jeongin saying you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to but you wanted to more than anything. You take your time with him seeing as it was morning you didn’t want to over stimulate him in any way and hurt him. You can hear his little moans from under the cover as you lick a thick strip on the vein on the underside of his cock. You take your time kissing him and just appreciating him and he enjoys it so much that when he actually comes it takes him by surprise and it’s the hardest he’s ever come. After he would have the cutest fucked out smile wanting nothing more than to just kiss you all over your face and return the favor.  

[stevenbasic]

The Tale of Queen Angie, Chapter 2

10 months later.

“So who keeps texting you?” Angie asked, trying to hide her annoyance as she did her makeup at the vanity, brushing on the heavy mascara that made her eyes pop. He had recently restored the makeup table for her, rebuilding a nice old piece that had caught her eye at a yard sale a few months back. It’s not that she had very particular tastes in furniture; she just wanted to keep him busy, focused on something for her...

From his spot on her queen-sized bed, AJ quickly reached over to the nightstand, pushing aside the tissues and lotion, and silenced his phone. Even though it was nearly noon, and a Tuesday, he still hadn’t gotten out of bed.  “It’s...nobody, babe.” “Don’t ‘nobody babe’ me,” she said, her eyes flashing to meet his in the mirror, “Remember? We talked about this. About keeping secrets, from me?” To that, AJ laughed. To sound aloof, though,  was a half-hearted effort,. She’s joking, right? It’s not like it’s another girl, ever. It’s just th- Well, better not push it. “S-so sorry, Angie,” he apologized, not wanting a confrontation again over something so silly, “It was the guys from work. They want me to come down to Stoney’s to watch the game.” 

He had answered honestly, not even sure he was capable of lying to her at this point. AJ had, since reconnecting with Angie at the reunion earlier this year, really fallen hard for her. And it wasn’t just the tits, which admittedly were initially the main attraction. She was also smart, driven, and there was an aggression about her that, these days, had really become appealing to him. He’d never would have considered himself a...what did they call it?...a “beta”, but there was something about the way Angie took charge, managed things, told him what to do that really, yeah, turned him on. More and more every day, in fact.  And not just in bed - though, haha, she did that too - but in life in general. Their romance started out with her as the aggressor, and as time went on it had become even more and more one-sided. She had been an infatuated admirer of his back in high school, but if he was being honest it was now really her that held most all the hand in this relationship. But he hadn’t seen the guys much lately, and he kinda wanted to get drunk and commiserate with them. Since losing the stadium job to that big new girly construction company, his business had taken a sour turn. He’d had to let most of his crews go, including a bunch of old friends. 

“They’re down there drinking, before noon, on a Tuesday?” Angie asked, as she saw him watching her, primping in the mirror in her silk dressing robe, “And these people are your friends?” 

“Well, yeah,” he answered, immediately feeling sheepish, immediately feeling like the little boy trying to explain himself to his mom. She had a way of doing that, making him feel infantile and not like the kinda-successful, twenty-nine year-old adult male he was, “but I’d just be going for a beer or two…” So...dammit... why was he getting hard..?

Annoyance was bubbling up in Angie Wade’s chest. He knew she had taken the day off, so they could spend the day together. And he wanted to go see his moron buddies, drink cheap beer and watch sports? True, she hadn’t paid him much attention this morning, and he was probably feeling a little neglected. I guess I should do something about that, she thought wryly. 

“Well, tell them you're busy,” she answered, applying a dramatic shade to her eyelids in the mirror. She was almost done. “Or better yet, just ignore them. They’ll get the message.”

At that, she stood up from her makeup chair and turned around in her short, thin robe of light rose, cinched at the waist. She was facing him now where he laid, half-sitting, on the bed. He had his grey sweatpants back on but was otherwise bare. She watched his eyes move up her body, pausing - predictably - on her well-presented chest before struggling to break free of the magnetic pull of her curves and meet her gaze. 

A part of him had really wanted to go meet up with his friends. To get out of bed and go do ….something normal. He’d been getting out of the house, aside from the less-and-less frequent work, not that often these days. But that desire to leave was small, and fleeting. No sooner had he really grasped how she’d made herself up today - just for him - than the thought had already vanished. Replaced, in its entirety, by her. “Put the phone down,” she told him. “Oh, uh...yeah,” he obeyed, dropping his phone, forgotten, on the nightstand and watching as she slowly began to walk towards the bed, “They’ll, uh...they’ll figure it out, I g-guess...” “Good boy,“ she purred, giving him a crooked smile that told him she was pleased with his behavior. Angie loved the way he always shuddered and grew quiet when she said that, when she called him a “good boy”. It was a thing, these days, women starting to treat their partners like children. She’d read it in the blogs she followed, heard it from friends and from the girls at work. They had all begun to like it; men, for the most part, seemed to be slowly giving up these centuries-old, macho defenses, letting themselves be vulnerable, allowing themselves to enjoy the pampering that women had started to learn was the quickest way to gain leverage and control in their relationships. And for Angie, well...she loved the way he responded to both her silent and explicit commands, just for the opportunity to hear her say those words. Good boy. He really did enjoy when she mothered him, she knew.  It was kinda pervy but it worked.

“Because we’re busy today, you and me,” she continued, still approaching the side of the bed where he lay, ”Today’s our day off together....” She looked down at him, tried to keep from smirking; already his cock had started to tent his sweatpants. “Not that you’ve been working much anyways,” she added, unable to help herself and speaking plainly. 

It was true. With more and more construction bids falling through during the 11th hour, his work kept him less and less busy, though he felt constantly exhausted from the stress. He had been spending lots of time here, at her place, remodeling her condo for her, sleeping over. His bank accounts had nearly dried to nothing, and the lease on his downtown apartment was up this month. Plan was to officially move in with her, soon. Angie said she didn’t need any money for rent.

Finally, she arrived at his bedside, to his left. She let him look up at her - she knew she looked impressive from this angle - and smiled down at him. She watched as he took the hem of her robe between his fingers, played with its slick, soft fabric. He was looking at her full thigh. She sat down, on the edge of the mattress aside him, and put her hand on his thin, tattooed chest. 

“Uh, yeah…” AJ finally replied, these little derisive comments about his work situation irking him less and less as time went on, “I’ve got another day to kill…I guess I can relax...”

“Well, you do have work to do today, baby,” Angie informed him, tracing little circles with her finger across his once-mighty pecs. She had told him to stop going to the gym early in their relationship - muscular guys were going out of fashion, she’d said - and it showed. He was naturally a lean person, and the strong physique he had spent years building and been known for had mostly disappeared. She liked that, the weak, small-boned look, she’d found. Her friends, like that gym-rat Missy (who just got a new job), could probably squat more than him now, haha. “I have jobs for you.”

“I thought I was pretty much all done?” His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember the long list of tasks. “I finished the kitchen island, a-and installed the new shower head yesterd-“ 

“Not that kind of work, sweetie,” she corrected, “Relationship work. I have the day off, I got all pretty for you. I bought some new goodies at Victoria’s Secret yesterday,” she smiled down at him, watching him try to control the little eager twitches of his, “Well, technically, you bought them for me…. but either way….”

She ran the fingers of her left hand up past his right collarbone, sliding up his throat, looking at the tender, bare, smoothly unadorned skin, and thought to herself with a secret, silent giggle: we need to get you a new tattoo...

Today she’d decided that she wanted to have some fun with him. They had all day together and she really wanted to feel strong and powerful. She had seen Melissa’s Instagram earlier, and while she would never admit to feeling lesser, she couldn’t deny that she really felt the need now to flex some feminine muscles. She looked down at him, and dark thoughts went through her head. 

“We’ve got alllll day together,” she continued, her free hand now gently tugging on the belt which held her robe closed, “and I want to make you ache.”

She smiled proudly as, as soon as her right breast began to come into view, he groaned. He was already so turned on, she could see that, like some brainless ape. She’d read the manuals, all those domme blogs. With everything that was going on with men these days, femdom was getting very popular. Some seemed sort of silly - so much leather haha - but there were lots of things she wanted to try, get his mind in the right place. She wanted to make him even more submissive than he was already, it seemed, naturally becoming. Showing him her breast was a start. 

“Don’t you want to show me how much you love me today, hmm?” Angie purred, peeling her robe back further, now, exposing her G-cup breasts in the new push-up, black strapless bra she’d purchased, “How much you love...them?”

“Oh, god, Angie…” AJ moaned, already overcome as he watched as she dropped her robe behind herself, off her shoulders.  Her breasts looked fantastic, enormous, pressed perfectly together into mind-melting cleavage. Her long dark hair had fallen softly onto her chest…

...but in a practiced move she pushed it back, over her pale shoulders, affording him a better view. 

“You don’t need to show me your endurance today, baby,” she said, as she settled closer on the bed to him, pulling his sweatpants down to his knees, “I’m not interested in how long you can last.” Acknowledging his erection with a proud smile, she pulled in closer still and grasped it with her left hand. She heard him gasp, and pulled herself in closer still, to bring her big right tit right close to his face. “Today I want you to show me how weak you are for me…and my breasts…”

AJ’s mouth dropped open, his eyes goggled at the cantaloupe-sized breast of his brunette girlfriend, now just inches from his nose and mouth. She had such big, perfect breasts, he marveled, with smooth ivory skin and just the fewest of freckles. She smelled like fresh fruit, he always thought, and today her perfume had him immediately fixated. He did feel weak for her, he thought, he always did, in bed. She just had this way...and those tits...

“Look what I’ve done to you already,” she said, the pride in her voice masking a haughty disdain as she slowly began to stroke him in her fist. She smiled as, predictably, he let out a little whine and opened his mouth wider. He was staring right at her big boob, unblinking. Tit men, she marveled, they’re so easy.

She shifted her left shoulder in towards him, now bringing her left breast closer. He looked from one, to the other, still gape-mouthed like a guppy. “Today I want them to make you cum over and over and over,” she said, wobbling them just enough to bring ripples through her alabaster flesh, elicit another whine from him, “I want them to be the only thing on your mind allllll daaaay. I want you to be dumb and docile, I want you to drool over them. I want you to fucking worship them. ”

“y-y-y-yuh...yuh, okay…” AJ responded, dumbly ogling her tits, passively frozen in place. He’d learned to keep his hands to himself, times like this. She would take care of it. 

“‘Yuh okay’ what?” she asked him, in correction, her left hand slowing to a stop as she waited for his answer. 

“y-yuh okay goddess,” he answered.

She chuckled. She’d taught him well. “Good boy,” she commended, loving the worshipful fealty she’d gotten from him over time; it made her feel good, fed her ballooned ego. She resumed her ministrations to his just-about-average cock, thinking: Does Melissa have someone calling her ‘Goddess’?? I think not...

”oh my god you’re so big,” AJ offered, as she placed her right breast once again straight in front of his face. 

“Mmhm…” she purred, feeling the urge to just squash her tit onto his mouth and nose, start to smother him, “I’m the big Titty Monster, come to eat you…”

He groaned again, his eyes fluttered in ecstasy. 

God, so submissive, she marveled. If all men, honestly, were secretly getting to be like this, she thought, girls are going to rule the world. “Tell me again,” she commanded, breathing in, pushing her tit even closer to him, so that soft flesh swelled over the cup. She kept her skin smooth, soft, moisturized, for times just like this. The few, faint stretch marks, she felt, were just a testament to her womanly size.

“y-you’re so big…” he complied, repeating himself, in total awe now. 

“Yes, I am,” she agreed, “a G-cup.” She had originally thought she’d just make him come quick - and with where she had him at the moment she could do it in an instant. But she was actually enjoying this. “And you like that, hm? You like big. Big boobs. Big girls. Maybe I should start going to the gym, get reeeeeal big?” she posited, looming over him taller now, “Get bigger than you? You’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”

“oh, god, yes,” he groaned. 

Angie smiled. Again, so easy. She’d seen it, knew it. It was getting plain as day to her. But she didn’t fully understand it all yet. What is up with guys these days, wanting their women big? Bigger than them? And she was feeling it too, she realized. She’d love to see him start to just shrink up, right in front of her eyes. Something was happening, something was going on. And she was going to figure this out. 

“What is it, baby? Tell me. What is it that you like, thinking about me being bigger?” she asked sweetly, continuing her slow, rhythmic attentions between his legs. 

His eyes were still planted on her tit, staring at her bra. “....b-b-breassts….” he moaned. 

She laughed. What a simple, predictable answer from a simple, predictable man. “Ohhhh..!” she giggled, teasing him, “Am I not big enough for you? Should I get implants? Big ones, like Amelia? Hm?”

From AJ, no answer.

“Hmmm, no. I think I know...I know what you want,” she continued, wickedly aware now of where his mind was,  “Maybe I should let you get me pregnant, so they swell up..?” She smiled, feeling his body tense up, quiver under her. She’d struck a chord. “So my milk comes in?”

Beneath her AJ groaned, loudly. 

So that’s another thing, hm? she laughed to herself. Typical, not surprising. Men wanted back on the tit, it just made sense, and she’d suspected it for a while now with him. She could use this, she mused. Oh yes, this was good...

“I saw how you woke up sucking your thumb last night,” she asked him, sliding her right hand up over his jaw, his cheek, to his lips, “Were you thinking about me?”

She put a finger in his mouth, watched his eyes go wide, his whole body spasm, again. “It’s okay, sweetie...” she offered, “...suck.” 

His eyes fluttered, he was close. There was no stopping it now. He sealed his lips around her forefinger, and began to suck. 

“There you go….” Angie purred, in a satisfied drawl. She felt his hips start to clench, and suddenly it was time.  She sped up in her stroking, to bring him home.  This was it. It’s too much for him. “Come for me,” she whispered, her hand beating him now, “Come for mommy…”

In a burst, in a groan, in a tensing spasm that shook the bed, AJ came in her hand. His mouth loosened its suction on her finger, so he could bleat his pleasures, but his eyes stayed wide on her tit. She milked him through his climax, purring little, maternal adulations along the way. Finally, his eyes closed, and he sank back into his pillow. 

She sat back, up straight, regarded the scene with a crooked, knowing smile. She wiped her hand on his belly. 

“Clean yourself up, get yourself ready,” she told him, standing up now after allowing him his few quiet moments of shame, “We’ve got all day together, baby…”

=============================

Co-written with AgeOfTheGiantess. More imagery, bonus storylines and other cool stuff at my Patreon

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: All Eyes On You {One-Shot}***

Lewis Tan x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK!!

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Hmmmm, Naaaaah!  🙃

Note: You all have Brandie, @night-of-the-living-shred​ to thank for this oh and Lewis’ thirst trappin’ ass.

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Mildly Interactive***

 You couldn’t believe it had been three months. Three freaking months since you’d physically been able to touch him. Three months since you’d felt his fingertips graze your skin. Three months since you’d felt his lips on yours. Three months since you’d tasted the delicate mix of sea salt, vanilla, and spice, that was his skin. Three months since you’d felt his arms around you as you came awake every morning. Three months since you’d smelled him. Three months too long.

You loved that he had a career he enjoyed and took pride in. Loved that this career was finally beginning to show him the same love and attention he’d shown it for years, but that also meant you spent a lot more time without him in your bed and a lot more time being your own company and best friend, outside of the company and friends you had. It was often lonely, but you’d been together for almost two years now and had developed a working regiment that combated the loneliness.

 Staring at the message exchange between you and Lewis had your belly filling with butterflies all over again.

 MSG My Heart: Guess who’s coming home a whole week early?

MSG: Don’t play with me, Lewis.

MSG My Heart: I don’t play about coming home to my queen.

MSG: Oh my god. Really? Babe? When? Oh my god.

MSG My Heart: LOL. I love that you’re so excited.

MSG: You’re kidding. Do you know how long it’s been?

MSG My Heart: Three months, fourteen days, ten hours, eighteen minutes, and thirty seconds. I know just how long it’s been.

MSG: Melt my heart.

MSG My Heart: That’s not all I plan on melting.

 The row of emojis was what sent you to the grave. You were practically still quivering from anticipation, and this was yesterday.

 “All finished.”

 You sat up and thanked Lucy, your wax lady who’d just made you a completely smooth again. When Lewis was away, you kept things tidy, but there was no need to get all extravagant. Today, you went all out, and that included a little surprise below the belt.

 “Thank you, Lucy. Same card on file, please.”

 “You got the full special. Does this mean boyfriend is back in town?”

 You giggled. It was a shame she knew the drill. As she ran your credit card, you endured her teasing and salacious suggestions on how to properly welcome Lewis home so he wouldn’t dare think of leaving again. By the time you walked out of the salon, your face was red hot from embarrassment. As you got into your car, you ran down the to-do list you’d made at five this morning.

 Hair, Eyebrow Threading, nails, feet, wax, shop.

 Somehow you’d managed to get through all of the list, except the shopping part, and it wasn’t even three in the afternoon. Lewis’s flight didn’t come in until five. The plan was for him to come home, and the two of you would go to dinner, but you planned on surprising him at the airport. You were that anxious to see him.

 As you were in the midst of getting ready to go to surprise him at the airport, your phone rang.

 “Hello?”

 “Guess who is officially in the same state as you?”

 “Baby?”

 “That’s right. I landed forty minutes ago.”

 Your head snapped to the clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock.

 “Baby, you said five.”

 “I know, look, I thought it would be too but looks like even time and space wanted us to be together.”

 You remembered the first time he said those words to you. They did the same thing now as they did almost two years ago—made your heart skip a beat.

 “I just wanted to give you a heads up before I walked in the door,” Lewis added. That was when you heard a car door shut.

 “Thank you, have a good one.”

 Sensing something was going on, you perked up. As you walked to the window of your bedroom, your phone chime for the Ring went off, indicating someone had tripped the sensor.

 “Lew, baby, is that--.”

 “Honey, I’m home. Come to daddy.”

 A scream escaped you before you dropped your phone and ran out of the bedroom.

 “Slow down.”

 Ignoring his warning, you barreled down the stairs and through your home. For the first time, you regretted signing the contract on this mammoth of a house. You should have stuck to your guns when Lewis said it was perfect, and you mentioned it was only going to be the two of you in a house meant for six people. His rebuttal—then we’ll fill it up with some kids. Once he said that you happily signed the contract right beside his name.

After way too long, you found him in the foyer at the front door, and that was when you picked up speed.

 “Baby!”

Lewis opened his arms and waited for you to leap into them. Once you did, you wrapped your legs around his back and crashed your lips to his. It had been three months since you’d been kissed, and it was long overdue. Eagerly you dipped your tongue into his mouth, hoping to show him just how excited you were to see him. Lewis moaned then turned your body to press you onto the dark wooden door.

 “I missed you so much,” you panted out in between kisses.

 “I missed you more.”

 Feeling as if there were too many barriers between you, you began peeling them off one by one. His jacket dropped to the floor within seconds. Then came his polo that you peeled off of him. with him bare chest, you allowed your fingers to reacquaint with his skin. Lewis must have felt the same way because the tee-shirt you wore, his tee-shirt was gone a few seconds after your nails scraped his back. Realizing you didn’t have on a bra, his eyes feasted on your flesh.

 “Welcome home to me, indeed.”

 You snorted and shook your head before wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him some more. Lewis carried you through your home until he’d laid you onto the extra-large sectional couch. On lazy days this was where the two of you always ended up just cuddling, watching TV, or just chatting. Lewis pressed kiss after kiss onto your neck, collar, and chest before he rested his head in between your breasts and moaned.

 “Mmmm, I missed your skin,” he muttered.

 You lazily played with his midnight locks taking your time to graze his scalp with your nail tips.

 “I missed your smell,” you replied, inhaling deeply, allowing the scent that was all him to envelope you.

 Lewis turned his head and kissed your sternum before trailing down your belly. When he kissed your pelvis over your leggings, he moaned.

 “I canceled that dinner.”

 “What?”

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but when my mom texted me to confirm she kind of let it slip,” he admitted.

 You snorted, then laughed. It echoed through the first floor of your home.

 “Okay, so dinner is canceled. What’s planned in its place?”

 “Nothing.”

 “What do you mean nothing? Baby, I’m sure everyone who was supposed to come to this dinner tonight wanted to see you. It has been months,” you stressed.

 “Oh, I know it’s been months. That is why I canceled with my mom’s blessing. She even had a message for you.”

 You piqued up, straining your neck so you could gaze down at him. Making eye contact without angling his head up, Lewis smirked but didn’t speak.

 “What message?”

 “She’s not getting any younger and would like to be able to do Tik Tok dances with her grandchild without worry about her knees.”

 Your jaw dropped to which Lewis busted out laughing.

 “Wait, wait. What!?”

 “You heard me.” He kissed your belly again and dipped his tongue into your belly button. Moaning softly, you bit into your bottom lip.

 “So you’re saying your mother not so specifically but specifically is suggesting that--.”

 “—I put a baby in you? Yeah,” Lewis filled in.

 Your jaw was again ajar from your state of shock.

 “Wow.”

 You’d always known his mother wanted grandkids, but it was always one of those once a year at family dinners passing comment. She’d graduated now. Before you knew it, Lewis had lifted you into his arms again and was now carrying you through the halls, up the stairs.

 “You’re walking away from the door. What exactly are we supposed to do with the rest of the day?”

 “I think I have plenty of ideas,” Lewis answered as he carried you into your bedroom.

 From walking into the bedroom, he walked on into the bathroom. Once inside, Lewis plopped you onto the sink. As soon as you were seated, he began pulling off your leggings.

 “What’s happening right now?”

 “I’m getting you naked. I want to wash off the airplane and travel off of me before I smother myself with you, and you’re going to help me.”

 “Oh, am I?” Lewis then yanked off your pants and dropped them onto the floor, leaving you in your high waisted bikini-style thong. Lewis lowly growled as he peeped peeks of your ass in the mirror behind you.

 “You were ready for me to come home, you know how much I love these,” he grunted out, snapping the elastic against your skin, leaving a subtle stinging sensation that slowly dulled. Though it dulled, it awoke and intensified another sensation—arousal.

 He pulled back and began working on his jeans. Once he dropped them and pulled his boxer-briefs off, your teeth once again sank into your bottom lip. Your eyes traveled along his body, taking in the sleek muscles that decorated his torso down to his well defined oblique muscles that slanted inward, tempting you with that under bellybutton tattoo. He was even more ripped than he was three months ago. He was also a lot more bruised and scraped up.

 “Jeez, what have they done to you?”

 Glancing over his body, Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, occupational hazard.”

 You hopped off the sink and closed the space between you trailing your hand from his hip, over his ribs, and up to his chest. Once you reached his jaw, you gently cupped it.

 “Let’s get you cleaned so I can take care of you.”

 Walking behind him, you led the way to the shower, turned on the water, and allowed the moisture to rain over you. It was hard not to smirk when you heard Lewis’s guttural groan. As soon as he let it out to bounce off the tiled walls, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into him.

 Lewis’s lips latched onto your neck and sucked. The force of that suck had you remembering everything that mouth had ever done to you. As if he remembered as well, his grip tightened as his hand roamed to your backside to cup it. It felt like he moved his hands everywhere all at once as if he couldn’t be happy with one location.

 “It’s been so long, baby. I need you so much,” Lewis whispered in your ear, sending a violent shiver through you that awakened so much in you that you nearly overpowered him and took control. Almost.

 Before you could, Lewis pressed you to the wall, stretching your hands out along the tile. His mouth moved from your neck to your lips to suck the air right from your lungs. The man was meant for kissing. Once he was sure you wouldn’t be able to function, you felt his knee nudge your legs apart. Within seconds you felt his hand cup your sex, making you loudly gasp.

 “Do you need me as much as I need you?” Knowing you had no words to express how much you needed him, you nodded.

 “Words, babygirl.”

 You already saw what mood he was setting. Gathering your composure, you pushed off the wall and walked over to your bath products then lathered your bath gloves. Turning back to Lewis, you gently rubbed along his body taking care not to hurt him anywhere accidentally. As your gloved hands slowly traveled across his skin, your eyes followed where they went. The white lather of the soap was a nice contrast with his tanned and tattooed skin.

 Once you made it to his back, you relished the feel of his muscles dancing underneath your fingers, showing you again just how hard he pushed his body. Seductively you swirled your finger down his spine until you made it to the top of his taunt ass. There was nothing but trust from him as your hand rubbed his derriere, a trust you’d mirrored every day since nearly the day you’d met.

 After several long minutes of cleaning and teasing every inch of him, Lewis again pushed you against the shower wall. This time your abdomen and face rested against its cool surface while he pressed his body against your back and ass. Instead of speaking, Lewis kissed your jaw, brought his mouth to your ear, and bit down as he pulled the shower glove off of your hand. He knew damn well it wouldn’t fit his much larger one.

 It didn’t matter if they fit perfectly to him; a few moments later, you felt his gloved hand rub against your backside.

 Up—down—up—down.

 Lewis released a deep groan right beside your ear. Bringing his hand up your back, he gently rubbed your skin, applying enough pressure and force to clean but not enough to give you any sort of pleasure. He was an expert tease. Once his hand made it to your shoulder, he massaged it, applying more pressure dragging a satisfying moan from your lips.

 “You’re tense, love.”

 “I wonder why,” you whispered.

 Quickly, Lewis had you flipped around staring into your eyes. As he distracted you with his golden chestnut orbs, pulling you even more under his spell, his hand wreaked havoc on your breast. He rubbed, circled, pinched, and repeated the process. Bringing his ungloved hand to join in on the pleasure, he cupped and massaged them until he brought both hands to your throat to gently but forcefully hold you there.

 His lips crashed to yours soon after. His tongue was a work of art and spelled by a sorcerer and was proving to you just how well he knew how to use it. Your moans matched his, but when you felt his gloved hand against your folds, your moans increased.

 “Oh, baby.”

 “I can feel that tension increasing,” Lewis taunted as he turned you, placing you under one of the two overhead shower fixtures.

 Once the soap from your bodies was washed away, Lewis was carrying you once again into the bedroom. With you rested across it with your legs spread, Lewis’s head and mouth licked, nibbled, and sucked a path down your body until you felt his tongue flick across your needy bud. With the arch of your back, you gasped again.

 “Fuck, baby!”

 “Mmm.”

 In seconds his mouth was fastened over your sex, feasting as if his last meal was right between your thighs. There was an urgency to how his tongue flicked your clit and then delved between your folds only to nibble against your labia. After a few short minutes, you were a whimpering, writhing mess. Needing something to touch, your hands raked along his head. Every time you tried to snap your thighs together, he used his strength on you prying them apart and holding them to the bed so he could do as he wished.

 “Fuck Lewis, yes!”

 His moans were the only reply he gave. Just as you felt yourself nearing the threshold of absolute ecstasy, he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed. As if he had a tether from him to you, your body yanked to a half-sitting position.

 “What!? What’s wrong? What’re you doing?”

 Lewis didn’t answer. He just stood there licking his lips before he used his thumb to swipe at the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes told you he had no intention of coming back to finish the job.

“Lew---,” you cautiously began watching him. He couldn’t tell you that he no longer wanted you; the uterus destroying lightsaber that Kylo Ren wished he possessed said otherwise. Biting your bottom lip, you moaned.

 “Come here, baby, let me help.”

 Lewis walked away to the leather armchair that was in the nearest corner to the bed. He then pulled it across the room to place it at the foot of the bed. By that time, you thought he meant for you to straddle him on it. So when Lewis sat, you began to move.

 “Stop!”

 Pausing, you gave him a questioning look.

 “How long have I been gone?”

 Crinkling your brow, you sighed. “Months.”

 “How many?”

 “Lewis--,” you began.

 “—Y/N. be a good girl and answer me.”

 Like a brat, you kissed your teeth and sighed out exaggeratedly. “Three months.”

 “Have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

 Your eyes bugged. He knew the answer to that. Lewis’s eyes flicked to the right bedside table, where he knew you had your toys.

 “Lewis, I don’t want to play this game,” you whined.

 “Are you sure? Your nipples are telling a different story.”

 Narrowing your eyes, you ended on an eye-roll. “Yes.”

 With your answer, Lewis stroked his cock, bringing your attention to the massive erection just standing tall as if it knew there was none like it. Lewis groaned and sucked in a breath.

 “Though I’ve tried not to, I’ve done this several times. I’ve lost track of how many.”

 You could hear his voice speaking, but you were too focused on his actions to really allow any words to resonate. Watching his large, veiny hand stroke his need had your mouth watering. It was so damn sexy. The sighed, coupled with his moans, was enough to make fresh wetness pool between your legs.

 When his hand stopped, you followed it to rest on the arm of the chair. A few seconds passed before you realized he wasn’t going to bring it back to continue. Locking eyes with him, you recognized the look.

 “Show me how you’ve done it.”

 You could have choked from the shock. You knew he wasn’t joking, and you knew better than to toy with him when he got like this. Bringing your hand down your body, you cupped your own sex and groaned. It was insane how wet you were.

 “Show me,” Lewis said in his impossibly deep voice. It had been months since you’d heard it this clearly. Facetime sex was great, and all, but there was nothing like his voice in person.

 Using your two fingers, you spread yourself so he could see. Lewis’s grunt was loud, and the jerk of his member was a substantial one. As if in a trance, your fingers found your opening and swirled around, coating themselves before circling your clit. The second you began, you had to steady yourself. You knew you wouldn’t last long with him sitting there, but you wanted to give him a good show. Your fingers sped despite your best efforts to slow them. Once your back arched, you had to pull your hand away. The action had your back arched more as you dropped your head back.

 “Fuck!”

 “Such a beautiful pussy baby,” Lewis huskily whispered.

 Bringing your head back to resume eye contact, you took a deep breath then continued. Starting slowly, you sucked your bottom lip and focused on his eyes rather than how you were making yourself feel. Dipping two digits inside your heat, you squirmed, jutting your breasts into the air. Lewis groaned from across the room and brought his hand back to his cock. After a few strokes, he groaned and put his hand back on the arm of the chair.

 “How’s it feel, baby?”                                                                                      

 As you plunged your fingers in and out of your body, you spoke, “So good, but I want your hand. Your fingers. Your mouth.”

 You gasped then brought your soaking fingers to your clit, intent on one thing. Release. Your fingers moved quickly, racing you toward your release. Lewis must have sensed it too because he was now at the edge of the chair observing.

 “Come for me, Y/N!”

 “Mmm, fuck Lewis, I’m gonna—gonna--.”

 Your back arched again, and your fingers sped, and within seconds you screamed out and shook from the sheer power of your release. While you were lost in your pleasure, you didn’t hear anything else but the pounding of your heart. When you felt his cock fill you to the hilt, you screamed and came again and clenched around him. Lewis growled, pinned your thighs to the bed, and plowed into you in a way that you knew you’d feel even tomorrow.

 His strokes were not meant to tease you or reacquaint his body with yours. They were meant to please, meant to mark, meant to ruin you for any other separations. He wanted to erase months, show you how he alone could make you feel this way, and how only he could give you what you needed. When he shifted your body to hoist it a few inches off the bed to give you long, deep strokes, it was over. another orgasm claimed you, and your nails claimed his skin—marking him as yours as much as he marked you as his.

 “Fuck, you’re so tight. I’ve missed you so much.”

 With those words, Lewis pulled you up to him, so he was holding you as he was sitting back on his legs, and you were straddling him with your legs wrapped around his back. He controlled your body with ease and skill, lifting you only to drop you on his protruding heat.

  “I missed you.” Your lips crashed to his and took control of this. You nibbled his lips and sucked his tongue.

 It was such a beautiful mix of submission and dominance that the sheer intimacy of it had your belly fluttering.

 “This won’t be long, babe, I want too much,” Lewis warned.

 “Fuck me!”

 Dropping you back to the bed, Lewis held your legs like a pair of scissors and began throwing pummeling thrusts into you. You were thankful you’d chosen a home that had no neighbors for miles and in the middle of plenty of greenery. As he gave you everything he had the next few minutes, you took it all.

 Once you felt his move from thoughtful calculation to no order or rhythm, you knew it was a matter of seconds. Sure enough, you felt him release into you as he grunted and groaned loud enough to compete with your shrieks and shouts in between his utterance of how much he loved you. Lewis buried himself inside of you and pulled your final orgasm free.

 The two of you laid there for long minutes, composing yourselves while trying to catch tour breaths. When he rolled off of you onto the bed beside you, he groaned.

 “Mmm, I love you so much,” Lewis repeated.

 You rolled to his side and rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you.

 “I love you more, baby.”

 “Although I think that was the one that did it, we have all night.”

 “Did what?”

 Lewis rolled on top of you and plastered his hands on your belly. “Put a baby in here.”

 You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Oh, so you were trying to get me pregnant?”

 His smile was wide, cheesy, and completely charming.

 “Do you have any objections? According to my calendar, you’re fertile.”

 Lewis thrust forward, joining your bodies again. Completely shocked, you gasped.

 “Lewis.”

 “Mmmm, god you feel like mine. Let me give you something else that’s mine.”

 “You’re serious?”

 You’d talked about starting a family together before, but you’d never made a decision. It was still something sweet to think about. Lewis stroked forward, then retreated and did it again and again.

 “I am, but I want you to be my wife first.”

 Your heart stopped.

 “Are you breathing?”

 As if for emphasis, he rotated his hips, making you feel his depth and breadth completely. Clenching around him, you shivered.

 “Mrs. Tan has a nice ring to it, as does wife, mother of my children.” With every word he spoke, he circled some more.

 “Love of my life,” he finished before he picked up his pace making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

 You knew that there would be no rest for the wicked, and it was evident Lewis was in a wicked mood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@munteanhorewrites @night-of-the-living-shred @caramara3 @chaneajoyyy @dangerouslovefanfic @sonjashuterbugjohnson @i-just-like-fanfics @areubeingserved @areubeingserved-too​

[thiswasinevitableid]

sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault. 

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death. 

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them. 

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected. 

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist. 

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.” 

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark. 

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life. 

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled. 

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft. 

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him. 

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human. 

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken. 

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch. 

“Down we go.” Duck sinks. 

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves. 

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill. 

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others. 

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

--------------------------------------

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs. 

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself. 

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work. 

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case. 

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.” 

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind. 

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed. 

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove. 

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat. 

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes. 

------------------------------------

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool. 

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish. 

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away.  He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment. 

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.” 

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind. 

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water. 

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet. 

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear. 

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point. 

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.” 

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep. 

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm. 

------------------------------------

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed. 

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply. 

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail. 

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks. 

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze. 

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster. 

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely. 

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts. 

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.” 

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head. 

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin. 

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain. 

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole. 

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

 A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock. 

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen. 

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle. 

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”

[petri808]

Written for the @bnhanipponzine​ Izuocha NSFW fic we’re allowed to share now.

Forbidden romance...

Their signals are as fleeting as a summer's breeze and no more inconspicuous than a proper greeting. The slow blink of an eye in passing… Tonight, the message conveys, she’ll be alone tonight. The young lovers are ensnared in a forbidden romance from which neither could bring themselves to leave out of love for one another. Such is their world, unfortunately, even now in the twenty-third year of the progressive Meiji era. Both are born into the Yakuza life and forced to follow its rules and traditions. But those human edicts could not control their hearts.

Late that evening, at the soft sliding sound of the shoji door opening and closing, the corners of Uraraka’s lips turn upward. She dares not look up just yet for fear it was the wrong person entering her room. But, soon enough the secret Sakura scent used by her and her lover flows into her personal space.

“Izuku…” she whispers without turning around, safe in the knowledge he’s come.

“Ochako.”

Even the iinazuke didn’t use her first name yet; but coming from the lips of her lover, it’s smooth tone sends shivers rippling along her spine. Midoriya’s voice is soft while her betrotheds is gruff and grating to her gentle sensibilities. She hears the sounds of fabric rustling, his clothing being shed, then the light clatter of his saya against the tatami mats.

All the fine hairs tingle along her skin, almost reaching out to the man’s energy the closer he gets. She feels his body heat through the thick silk of her kimono, even as her own flushes in response. He doesn’t need to touch her to cause such a reaction. Just his proximity is enough to ignite her loins.

She’d already removed the obi before he arrived, allowing the silken fabric to open in front. He slowly slips the kimono off her body, allowing it to pool around her hips for the time being. Next, he unravels the datejime sash and places it to the side. All that is left between them is the white nagajuban undercoat. But Midoriya is in no rush. These shared moments are few and far between, so he needs to take full advantage to satisfy them both properly.

He noses his way over the nape of her neck, peppering feathered, drawn out kisses along the skin from one side to the other. Uraraka sighs with each tender touch that leaves torrid trails in its wake, and her head moves accordingly, giving the man full access to anywhere his kisses wish to travel. His hand snakes up from her shoulder, and fingers grip her chin, angling it upwards. Forceful, yet with a gentle control she is happy to acquiesce to. If only she can give herself fully to him forever.

As his lips tease around the base of her neck and face, Midoriya slips his other hand under the fold of the undercoat until it reaches bare skin. She gasps, biting down on her lip to stifle a louder groan when she feels his hand mold around her breast and roll the pert nipple it finds between his fingers. Uraraka dares not to make a sound louder than a whisper for fear of them being caught in this tryst. But oh, what she wouldn’t give to call out his name! To show just how much she loved this man who her father feels isn’t good enough for her.

Midoriya is careful not to place pressured kisses regardless if the area is hidden beneath layers of fabric at any given time. As the daughter of the Oyabun leader, Uraraka has attendants that see to all of her needs, including bathing, and they have no idea who they can trust to keep this kind of a secret. Most would turn them in for fear of punishment, and besides, he doesn’t want to jeopardize his father’s standing as the Saiko-Komon. That position as the head advisor to the Oyabun provides a comfortable life for their family.

He slips the coat down her arms, then moves the pile of fabric, tossing it to the side. With her skin bared, he presses his chest against her back and circles his arms around her torso. His hands caress and sooth her voluptuous breasts, so flushed and sensitive to every movement he makes, massaging the mounds and teasing the nipples. Her sighs and breathy mewls burn holes in his psyche, hypnotizing and courting his lips to continue trailing along her skin from shoulder to shoulder.

“Face me,” Midoriya whispers behind her ear as his tongue gingerly runs along its shell. Uraraka shudders when he nibbles the lobe.

She turns around on her shins; her eyes swept downward in embarrassment. This is not their first time and she loves these trysts; it is but a testament to her shy disposition. Her cheeks burn bright, and her hands stay poised in her lap. Midoriya chuckles, smiles; it is this very innocence that had stolen his heart. He lifts her chin, sweeping in to covet her full pink lips as he guides her onto her back. Uraraka would never know by his decisive actions that he is just as anxious as she is.  

“I got a hold of that spermicide we bring in for the courtesans.” It is a new German product recently put on the market, and thanks to their contacts, are able to sneak it into the country. “It’s a suppository you place inside.”

“Do you think it really works?”

“It has been so far, but I could use the turtle skin sheath instead if that would make you feel more comfortable.” He’d already prepared the clove oil just in case.

Uraraka squirms a bit in debate, then nods. An unexpected pregnancy could mean certain death for them both over this forbidden affair.  

He reaches over and pulls out a small purse from his haori. This was the surest method and least cumbersome, aside from abstaining. As he fixes the protective skin over his erection and lubricates it, Midoriya can see Uraraka gazing at him over her breasts. He blushes lightly, still unused to such a coital stare and refocuses on his task.

Realizing he’d noticed her watching him, she averts her eyes as well. A mixture of embarrassment and excitement causes a wave of heat to flood over her. Her hands unconsciously snakes over her chest, covering them as if to hide the feelings of abashment. The man she loves is well endowed, and she still remembers thinking during their first time, how would it fit? Her blush deepens at the memory. Of how gentle he had been with her and she could only pray the iinazuke would be the same.

All prepared now, Midoriya lies down on top of Uraraka with his legs resting between her thighs. Just the pressure of his dick against her sensitive core triggers more shivers along her frame, but he isn’t there yet. He sweeps his lips over hers, then covets them in full, molding them together in languid motions. Their kisses grow like a dance, ebbing and flowing in coordinated steps.

She gasps lightly as he sucks down and teases her bottom lip, but it’s quickly swallowed up and tamed by his tongue pushing its way into her mouth. Without the ability to make a sound, her body responds with a language of its own. It molds against his in its bid to chase the heat it is exuding, communicating her desire for closeness. He pushes forward with his tongue, she pushes back, their mouths a heated battleground fighting for dominance. Uraraka is the daughter of power after all, and he made her feel more alive than she has ever felt in her life.

Leaving the supple flesh of her mouth, Midoriya moves on—lower, his kisses blazing a trail as if hiking Mount Fuji. His hands massage and squeeze at her breasts, helping to control and keep them where he wants them to be. From one to the other, he suckles at the tender skin and pressures his tongue over the nipples. He pulls them in through his lips, nipping them, teasing them harshly. Uraraka bites down on her palm to stifle her moans. The rougher treatment felt so wonderful! It is one of the only spots that wouldn’t show any bruising and she appreciates his care.

Much of her skin is now covered with tattoos just like any other Yakuza member. Some designs by choice, and some forced upon her. Her back, shoulders, part of her arms and thighs are already sleeved. But her chest is devoid of ink until you reach the torso area, where spreads the one tattoo she hated despite its beautiful design. Twin dragons hugged opposite sides of her hips and wrapped from back to front; one a deep auburn red and the other a golden yellow, protecting a Shiroibara in full bloom that encompassed the area just below her navel. She is the white rose, and the dragons represent her family and her betrothed’s arrangement. But she matches none of the flower’s symbolism, not anymore since starting this tryst with Midoriya.

It brings a sense of shame and guilt every time she looks at herself in a mirror, yet not enough to make her stop engaging in the affair. Her heart wouldn’t allow her to give up the one man she’s loved since they were children. And once she found out he’d felt the same all along, they chose to risk it all. She has plans to work in a Kuroyuri bloom with green pistils over her heart once she could get her chest piece completed. A hidden symbol of their devotion.  

He knows how much she despises the tattoo. Through the light whines and shortening of her breathing. How her body flinches the closer his lips make their way to the area. He doesn’t like it either, for it is a reminder she’ll never be his. That he would spend the rest of his life standing at the side of her husband—his best friend of all people—while coveting the man’s wife. But he also knows the hothead didn’t love her like he did, and he is determined to make sure at least one of them took care of her heart.

“I’ve told you,” his voice hushed between the kisses he places upon the flower image, “ignore the dragons, but you’ll always be my white rose…” more kisses, “my sweet, innocent flower.”

“I know…” she breathes out, “but still…”

Midoriya looks up, bracing himself on his elbows. “But nothing.” He takes her hand and kisses the fingers. “Our hearts are devoted to one another, that counts for something.” Then he gently sucks the pointer finger into his mouth and twirls his tongue around the digit. “Does it not?”

“Yes,” her voice mewls.

“Just focus on us right now.” He kisses the tips of the fingers. “Okay?”

Uraraka nods and instantly sucks in a breath when he dives right back into his oral ministrations. She bites down on her bottom lip as his mouth clamps down on her clit and begins to suck on the button like a piece of hard candy, licking and rolling it with his tongue. His hands grip to her thighs to hold her down as she starts to squirm, alternating between her clit and labia to catch the excess juices seeping through. Each time his tongue runs through the folds, her muffled moans seize up in her throat, but when it slips over the entrance, she squeaks from the titillating sensation. She finally grabs a small pillow, holds it against her face, and bites into the fabric.

Flashes of light, like twinkling stars in the night sky behind her eyelids explode when she feels him slip a finger into her pussy. One, then two they’re thrust inside, the palm of his hand hitting against her swollen and heated folds engorged with blood. The stimulation is exacting a heavy toll on her with each insertion, each strike, and curl of his fingers pressing against a sensitive point inside her. Coupled with his lips suckling on her clit, she wouldn’t last very long this way. Already the heat burning inside of her core is reaching a boiling point, like a metal rod ready to crack under the pressure.

“Izu...” is all she musters before sucking in and puckering her lips to stifle the building scream. Her body reels and spasms through the orgasmic waves, thighs clamping against the sides of his head as she rides the high. He grins with pride, satisfied to have brought her over the edge once more.

He sits back on his haunches, licking the remnants of sticky sap from his lips, and savoring Ochako’s sweet essence. The woman’s been eating plum cakes, he muses. Her flushed skin and heated stare makes his dick twitch. Heavens above, this woman is beautiful.

It is her turn to make a move as she coyly rises up and clambers onto his lap.

“Chako?”

“Shh,” she purrs and guides him in until Izuku’s dick is nestled within the walls of her heated antechamber. She feels his fingers clench on her hips, and his breathing slows at the pressure. It feels so good to be filled, completed by the only man both her body and soul thrives for.

She kisses his lips softly while weaving her fingers over his neck and twining them into his hair. With her legs wrapped around his body, her hips start to rock in languid yet forceful motions, his own hands now cupped to her ass, guiding alongside her movements. The room fills with the gentle slapping sounds of skin on skin friction, wet and scented musk filling the air around them. Silenced moans on both sides, swallowed up in their kisses. Up and down Ochako uses the strength of her thighs, riding the length of the shaft and stopping at the head before driving down again.

Izuku’s hips can no longer stay stagnant. They counter her thrusts, his thighs acting as pistons and his hands pushing her down to force a deeper penetration. She whines in frustration, knowing if she lets him fully throttle her there’d be no way to control her screams. And oh, how she wants that! All the gossip by servants, to be fucked until they couldn’t walk anymore made her jealous! Her hands grip into his hair as the knot in her belly tightens for the second time that evening.

“I—Izu...” he covers her mouth with his to catch her moans. They couldn’t risk getting caught. So close... so close. Without stopping the kiss, he moves her in one swift motion onto her back, continuing the onslaught of thrusts. She keeps her hands wrapped around his neck and head to keep a pressure on their kiss, as her legs hook onto the back of his thighs. His hands move to her pelvic points, pushing downward as he thrusts upward, grinding their bodies together.

The pressure around his dick is becoming overwhelming. Fuck, he is so close. All the rubbing is creating so much heat and friction, and he feels Uraraka come undone. Her legs clench and stiffen, back arching, twisting with muffled screams that break the silence of the room. Shit! Hopefully no one heard it! His eyes screw shut as the first wave hits him, the vision behind his eyelids exploding white for a second. He thrusts with each pulse from his dick. Three, four, his entire body shudders and goes limp at the final release.

They stay there wrapped in each other’s arms for several blissful moments while their breathing returns to normal. When the feeling in his limbs return, Izuku raises his torso, and braces on his elbows to cradle Ochako’s face. He places a soft kiss to the corners of her mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she breathes out.

Oh, how he wishes they could stay like that. To keep her in his arms and wake up to her beautiful face in the morning. But it cannot be. Izuku sighs and kisses her again before pulling out. He hands her the moist towel she’d prepared earlier to clean up while he bundles up the used prophylactic for disposal.

After helping her to dress and donning his clothing too, Izuku moves to the rear sliding door that leads to her private garden. They stand there for a moment in an embrace, relishing the time they’d had together and savoring its fuel until the next time. He kisses her forehead and bids her goodnight, quickly sliding the door closed behind him.

“Had your fun?” The familiar voice sends a cold chill right through his soul.

He slowly turns to his best friend, eyes wide with fear for getting busted. If this meant death, so be it. “Katsuki, I can explain.”

“Save it. I don’t really care if you’re fucking her. She was my father’s choice not mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll make you a deal, and if you agree I won’t turn you in.”

Izuku’s eyebrows raise. “Go on.”

“You marry Utsushimi and let me have my way with her.”

“Oh, I get it. I know she’s the one you wanted in the first place.”

“Exactly. Eventually when I take over this family it won’t make a damn difference anyways, but until then, we’ll fucking both get what we want.”

He takes one last glance towards the closed door before turning back to his friend. “You got a deal, Katsuki.”

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 14th, Saturday 19:48

„Oh my god. It is all Sander’s fault. I didn’t mean to vent on purpose. Nooo.“ Robbe whined into his microphone as he had been succsessfully voted off by the remaining three crewmates. Jens wasn’t one of them, he had been killed cold-blooded by his best friend in the first minute behind the goddamn tank. His body had never been found, to everyone’s surprise as his name had been greyed out with Aaron’s murder discovered a moment after.

They always switched back between games to their zoom chat, while the players remained in the lobby, waiting for a new session to start. So Jens did.

„I have literally done nothing.“ Sander laughed, kissing the top of Robbe’s head, before resting his chin back on top of the mop of hair, staring again onto the pages of his book. If the couple was one thing, it was physical and clingy. Both of them, not one better than the other. Jens thought amused, watching Robbe struggeling to reach for something out of frame. 

He was sitting between Sanders legs, his back against his boyfriend, who had wrapped his arms around Robbe’s middle, reading a book he hold in his hands resting in Robbe’s lap. Who himself had his laptop placed as close as possible up on his legs. The mouse probably on his right side in order to play. To Jens it looked a bit messy and uncomfortable, but they didn’t seemed to mind. If he was honest he had seen them in weirder positions before. Fully clothed. Luckily. 

„No I’m pretty sure you are to blame.“ Robbe insited, but grinning, knowing he was just looking for any excuse he could get. And his poor boyfriend was around to take it. Obviously Sander did without batting an eye.

„Well, then it must be true. Please accept my deepest apologies.“ His best friend, for the love of god, giggled in response. An unjustified righteous smile on his lips. Another kiss pecked onto his temple as Sander leaned around, as much as it was him allowed to from that angle.

„God, I’m not single, but if I do feel like it right now.“ Zoë voiced what many probably thought, Jens included. Not even Senne argued her case. Both boys, Sander and Robbe, dared to shrug almost simultaniously, causing them to be even more assured of their superiority.

Sometimes Jens thought they needed to be reminded that the world wasn’t just turning for them, but on the other hand they also were the slight proof that fated love might really exist.

„Another?“ Jana asked, absolutely addicted to the game. It had been a spontaneous idea really, as the broerrrs were contemplating what to upload to their channel if they all couldn’t meet up together to shoot something. So gaming it was. And from there it kinda spiralled into all of them now deeply engrossed in round after round of Among Us. They had footage for days.

„Fuck yea!“ Moyo exclaimed, followed by everyone nodding, before he added: „Had anyone heard anything from Lucas or Luca?“

It sounded a bit funny, a bit like a broken record at the end.

„Lucas posted something about his mom, I think.“ Amber said, looking for her phone to check. Jens knew that Lucas had texted them that he was out for today’s group plans. Jens also knew that it definitely was because of his mom. She was home til tomorrow and Lucas had been so excited, chatting away on the phone while he cleaned his flat in anticipation this morning.

Jens had done laundry in the meantime, both of them almost shoked when Lucas’s frontdoor was opened. They had talked for over two hours. About nothing really. So they quickly had bid goodbye, Lucas promising to come over late tomorrow, after he had brought his mom back to the hospital. Jens already missed him. 

„He has plans with his mother.“ Senne confirmed, having been faster than Amber. „And Luca told us, she’d join us at eight. Which would be almost now.“

„Then I’d say let’s wait for her? I’m gonna get something to drink, all the yelling in chat while voting is not good for my throat.“ Yasmina declared, already leaving her seat at her desk and walking away.

„Oh Robbe, I actually wanted to ask you something.“ Jens was reminded out of nowhere suddenly, catching the full attention of his best friend, who looked at him expectantly. So he continued: „My mom wanted to invite you over for dinner. She misses you, I think. And I suggested to her that we could all cook something together. If that’s alright with you, how does Tuesday sound?“

„Sounds great.“ Robbe agreed, Sander’s eyes glancing up from his book.

„Just this once, and he better be returned in perfect condition.“ Sander demanded, like the overprotective boyfriend he sometimes was, mostly to everyone’s and his own amusement. He winked at Jens right after, who nodded and replied in all seriousness with a strict „of course, home before curfew“. 

„You two are ridiculous.“ Robbe shook his head with a sigh. „Just text me, when I should be there and if I should get anytihing on the way. And tell your mom that I’m excited to see her again as well.“

„You adore us.“ Jens quickly stated before his attention was pulled away from his best friend.

Yasmina had just arrived back infront of her camera when Luca joined their chat and to everyone’s suprise there was a pretty blond girl next to her, seizing their whole attention,

She had stunning grey eyes, her nose pierced and both her arms tattooed in fine lined flowers. Her hair long and wavy and a bit wild as it covered her shoulders. She looked really good, Jens had to admit. A couple weeks earlier and them being at a party, and he definitely would have tried his luck.

„Ooh, you’ve got comapny? Gonna be a long night, huh?“ Zoë teased knowingly grinning at them, leaving Jens a bit lost at their non-verbal conersation, as everyone stared excited into their camera’s.

„Eh, hi, who are you?“ He asked, and immidiately the group started laughing. Only Moyo seemed to be on his side of utter confusion. Which wasn’t much of a relief, given he wasn’t the greatest resource of knowledge and gossip either within their circle. Even Robbe snorted, leaning his head back against Sander’s chest. His best friend was in on it apparently, as Jens lacked some vital piece of information.

„That’s Maxime duh. Just her girlfriend of two month.“ Noor pointed out incredulous, and as if to prove a point the couple in question faced each other giggling, only to present the chat with a passionate kiss, leaving no room for doubt or interpretation.

„Excuse me, what? I thought she dated a guy. Damn, my bad.“ Jens apologetically smiled, feeling silly now, remembering all the messages in the group. He was sure that he must have not read some of them. No girl had been mentioned...but then neither had been a boy, it dawned on him slowly. Always talking about a crush or date for the night. For sure the name must have come up, but Maxime became Maxim in his head without question.

„You should really start changing your heteronormative assumptions there, young man, now that the gays are taking over the group!“ Milan shouted overly excited and very much jokingly, as he winked into the camera. Yet still joined by enthuastic whoos and laughing from Robbe and Sander, and Luca and Maxime. Making Jens bite hard down on his lip, as he was willed to say things he couldn’t take back. And he was not prepared to come out to the entirety of his friends via a zoom call, only to defend his pride. That wasn’t quite the right reason for it, nor fair to Lucas.

He had to admit though that a girl on Luca’s side hadn’t crossed his mind even in the slightest, thus Milan wasn’t really far off with his statement. Back with Robbe he also strictly had believed his secret person to be a girl. Never once looking at all the signs that surely must have been there. All in all he apparently hadn’t changed much over the last year despite everything. Jens probably should work on that.

„Sorry! Honestly. It’s great to meet you, Maxime.“ He continued trying to make up for it. Also to get back to chat about anything else but dating really. Jens was saved by an angel called Jana taking control over the group, as she started a new game, once Luca had logged into the game and her crewmate character appeared in the lobby.

Fate truly was on his side today. 

Jens was an imposter this time and that would only mean one thing:

Vengeance.

Robbe would be the first to die.

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[for-ests]

Lost In Your Light: Peter Parker x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: Having the power of life and death at your fingertips seems useless when you can't save the ones you love. Y/N knows this all too well, struggling to keep her abilities a secret while helping everyone she can, in any way possible. 

[AU: SENIOR YEAR PETER PARKER] [MATURE CONTENT]

Word count: 2, 060

CASE FILE

Name: Y/N L/N

Age: 18. 

Gender: Female. 

Appearance: (Y/HC) (Y/EC) (Y/H) (Y/W)  

Mother: deceased 

Father: alive 

Emotional stability: unknown 

Abilities: FULL EXTENT UNDISCOVERED

✭✦✭✦✭

EXTRA INFORMATION: Little is know about natural Healing. Mutation is rare and few individuals have been found to have the ability.

Also called:

1. Regeneration

2. Power touch

3. Mend

4. Recovery

Basic Level: User can do anything that normal healing would do, simply accelerated.

Can heal minor wounds such as cuts, bruises and light burns. Recovering from minor to moderate blood loss. Critical wounds such as loss of limbs or damaged nerves and internal organs cannot be healed, but wounds can be closed. Cells that are fatally damaged, such as by burning, cannot be healed, resulting in permanent scarring.

Limitations: Healing may not be permanent.

May be limited to healing either oneself or others.

May only be able to heal non-fatal wounds.

May have limited range, including touch only

May be limited to healing only certain types of wounds or diseases.

May not work on permanent injuries or abnormal injuries that cannot be treated.

May not occur automatically, thus preventing the users from healing injuries by reflex.

May be painful for the recipient of the healing.

Side effects:

User may feel distracted, helpless, and desolate for short periods of time. Feeling as if they are searching for something they will never find.

User may experience blackouts when overworked.

User might fall ill after trying to heal something they can't.

User might die from fatigue.

User may not even know the power they are capable of.

✭✦✭✦✭

CHAPTER 01: LEFT IN THE SNOW

✭✦✭✦✭

The bright lights of Queens illuminated the water. Normally, the city would be buzzing with excitement, but all Y/N could hear were the waves crashing against the shore.

Her legs were hanging over the dock, feet swaying back and fourth as she mapped out which block to walk down. It was 2am, and she was shivering.

The nighttime breeze licked the waves, sending chills down her spine. Yet it didn't bother her, for she did this almost every night. In the exact same place, at the exact same time, where no one would be looking for her.

But doing what she did required her to renounce sleep and comfort. She sacrificed the little things to ensure the safety of others. She knew she was destined to do this, whether people recognized it or not.

Y/N pulled the scarf tighter around her neck and stood up. She tucked her phone inside her pocket and began to run. Her fingers tingled with warmth, knowing It was time. She could feel the helplessness drifting through the air.

The girl darted through the park and across the deserted street. Not even the police were patrolling at this hour. She was only able to escape because her father was a surgeon that worked late into the night.

After racing down a few blocks, she heard the first whimper echo through an alleyway. Turning sharply, Y/N turned down the street and hid, masked in the shadows.

She rested against the bricks, peaking around the corner to watch the situation unfold.

The sounds she heard were heartbreaking. With each kick, she could feel the dog’s life force fading into the abyss. The man who was kicking the animal relentlessly, laughed wickedly at its torment.

Y/N’s stomach wrenched when she noticed the infamous rose tattoo engraved on his forearm.

The Thorns were the city's leading gang in human sex trafficking and dog fighting. Queens was sadly known for the underground organizations. The two seemed completely different, but in this city, they went hand in hand. 

Each member had a rose and thorns tattooed visibly on their bodies for the public to see. And most of them watched dog fights for fun, not giving a damn what happened to the animals afterward. 

Y/N was the one who picked their bludgeoned bodies off the street.

She knew exactly how they did their business, in a back-end "spa" just a few blocks down. Everyone in the city knew it, even the police. But for some reason they turned a blind eye, which allowed for the actions this man was committing to unfold.

The girl was infuriated. The man was holding a beer bottle, pausing every few seconds to take a swig.

"Useless." He muttered before tipping the bottom up and finishing it off. "You made me lose hundreds--"

In the blink of an eye, his foot slammed against the dog's chest. Lelia barely had a moment to process what was happening.

The animal fell back with a cry, and this time it stayed down.

The girl winced, knowing if he kicked the dog again, that it would fall past the point of regeneration. She covered her mouth as blood started to drip onto the pavement.

Y/N was ready to step in, her heart hammering in her chest.

But the man seemed to be finished, satisfied with the damage he inflicted on the already helpless creature. He tossed his beer bottle into a pile of snow, turning on his heels. He walked towards her, flexing his hand. She could see it was already bruising.

She moved backwards into the darkness, not wanting to be seen.

Unfortunately for her, she wasn't aware of the snow bank behind her. Y/N's heel crunched loudly as her weight shifted. She swallowed hard after the man's footsteps halted.

"Who's there?" He grunted, the tone in his voice hinting at his intoxication. She clenched her fists, hoping she would stand a chance against this villain. Usually she was able to avoid this kind of confrontation, but tonight something seemed off. There was an unfamiliar malice hanging in the air. 

Her eyes widened as the man turned the corner, becoming visible under the lamplight. From that angle, she was completely exposed. She cursed under her breath, there was no use hiding anymore.

Y/N walked out from the shadows, trying to keep her cool and remind herself there was a life on the line. She couldn't let the dog die.

"Who the hell are you?" He looked disgusted, eyes narrowing at Y/N as she moved towards the alley. "Were you watching me?"

"Don't mind me." She pleaded, pulling up her hood to cover her face. "I wont tell anyone, just keep walking."

But fate had other plans. She knew she was asking too much of a criminal, for their code was unbreakable.

The man advanced quickly, and Y/N barely dodged his grip. She backed up in surprise, holding her stance with shaking legs. She was zero percent confident in her combat skills.

"Don't touch me!" She managed to hiss.

The stranger looked at her menacingly. She could tell he didn't like to be ordered around by a female.

"You shouldn't be in this part of town." He growled, a smirk appearing on his face shortly after the sentence was uttered. He rolled up his sweatshirt sleeves, trying to intimidate her. This was his territory.

Y/N's adrenaline started to pump wildly, she was frightened beyond belief. "Stay away.." She warned one last time, planting her feet down, ready for any punch he was about to throw at her. Y/N may not be good in combat, but she knew enough to defend herself. Wandering around New York this late at night, she was bound to run into people like him. She would be an idiot to not be prepared.

But of course he didn't listen, and instead, flung his fist directly at her face.

She ducked miraculously, watching him stumble to the side from his drunkenness. She used the split second of exposure to uppercut his jaw.

His head jerked back, and he crumpled to the ground. The stranger groaned loudly, his jaw knocked out of place.

Y/N breathed heavily, gritting her teeth as pain seared across her hand. She used the other to quickly relieve herself from the discomfort. Flexing it again for confirmation, she managed to smile. One perk of her strange ability was that she had the advantage to mend her wounds. 

She turned her attention back to the man. He was on his hands and knees, beginning to push himself up from the ground. Y/N raised her foot and cracked it down on the top of his head as hard as she could.

He fell back to the pavement, knocked out cold. She hated to inflict pain on others, but it wasn't like this man had any reminisce of good inside him. She knew exactly what he was apart of, and what he would do to her if he could. 

Y/N jumped over his limp body and rushed over to the injured animal.

The grey pit bull was in the same position the man had left it. It was still breathing, but barely. She might be too late.

"No... stay with me..." She reached her hands out and pressed them softly against its chest. Her hopes lifted as the pulse began to beat harder in response to her touch. Y/N slipped her bag off her shoulders and set the bag beside her. It was loaded with medical equipment, just in case she wasn't strong enough.

The girl rested her hands back onto the pit bull, and they burned as she closed her eyes. She poured all her emotions into the regeneration, gasping loudly as a current of power surged through her. It was indescribable. Her arms were shaking as the same pale, golden light, swirled in and around the wounds, assisting her in the healing process. She could sense the bones mending, and the muscles rejuvenating. Joy pulsed through her veins at this achievement, she was only able to create this level of mending two other times before.

But soon, the power was too much too handle, and Y/N started to feel exhausted. Sweat dripped along her forehead despite the chilling temperature. The girl worked flawlessly, running her fingers gently along the last few cuts, closing them with little effort.

She slumped forward in fatigue, the golden light vanishing into thin air.

And the alley was dark again. She took the pain away.

On her knees, the girl held her hands in front of her. She was shocked by the improvement. Normally, she couldn't completely heal internal wounds, but she felt it happen.

Ecstatic, Y/N glanced down at the animal. She examined it with an intense gaze, noticing that its ear was still gone. It looked like it had been bitten off previously.

Shuddering, she thumbed over the scar, knowing this dog was involved in a fighting ring.

She held the rest of its ear between her fingertips, wishing she could heal it permanently, but that idea was far fetched. She wasn't that powerful, and would probably never be.

"I’m sorry this happened to you." She whispered softly, her breath misting into the cold winter air. No animal deserved this kind of treatment.

The dog stirred, eyes suddenly snapping open. 

Y/N jumped back in defense, still on alert from the previous attack.

Her body was tense as she watched the dog slowly lift itself off the ground, still in a daze from the near death experience.

"It's okay." She smiled, relaxing her shoulders when she realized the dog meant her no harm. She wondered if it was smart enough to comprehend that she was the one who saved it.

Y/N bent back down to the dog’s level, and pulled out a collar and leash. "I wish I could do more for you." She sighed, knowing the shelter was the last place this poor animal deserved to go. She wished she could take it home with her, but that would be impossible. Her father would never allow it.

Standing to her full height, Y/N turned to check on the intoxicated man. He was still unconscious, and she intended to keep it that way. "Let's go." She urged the dog.

Each second she spent there was unsettling. 

Y/N and the pit bull walked together in a respectable silence until they reached the animal shelter. She gently coaxed the animal inside the rescue enclosure, leaving the leash and collar with it. She quickly scribbled a note and left it on the box.

The people who worked at this shelter must recognize her handwriting by now, regarding the dozen of other dogs she had left inside. Y/N smiled sadly at the thought, hoping she was making an actual difference, hoping each dog she saved had found the loving home it deserved. 

The girl really did feel guilty for leaving it alone, but that was also part of the job. She couldn't take every animal she saved home.

"You'll have a better chance at life here." She smiled sadly, scratching it's head lovingly. "You just have to be nice, promise me that okay?"

She held her hand out and the dog licked her. She took it as a thank you.

Y/N stared up at the sky, exhaling loudly as she noticed the sun peaking over the horizon.

Her father would be home soon, and if she wasn't asleep by then... well, let's just say that wouldn't be good.

✭✦✭✦✭

thank you for reading if you did! This will be a 12 part series so let me know if you’d like to be apart of a tag list! 

[woodstockbtswriter]

Impermanence

Genre: Angst (with a smidge of Fluff), Social Media AU

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Female); Yoongi x Reader (Established Relationship)

Word Count: 1K (Story Portion)

Summary: You decide to get a tattoo to surprise your boyfriend, Yoongi. You ask Jungkook to accompany you, but this leads to a change you never expected.

Author’s Note: I really appreciate the positive response to this story! I hope you enjoy this installment. Please let me know if you want to see more!

Part Three

“Are you trying to get my attention, jagi?” Yoongi asked, pulling his gaze away from the TV and turning his head to look at you.

Actually, you were. Half-empty takeout containers littered your coffee table and your favorite series was streaming on your flatscreen, but you had been mostly preoccupied since your boyfriend arrived at your apartment for date night about an hour ago.

You knew you had to tell him about everything that happened the day before. There was no question in your mind as to whether you should; you were always honest with Yoongi and it was one of the things he loved most about you. You were even fairly certain he would understand, but you knew he would be hurt too, and you dreaded causing him any pain.

A feeling of guilt had also been gnawing away at you. Though you hadn’t initiated the kiss with Jungkook and had told him to stop... you did enjoy it. And if you were really, truly, perfectly honest... it had awoken something deep within you. Despite finding all of the other Bangtan boys attractive in their own way, you had never in the slightest entertained any romantic feelings for any of them. But now... you couldn’t help but look at Jungkook in a different light.

You’d made him promise to forget about his feelings for you, but you were finding it hard to bury your own feelings.

With all these thoughts in your mind, you had examined Yoongi’s face while he was absorbed by the TV show. You’d grown so familiar with him, you sometimes took for granted how remarkably beautiful he was. As you admired the angles of his cheekbones, his delicate skin, and his dark eyelashes, he licked his lips reflexively - a habit you had always found attractive - and all the feelings you had for this man welled up in your heart.

You loved Min Yoongi. You’d always loved him, and you always would. And right now, you had the overwhelming desire to show him just how much you loved him, to prove your love to him.

So you began drawing lazy circles on Yoongi’s neck with your fingers, tickling the sensitive skin just above the collar of his shirt, watching his perfect pouty lips instead of the screen, asking him to forget about the show without using words. It hadn’t taken him long to notice.

As soon as he gave you his full attention, you made your desire known.

“Kiss me.” You spoke softly, but there was a commanding tone in your voice.

Yoongi blinked. He wasn’t used to you being so direct, but he didn’t need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, tilting his head, and pressed his lips to yours, gently and unmoving. His kiss was warm and comforting; it felt like home. But you didn’t want a sweet, chaste kiss right now, you wanted passion and lust.

So when Yoongi moved to pull away, you held his face, keeping your mouths firmly connected. He didn’t object, but his surprise was evidenced by his sharp inhalation of breath. Clutching at the back of his neck, you parted your lips against his, and he responded eagerly, meeting your tongue with his own. His hands quickly found your waist and he moved forward, leaning you back against the couch cushions.

As your mouths moved together, you couldn’t help but appreciate how, though you felt completely at ease with Yoongi and heated moments with him were nothing new, his kisses never failed to make your chest tighten and your tummy flutter.

Already breathless, you reluctantly tore your mouth away, gasping softly. Yoongi still had air though, moving his lips to your neck, pressing hot kisses below your jaw, his breath tickling your skin as his whole body hovered over you.

You kept your eyes tightly shut and allowed your head to loll back as you savored every sensation. The baseball cap Yoongi had been wearing had fallen off at some point, allowing you to now grab fistfuls of his hair. When you did, he surged to kiss your mouth again, his hands sliding underneath your shirt, gripping your sides. And that was when you both froze.

He had felt it. Felt the dressing taped across your ribs.

He leaned back abruptly, quickly lifting your shirt to inspect what he feared was a wound.

“Jagiya!” He exclaimed, all his former ardor immediately replaced by genuine concern. “What happened? Are you hurt? What is this?”

You exhaled shakily. Yesterday, you could hardly wait to show your new tattoo to your boyfriend. But then everything with Jungkook happened, and you knew telling Yoongi about your tattoo would have to include telling him about his best friend kissing his girlfriend. That was why you didn’t immediately show him when he came over tonight.

But now, with a deep breath, you decided to just get it over with.

“No, it’s okay, baby. Here, let me show you.” You reassured Yoongi, slowly peeling back the bandage on your side.

He watched with furrowed brows until your tattoo was fully exposed, the delicate, curvy black lines still shiny with ointment. His face relaxed when he could clearly see that you weren’t hurt, a pensive expression settling onto his features.

“What’s all this about?” He asked, slowly lifting his hand, his long fingers stopping just before making contact with your skin. He traced the ink lines in the air, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “When did you have this done?”

“Yesterday.” You sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Yoongi dropped his hand from your side to find your hand and clasp your fingers. He met your gaze and waited for you to continue. You cast your eyes down, summoning your resolve. Now was the time.

It was time to tell him the whole story. You weren’t going to back out now, but you could only hope the pain you were about to cause him would not be too great.

Previous - Next

[enthusiasticsobrietyabuse]

Parent Manipulation Part 2 - Originally posted in 2005 OnTheEmmis.com, a Meehan Program Survivor Website and Discussion Forum. (ICECAP is the former incorporation of enthusiastic sobriety programs, it has since dissolved due to the effectiveness of OnTheEmmis.com)

So what’s the harm?

Well, it’s a dishonest way to make a living, for starters, and that is the very least of the harm done to people.

Let’s start by looking at the staff.

ICECAP has several lines for the skeptic who attempts to question the professionalism and integrity of their general staff.

“I may not be a doctor, but I’ve had my face in the ground long enough to know what the dirt looks like” is the sort of catch-phrase one may encounter when asking about ICECAP staff qualifications. The idea is one borrowed from Alcoholics Anonymous, that only a drunk can help another drunk. AA has been widely successful in rehabilitating alcoholics based on this principal, in which the catalyst is that one’s experiences lends him/her the ability to identify with the ‘alcoholic who still suffers’.

Further, the staff of ICECAP claims to function therapeutically from the platform of Alcoholics Anonymous principals and spiritual conditioning. The reason for all of this is so the ICECAP staff and methodology has a credible ‘foundation’ to justify its hiring and facilitation of non professional counselors. In short, AA is a household name, and is widely recognized as something that works. ICECAP uses this fact as a springboard for its operations.

The big problem with that idea is that ICECAP programs are not in any way similar to, affiliated with, kind of like, or even remotely in any way like AA. Alcoholics Anonymous is a non-profit self-help environment which has many safeguards cemented into its foundations that prevent any sort of ‘ego’ or for-profit interests from plaguing its members. Specifically, what AA refers to as ‘The Twelve Traditions’ are rigidly adhered to and aggressively enforced as guidelines to keep the AA name from anything that would divert the program from its primary purpose. The only similarity between ICECAP and AA is that they both have their members often form in a circle at the beginning and at the end of their meetings. Beyond that the two are apples and oranges.

Anyone who spends more than six months in both programs can easily see the canyon of differences that separate the two programs. The truth is, ICECAP drops the name of AA when it is convenient for them to do so, and rarely if ever gives the program any real credence.

“We are not AA, we are not trying to be AA, and we don’t play by the same rules as AA” (-direct quote- Michael C. Stonebraker, director and board member of ICECAP).

Ask ANY graduate from ICECAP, and they will tell you that a common dilemma that nearly every graduate experiences after leaving ICECAP and moving on to AA is that they are troubled with the inherent differences between the two groups philosophy’s for recovery. After years of ICECAP meetings, they are confronted with having to adjust to an entirely different program. In fact, most would say you are not off the mark if you suggested that it would have made just as much sense for them to graduate ICECAP into a monastery, or a school for lion tamers; instead of AA. They all have about the same in common: nothing.

Shouldn’t a program that claims to operate out of AA’s principals lend an easier transition to its clients from its rooms to AA itself?

I am painting this picture to illustrate that there is really nothing holding much water in ICECAP’s claim that its staff has credibility to function with kids from ideas that it ‘borrows’ from AA. To whatever extent a particular staff member of ICECAP attends or postures themselves as AA members, they do not deliver the principals of AA in a therapeutic manner to their clientele.

So what does that leave them with? Not much. The average ICECAP counselor is a high school drop out with no college or accredited training whatsoever. If asked for their credentials, they will respond with an array of phrases and ideas, all of which are meant to lead one away from any real answer. They will suggest with confidence and bravado that since they ‘come from the same place’ as their clients, they have an ‘edge’ in dealing with them the rest of the ‘professional’ community doesn’t. All of this can be very convincing to a parent, especially since their child seems to have taken so well to the given staff member. Again, this is ICECAP using the ‘unorthodox is better’ angle to begin the process of manipulation.

If long hair, dated language, concert t-shirts, a pretty face and a proletarian understanding of AA principals were all it took to rehabilitate a drug addict, then the world would be free of drug addiction tomorrow. The problem is that that is pretty much the only thing the average ICECAP counselor has going for him/her in terms of professionalism. They are funny and good looking. They know how to say ‘dude’ without looking like an old nerd. Kids love them and worship them. But they are INEPT AT ASSISTING THEM TO RECOVER FROM REAL DRUG ADDICTION!

So what then, does the average ICECAP counselor provide for a kid, if not sound professional guidance into the world of recovery?

Here are some of my observations on ICECAP provisions:

Kids in ICECAP are subjected to enormous pressure to take on the identity of a ‘dope fiend’. The ‘dope fiend’ model is constantly being illustrated to newcomers by staff and group members. It begins with traits that a lot of teens possess…rebellious action/ideation, foul language, ‘shock value’ expressionism, etc. But the irresponsible thing that ICECAP does with kids is that it sets them up to feel inadequate if they do not measure up to the complete profile of ICECAP’s ‘dope fiend’. The reason that this is such a bad idea is because the majority of ICECAP clientele are NOT ‘dope fiends’. If your kid is in ICECAP for any period of time, you will see a mental, physical and emotional change in them. Most parents (especially the ones who have invested thousands of dollars into this) view this as a good thing. If the changes in the child were not for the worst, I would agree with them. However, these changes include almost invariably the following:

Separation from school/education/career

Increased use of tobacco. Non-smokers will be encouraged to take up smoking (bizarre, but true).

The decline of a coherent or educated vocabulary. This is no joke. There is a rigid ‘dummied up’ dialect spoken by every member of ICECAP.

The encouragement of illegal behavior (curfew violations, trespassing, vandalism, underage smoking, etc.).

Limited exposure to outside influences. Music, films, books, clothes, sources of education, hairstyles, jewelry, where you get a cup of coffee, tattoos, leisure activities and more are all mandated by ICECAP doctrine.

Maladjusted/confused sexual behavior (more on this later)

One dimensional thinking/ apparent inability or unwillingness to think diversely or with any complexity.

Extremely narrow elements of thoughts applied to a very wide range of ‘life factors’, or; every problem life presents seems to have the same two or three things as an answer/rationale.

Constant fear of being ‘fucked up’, or ‘spiritually bankrupt’. ‘Negative’ actions by other people are consistently the result of these things.

Inconsistent/erratic emotional responses to seemingly normal situations.

Why would a kid willingly subject themselves to this?

The hook for teens is fairly obvious: Their parents leave them alone, they no longer have to go to school, they are allowed to smoke cigarettes, swear, and die their hair indigo blue if they want to, and there is usually a large enough pool of attractive peers to make the whole idea of ICECAP treatment not sound so bad.

Ask any current group member, and they will tell you that they do not feel controlled…that it is their choice to attend ICECAP. They will defend their positions with feverish resolve. They will claim moral high ground and a better way of life as what motivates them to ‘keep coming back’. Tell them that they are brainwashed, and they will respond by saying ‘well, maybe my brain could use a little washing…considering how sick I was’. Tell them they live their life in a ‘bubble’, and they will respond by saying ‘if this is a bubble, than I’m glad I’m in it…compared to the sick world I was a part of before!’

Two things are happening here: First, the child is offered nearly unlimited freedom, which in most cases is like a dream come true to them. What fifteen year old would turn that down? Second, instead of providing competent therapy or treatment, each kid is given this ‘dope fiend’ model, and as long as they adhere to this model, than they are ‘ok’. Everything that made Johnny ‘Johnny’ will be whittled away as he progresses through the ranks of ICECAP. He will attribute the changes to ‘getting rid of old behavior’, or ‘changing old tapes’, when in fact he is being herded and molded in a way that only a program facilitated by foolish, irresponsible amateurs can handle.

The sickest thing about this to me is the way they are manipulated by ICECAP into such devotion. The adolescent is such an impressionable creature, and everything that can possibly be used to woo them is carefully applied by ICECAP.

In Bob Meehan’s book, ‘Beyond the Yellow Brick Road’, there is a chapter called ‘The Teenage Psyche’. This is another decent chapter in this book. I’d encourage anyone to read it, because it perfectly illustrates what I am saying. If there is one thing that Meehan certainly has his finger on the pulse of, it’s what will attract a teenager. The ‘dope fiend’ model in which Meehan’s programs are forced to operate out of because of their gross lack of sound professional tools combined with the fact that ICECAP targets kids who are NOT ‘dope fiends’ creates a crippling environment for teenagers who would have otherwise just gone on with life.

Why would Meehan build his programs on such weak foundations professionally? To me that’s simple: Cheap labor. It’s not so hard morally to build a staff out of a bunch of negligent weirdoes like Mike Weiland, when your real aim has nothing to do with helping kids in the first place.

I believe that Bob Meehan has had two objectives from the very beginning. One was to satisfy his enormous ego, which he had never been able to accomplish prior to these programs. More importantly and certainly more dangerously, he wants money. It is no coincidence that every single person on the ICECAP payroll has been farmed from the group. These kids spend years trying to live up to those they believe (because they are told) are the most spiritually evolved humans on the planet (staff), and then picked to become the next generation of over-worked, under-paid servants of Bob Meehan’s empire.

Who pays the price? You, and more importantly…your kid.

And what of the rare occasion that a true addict walks through the doors of ICECAP?

It’s even worse for them. Many of them die.

[velvetinewitch]

WORLDBUILDING 1/4; GIFTEDS

of the four magical sectors in Aromayan Earth, Gifteds tend to be the most proud, as, unlike the rest, their power comes solely from their own dedication and talent. unlike Mysticals, who gain magic through worshipping deities, or Distinctuals, whose magic comes from strings and other worlds, or even Spirits, who are born with a connection to something and are able to possess magic related to that thing, Gifteds' magic comes from their talent with something like Makeup Art, letting them use magic related to said skill.

Gifteds attend a magic school called Nyxivis, a campus built into the side of a tall mountain with a cliff-side view of the hidden city of RDA, which functions on a separate plane of reality for their own protection. after graduation Gifteds can choose to stay in RDA as a teacher or some other profession, move upward to the all-magics college, or forge their own path in non-magical Earth. usually, the latter is the least chosen. those who do choose to return to the normal plane of reality often get a tattoo or some sort of signaller that they are Gifted so they can find others, usually a model of Aromae, the previous world, which is shaped similar to Earth but has a distinct land formation that sets it apart. for example, Natalie Faye wears a necklace that has a charm of Aromae on it’s chain.

ENERGY

one downside of Gifted magic is one’s own energy. similar to mana in video games, Gifteds only have so much energy to spare for their magic. as time progresses and they’ve used more of it, their energy grows higher in amount, and they can do more draining magic. if a Gifted runs out of energy, they’ll be physically and mentally exhausted, to the point of collapse. during what can often be a multiple-day coma, their brain will shut off entirely, and their own personal storage of magic will take over the body as it works on recovering. unfortunately, magic is very bad at one important thing: providing entertainment for the body while it is asleep. this is seen in the nightmares that Giteds have during this state. often these nightmares are visions of the present, past, and even future. sometimes they are straightforward, sometimes they are heavily abstract. always, they leave a sour taste in your mouth.

having multiple unrelated Gifts leaves a Gifted more tired and easily exhausted. these Gifteds are most notable by their tendency to fall asleep in class, or basically wherever. some Gifteds have multiple Gifts that heavily relate to each other, which is less exhausting.

SECTIONS

Gifts are sectioned into three main sections, although they usually can fall under multiple depending on specialization. Creatives are Gifts that involve the arts and any form of heavy expression. Logistics are often scientific or mathematical. Practicals fall into your everyday areas, Gifts centered around skills that are, as the name implies, practical. 

CREATIVES:

painting, graphic design, sculpture, animation, etc: the ability to bring one’s artistic creations to life. example, Penelope "Pallet" Davin.

photography: the ability to use a camera (or at higher levels, take photographs and use magic without one) to manipulate one’s environment and capture recordings or images of points in time that one can revisit physically later on. example, Orange Sullivan.

(more under cut)

drama/theater, directing, editing: magical manipulation of visuals such as “props,” camera angles, playing speed, etc, as well as things such as sound effects. can often be specialized to a certain genre, such as horror, in which one’s magic is stronger when manipulating related things. example, Jonathon "J" Dean.

makeup art: the ability to modify one’s own appearance, similar to a shapeshifter, as well as the appearance of others. example, Ella Lavthorne.

writing; journalism, creative writing: the ability to bring one’s writing to life, as well as see one’s backstory, manipulate or record a real life plot, etc. example, Aralion Faye, a fantasy-specific creative writing Gifted.

vocals; public speaking, linguistics: the ability to control one’s voice, have voices or words have magical effect, understand any form of language, etc.

dance: often coincides with music and athletics magic. involves the ability to control one’s body, achieve mystical effects through dancing, and sometimes cultural magics. example, Arista Way.

music; composition, instrumental, vocal: magical, often siren-like abilities, sometimes with powerful effects on those listening that vary with genre or song. example, Rain Wilson, a classical musician who often lures people to sleep with her pieces.

landscape; geography, interior design, architecture (can also fall under logistics): magical understanding and ability to manipulate one’s own environment. example, Ebony Foret.

fashion design: magical enhancement or adjustment of fabrics, accessories, or outfits in general. example, Willow Dean.

LOGISTICS:

mathematics; statistics, geometry, probability: the magical ability to understand and manipulate numbers, quantities, and space. example, Ethin Grey.

sciences; geology, hydrology, neuroscience, psychology, anatomy (some of which fall under practicals): magical manipulation of areas of study. for example, a geology Gifted is equivalent to an earthbender at many points.

engineering: often coincides with landscape. magical understanding of and ability build and use structures. example, Eren Faye.

coding: magical usage of a coding language to change and manipulate one’s own environment. example, Alice Baker.

PRACTICALS:

health (most of which also falls under logistics): the ability to magically manipulate one's body, whether that be healing it or controlling the systems. example, Caden Wright, a nursing student whose power to control one's body is overpowered, but his Hippocratic oath prevents him from using it to harm others during the events of the books as his magic would be suspended.

history: the magical ability to peer into the past of an object, person, or place, so long as one is touching said thing. example, Clarissa Claire, a teacher with the ability to see the past and project it to her students during class.

public speaking: the ability to control your own voice or the voice of another, usually making a voice have a specific siren-like power, programming someone else’s dialogue, or cutting off their ability to speak temporarily. example, Raven Wilde.

agriculture; gardening, animal keeping: example, Maisy ⬛.

cooking/baking (some of which may be categorized under creatives): equivalent to potion-making with any sort of edible beverage or food. example, Linus "Ladle" Jackson.

athletics (can also fall under creatives): magically enhanced physical abilities. ex, sprinters are equivalent to the Flash when needed. example, Christopher Lewis. 

organization: the magical ability to organize/sort things in any way possible. can be especially helpful when sorting in ways such as, “by who will die first to last,” or, “most to least likely to kill me.” example, Zane Smith.

travel; navigation/cartography, aviation, etc: enhanced modes of traveling or tracking, including better control over certain modes and the ability to magically alter them. example, Asrian Tseitlin.

MISC:

spiritualism: due to a strong connection with one’s spiritual practices, stronger enhancement of mind and magical abilities. often in relation to pagan practices. example, Maryline Northwin, a wiccan student with inexplicably purple powers that are especially strong when she is given access to her herbs and beloved crystals.

⬛ ⬛ ⬛ legally, no one is allowed to know that this power exists until it is revealed in book 4 of Faye and Fate. example, ⬛ , a student that we grow to love before they rip our heart out in Book 3.

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 237 “Underwater Breath-Holding Contest”

And after a chapter which gave us precious info about Sugimoto’s past we get again one that’s more action oriented, although from it we could still get some info.

For who’s wondering the ‘Kiss of Life’ is merely a trope.

Anyway, back to the story.

While Boutarou talks with the passengers, Sugimoto and Shiraishi talk about what to do… without bothering to involve Asirpa. Really, somehow they feel more disjunted than usual as a group, out of late.

Shiraishi points out that according to what Boutarou has said, the guy might have already discovered where the gold is hidden.

Sugimoto counters that Boutarou had however admitted knowing where to search isn’t enough to find the gold.

Shiraishi asks him what they should do in regard to the rumor about how useless it would be to collect the tattooed skins. Sugimoto, after a moment of hesitation, insist they should keep on gathering them.

This is a good moment to point out that keeping on gathering the tattooed skins brings up the following consequences:

- they’ve to hunt dangerous convicts that are all but willing to hand them their skins and might try to kill them

- they might end up killing said convicts

- they have as rivals to get the surviving convicts the Tsurumi group and the Hijikata group who also want the skins

- they will have to fight them anyway as both groups have part of the skins so if they want to get them all they’ve to steal from the others the skins they have

- the others will try to hunt them for the skins they own

- in the process they can also lose Asirpa who’s also hunted because she knows how to solve the code

- it will take them much more time

- they don’t know how many skins the others have so they’ve no idea when the convicts will all be found

In short, if collecting the skins is useless, pursuing them means only getting themselves in unnecessary danger and unnecessarily murdering people. In short is a bad combination that both Wakayama and Boutarou, seasoned criminals who don’t hesitate in killing people, rejected.

It’s beyond stupid to pursue the tattooed skins if there’s nothing to gain from them, Wakayama and Boutarou were intelligent enough to figure it out and stop. Wakayama gave up completely, Boutarou was smart and capable enough to devise a plan B as he didn’t intend to give up on the gold even if he understood plan A wasn’t worth being pursued.

So why Sugimoto, who’s not bloodthirsty and doesn’t want to put his friends in danger, wants to keep on chasing them?

Well, probably exactly for this reason.

Accepting that hunting the skins is useless means accepting what he did for more than a year was useless. He wasted time, he put his friends in danger, he murdered people ALL FOR NOTHING.

Sugimoto could likely accept doing it when the game was worth the candle, when the outcome would provide him much more benefits. But if all he had gone through was for nothing… well, how hard it becomes to swallow all this?

He has wasted time, he has suffered, he had murdered, he had almost lost Asirpa and it was all useless, a mistake.

For Boutarou and Wakayama it was easy to pull back, they had, at the time, invested too little in this, but Sugimoto had bet everything over how, if he were to collect all the skins, he would get the gold. While the clever thing would be to pull out like Boutarou and Wakayama had done, Sugimoto’s psyche is likely fighting it with all its strength, so that’s likely why he wants to reject the rumor and keep on going that way even if everything is starting to tell him it’s a wrong choice.

Shiraishi doesn’t pressure him, but suggests to pretend to ally with Boutarou and see how things will go.

Sadly this implies they can always betray and skin Boutarou later as there is no genuine wish to join hands in them, it’s just a situation of convenience.

And this is a good moment to remind everyone in this story there’s not a side who is with justice, that will be honest, that won’t betray an alliance. This isn’t ‘Saint Seiya’, here everyone is for himself and it’s meaningful that Noda presented Sugimoto as the first to break alliances, first the one with Asirpa, when in chap 14 decided to break their partnership without even telling her, thinking it’s for the better if you want, but still acting arbitrarily and leaving her on her own without even considering she might not just drop the search just because he’s not there but keep it up on her own and then with Tsurumi in chap 19 when he tricked him into giving him medical help in exchange for the skins.

Having the main character do this is our hint NO ONE is obliged to keep a deal, that all the deals are done out of self interest and can be broken exactly when interest conflict.

However, as Shiraishi and Sugimoto are thinking they can only pretend to join hands with him and then betray Boutarou later, Boutarou has found Heita’s skin, his cigarette case and the note with the rivers from which the gold came as well as his name, all hidden in Sugimoto’s backpack.

From this it’s easy for him to assume that no, despite what they had said, Shiraishi and Sugimoto didn’t come to his same idea as him by chance but murdered Heita and, from what they found on him, they came up with the same plan… or, more probably, they were trying to use the info they got to find and skin him the way they had done with Heita… and he’s not wrong because this was part of the plan and we know still is.

So Boutarou collect his accomplice and prepare himself to deal with Sugimoto and Shiraishi.

He tells in a cheerful tone (look at his balloons and how they aren’t just oval shaped but they look like small clouds) they’re about to reach Ebetsu and asks them again if they want to join forces with him. He then asks them if they know how much the gold is, if they believe it’s 75 kg as it was told to the prisoners. Then he tells them that the Ainu old man told him the amount of gold has to be much more, as it was put up in a huge pile of deerskin bags.

The info is interesting but again it opens the question of how they managed to move it all. It would have taken a lifetime for Wilk to do it on his own, if he did it with the Ainu who were killed, who supposedly weren’t that young (they included Ariko’s father and the brother of an old man), it would be better yet still be a big work.

I wonder if they used water to transport it as it would allow them to move it farther with more ease and speed than, let’s say, a carriage.

Too bad I find unlikely they could connect the place in which the gold was and the place in which they wanted the gold to end with water pipes in which they could just pour the dust and let the water do all the job of carring it from a place to another.

Still they could probably put it on boats, to move it far away from where it was. It’s still a big work though for few men who might not be that young anymore.

Oh well, when we’ll get an idea of the place in which the gold was, we might get hints on how it was moved.

Anyway Sugimoto at this confirmation that the gold is a huge amount sweats with a small smile while Shiraishi has an ecstatic air.

And they both react likely like Boutarou wanted, so caught up in this information that they lower their guard, all lost in their little world of how they’ll become rich and are caught completely on surprise when Boutarou tells them it’s a pity he can’t pursue his dream together with them, his accomplice pointing his gun at them from behind them.

Luckily for them there’s Asirpa who, having been cut out from adults’ conversations, had thought well to go back check Sugimoto’s luggage which had been left open and had realized Boutarou should have seen Heita’s cigarette case in it, as the case is now out of the bag.

Asirpa is no fool nor blinded by gold and immediately understood if Boutarou has seen the cigarette case and pulled it out, he should have also seen what it contained and Heita’s skin and would be less amicable with them than previously.

So, as Boutarou’s accomplice is about to shoot them, she throws one of her arrows to the gun, causing the tip of it to slide between the cylinder and the lower part of the frame, effectively blocking the cylinder from rotating and therefore rendering the gun unable to shoot.

So again Asirpa saves the day, after saving the day the chapter before. Really, as I said in a post long ago, when in troubles call her, she’s the most reliable to save the day.

As Peter Venkman would say ‘She came, she saw, she kicked their asses!’

Asirpa is great, that’s it.

A fight ensues… or better it would have ensued if the captain hadn’t rotate the ship’s wheel and caused it to move on a different track, a track that brought it close to the tree, causing their branches to basically sweep the bridge and send Sugimoto, Boutarou and Boutarou’s accomplice in the water, Shiraishi having the good sense to toss himself on the ground because Shiraishi is awesome like that and not enough apprecciated.

Boutarou’s accomplice… well, at a first glance I thought he ends up hitting his head against the waterwheel… but it can be he actually ended up being sucked by it as we see blood spraying out of it and then he starts drowning again, one of his legs bent to an odd angle and his body bleeding heavily.

So really it could have been much more gruesome than him just hitting his head... and I’ve to admit Noda toned down the gruesome scenes if I compare Golden Kamuy to when it started. I mean... Tamai’s face or lack thereoff is something I think people will remember for a long time... or do we want to talk of Noma hung on a tree with his intestines trailing down of it?

Sugimoto sees the scene but Boutarou is immediately behind him, grabs him and starts pulling him deeper underwater.

It’s worth to remember not only water is Boutarou’s element, in which he moves much better and much faster than Sugimoto but that he can hold his breath much longer than a common human so Sugimoto is hugely at disadvantage here. Boutarou was also very clever in this.

Not only he placed himself behind Sugimoto, making harder for the latter to hit him, but grabbed his left wrist, making difficult for Sugimoto to swing the bayonet he was holding with his left hand.

If anything Boutarou’s mistake was he didn’t manage to also grab Sugimoto’s right wrist but only the sleeve of his right coat, leaving him some measure of movement with his right hand.

Meanwhile outside Shiraishi asks Asirpa if she can swims… but it turns out she can do it only as long as she can touch with her feet. I wonder if this too will become a plot point or it’s just random info.

Anyway, wanting to help Sugimoto, our brave and awesome Shiraishi tosses himself in the water.

Meanwhile Sugimoto manages to grab with his partially free right hand the bayonet and tries to hit Boutarou with it. Boutarou let him go and, from Sugimoto’s face, we can see he’s pretty short of air, bubbles escaping from his mouth and nose and eyes open wide.

Boutarou grabs his foot, pulling him down again as Sugimoto waves desperately his arms and more air escapes from his mouth and nose.

At this point Shiraishi appears and grabs Sugimoto’s face.

Shiraishi is weak and can’t fight Boutarou so he planned to use the mouth-to-mouth breathing technique so as to give Sugimoto air and allow him to keep on fighting.

It’s a plan, it normally won’t work that easily in life but in manga and anime it hardly fails.

Sugimoto though, tries to push Shiraishi away and also moves his face away, causing Shiraishi to miss his mouth when he tries to give him air and then, for good measure, Sugimoto hits Shiraishi, the blow causing Shiraishi to partially lose consciousness and starts floating away, toward the air, stopping him from further attempting to give air to Sugimoto.

Overall I get the whole thing is played for fun, from the mouth-to-mouth breathing that can be viewed as a kiss to Sugimoto’s reaction. I’m not really amused though as it’s overall stupid.

Sure, normally this sort of things work solely in tv shows and manga/comics but Sugimoto is depicted as desperately needing air so he should have been extremely cooperative in the whole thing (have you ever tried drowning? You won’t be picky, you’ll literally kill to get air) because otherwise he could very well die, and harming Shiraishi might have caused him to drown as well, instead than do them any good.

I get that due to the rule of funny they would obviously both survive and that Sugimoto could pull out of his hammerspace new air without the need of Shiraishi’s help but really, I would have preferred if this fight between two cool guys was kept serious after Boutarou’s accomplice died in such a gruesome way. Sure, maybe Noda wanted the humor to make us forger exactly that but… well, as far as I’m involved it didn’t work.

Of course maybe it’s just me, not everyone must react the same to a joke.

Anyway, while Boutarou keeps pulling him down, Sugimoto losing more air from his mouth when the rule of cool comes to his rescue in form giant sturgeons deciding to swim close to them so that Sugimoto can... hum... yell so as to waste more air from his mouth (is he trying to say he’s immortal?)...

stab his bayonet in a fish and have it drag him away.

But it’s not like the fish swims toward the air and Boutarou doesn’t let go of Sugimoto’s foot while Sugimoto instead let go of more air and it’s only a mix of rule of funny and rule of cool that keeps him still perfectly aware and strong enough to hold onto his bayonet because everyone else at this point would have had his lugs completely filled with water, lost consciousness and drowned.

But I guess Noda realized one could pull this on only for so long.

Boutarou should have more ability to hold his breath underwater than Sugimoto, so keeping this up either undermines this because Sugimoto is faring way too well for someone who shouldn’t have even half of Boutarou’s ability or Noda would need to end this with Sugimoto finally drowning due to lack of air.

So, since Noda can’t kill Sugimoto but Sugimoto can’t get out of water to get air nor can beat Boutarou underwater, Noda decided to have luck save Sugimoto again this time not in form of giant fishes but in form of Boutarou’s long hair getting trapped in the waterwheel, pulling him to it.

I think the idea is that if Boutarou doesn’t free himself, this time he’ll either drown or, more likely, will end up making the same end of his nameless accomplice.

In fact, while Sugimoto manages to pull his head out of water and breathe, with Asirpa’s obvious relief, things take a turn for worse for Boutarou as his body is starting to get trapped in the waterwheel.

At this Noda shows us Sugimoto. I think the idea is that this means Sugimoto knows what’s happening to Boutarou and now he has to decide if he has to let him die or do something.

Meanwhile things are getting worse for Boutarou as he’s starting to lose air from his mouth and…

and that’s the moment Suggimoto cuts his hair free, saving him and probably willing, if not his loyalty, his possible cooperation.

Boutarou liked him already and likely attacked him only in self defense, because correctly figured out Sugimoto was out there for his skin and, like Sugimoto, he preferred to kill than to be killed.

They’re similar in many things those two and I like to think Sugimoto didn’t merely save him to get info but also because he felt a kinship through their similar pasts.

Honestly I would love for those two to become friends, Boutarou has a different cheeriness from Shiraishi, while Shiraishi is cheery because he doesn’t worry, Boutarou is positive but he’s also practical, a good thinker and tries to go for the best outcome. I think he could bring something good to the group.

Of course it always loom in his back the fact that Vasily, thinking he’s an enemy, might shoot him down. We’ll see.

Then, while a box gives us some info, we see that the rule of funny ensured, as expected, Shiraishi’s survival… but I kind of have the feeling this played again like the final page of chap 211. Shiraishi got the short end of the stick and no one cares as it was supposed to be ‘fun’.

Oh well, he was given the role of comedic relief so I guess not much can be done but I’m still sorry for him. He tried to help the way he could and his attempt was rejected, with Sugimoto putting him in danger only to make readers laugh. Honestly I think Shiraishi deserves more apprecciation but it might be just me.

[dewitty1]

The Pirate and the Prince

Maniacani @maniacani-arts  PalenDrome (nerdherderette) @nerdherderette

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Colin Creevey, Marcus Flint, Roger Davies, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Pius Thicknesse, Hedwig (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirate Harry Potter, Aristocrat Draco Malfoy, Virgin Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Past Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter - Freeform, Past Roger Davies/Harry Potter, Harlequin, Adventure & Romance, Tattoos, Drinking, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Sexual Harassment, No Period-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Light Angst, Happy Ending, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Digital Art

Summary:

Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

Excerpt:

"Don't jump," someone says softly. 

Draco hears the weight of Harry's footsteps on the deck behind him, sure and light-footed. "Sometimes, when I close my eyes and hear the birds and the waves, it's as if I'm flying alongside them," Draco says, opening his eyes slowly. 

Harry settles himself on the railing next to Draco as they stare out at the waters ahead. "Hmm," he says quietly. The setting sun bathes his strong features in its soft light, his eyes luminous under his dark lashes. "I think I prefer to keep my eyes open, though. To be prepared for any eventuality."

"Being prepared doesn't mean one can't enjoy a moment of spontaneity. I would think that the Master of Death would embrace Fate's whimsy with a bit more daring."

Harry snorts. "I've experienced more 'daring' by the age of twenty than most have in the entirety of their lives."

"So modest." Draco glances at Harry, and in a fit of inspiration, lowers his hand to the strip of green fabric that's wrapped around his waist. He undoes the knot and waves it in front of Harry face. "Let's try, for a bit of fun. It will be like playing buffy with a stick."

Harry's eyes widen as he lets out a long hiss. "I won't wear a blindfold."

Draco frowns, deflated at the rejection. "But you wear a mask all the time," he says.

"Not one that impedes my vision." Harry leans back, visibly trying to slow his breathing. "I was often locked in a cupboard as punishment when I was a child. To be forced into such darkness is difficult for me."

"I'm sorry." Guilt wells up in Draco, the heat in his face rising. "I didn't know."

"How could you?" Harry asks, soft and without censure.

Draco thinks about his parents, how they tried to lay everything at his feet, give him every advantage. Though their wishes for his future may be different from his own, they had never done anything so deliberately cruel. "Your parents…forgive me, Harry, for speaking out of turn, but I don't understand how anyone could do such a thing to a child, never mind their own."

"It wasn't my parents," Harry whispers, fiercely staring at a spot on the railing. "It was my aunt and uncle. Monsters can be found everywhere, including one's family."

Draco reaches out to hold Harry's hand. Harry's eyes dart up in surprise, but he doesn't withdraw from the touch. His palm feels solid and warm, and then his fingers curl, interlocking with Draco's.

Harry watches Draco intently, then raises Draco's hand and brings it to his lips.

Harry's mouth brushes against Draco's skin. It's fleeting, but the ghost of the kiss lingers, the memory a sweet boon. "You're beautiful when you blush," Harry says, grinning.

"You make me feel like a lady who's just been granted a voucher to Almack's," Draco laughingly admits, thinking of Pansy.

"Hmm." Harry lets go of Draco's hand and runs a finger absentmindedly along the railing. "I doubt you'd ever find me hanging around with such esteemed company."

Draco's face falls at the disdain that's clear in Harry's voice. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The company of people who think that good breeding and exemplary behaviour are provinces of the nobility when they, in fact, are often the ones who lack it the most."

Draco takes a step forward, unwilling to let such a statement go unanswered. "That's a bit presumptuous. Why would you think so poorly of those whose only crime is to have been born of noble birth?"

"Because I was shown their immorality and cruelty at an early age, for it was none other than a noble—Lord Voldemort, the Duke of Hangleton—who robbed me of my childhood when he struck down my parents for his political advantage."

A chill washes over Draco, causing him to shiver despite the still-present sun. His father was an ardent supporter of Voldemort and his policies. He's still not sure how Voldemort met his demise and Harry's role in it, what rumours are salacious gossip versus some embellished version of reality. Given what he's just learned, he's certain that both Harry and his father are somehow involved.

Draco turns back to the open sea. As the sun touches down over the horizon, lavender washes over the skies, and the ocean turns a dark and turbulent blue.

Draco crosses his arms, unable to shake the sense of foreboding. "Here," Harry says gruffly as a light, woolen coat drapes over Draco's shoulders. It smells of Harry and his soap.

"Thank you," Draco says. Harry's gaze flicks over Draco's body wrapped in the too-large jacket before his expression becomes hooded.

"We'll be docking at Brisson Cay on Friday. My estate—Godric's Hollow—is on the western side of the Isle of Hogsmeade. It is large, and most of us reside there when not at sea, while we attend to our other business ventures. There is room for you and work to be had if you would like to continue your stay, although it might include a bit of hard labour."

Despite his predicament, the prospect fills Draco with a semblance of hope. "I believe I have proved to you that I have both the desire and capability to perform such work."

Harry gives him a smile. "It would only be fair to tell you that the Hogwarts Express sails from Brisson Cay to the Port of New York every three months. From there, it would not be difficult for one to book passage to London. If you should ever need it."

Draco frowns. "Is that what you'd prefer?" he eventually asks.

"There is a small cottage by the gardens, close to the water." Harry hesitates. "Hogsmeade is famed for its unusual beauty. I think that, for you, it would be a perfect home."

There's no mistaking the way in which Harry's voice husks lower. Draco tilts his head and licks his lips, parting them invitingly. "I look forward to you showing me all the beautiful things," he dares.

Draco winds his fingers along the back of Harry's neck and pulls him in. The hairs along Harry's nape tickle Draco's skin; Harry lets out a groan and gives in to the demand with the smallest of protests, and when he does, it's as if the walls of his resistance come crumbling down. He pushes Draco against the rail and brackets Draco's body between his muscular arms, his breath hot against Draco's cheek as their foreheads brush against one another. 

"You drive me to madness," Harry grits out. "Filling me with a fever beyond all reason." He allows Draco to bridge the distance as their lips touch, and the kiss that follows is desperate and almost angry.

The force of their kiss nearly causes Draco to buckle, his head dizzy as Harry cups Draco's chin and tilts it so the angle is better. The clumsiness of Draco's initial attempt slides into something more practised, a longing filled with lips and tongue, the heat of it urgent. Harry's left hand grips the side of Draco's hip, pulling them flush, the tightness of his breeches leaving no misunderstanding about the state of his arousal.

"Harry," Draco gasps. He tilts his neck back as Harry mouths the exposed line of Draco's throat, and he's sure that his skin is mottled and bruised as Harry worries it between his teeth. Draco's hips buck forward, and he's mortified by how needy he sounds, how desperate, how dangerously close he is to spilling in his trousers as he ruts against Harry's thigh.

"Do you know how much I've thought of you, Jacob?" Harry asks as Draco whimpers, his heart a rapid staccato.

Draco is so far gone that he doesn't care that Harry thinks he's someone else. His body burns as if suffering from ague and his heart races from the way Harry's fingers dig into his sides, as if he is trying to mark Draco's skin through the layers of his clothes.

"So needy. So beautifully responsive," Harry adds as he punctuates his words with a roll of his hips.

"Only for you, Harry," Draco gasps. "No one else. There's never been anyone else."

Harry's hands still, his grip painfully tight. He pulls back, and though his eyes are still dark with arousal, they are also widening in shock. He takes a step back, his lips swollen and kiss-bitten, his dark hair tumbling out of its queue as he shakes his head forcefully. "You are…" he rasps, his throat working from the effort. "You are an innocent?"

"What does it matter?" Draco pleads. He moves to draw Harry towards him, his heart aching when Harry recoils from his touch.

Harry's hands are clenched into fists so tight, Draco fears his nails will draw blood. "It matters because your first time should be something more than a dalliance."

Draco's cheeks pink with anger. "Are you saying I'm but an amusement?"

"Jacob…" Harry takes several deep breaths but he's already closed off, distancing himself from Draco with his words and actions. "I am saying that I am not the man that you think, nor the one you deserve. You should be someone who can return the trust that you give in equal measure."

He turns and walks away. When the sun breathes its last gasp, Draco realises that he's still wearing Harry's coat.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 35

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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Nighttime in the Icebox was usually pretty quiet, not counting the occasional inmate screaming or howling. It was a soundscape Mimi had been used to for years. She couldn’t guess how long she had actually been in prison, but it didn’t matter any more. Everything was in place. She waited until the night shift walked by her cell, briefly shining their flashlight through the plexiglass walls to confirm she was in bed. Nestled in shed skins and extra blankets she had collected over time, the reptilian knew there wouldn’t be a body check again for about an hour. Plenty of time. In fact, if things went according to plan, it would be the last body check for a while.

As the booted footfalls on the metal grate walkway faded, she crept from her bed without so much as a rustle from her shed skins. The control collar weighing on her neck took away some of her abilities - like her venom she desperately missed, but it couldn’t change her narrow shoulders and hips which were perfect for sneaking into an air vent. Climbing the back wall was difficult; without the collar, her fingers had grip like a gecko, but now she could grip only slightly better than a human. Still, she made it to the air vent near the ceiling and got in.

Most of this plan had already been formulated for a long time. Mimi ran through it in her mind thousands of times, part drill, part fantasy. For a long time, the missing piece had been how to safely leave the Icebox without tumbling down the mountainside or freezing in the snow. Who knew the twisted, savage little monster who used to swear she was one of the X-Men would give her the answer on a silver platter? It was funny. 

--

Most inmates blurred together in Mimi’s memory, unless they made a very strong impression that they could be useful. The one they started calling Guestbook stood out only because she was irritating. Her big doe eyes and chattering teeth and frightened tears were an annoyingly fresh reminder that the Icebox was indeed hell. 

On a day like a thousand others, the laundry room had been quiet and out of the way enough for Mimi to set up the deals that had allowed her to rise to gang lord status. She eventually amassed almost as much power as the warden of the Icebox. And when a frenzied inmate with wild eyes and frizzy, mousy hair had scrambled into the laundry room trying to hide behind a row of dryers, Mimi simply rolled her eyes.

“You can’t be in here,” she said. “Get going.” When there was no answer, she went over to the would-be hiding spot and tried again. “I know you’re not deaf.” The inmate was breathing heavy, but suppressing the sound as much as she could. Mimi frowned down at her, “Guestbook - hm.” She took in the torn sleeve of her jumpsuit, and fresh, bleeding X tattoos that had been carved into her forearm. “They got you again, huh?” 

Guestbook’s nostrils flared as tears welled up anew. “If you tell them where I am, I’ll--”

“You won’t do shit to me,” Mimi’s scaled brows lifted and her eyes narrowed. “That’s why you’re gonna die in here.”

Shuffling footsteps echoed in the hall outside of the laundry room, and a few of the more disgusting inmates poked their heads in. One asked, “You seen the Guestbook in here?”

Guestbook was still hidden from their view, and for a second Mimi honestly thought of letting them have her. Instead, she rested a fist on her hip and stated, “I’m busy. You bother me in here again and it’ll take them a week to scrape you off the floor.” They hesitated, but when Mimi bared her pointy teeth and hissed at them, they scattered.

As their pattering faded, Mimi cracked her neck and turned to resume her work sorting laundry. “Maybe if you hadn’t started off day one screaming about how you’re X-Men,” she said absently, “people wouldn’t be out for your hide. We all know you’re not.”

Guestbook squeaked from her hiding spot, “I--”

Mimi shook her head, impatient. “I don’t care either way. But I guarantee that if you kill one of these fuckers chasing you, they’ll start giving you some space.”

Guestbook shook her head, brows pinched tightly over a fading black eye, “I’m not killing anyone.”

Loading a pile of blankets into a washer, Mimi warned, “They don’t do funerals in here, and nobody gives a shit if you die for some bullshit moralistic ideal.” She threw in a scoop of detergent and set the machine running, and when she looked again, Guestbook was gone.

After that, it was like something had changed. Mimi started noticing when Guestbook fought back against her attackers. She escalated fights, and fought dirty. She even killed the inmate who had cut off her finger...and the inmate who had held her down for it...and she even bit off the finger of the guard who had watched and laughed. She killed another inmate, then another. So much for bullshit moralistic ideals. After that, Mimi tried a few times to offer Guestbook a place in the Vicious 13; a killing machine is always useful. But every time, Guestbook refused, and so Mimi had to send someone to stab her, make an example for turning down the V-1-3. But she never sent her best, because she didn’t want her dead, and whoever she sent usually met a grisly end at Guestbook’s hands.

--

The vent shaft was narrow, the turns were difficult, and Mimi had a hard time seeing - another thing that would’ve been no trouble without the collar. Still, she wriggled and maneuvered her way until she could hear voices. They were too muffled to make out clearly, but she recognized them well enough. She knew she wouldn’t show up on the heat sensors she’d been warned about, but still she crept along more slowly, careful not to make the slightest sound. Finally, she reached the vent opening over the control office. The air filter was filthy, and she couldn’t wait to throw it at the guards having a cheerful work day chat just beneath her.

They were trading snarky comments about the DMC’s benefits package when Mimi dove through the vent, sending the filter banging around and puffing clouds of dust everywhere. One guard, understandably startled, scrambled away from the intruder. The other was still in Mimi’s reach when she went to grapple him. He swung wildly with his fists and baton, and with a few fluid dodges, Mimi weaponized his momentum against him and flung him over her shoulder into a bank of cabinets. Before the second guard could stop her, Mimi was on the first, and with strong fingers hooked one hand under his jaw while the other held the top of his head firmly. She wrenched his head to an unnatural angle with a horrible crack. The guard went limp and slumped away from her. 

From the other end of the control office, the remaining guard didn’t scream into his radio for backup, didn’t beg for his life, didn’t make any move to attack Mimi. Instead, he smiled.

Mimi returned his smile as she got to her feet, “Edmund.”

“Maria,” his smile widened, “Finally.” Edmund Robinson, who had been the one to bring Guestbook to solitary, extended his arms and Mimi leapt into an embrace. They held it only a moment. He asked, “What’s next, gorgeous?”

All her years in the Icebox, and Mimi had hardly touched her collar, usually opting to pretend as much as possible that it wasn’t there. She grabbed it with both hands and said, “Get this fucking thing off.”

Robinson, still smiling, nodded and used his key card to unlock a safe where some devices about the size of a USB stick were kept. There were three hard tokens, each had a small screen displaying a six digit code that changed every ten seconds. With one in hand, they both took a deep breath.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Mimi said with an urgent edge. If he typed the code too slowly, or missed a number, the explosive charge would take off her head and his hands. She watched his face one more moment before turning around to let him reach the block on the back of her collar.

With a few beeps, and the longest nine seconds of her life, Mimi’s collar clicked loose and fell away. Her head swam, and she leaned against Robinson until the woozy feeling faded enough to collect herself. She shook her head, trying to clear away a nagging uneasiness. Finally, she heard guards shouting on the other side of the plexiglass walls. They could only get in if the officer inside the office scanned their card to unlock the doors.

“The armory,” she pushed herself away from Robinson to look at the row of monitors playing the security footage. On one screen, guards were grabbing heavy riot equipment. “Edmund, can you seal that?”

“On it,” he tapped his card against a sensor, typed a few keys, and she watched the surveillance screens as the door to the armory sealed shut, with a couple officers still inside and a half dozen more outside of it beating on the door.

Thunder on the doors of the office broke their focus. Officers were beating on the doors with batons, fists, and the ends of their cattle prods. Robinson and Mimi were unconcerned; the glass was built to withstand a beating from incredibly strong inmates throwing their full force against it. Mimi locked eyes with one of the guards on the other side of the glass. He was practically foaming at the mouth in his fury. “Edmund,” she said with a smooth, almost sensual tone, “open the cells.”