#posting this was like pulling teeth im gonna disappear for a while

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?” 

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion. 

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 

Hot. Why is everything so hot? 

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 

“What  in the hells…?” 

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic. 

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

#bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #astarion acunin #posting this was like pulling teeth im gonna disappear for a while #my fics #spittle

[kingkatsuki]

Blackmail | Fatgum / Toyomitsu Taishiro x Reader

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 - 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞) 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

Kinktober masterlist.

Summary: Based on this thirst post. You often come into the agency to pick your boyfriend Kirishima up after work, but Fat-gum is sick and tired of you constantly being a tease and he wants to take you for himself.

Pairing: Fatgum / Toyomitsu Taishiro x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, sleazy Fatgum, dubcon, manipulation, blackmail, coercion, cheating, blowjobs, cunnilingus, panty theft.

Word Count: 2.8k.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’tcha,” Taishiro smirked as he pulled his desk chair closer to you, the wheels scraping against the floor as he settled between your parted thighs. At his stature even sitting down his head was level with yours as he caged you against him, “You don’t want Kiri findin’ out what you like to do when he’s not around, huh?”

“But I don’t do anything—“ Your throat began to constrict as you found yourself choking up, tears beginning to pool in your lash line as you tried to blink them away.

“I mean, I could just let him go- but you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Let him go?” Your voice trembled, what did he mean ‘let him go’?

“I mean I’m sure there are plenty of other agencies that would take ‘im. Especially now he’s broke the top twenty-“ Taishiro began to list off other Hero agencies in the area, names that didn’t seem all that bad, “But you’d have to tell him that it’s your fault he can’t work here anymore, you know that right?”

You worried your lip between your teeth as you stared at the large man in front of you, weighing up your options. His palms disappearing beneath the hem of your skirt as he stroked along your inner thighs, “What’re we gonna tell Kiri, huh?”

You tried desperately to blink back the tears as you felt him squeeze at the apex of your thighs, his meaty fingers pressing into the supple skin as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“He doesn’t have to know.” You repeated Taishiro’s words to you from moments earlier, watching how his lips curled into a smug smile as he looked like the cat that got the cream. Sitting back in his chair as he began to brush the pad of his thumb along the crotch of your panties, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric.

“Knew you’d see it my way, sweets.” Taishiro grinned, “How about we start with ya takin’ that off.” He indicated to your top as you swallowed thickly, trying to hide your embarrassment as you slowly pulled it up and over your head.

Leaving you clad in a simple red bra that conveniently matched the panties you wore as Taishiro let out a lewd groan, one of his palms easily dwarfing your breast as he massaged it through the sheer fabric, thumbing your nipple until he felt it pebble beneath his touch. Hardening to a stiffened peak as he moaned softly, wrapping his arms around you to undo the clasp of your bra as he buried his face between your tits. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against the exposed skin before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirling around it as he hummed gently, sending pleasurable vibrations throughout your body.

“Your tits look so fuckin’ small in my hands, sweetheart. Look-“ Taishiro palmed your chest, thumbs rolling your nipples in soft circles as he felt the weight of them in his palms. Trying to ingrain the sight of you to memory as he sat back in his chair.

You were nervous that Kirishima could walk in at any time and catch you in such a compromising position. His boss' hands up your skirt while he toyed with your naked breasts, instantly imagining the hurt look that would flash across his ruby eyes. This was wrong, so wrong. But it felt like you didn’t have any other choice, you didn’t want Kirishima to lose his job, his happiness, because of you.

“Oh, we’re not done yet darlin’,” Taishiro smirked at you as his hands moved to his belt buckle, unfastening it as he tugged his fly down. Raising his hips just enough to tug his boxers and trousers down, freeing his aching cock.

You’d thought Kirishima was but the first time you’d seen him, but this? This didn’t even seem real. Almost like a phallic toy that you’d only see in those niche porno movies, the thick meat of it flat against his thigh as the bulging head oozed with pre. Your cunt clenched painfully at the mere suggestion of him trying to penetrate you, the fear of it enough for you to work up the courage to tell him no and go and spill your guts to your boyfriend.

“Oh, don’t look so scared, sweets.” He continued stroking the hem of your panties, teasingly slipping beneath the fabric to press against your mound, “Ain’t no way I’d ever make you take all of me like that— especially not the first time.”

A peculiar relief spread through you at his admission, your heart no longer pounding against your rib cage with the thought of being split in two by his monstrous cock. But the first time? This would be the only time—

“Oh no, I just want you to suck my dick.” The words left his lips so bluntly you could’ve mistaken them as him ordering his morning coffee, “You can do that for me, can’t you babe?”

Taishiro wrapped a large palm around his cock, giving himself a languid stroke as his thumb flicked against his slit. Gathering the pre that oozed along the underside of his cock as he stroked it along his length. Even his balls looked huge, at least tennis ball size as you debated whether you’d even be able to fit one in a single palm. Still nervous, but hopeful that if he came quickly you would be able to get yourself out of this situation before Kirishima returned from his shower.

“I know Kirishima must be getting that good head,” Taishiro grinned, pushing his chair back from the desk as he spread his thick thighs, giving you space to slink onto the floor between them. His free hand groping one of your breasts on your descent, “He’s not small either, is he?”

Shaking your head ‘no’ as you stared up at him from your position on the floor, his hand curling around your neck as his thumb stroked your jawline softly, using the grip to bring you closer to his cock. Your hand tentatively reaching out to wrap around his girth, surprised at the weight of him as he let go of his cock.

“Don’t look so worried, sweetheart.” Taishiro cooed, moving your head until it was face to face with the tip of his cock, pushing your lips against his slit as his salty pre smeared against your lips. Instinctively slipping your tongue out to swipe at the moisture, tasting him on your tongue as you stared up at him with those doe-like eyes, “This is our little secret.”

Leaning into his touch as he pushed the fat tip of his cock against your tongue, his large palm still holding the back of your head as he let out a low groan, eyes fluttering as he threw his head back at the sensation. Settling himself back in his office chair as he felt you wrap your lips around him.

“That’s it,” Taishiro rasped as he urged you to move forward to try and take more of him inside your mouth, “Such a good girl for me.”

Even though Kirishima was by no means small, your jaw ached from the stretch as you tried to take more of Fatgums cock inside your mouth. Teeth grazing against the underside as you felt him hit the back of your throat, gagging as spit began to spill from the corners of your mouth. Wet tears catching on your thick lashes as you tried to breathe through your nose, barely even halfway down on him as you bobbed your head along his length.

“Kirishima’s a lucky guy.” Taishiro cooed down at you, his hand wrapping around yours to get you to stroke the thick base of his cock that you couldn’t fit inside your mouth while you continued sucking gently, “I’d kill to come home to this every night.”

He dragged the back of his knuckles against your cheek almost tenderly as he moved back, eyes transfixed on the way you pumped his length. You were so small compared to him, his cock twitching as he thought about how tight you would be if he split you apart with his cock.

“You got no idea how long I’ve thought about this, sweets.” He continued as you felt him push you further on his length, feeling the tip at the back of your throat as you pulled away. Strings of spit connecting your lips to his tip as you coughed, your mascara definitely leaving dark rings around your eyes as you blinked back tears.

“You gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth?” He pinched your cheek, “Or maybe I should cum in your panties, huh? So when you’re out with Kiri you’ll still be thinkin’ of me?”

The thought terrified you, your doting boyfriend slipping his hands under your skirt to feel your panties dripping with another man’s cum.

You sucked harder, pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock as you fisted his cock, drool spilling down his length for lubrication as he continued to moan above you. Shifting his hips as you heard the slight hitch in his breath, signalling to you that he was nearing his release as you quickened your pace. Cheeks hollowed as you worked him towards his end, wide eyes gazing up at him as you watched the way he threw his head back against the back of his chair, blond hair fanning around him.

“F-uck, I’m gonna cum—“ Taishiro stuttered, tightening his grip on your head as you felt his hips stutter, grunting as he emptied his release into your mouth. Warm streams of cum hitting the back of your throat as he took over from your hand, his palm jerking his cock as his fist hit your nose. Moving back as you began to splutter as he continued emptying his release into your mouth. Watching the creamy essence splash against your tongue and lips as he towered over you.

“God, you’re such a good girl.” He tapped the tip of his cock against your tongue as he pulled back, his hazel gaze intent as you closed your mouth, swallowing his release. The mixture was salty against your tongue as it almost soothed the scratch that now sat at the back of your throat, hoping that you’d done enough to satiate the seasoned Pro. What you hadn’t expected was for him to pick you up from your knees and place you into his desk.

“P-please.” You stammered, feeling his calloused pads grazing against your panties.

“Fuck, darlin’” Your body jerking as he pressed his fingers against your clit through the thin fabric, “You’re dripping.”

You hated your body for betraying you like this, grinding onto his touch as he began to press slight circles against your sensitive nub, whimpering as he slipped his fingers into the hem of the material to tug them down your plush thighs.

“Look how fuckin’ pretty you are, sweetheart. No wonder Kiri’s always braggin’ about you.”

Sliding his thick digit through your messy folds as he pressed the tip of his finger against your tight entrance, groaning as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Is he takin’ care of you enough?” Taishiro cooed down at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Ain’t no reason you should be this tight.”

Watching the tall man sink down to his knees between your thighs as he shamelessly stared at your naked slit, slowly pushing the first thick finger inside your tight cunt. Groaning as he felt the way your walls clenched around him as he began to languidly pump it in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He grunted as he watched his finger slowly disappear inside your slick heat, curling it towards the spongy spot inside you as he felt your body shift against his desk, “You feel like a virgin.”

You let out a whine as you felt him push another thick finger inside your heat, stretching you out around him as he began to pump them inside you, leaning forward as he pressed the softest kiss against your clit. The sensation catching you off-guard as your lower half jolted, crying out as his lips curled into a smug smirk.

“Ya like that?” He repeated the motion, watching your thick lashes flutter, “Of course ya do.”

Taishiro wrapped his lips around your clit, his tongue lashing against it as he continued his assault on your body. Unable to stop yourself from grinding against his face as you felt the familiar feeling building up in your core, his fingers unrelenting as he worked you towards your release.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He hummed against your clit, gazing up from between your plush thighs.

Unable to stop yourself from crying out in pleasure as his teeth grazed your clit, sucking it hard. Your body jolting at the sensation as you felt the same inside you burst, your orgasm rippling through you in harsh waves as you began to rock yourself against Taishiro’s face. Your walls clenching around his fingers as you rode out your orgasm, your hands trying to push his face away from your overstimulated clit as you trembled in pleasure.

“Please, s’too much.” You whined, watching Taishiro finally move away from your cunt as he gave you a wide grin. Your slick glistening against his chin as he brought his soaked fingers to his lips as he lapped them clean.

“No wonder Kiri loves you so much, you’re perfect.” Taishiro groaned.

Sliding off his desk with wobbly legs as you pulled your skirt down to try and protect any modesty you still had left.

“Can I get my panties back?” You murmured, already feeling wet and exposed between your thighs as you wanted to cover yourself up.

“Ahh, these?” Taishiro picked up the pretty red lace out from his chair, balling the fabric into one of his fists, “These are my little souvenir, that’s okay right?”

You bit your bottom lip hard to try and fight back tears as you nodded in agreement, inhaling through your nose as you adjusted your skirt, trying to pull the fabric lower to hide the fact you were now bare beneath.

“And Eijirou?” You felt your heart hammer in your chest as you uttered his name.

“Don’t worry about it, sweets. He’s a good kid, I like havin’ him around.” You felt your stomach lurch at the sound of Kirishima’s name leaving his lips, picking up your bag.

“Have fun with Kiri, sweetheart. He’s been talkin’ about this date all damn day, you know!” Taishiro smirked at you as you moved to leave his office, a large palm patting you on the ass as he held the door open for you.

You tried to wipe away the streaks of mascara from beneath your eyes, hoping you could freshen up in one of the bathrooms on this floor before Kirishima was done with his shower.

“Hey, Baby!” You saw a familiar flash of red as your boyfriend came bounding towards you down the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest as his eyes lit up at the sight of you, “You ready to go? Damn, you look so pretty today—“

The next day you didn’t want to meet Kirishima at the agency, texting him in the early afternoon to tell him that you didn’t feel well. A blatant lie, but you couldn’t face seeing his boss so soon after everything that had happened. Finally perking up when you heard the door to your apartment open, sitting up from your position on the couch to see your boyfriend step into the living room with a worried look on his face.

“You okay, baby?” Kirishima cupped your cheek in his warm palm, making you lean into his comforting touch. Your eyes fluttering as you surrounded yourself with him again, nodding your head slightly as you blamed it on a migraine.

“My poor baby,” Kirishima pouted, leaning down to peck your lips gently, “You know Fatgum was worried about you today too, you know.”

“Was he?” You didn’t even want to ask, nervous of what information he may have divulged to Kirishima while they were at work together.

“Yeah! In fact, when I told him that you weren’t feeling too good he went out and got you this. He even offered to come round and give them to you personally, but I said that you might not be up to guests. Isn’t that sweet?”

The idea of Taishiro coming to your shared apartment with Kirishima made you blanch, happy that your boyfriend had turned down his polite request as Kirishima held a plain white box out to you. Your hands trembling as you moved to open it, your heart hammering in your chest when you saw what was inside.

A simple plain vanilla cupcake, much like the one you were eating in his office yesterday.

#tw:dubcon #trigger:dubcon #tw:cheating #trigger:cheating #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut #fat gum x reader #fat gum smut #Taishiro Toyomitsu x reader #Taishiro toyomitsu smut #toyomitsu taishiro.x reader #toyomitsu taishiro smut #Bnha x reader #Bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #kinktober #kinktober 2021

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Feeding The Flames: Hammer Time

Summary- 1.6k Johnny Storm x You. Johnny has an interest in a new sex position in which you laugh about at first. There is just no way you two can actually pull it off. But Johnny knows better. 

This is written for @imanuglywombat​ “Is That Even A Sex Position” Weekly Challenge. NSFW, 18+ Sexual Content

Masterlist

“Johnny, No.” You stared at disbelief at the video he was showing you. 

“Y/N, Yes… Come on, this is nothing.” Johnny pressed in against you from behind, his arms circled around your waist while he was teasing your earlobe with playful nips of his teeth. 

Your eyes widened at the video when the couple came together in a rather loud pornographic moans, scoffing. “Look at that girl, she's folded into a pretzel and acting like he is god's gift to women. There is NO way in hell I can fold like that Johnny.” You turned the phone off and set it on the counter. Your boyfriend was crazy if he thought he was gonna try that with you. 

Johnny's hold tightened and twisted you around to face him, giving a slight pout of his lips. “You doubt me Sweetheart? I wouldn't have shown you this if I didn't think we could have some fun with it.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him while he let his warm hand ease under your shirt, little tickles of heat following his touch while he rubbed at your hip. You knew this game, his game. Johnny would be so damn persistent when it was something he wanted. So you tried a new tactic, see if you could distract him another way. You licked at your lips and turned your gaze teasing, playful. “You know, I heard that the motocross is in town. What if we went down there this weekend and did some roleplaying. You can be the bad biker boy and I will play the innocent admirer who you can fuck under the bleachers after you do the crazy trick.” You finger walked up his chest, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and arching into him to nibble on his jawline and kiss up to his lips to kiss him dirty, a flick of tongue against his and clashing teeth against his till he fisted his hands in your shirt and ground you in against him. 

Got him… you smirked a bit to yourself before whispering to him. “You do the ‘Flame On’ move during your stunt, I will be sure to go to my knees for you.” Your hand rubbing against the front of his pants and he arched his brows with interest when you dropped back to the flat of your feet, waiting for confirmation. 

“Even that thing I like with your tongue?” He wiggled his brows and you winked, nodding. 

“Twice Baby.” You bit your bottom lip, dragging teeth across it a moment. 

“We can do that… But I still want to try Thor’s Hammer.” And all your hard work came crashing down. 

“You really would want to do something called Thor’s Hammer, wouldn't you Johnny.” You huffed out and he broke out into a grin, tickling his fingers up the back of your neck. 

“Come on Babygirl, you know if anyone could wield that hammer, it would be me.” 

“Mmhm, we will see. When your calling us an ambulance and have to explain it because you bent me into a knot and you strained some muscle trying to hold yourself up while fucking me. Also, your wining me and dining me first.” 

“Of course.” He agreed, sharing another kiss. 

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Johnny was good as his word, he took you out to your favorite restaurant that night, using his celebrity superhero status to get one of the best tables. You two laughed over appetizers, flirted over dinner, and when you two had a drink at the bar before leaving, it turned into mini make out sessions while dragging you back to the car to get you two home.  

Falling into the apartment you two shared, each grabbing at your clothes now and shedding them while crashing against each other, giggling against each others mouths and Johnny backed you into the couch, dropping to his knees and dragging your skirt down to rip it off your legs while you toppled over the arm of the couch with a squeal. “Johnny!” 

Hot mouthed kisses flowed up the inside of your thighs as he pushed them apart with his shoulders. “What? I got you where I want you.” He licked a stripe along your panties and you grabbed at his scalp, trying to press him closer to your core as he bit at it playfully, pulling it away till it wasn’t pressed against your skin. 

“You are still wanting to do that hammertime move?” You whined while draping your legs over his muscled shoulders. 

“Yes, I still want to do Thor’s Hammer.” He flickered a flame against your panties as he was drawing them away, the heat searing you in a flash as your panties turned into nothing but ash he blew away and buried his head in between your thighs to devour your pussy. Rational thought trying to dissuade him disappeared as your head tilted back into the cushion, getting high as fuck on the way he played his tongue between your folds. Johnny never held back when eating you out, long licks, sucks to your clit and folds had you crying his name and arching for him when your orgasm coated his face. Sinking into bliss, you felt Johnny grasp the back of your thighs and stretch your legs back, making you groan at the stretch as you wrapped your hands around the back of your knees. 

“God I hate you for making me try this.” You muttered and Johnny loomed over your view, his palms squeezing your ass cheeks. 

“You love me or else you wouldn't be doing this. Besides, aren't you a bit intrigued at how this will feel.” He pulled away and you could hear him pulling at his clothing to get it removed, and then he was climbing up on the couch to get in position. You snorted as he stretched over you, trying to hide your grin. 

“This is an angle I have never seen you in before. Nice balls.” 

Johnny smirked down at you as he ran his cock through your folds, letting your slick coat his cocks head. “Hope you're enjoying the view because I am.” He stated as he slid home, making your moan lewdly while he stretched you open. His muscles straining to hold himself up, reaching behind him to grasp the back of the couch. “Jesus fuck Y/N.” Your thighs tightened, which just made your muscles squeeze around him, making him groan out once more. “You keep on doing that and you're gonna make me cum before I even move.” 

“Sorry, but what did you expect at this angle?” You let go of the back of your knees and dug your fingers into the couch cushions as he started rocking, pulling out and sinking back down. There was no denying that you felt stuffed with him, angled thrusts hitting you in different spots and obscene noises from your now drenched pussy just add to the loud moans and groans filling the room. 

“It's even better than I thought” Johnny said above you, his hand flexing against his thigh as he used it for leverage, rocking forward to grind himself into your clit, making you cry out his name and grab a hold of his shin while you bounced into to cushions with the impact of his movements. 

“Fucking hell Johnny…” You cried out, your fingers digging in enough to gouge his skin and a familiar knot had you squirming underneath him. 

“You gonna cum baby? All over my cock cause it feels fucking good dowesnt it.” Johnny grunted out and you were shaking your head in a up and down agreement, gasping as it felt like the air was being punched from your lungs. 

“Yes! Oh fuck yes, Im about to.” 

You could feel Johnny warming up inside you, his cock twitching as he to was close as you were, and another slam into you over and over hitting your sweet spot sent you over the edge, your leg shooting out and Johnny yelled out, trying to hang onto his balance while he released his own spend, shaking from his own orgasm. He ended up falling back onto the back of the couch to perch, his own legs quivering from his high and the strain of holding himself in the unnatural position for so long. 

Breathing out, you scooted up the couch to stretch your own aching muscles while he slipped down to stretch over you, leaning on his elbows on each side of your head while grinning down at you. “So… was it as bad as you thought? You seem pretty fine to me.” 

Your hands roamed up and down his back as you pulled him down to lay against you, his head tilting to nib on your neck while you arched a bit under him, humming in post orgasm bliss. 

“Okay… it isn't so bad.” You clenched your fingers into his back muscles that you felt rippling under your palms. “But can you just pound me into the couch like this now? I ache and don’t feel like trying to put too much effort into getting off.” 

Johnny laughed deeply, rocking his hips against yours while licking against your neck and kissing your sweet spot against your pulse. 

“Would you be comfier in bed Baby?” He nuzzled against you and you whined out. 

“Yes please.” 

“Okay, come on.” He scooped an arm under you and you wrapped your legs and arms around him, snickering against his neck as he carried you to bed. “That cant really have work you out?” He teased and you lifted your head to catch his mouth, shifting to slide your hands against his face and moan into the kiss, rubbing your body against his as he kicked open the door. 

“Fuck no Johnny, we’re just getting started.” 

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm #fantastic four fic #amber writes #sweater writes

[b0ther]

pardon my manners pt. i

In which Kaeya Alberich constantly fucks his secretary silly.

pairing : kaeya x reader (feminine pronouns, afab)

rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content)

type : chaptered (probably)

tags : modern au, office setting, dom/sub undertone, office sex, manhandling, vaginal sex, cumming inside, kaeya takes a vid while fucking reader here

word count : 1,755

author's note : title from 'sexy can i' by ray j. don't comment on my disappearance or i WILL cry. this is purely self indulgent <33 also i posted this in wp... im trying out new things ok.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 │ wattpad )

"Let me see that pretty face, baby."

How many times has he fucked his little secretary by now?

How many times has he felt her drenched cunt enveloping his cock, fill her tight hole with his cum, and watch as his seeds trickle down the inner side of her thigh?

"Nooo..." Her slurred words echo through the dark office room—she is clawing his arm, hiding her face against his shoulder, as he continues to pump her pussy, warm walls milking his cock dry.

"Don't act shy now," he chuckles against the sweat of her neck, inhaling the deep scent of her hair as he raises one of her legs against his mahogany desk for more support. "You're taking me in so well, why won't you show me your pretty face?"

She whines at his teasing tone—highly contrasting the speed in which he is fucking her—and shakes her head even as she so obediently spreads her leg wider for easier access to her cunt.

God. She will be the death of him.

Kaeya laughs, one of the two hands that has been previously propping himself against the edge of his desk now travels to her mound, where he plays for a moment with her little sensitive bud—only to hear her mewl out his name, telling him to "stop or I'll not make it" (really, what else is a man supposed to do?)—before reaching to capture her full tit in his hand, pushing her body flat against his chest as he marvels at the way her body arches in both surprise and pleasure.

"Gorgeous," he places his chin on her shoulder, fingers kneading her chest. "Look at me, pretty."

She whines again—shaking her head.

"Y-you'll take pictures again," she wraps her fingers around his wrist—the accusation got him excited and Kaeya finds himself to be pummeling her pretty hole even harder now—and bites her lips to suppress her own moans.

"But you're so cute when you're all fucked out like this," he retorts with a slight frown, this time tugging his fingers on her nipple. "Look, none of my hands are on my phone, baby."

"Mhmm..."

It looks like she is thinking about it—mulling over the decision to look at him, or to not look at him. He grins at how her hums are cut off, every now and then, as he particularly spreads open the walls of her slobbery cunt with his cock in a sharp thrust.

"Show me your pretty face," he encourages once again, feeling his cock starting to pulse against her pussy. He gives her neck one long lick, squeezing one of her tits so hard that he is sure he is going to leave a mark on her delicate skin.

"I'm comin—"

Blatantly ignoring his request, she wraps her fingers around his arm tighter, ass moving in synchronization with his hips.

He should stop right there, should let her taste her own medicine. But she feels too good wrapped around his length, and so Kaeya can't even think about stopping—he wants to shoot his thick load inside of her, decorate her pussy with his white cum.

He doesn't want to stop pounding her cunt, but that doesn't mean he can't bluff about it.

"Look at me," he says between his gritted teeth, calmly moving his free hand to grasp on her hips. She gasps, raising her ass even more as she managed to climb one leg on the table. "Or I'll stop fucking your pretty hole. Mhm, want me to stop fucking you right now?"

Despite her rebellious phases, his little secretary is the sweetest girl deep down inside. She cries out a little at his threats, hesitantly cranking her neck to let him catch her gaze in his—buds of sweats are rolling down her temple, her own chin wet with her own salivation from her endless, dumb blabbering.

To make things worse, she decides to remove the hand that is so happily kneading her tit and brings it up to her face, where she sticks out her slobbering tongue to peek a taste of his palm, not breaking eye-contact.

A sound that is almost inhumane leaves his throat—Kaeya wraps his arm around her waist and feels his cock on her abdomen, abusing and bruising her cervix as she continues giving service on his fingers.

"Your cock's soooo big," she then finally sniffles as her pretty lips wrap themselves around his two digits, the edge of her eyes are wet with incoming tears. She began pumping her head up and down his fingers, speaking nonsense in the meantime: "Spreading me open—s'big, boss, too big—"

"Shit," Kaeya mutters, weak at the way her lashes would bat against each other, how trails of her wet drool are starting to leak down his arm. "Who would have thought that you'd be such a whore for your boss, huh?"

She only nods her head, keeping her eyes on his like the good girl she is, and continues making a mess on his hand.

"Are you a good slut for my cock?" He coos, only then feeling her walls tighten around his length—he is all too familiar with her body; the little fumble on her throat, the quirks she does whenever she is about to orgasm, all of it—and he begins to focus on chasing his own high.

"Gwood slu—"

Shutting her up, Kaeya presses down his fingers down her throat—the choking sound that comes out of her riles him up even more.

"Good sluts take what they are given, right?"

His head is beginning to spin; he closes his eyes, feeling her nod her head over and over again, still trying to tell him even against the big digits in her mouth about how good of a whore she is to him and how she'll take whatever he gives her.

"You're so fucking sexy," Kaeya buries his face against the strands of her hair yet again. "Gonna mark my whore up then, yeah? Gonna fill you up with my seed, make you walk around this fuckin' office with my cum in you."

His eyes, for a moment, travels to her bouncing tits, how they're uncontrollably elevating with the speed in which they are going right now. When he looks up to her face, and sees her mouth wide open with her eyes rolled to her head in pure, solicited ecstasy, he can no longer hold himself. The string of cum that flies out of his cock instantly meets her cervix, painting her womb with bright white as his ferocity is slowly becoming calmer.

"Fee me uph—"

"Shit," Kaeya laughs at her attempt in speaking, pulling his fingers out of her mouth. "Fuck, I just did, baby. How's my cum feel?"

He lets go of her torso, and watch as she falls upon his cleared desk in absolute fatigue. His hands rub her back, playing with the jiggle of her ass for a short moment as she gather her thoughts; "S'good. Th-thank you, Mister Alberich."

"Mister Alberich," he repeats, his voice mocking. He feels her body, before eventually, with his cock still buried deep inside of her, he turns her limp body around. Her skirt is hitched up to her waist, blouse halfway open with her bra somewhere on the floor. As she settles on the hard desk, he watches how her heavy breathing shows off her glorious tits rising and falling with every breath of air.

She raises one hand to hide her mouth, perhaps feeling somewhat small under his piercing gaze, and turns so that she isn't facing him.

Kaeya takes this opportunity to reach for his phone in one of the drawers, unlocking it easily to start recording a video of her god-sculpted body with the flash obviously penetrating the dark room.

"Mister Alberich!"

In a series of flustered gasp, she reaches both arms in the air as an attempt to grab his phone, but only presses her tits against each other in the process. He skillfully dodges her demanding hands and instead captures the intense look of pleasure on her face in his phone as he feels himself getting hard again inside of his cunt.

"You're only turning me on even more," he chuckles, now aiming the camera at his hand rubbing her abdomen, watching how a bulge grows as he gets more tense inside.

"How do you even take me like this, hm?" He looks up at her embarrassed face, before focusing to record her swollen clit and where he is buried deep inside of her. "Are you used to my cock? Do you like it?"

He must be some kind of sadist—Kaeya watches in satisfaction as she tries stammering out a reply. He softly caress her stomach and she squirms under his hold, even more when he starts rubbing light circles on her pretty clit; he feels it twitching, like it's begging to be sucked on.

"Mister Alberich—"

Comes her whining yet again, Kaeya turns both his camera and his gaze on her face.

"Speak up, sweetheart."

"Nghh," she mewls as she begins rolling her hips against his hand. "Please— I— I can't—"

"Yes?"

The smirk on his face grows wider.

Kaeya tediously slips his growing cock from her hole, before pushing himself back in her sopping cunt in the same speed.

"Faster—" she gasps, now using her fingers to grip the edge of her desk. "Fuck— please fuck me faster— harder, harder."

She pushes himself to sit on the desk, feet pressed against the surface to show him her aching pussy. It's like she forgets about the existence of the camera; her face melts into his favored lewd expression—the one she only uses when she is so needy for his cock, so desperate for him to pound her cunt.

Kaeya presses his camera button, and in an instant, the flash goes out. They are once again enveloped in darkness, and he pulls out of her yet again just to test the waters.

"Harder, was it?" He hums, leaning down to capture her nipple in his mouth, obsessed yet again as he sinks his face deeper into her pair of tits.

"Please," she gasps, arms snaking around his neck.

Kaeya takes her bud between the sharp of his teeth, pressing his tongue flat against it.

"You asked for it, baby," a little warning should be fine. He glances up to see her already debauched in repeated ecstasy. "I'll go hard just for you.

#genshin #one-shot #chaptered: pardon my manners #kaeya #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya smut #kaeya x you #kaeya x you smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kaeya x reader smut

[morizoras-cave]

Over The Line (Request)

Tom Hiddleston x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: alternatively, could you please do a tom hiddleston x teen!costar!reader where she's being abused by her manager. one day, when tom enters the break room, he sees the reader's manager hit her. he becomes really mad and protective over the reader. thank you!

Warnings: child abuse, yelling, harsh insults, language

(A/N): woah it feels weird doing all this again. anyway im back! i wont be posting as often as i have previously, but ill still try to write as much as possible. i just dont want to pressure myself :) ill make another post thats maybe a bit more precise about this. hope y’all enjoy!

Your manager had always been harsh. Even at the early stages of your business relationship, he’d yell and insult you. But you were so young, it was hard to understand it. You just thought that it was normal, and even thought you didn’t like it, you sucked it up. 

The first time he hit you, was when you talked back. It was in your very early teens, when you had started feeling a little rebellious. He was yelling about a failed audition, when you said that “it hardly mattered” and that you “find something new”. 

He slapped you across the cheek and whispered with gritted teeth, that you should never ever talk back to him again. You didn’t. And you didn’t tell anyone, because you’d convinced yourself this was something all actors and actresses went through. When your manager realised you weren’t telling anyone, he started hitting you regularly, releasing whatever frustrations he had on you. 

It was only recently you’d become aware that it wasn’t okay. You always wondered if it was right to feel so sad and broken and worthless, especially around a manager. You found out that abuse from managers was not normal. And it was bad. 

But at that point, what could you do? Would anyone believe you? I mean, he’d been your manager for almost a decade! Could you tell him? Would he be angry? Would your parents be angry? Were you overreacting? 

There was too much doubt in your mind, so you just kept it in, and took whatever insults and violence he gave you. 

“God, Y/n. You can’t go around forgetting lines like that? Practice, practice, practice. God, you’re such a stupid fucking bitch. Can’t even remember a line. A goddamn line. And it’s your job. People must think you’re a fucking idiot. You can’t even hide your idiocy around professionals? You’re pathetic.”

This was nothing new to you. It still hurt nonetheless. You stood still, looking at the floor. There was a slight shake to your body, and you flinched each time he made a big gesture. 

“Repeat your lines, Y/n. Repeat the next scenes lines!” he looked at you with those mean eyes. His fist was closed - something that made you aware of the consequences if you would not answer correctly. 

“Um..” you swallowed. Your voice was weak and small, tears pooling in your eyes. You felt pathetic. “L-Loki! Don’t. You-You can’t do this to me. You don’t have to.” 

Silence followed your unsure voice, except for the impatient and angry tapping of your manager’s foot. “Go on.”

“Oh- Uh.. That’s not how- That’s not how I feel. Can’t you- Um.. No wait- Don’t you understand tha-”

Before you could correct your mistake, he interrupted you. First came the sound, a loud, unforgiving slap. Then the pain, staticky and pulsing. Then the tears and the hand that went to your cheek to hold it. 

“You fucking idiot!” he spat. You were hyperventilating, as he barked in your face, furious like you wouldn’t believe. He raised his hand again, holding it for a moment, to watch sickly, as you trembled and closed your eyes, readying yourself for another slap. 

It didn’t come. It didn’t come and you didn’t dare open your eyes. It could be another trick. You just stood there, shaking and doubled over, with arms in front of you. 

“Oh! T-Tom! How long have you been there?” 

Huh?

You peaked open your eyes, to see your manager, his head turned to the entrance. He had an intense fake smile on his lips, and had his hands in his pockets. You looked over in shock, and indeed, your co-star and friend, Tom, stood there, paralysed. 

He was angry. Eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring, and body tense. It was written all over him. It was something you so instinctually associated with punishment, which was why when he marched over angrily, you flinched and clamped up, thinking, for some reason, that he would hit you. 

Again there was silence. Tom stood, fist raised to your manager, breath like fire. But then he saw you. Hurt and scared. Thinking that he would hit you. While it only made him angrier at your manager, it also made him want to focus more on you. He, reluctantly, put down his fist. 

He snaked his arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him. His eyes didn’t leave your managers. Your manager knew he was caught. He was quiet now, waiting for Tom’s reaction.

“I’m gonna take Y/n out of here. Help them calm down, comfort them. Then I’m going to report you to the police and you’re going to go to prison.” Tom said calmly, but his voice was shaking. There was one, almost infinite moment, of relentless eye contact and intense air. Tom let go of the anger and turned around, guiding you away from that monster. 

He stopped. “You fucking scumbag,” he spat, and then disappeared behind the door with you. 

Meanwhile you’re crying. No, sobbing. Shaking and hardly walking, sniffling and your heart is pounding. It was both relief and terror. What would happen now? What would your parents do? What would your co-stars and friends think? It was all too much. 

“Shh,” Tom whispered, pulling you into a different room. It was seemingly an empty breakroom. He squatted down in front of you, and shushed you again. 

He was frowning, as he wiped your tears away, gentle on the cheek that had been slapped. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/n. I got him away. He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.” 

Slowly, Tom calming voice pulled you down, down to a place where he could communicate with you. 

“Thank you,” you croaked. Tom smiled sadly. 

“No need, sweetheart. I need to know a couple of things before I can report him, is that okay?” 

Tom went on to ask you several things, all the while hugging you and reassuring you. Complimenting you. It was tough. It was everything you feared, but it was good. It was nice, nicer than you could have ever imagined, the feeling of letting it all out. 

And even if it was hard at times, in court, with parents, media, friends, Tom always stayed right there with you, supporting you through the hard parts. 

“It’s okay, Y/n. It’s going to be okay.”

And it really felt like it would. Especially, with Tom right there with you. It would be okay. 

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906 @tamayakii​ @xiumin-girl99​ @frostedgiant 

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x teen!reader #tom hiddleston x daughter!reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #thor cast x reader #marvel cast x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader

[caandlelit]

omg werewolf matsukawa elaborate i want dem hcs

ok so ive got this horrible word doc with my jambled mess of a concept for this witch makki werewolf matsun fic im writing its like 3% done expect it within 2 business years

(edit. this post is too long but i cant stop typing this is good)

werewolf matsun is the SEXIEST idea ever anyone thats done it is doing gods work because that shit is hot . its fucking sexy okay

in my barely formed au he becomes a werewolf in third year

he hears about weird sounds in the forest at night ok

and he convinces witch hanamaki that they shld camp out and see what it is 

because he’s been so interested in the witchy supernatural shit since even before he met him 

and hanamaki is like okay fine But im wearing my warding pendent and matsukawa is like WHEN WILL U ADMIT YOU’RE A WITCH and hanamaki, mid-putting on his witch hat, ruffles his hair and says idk what ur talking about

they camp out and they’re just bantering and its cute and fun for 2 hours then

matsun hears growling and snapping noises and he’s like hanamaki stay in the fuckin tent 

and obviously hanamaki is like on god that is the stupidest thing uve ever said issei no

 and matsukawa steps outside and he holds a hand back to stop makki and he steps out and looks around, eyes narrows 

and he’s like … straightening up and furrows his brows and ‘theres nothing here’ 

and he feels like everything is slow and odd and unreal and he turns and sees bright, yellow eyes and he hears the snarl and jerks back 

and he’s being attacked and leaped upon and he shouts curses and screams and theres sharp teeth at his side and the smell of matted fur 

and hanamaki sprints out and ?? magic spells it away (leave me alone) 

what is the spell? what kindof witch is hanamaki? what does he say?

(begone thot!) 

the wolf creature howls and thuds off, fast and loping and hanamaki turns and he’s panicked and is like ‘issei? oh FUCK’

matsukawa is like fuck fuck fuck 

leaning against a tree and lightheaded and he collapses, head back against the trunk and sweat pouring down his temples, iron in his mouth where hes biting his tongue to keep from scremaing at the sharp pain

touches his side and his fingers come away bloody 

his breath is heavy and hes like takahiro im dying 

and hanamaki’s dropping down beside him and lifts his arm and says shut the fuck up you’re not dying you asshole and hes sniffling 

and matsuns like im sorry i dragged u out here and hanamaki’s like shut up shut up. issei. shit . issei you were right 

and hes like wh what was i right about and hes like you were right. im a witch . and youre not fucking dying here, asshole

issei mumbles fuck yeah and does like a little fist pump

and he whispers a spell to carry him over back to his house 

and he bandages him up and matsun is tired and in pain and staring at him in the moonlight 

MONDAY

go to school and matsun has white bandages wrapped around his side hidden under his shirt and hes a little scraped up even though hanamaki healed and cleaned up as much as he could

someones like oooh matsukawa your arm is scraped up wtf 

and hes like yeah man i got in a fight to protect takahiros honor 

makki’s like yeah…. :/// he lost 

and matsuns like shut up asshole and theyre laughing and theyre good theyre okay 

half way through the school day, long and tired and the bell seems louder and harsher and shriller and everything is too bright and loud and making his eyes and ears hurt 

in the bathroom matsun takes off the tape bc hes feeling nauseous and everything feels a little too much for some reason hes assuming bc of the wound, maybe its infected

and he checks it while hes inside and the bandages come off and 

its clean no bite no blood no mark 

and he stares at it and says what the fuck and texts hanamaki 

and hanamaki sees the text and its just ‘SOS BATHROOM NOW PLELASE’ 

asks his teacher to let him go to the bathroom and he steps into the bathroom and matsun spins around and gestures at his side and chest wordlessly 

hanamaki like blinks at the sight of matsuns abs and then blinks again at the healed skin and hes like what the fuck  

so

he has sharper vision and sense of smell and hearing 

and hes like takahiro……..everything feels horrible and too much and hanamaki’s like ok so what do u want me to do knock u out so u don’t feel anything? and matsukawa’s like huh actually and hana’s like Shut up Dumbass

werewolf matsukawa suddenly stronger and hanamaki so so bitter about it ignoring his personal ‘im attracted to him’ feelings and pretending hes mad abt the super strength

matsukawa’s eyes glinting yellow on occasion and hanamaki trying not to scream bc god that’s sexy

the day they see the healed skin they like walk home silent and shell shocked 

matsukawa staring hollowly at the sidewalk his posture lost

hanamaki squinting off into the distance

makki opening his mouth angrily at one point

only to close it defeatedly bc he cant even……

a conversation in hanamaki’s bedroom along the lines of 

‘issei why is my life literally teen wolf why am I stiles from teen wolf’ 

matsun perks up ‘oh that’s dylan o briens character right? does that make me derek !!!’ 

and hanamaki turns from where hes muttering angrily and squints at him and says slowly

‘why the fu- dude? u r scott ??? because u are a FUCKING WEREWOLF ??????? why would u be derek ???? ur my best friend that turned into a GODDAMN WEREWOLF-‘ 

‘okok calm down hiro fine fine chill out‘ 

matsuns like slumping like ‘ugh, scott. i don’t wanna be scott hes painfully straight-‘ 

and hanamakis like throwing his hands up and shouting like ‘SO THEN !! why would u want to be derek!!!’ 

and issei’s like ‘…….nevermind we r not in the state to have a conversation about teen wolf, a show neither of us finished and obviously dont have any knowledge about’

im gonna have it properly set in 2013 itll be so cringey and fun

matsukawa also has insomnia and and gets migraines sometimes 

and hanamaki’s witchy incense smelling house and bedroom having him nodding off so easily and he sleeps over a lot 

especially after he gets bitten, because the migraines get worse

moreso near the full moon

and he comes in through the window and hanamaki is half asleep but always automatically pulls up his blanket and lets him in

big spoon matsun

he curls into his chest as best as he can, pressed tight between the wall and matsukawa

also i have this 

italics: makki

bold: mattsun

list of signs pointing towards issei probably being a werewolf: 

got bit by a giant dog-creature the bite mark disappeared next day (???? freaky shit)

sudden super healing and durability (useful for when oikawa serves the ball into your head – lmfao)

sudden heightened senses (my headaches r .. multiplying - :( )

sudden super strength (fuck u issei – i didn’t ask to be bitten takahiro – oh no u were bitten how sad for u and ur six pack – the werewolf actually decided i deserve super strength bc of how cool i am – and immeasurable pain every full moon too huh ???? – ...sacrifices were made)

90% sure he got stupider – sign of a dog brain ?? (FUCK OFF – do u want me to explain what a percentage is <3 – no </3)

hair growth (wtf does that mean ??? – it means i suddenly have more chest hair its very weird – ngl to u u were already pretty hairy -  fucker)

eyes turn yellow sometimes (wait, really????? – yes its so fucking weird – that sounds fucking epic actually – no comment)

big dick energy went up the ROOF (ok that’s enough asshole – tell me im lying hiro.)

edit: ok the full moon happened we’re all traumatized and hes definitely a FUCKING werewolf.

ill finish this as a fic one day ill post when i do

might also make a useless porno oneshot with just werewolf matsukawa and ? possibly dancer makki im very into dancer makki atm

long post im very sorry but !!!! thanks for the ask 

#ask #digimondestined #matsuhana #my writing #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #it is 2:30 am #goodnight guys #haikyuu #this is a fuckin mess and my word doc is even messier #hq

[macklives]

hi. so..... its been a while huh? feels kinda weird making a message on here, after what??? a month of not posting at fucking all??

and idk how to say that im sorry for taking so long, especially with kallie kinda sticking with me pretty much the whole time i was away. so we both kinda went AFK on everybody. and by god, this has also been the longest gap between updates. so yeah... i feel you all are owed an explanation. 

id like to give a short summary of what went down in my life recently. not so much as an excuse for my disappearance, but bearing in mind, i can't just come back suddenly without a notice as to why it took so long, and then start discussing homestuck theories as if nothing happened, that would be ...weird and off putting. im known as one to talk a lot in a post, so i think its expected. buckle up kiddos, this may be a long one, which you dont have to necessarily read, but im simply putting it out there for you all in case any of you may have been worried or confused. 

ALSO, keep in mind im alright with sharing this information because i needed some time to get over it in order to accept it, and being able to say this stuff means im pretty much ready to move on and go back to what it was like before (which for someone who has trouble focussing, can get quite fucking hard). so here's the last few months in a nutshell:

i got my wisdom teeth pulled so i was both in pain and numb for a week and a half after being drugged up with, idk, the IV they use to knock you tf out and that needle to numb your teeth?? and having those bad boys outta my mouth so that was a fun time. fuck that shit.

uhhh on the more upsetting side of things, a friend of mine recently passed away, but i took some time to recover from that. i didnt want to bum everybody out by liveblogging while in that state, nor did i feel like it was right to make jokes at that time (for obvious reasons) so i took some time off. and while i do still care for that person, after a while you have to come to terms that your life can't evolve around grief, and you have to move on eventually. its been a month and im doing way better than i was in the first week. so you dont have to worry really.. i even heard about the messages friends wrote on discord and let me tell you that i appreciate every response, i love all of them, i love all of you guys, but if any of you worry about me as of today, just know im doing perfectly fine and thats behind me now. so yeah, thats the worst of the news..

on less distressing matters, i changed up my job! i used to be a waitress at a restaurant to get that not so mucho money cash flowing, and now i got a full time placement as an intern (sort of full-time. full-time with student conditions). which in hindsight, to some may not sound like its any helpful, but considering im in my final year of college and i have to explore new places to get experience, id rather go where its needed so i reach that specific goal in mind. and you have to start somewhere, so this is where ill start heading. though i do still have to graduate which will take a lot of stress out of me eventually but it hasnt yet caught up lol... yikes to when that fuse blows in the future. 

and finally, the most frustrating part of the month, idk who it was specifically, the company or the landlord, but eh details arent that important, anyways, the landlord and/or its agency messed up with our rental situation and lost a lot of our info so i had to spend a lot of time trying to get that back while also filling out tax returns bc those were finally put out. so yeah, we kinda just have to wait for a notice, though i personally think everything will be fine. we’re considering moving out eventually, but thats probably gonna have to wait a bit longer. while we’re still angry, the landlord respected that it was out of line and apologised while making it up to us, so that was fair enough.

so YEAH, you can pretty much say its been one hell of a fucking month, and i had barely any time to liveblog let alone be in contact with friends that i kinda missed so fucking much????... i basically didnt want to bring anybody down with me (emotionally or mentally), so i decided to at least give you all a warning that i wouldnt be on for a while, hence the last update a few weeks prior, and to take a break for myself to figure out my situation, to rest, and to try and get healthier despite that wisdom fuck week, which nobody warned me wisdom teeth removals were ABSOLUTE HELL

but... im glad to be back, im not sure ill get back into the rhythm of how things used to be, meaning, posting almost every day....that would have to wait a bit unfortunately. however, i think it would be best if i made a sort of schedule for myself. maybe a liveblog twice a week, starting the next. it would help out a lot. i hope to start off with that at least, and not push myself too hard for hours anymore nor the stress of needing to post daily. i loved it, dont get me wrong, but sometimes it took a lot out of me since i know it takes a lot of my time. that being said, i will be on discord, maybe tomorrow? and probably be more active on there from now on, since everything is sorta cleared in my life and there's no more hectic commotion 24/7. the only thing at this rate stopping me from being active is having family over in the next couple weeks. but otherwise, yeah, its good to be back and im again sorry for my absence once more.

yours, 

mackenzie <33

#i didnt really read over this so if it has any grammatical errors thats on ME luvs #but damn #look at that novel #LOOK AT IT #'im back sorry i was gone bad shit happened' could have sufficed #fuck u mackenzie #thats right fuck u #this is what i get for holding off humour for one god fucking post #i realized that was a trend a while ago #if im making a joke its short and simple #sometimes a two word post legit #but those damn analogies? those fucking update posts?????? #if im being serious i make a new rendition of the bible or some fucking shit #gaaah #avert your eyes children avert them pls #for my sanity smh #making sorta formal notes about MYSELF is not my forte #like tf do i say? yolo?

[crimeronan]

ik youre not a therapist and i dont want like therapy or anything but im 17 and ive known i was bipolar for 3 years now and i dont know how im supposed to live the rest of my life like this. im so fucking tired. how do you stay alive

you sent this a couple days ago & i’m posting at a weird time so i’m not sure if you’ll see it but.  

i’ve been looking at this message trying to decide how to respond

because i don’t know your situation, your symptoms, how you’re feeling, whether you’ve had positive or negative experiences with medication, psychiatrists, therapists, hospitals, all that related shit

the bipolar life advice i give to people is vastly different depending on the individual. it’s not a one size fits all thing.  and there’s never even a guarantee that my advice will be the right choice

so since i don’t know about your situation or experiences or what you want, i’m not gonna tell you what to do.  i’m gonna focus on the “how do you stay alive” question and try to pen down some personal feelings. and if they help then great, and if they don’t then... this is the most honest i can be

(you can always ask another question to get a better answer. my inbox is a coin slot and i am a vending machine of varied-degrees-of-helpfulness replies offered at varied-inconvenient-too-long-intervals)

-

how do i stay alive

it’s a 2-parter, actually.  i pondered how to condense my thoughts/feelings, and it came down to these two things

1. love 2. spite

-

1. love

the spite is easier to write about than the love.  love is hard to reach when i feel like shit.

spite is where i go when i want to die.  love is where i go when i want to want to live.

maybe i don’t want to be alive.  but maybe i wish i did.  spite doesn’t help me much there.  spite keeps me afloat, but it doesn’t make the floating pleasurable.  there’s more to life than outlasting everything that ever hurt me.  i need a reason to continue when there’s no enemy to fight

so. love

i almost wrote about the spite alone because that’s rawer, realer, more visceral.  that’s the shit that CONNECTS when everything feels hopeless.  but it would be a lie of omission.  spite is only one of the major food groups, you’ll waste away from malnutrition if you eat it for every meal. or at least, i will.

“so you’ve got a bunch of people you love,” you say, “and you stick around for them.  cry on them.  support each other.  like each other.  fine.”  you’ve heard this story before

nah.

i mean - yes.  i have people i love.  i live with two partners, i’ve got a third girlfriend, i’ve got a long-distance platonic life partner.  i have a support net, i have a family i’ve forged, i have confidence that i’m not alone.  i have, in a bare-bones checklist sort of way, fulfilled my physiological human need for connection

but i could live without every single one of them.  i’m not dependent upon any of them for my survival.  i’m not dependent upon them for love, given or received.  (this isn’t a callous cruelty, it won’t hurt them if/when they read this.  i’ve told them all this, they know.  they’re glad of it.)

so.  what the fuck does “love” mean, then?

the short explanation is that it’s my love of life, of things in the world.  it’s all the little connections i’ve made.  every time i love something, a hook tethers to the universe.  hook enough tethers, and i no longer feel the need to float away.  no dissolution of self today, sir

the rest of this section is some of the things i love. partially it’s to show how i connect to little things and ascribe magic to the mundane.  partially it’s because i like thinking about things i love, i like typing them out, and i like that i could keep going for thousands and thousands of words.

i am laying in bed at 7:30 AM with the lights off and the shades drawn.  blue  light comes through the slats because it’s the better time of year, the one where i finally get vitamin D, the one where the birds chirp at 4AM, the one where the sky isn’t impenetrably black til 10PM.

there’s a weighted blanket tucked around my legs.  my partner rafi bought it for us to share because it’s soothing and heavy and comforting and helps with my physical pain.  right now it’s soft on my skin and if i get too emotional as i write, i can pull it over me like a cloak until i’m settled.

the apartment’s walls are blank because we’ve spent eight months intending to put art up and keep forgetting.  but there’s a newly-unearthed dining area in the kitchen because i finally shifted around the unpacked boxes that were dominating the space.  it’s new and it surprises me every time i walk out there.  it’s open and inviting and bright and it’s a sign that we’re making this place home.

we’ll put a cheap IKEA table by the window and we’ll probably never eat family dinners there - why would we sit in hard chairs and make stiff conversation when we could all cuddle on the couch - but my partner dev will create a place to do their art and the surface will be constantly littered with drying watercolor experiments.

we’ll hang our art one of these days, too, when our collective adhd offers a miraculous combo of remembering + having time + having motivation + having inspiration.  rafi has the most art because they’ve been collecting it for years.  i have to start smaller.  i’m not used to keeping physical objects.  dev has a few pieces thrifted or bought at local artist events or painted themselves

so we’ll put art up in the living room, my single “you are magic” flower print alongside a naked monster lady that dev fell in love with when we browsed art at a yuletide event months ago, alongside rafi’s monster girls and comic characters and book characters and literature art and quotes and abstract pieces and whatever else they have hiding in boxes.

my head protests that naked monster ladies do not belong in the living room, although the picture isn’t overtly sexual.  but then i remember that they do, actually, because it’s our space and we can do whatever we want with it as long as the lease isn’t broken.  there isn’t anyone in the local social circles who’d be perturbed by the decor, as far as i know.  i don’t have to hide anything from my parents because i live 3600 miles from them, and even though i miss my mom, the distance is good for me

there are two exquisite chairs on the porch.  they fold and recline from thrones to nearly-horizontal beds.  there are pillows and cupholders and trays and specific spaces for both a book and a phone.  i can sit there while the morning sun rises and read or play word games or browse tumblr, cup of coffee beside me, trees shielding my eyes from stabby sunbeams

there are remnants of the last tenant’s garden in one corner of the yard.  we’ve done fuckall for yardwork but plants struggle through anyway.  some seem to have sprouted by accident.  mushroom clusters populate the edges of the fence.  the apartment squirrel (there are probably several, but i like to think it’s a single energetic creature) runs back and forth along the fence & i always lose my train of thought & then laugh my ASS off at the “SQUIRREL! XD” adhd moment.  birds kick up leaf litter and play on the ground looking for insects to eat, they wiggle their tail feathers and flap their wings and sometimes they disappear and then return with friends

a little more than eleven months ago, i packed all of dev’s and my shit into a uhaul and drove and drove and drove to get to this city i’d never been in before to live with a partner i’d never cohabitated with.  we were homeless for more than a month, we weathered some financial disasters, we met some great people and some shitty ones

on the drive i fell in love with the sky.  i didn’t know how big it can get - actually, that’s a lie.  i’d FORGOTTEN how big it can get.  i’ve loved the sky thirty miles out to sea, no land in sight in any direction, just blue water and blue space above.  i’ve loved the vastness and the yawning beneath me and the knowledge that everything is BIGGER than i can fathom.  the depth of the sea doesn’t frighten me, it’s home. i don’t want to die, but if i had to, the ocean makes a soothing grave

in north dakota i discovered that i’ve been partially blind my whole life, which is a different tale that showed me i’ll never stop learning myself.  in montana we struggled up thousands of feet of mountains with the car huffing and puffing at the trailer’s weight, and when we finally coasted downward, it felt like sudden freefall.  we ended up in the pitch darkness of night on sheer winding interstates with midnight construction projects forcing detours.  the mountains felt hungry, they had teeth.  mountain cliffs are much scarier to me than the ocean depths

i bought a red bull and poured a little out the driver’s side door as an offering to hermes, because i’m not particularly religious but i’ll take help where i can get it.  slammed that back in a few gulps and shook to bright-eyed alertness and ended up behind a slow-driving red pickup truck that guided us over about a hundred miles of mountain terrain

i thought, that’s just some construction worker driving between sites.  the roads are empty at this time of night, but it’s an interstate.  of course we’d end up behind someone.  this isn’t divine intervention.  this isn’t the benevolence of a god

i thought, but it can be a little magic.  if i want it to be.  

and it was.  it stays with me.

god help me but i’ve been writing this stream of consciousness for more than 30 minutes and i’ve said nothing.  i haven’t talked about the city, the parks, the people, the conversations, the books, the tv shows, the movies, the communities, the library, the animals, writing, reading, singing, acting, swimming, analyzing, creating, supporting, building.  and i can keep going.  i can come up with hundreds and hundreds of things i love and i can write paragraphs about all of them

so i’ll stop here.  you get the picture.  love is the life i’ve made for myself, the surroundings i’ve built, the quiet moments i can capture, the inspiration i pin, the magic i commit to memory.

i had to work so damn hard for every single bit of this.

i’ll be fucking damned if i let it go because my brain tried to trick me into thinking death is better.

-

2. spite

there are people who want me to die.

i don’t mean that i have a giant entourage of personalized enemies who curse my name and plan my individual demise.  although there have been plenty of people who have not liked me much.  probably some of them would enjoy my death.  i don’t give a shit about that

there are people who want me dead because i am a dot on a grid they dislike.  a faceless anonymous enemy who meets too many bad criteria with numbers and percentages and shrinking majorities and shifting public opinion

because i’m gay.  because i’m bipolar.  because i’m autistic.  because i’m a dropout.  because i grew up poor.  because my spine curves and my shoulders ache.  because i squandered my potential, because i didn’t have enough potential, because i didn’t love god enough, because i love the wrong gods, because i don’t worship, because i worship wrong, because i didn’t seek a husband, because i never wanted one, because i talk too much, because i can’t be controlled, because i chose to leave the fold when i realized it was suffocating me, because i’m ugly, because i’m gorgeous, because my body belongs to me

pick your poison.

this bothered me growing up, a lot. i knew i did not deserve to die. but if enough people tell you that you should, a little part of you will wonder if they’re right.  that little part might become bigger the closer they get and the louder they shout and the longer they wear you down

we know the rough shape of this story, i don’t need to tell it.  mine was messy and not triumphant and i survived more by chance than premeditation.

i’m older now.  by and large i’m still young as shit - i’m 24 - but GOD i am LEAGUES away from 15, 16, 17. i know who i am. i know what i want. i know how to get it. and when i don’t know that, i find out. i tell the truth.  i ask for what i want.  i use my time how i want.  i do what i want.

there are days that i can’t access the “love” side of the equation.  no finding poetry in birdsong or sugared coffee for me, thank you, i feel like shit and the world is awful and everything is too big and fast and cruel and everything wants me to die and it wants everything i love to die, too.  everyone i love.  it’s all garbage. the good doesn’t touch me

trauma is difficult to describe.  the difficulty is compounded by the fact that my trauma is influenced by my various neurodivergences, bipolar included.  i never know if i’m feeling what other people do.  i don’t know if i’m voicing unpalatable feelings others are afraid to express - or if i’m just othering myself, admitting i’m not as human as everyone else.

there is something malevolent and monstrous inside me.  i don’t touch it all the time.  but i don’t pretend it isn’t there.  it sits in my chest and molders or radiates or oozes.  it presses at my throat.  it curdles in my stomach.  it hurts what it touches, whether that’s me or someone i love or someone i hate.  it sets things aflame with no regard for the precious or the fragile.  it tears down walls and razes shelters and begs for apocalyptic rain.

i can give this thing names, clinical descriptors.  i know what it is on a diagnostic chart, in a ponderous article, in an academic debate, in a fiction novel, in a war movie, in a memoir.  there are a thousand ways to describe this thing.  the descriptors aren’t important.  what is important is this - i have learned that most people do not walk side-by-side with a tornado-hurricane-hellfire-weaponized-open-nuclear-reactor.  this is not a “normal” expression of human emotion, this is not me trying to ascribe power to “bad bipolar feelings.”  this thing lives in me and i know why it’s there and it is not designed to be held/silenced/muzzled/controlled by my body.

it does not help to pretend this thing does not exist.  it does not help to try to reason it away or ignore it or tell it to stop.  it wants what it wants, it does what it does.  possibly if i was better at therapy or stubbornness then i wouldn’t resign myself to that

but it is fucking EXHAUSTING to try to fight something that’s part of me.  to try to reshape it, rename it, pare it down, make it consumable for the masses.  it’s a war i have never won and it’s a war that i will lose if i keep fighting it.  i cannot fight with myself.  i cannot beat my monster into submission.  if we’re gonna battle like that, head to head, me trying to cut it down, me trying to be the hero, it rearing back like a fire-breathing dragon,

then it’s stronger.  it’s always stronger.

so i surrender.

but that’s not where i stop.

can’t fight it.  can’t kill it.  can’t muzzle it.  can’t reshape it, can’t disarm it, can’t contain it.  

alright.  

so what now.

if the surrender was a full giving-up, this is where i’d passively accept that i’m doomed to hurt and destroy everything precious to me.  can’t fix it.  will lose everything, will never experience or deserve happiness, will make the world worse simply by existing.

that sure does sound like impending-doom rhetoric.  hop skip and a jump from some dire-ass conclusions.  

so fuck that, i say. 

here’s a better question.

if it has to get out, then what happens if i control where it goes?

here’s the thing.

the monster doesn’t care what it kills or destroys or hurts.  

“have a conscience, care about things, remember love, stop yourself, don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this.” 

 losing battle.  lost war.

 it’s not the monster’s fault.  the monster doesn’t have complex motivations or hates or fears.  it exists to protect me through scorched earth.  a remnant of a chemical imbalance, maladaptive coping mechanism, bipolar crazy, traumatized injury.  it doesn’t know that its job is obsolete.

i can’t change the monster.

but my mind is a separate thing.  my mind knows what matters, what my priorities are, what i find precious, what i want to protect.  my mind remembers all the things the monster doesn’t.  

my mind has learned things the monster can’t.

when i fight it head-on, the malevolence is stronger than me.  but as i am, walking with it, sitting in my bed writing this while examining the void and the consciousness, describing it, quantifying it,

that’s when i’m stronger.

and with my mind as the stronger force, i can decide where the monster goes.  what it touches.  what it destroys.  what it burns.  where the ashes land.

i do not want to be a destructive person.  i want to be someone who builds, repairs, changes.  i want to make the world better for kids like me.  i want to stop pouring more gasoline onto a fire that’s been burning since long before i was born.  i want to believe - i do believe - that positive change is better than negative.  i do my best to plant good things and enact that positive change instead of becoming a beacon of wrath.

but there are a lot of kids surrounded by people who want them to die, and not all of them have a protective monster.

so it’s good.

when i’m depressed, my mind loses its battles.  my cognizance slips.  i forget why i care.  i forget what i want.  i forget how happiness feels, how to find pleasure in quiet moments.  

i don’t get depressed as often as i used to since my meds are adjusted correctly now.  but it still happens.  it will keep happening for the rest of my life.

my mind weakens and curls up and stops fighting, and the monster is always there.

it’s a very powerful thing when it wants to be.

it wants to survive.

the thing is, it knows there are people that want me/us/whatever dead.  it’s been fighting them forever.  die like they want?  my mind says, sure, what does it matter.

the monster says, nah.  our work isn’t done.  and fuck them, anyway.

so we get up.

-

so that’s how i stay alive.

i typed this for 90 minutes and after editing i’d spent two hours on this post.  i don’t know if anyone will read it all.  i don’t know if it’ll mean anything.  i don’t know if these thoughts even make sense, much less if i’ve conveyed the feelings i have.

i love being alive.  and when i don’t, i love being a monster.  it’s good.  all of it is good.  i’ve reconciled my uglier pieces.  it’s not one or the other, love or spite.  it’s symbiosis.  i need both, i love both.

no guarantees that this is helpful, but based purely on my own life experience, these are my tips for survival:

you’ll have to find your own roots.  i can’t give them to you.  

but it’s possible to dig them in and spread them far enough that one uprooted peg doesn’t shift your whole equilibrium.  

and when you’re tired, rest, and let yourself be tired, and find the reason why you’re staying in the world. 

 i’m positive there’s at least one.

figure out why you’re losing your battles and then change the game.

if you can’t win one setup, don’t try to beat the system.  adjust your strategy.

you’ll be surprised by what you can love when you stop fighting the disparate pieces of you, and instead figure out how to use them.

#i have several other questions to answer in my inbox if you've asked me st over the past few weeks #im not ignoring it im figuring out how to phrase my reply #replies #bipolar blogging #actuallybipolar #my writing #life advice #long post #REALLY long post #it's under a read more but if mobile deletes it i apologize #c ptsd tag #suicide m #ok to reblog #Anonymous

[kingsofneon]

ayyy its me coming in here!!! i have no requests off the bat but uhhhh ok ok hear me out. acesabo but with like. a finger kink or something? like, long pretty fingers fingering the hell out of each other or just sensually sucking on it, idk, i'll let you decide. OR, more expansion on robinkoalasabo, blease?

look okay look im just. vibing with sabo/ace rn so i gotta talk abt them but real quick i love argumentative best friend/enemy / qpp koala/sabo and both of them liking robin, LMAO !!!!! bitch!!! that shit’s hilarious. robin i think would be uhh....unused to such honest attraction? yah sabo’s a lying liar but there’s a difference in his...sarcasm vs his “I’m telling a lie so you don’t know the truth I dont want to tell you”, is what i think. so idk in what i set up i guess we have ko/ro first and Kinda girlfriends (im.....ded for fro/bin tho soz so absoLUTE we have not-yet-together-kinda-feelings-but-complicated-bc-trauma robin/franky + bc theyre not together the...flattery + enjoyment of koala’s personality and company...) friends w/ benefits didn’t-really-date but like each other a lot. and koala so sunny and happy buuut also spending Lots of time with robin - just hanging out but also sexy fun times - and sabo’s like “no I’m not sulking shut the fuck up” (but he’s totally sulking because he Liked robin too, she was someone he respected highly and she! knows! luffy! he doesn’t say anything to her about it bc he’s guilty as fuck but. boii wants those strawhat stories and he can’t sneak them out of her with koala taking up all of her attention.) 

koala picks up on his grumpy mood but just figures he’s being a dick abt smth, but robin’s like nah look, pattern, and koala’s like oh. OH? 

idk what they do but w/e we be vibing with nsfw, which is sabo’s. sabo’s fucking fingers man. the tensile strength. BUT ALSO he’s not very delicate, not very good with flexibility, so robin,,ho fuck boi. when against koala the dichotomy of the roughness vs that clever stroking, but then also bRO im thinking about sabo viewing masturbation etc. pretty clinically and also Be Careful Of Strength, ain’t gotta lot of time to jerk off when you’re running the revolution u know.

so like the first time robin tops im fucking laughing. koala’s probably just as rough/efficient as he is but robin...robin can unlace him in like a minute flat and figures out real quick that sabo likes being edged. the first time robin touches his prostrate..........boi. 

anyway omfg that was longer than i thought so hand kink + sabo/ace

FIRST 

if you haven’t read.......second chances (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495015?view_full_work=true).........what are you doing. look at this shit:

“You want to watch me jerk it like this?” The buckle rattled with Ace's gesturing, and Sabo's eyes immediately fixated darkly on the belt. “Then I uh, I get to make a weird request too.”

“If you must,” Sabo replied, sounding the exact opposite of beleaguered as he discretely wiped the spit off his palm. Ace cleared his throat.

“Put on your gloves.”

Ace refused, refused to look away from the devious delight spreading across Sabo's stupid face.

“Oh Ace,” he purred, those damn fucking gloves appearing in his hands out of nowhere (did he have them tucked in his pockets this entire time?). With deliberate motions, Sabo smoothed the leather over every finger, and flexed, like he was about to whip out one of his ryusoken moves. “Are you sure you just want me to jerk off in these?”

“Well if you've got any lube tucked away,” Ace shot back, “now's the time to pull it out, put on a good show.”

Sabo's consequent exhale was nowhere near the flippant-and-suave chuckle he had clearly been aiming for. Smugly, Ace counted a point in his own favor before dropping onto his back and finally—finally—undoing his pants. As his own belt fell with heavy thumps to both sides, Ace brushed aside all the pesky cloth, and applied pressure in earnest with a sigh of pleasure.

and this

And boy was it a view. The gloves were incredibly well-worn, molded so tightly to Sabo that Ace could see the full articulation of his fingers' every curve, every bend. The buttery leather, lighter in color at the fingertips, glided over Sabo with the barest whisper of friction. Ace could see his grip change, pressure shifting as he held himself tighter and tighter, grunting in frustration.

“Can I take these off?” Sabo finally requested with a hint of a whine. Ace suddenly thought of Marco, and how he might smirk at that tone, if he was here. “It's not working for me.”

“It's working fine for me,” Ace did his best to leer, thoroughly enjoying his own bare hand's capacity for friction. Sabo made another sound of protest, and Ace gave in with a snort. “Fine. Just one hand.”

“It's all I need.” The right glove disappeared as fast as it came, and Sabo arched high and satisfied into his own hand, now skin-to-skin. He obligingly let the gloved hand remain in play though, skimming teasingly up and down, grinning sharply at Ace's open mouth. “Hey,” he ordered, “go faster.”

AND THIS!

“Anything you want,” was Ace's breathless answer. He didn't stop, even sped up, gripping hard and fast and chasing that finale. “You can have it from me.”

“I would chain you down,” Sabo snarled, practically a threat, only the blade was turned wholly inward toward himself. Like he was daring Ace to give him absolution. “I would bend you 'til you're ready to break, and keep you there for hours. I would make you beg for release, but deny you anyways. I would see your skin dark with my bruises, I would, I would—”

Ace's hands twisted hard against his binds, wanting genuinely to be free of them for the first time since they started this—and Sabo's reaction was instantaneous. A flex of haki into his fingers, and Sabo was slicing through the leather of his belt, letting Ace loose with an expression of terror.

And Ace dragged himself across the bed until he could cup Sabo's cheek in his clean palm and pull Sabo into a biting, filthy kiss. He was still hard as sin, and thrust forward into Sabo's hands to let him know—

“Anything,” he panted into Sabo's mouth, meaning it with every fiber of his being. He didn't mean for Sabo to cut open the belt; he had just wanted, so badly, to feel Sabo's touch. “You have me.”

bitch. bitch. 

idk just gonna write some prompts bc this looks long

sabo + jerking ace off while wearing his gloves + barely washing them (to ace’s embarrassment) bc he claims he likes having evidence of ace. they’re usually kept for when he’s at home tho, sabo’s gross but not that gross ;p (and ace would probably die LMAO)

 SORRY BUT THE POST I JUST REBLOGGED ABT HOLDING YOUR THUMB DOWN TO HAVE NO GAG REFLEX UM. Ace says he wants to try it but it feels weird so sabo’s like. ;) okay and runs his fingers over ace’s mouth, tapping and instructing him to hold his thumb down. tracing his teeth and teasingly not dipping his fingers down low enough, till ace glares at tries to argue smth like “this is not testing the trick” but that’s when sabo presses on his tongue, down his throat, and ace half-chokes on it. sabo just like ‘not like you have much of a gag reflex anyway’

was thinking abt this the other day but ace doing sabo’s nails and then being like dont ruin them! no touching until they’re dry but sabo’s like but idk when they’ll be dry???? bc he’s never used nail polish before and ace is like :) better not touch then as he teases sabo

ace ofc painted them gold and red bc theyre His Colours and the next day when they’re dry and pretty sabo spends ages running his hands against ace’s skin, fascinated and worshipping of how pretty ace is

before they started dating and when they were bad at handling alcohol, sabo kissing ace’s knuckles made that boi CATATONIC, his wrist would also make ace bolt bc Horny, he’s fucked when sabo kisses his wrist it’s just too...intimate. 

 headcanons, headcanons, they’re both pretty calloused in different ways...ace is like rope burns and shit, longer across his palm and knuckles, sabo has palm base bc of his pipe, but they’re confined, and then on his fingertips bc of dragon claw. AGAIN thinking about mr fast fuck brutality here like the STRENGTH in that boy’s hands wtf

ace’s hands have more scars, sabo has more callouses/micro-deposits bc he knows hand to hand/doesn’t start with a DF. 

idk where im going with that last one guess it’s just headcanons abt hands.  

that’s all fox, i like the number eight and i have so many other asks to do lmao

#dirtyshankings #saboace #saborobinkoala #saroko #bleh what a gross acronym #lemons #not sfw #i need to figure out a n/sfw tag that ppl can block that tumblr wont k-word me for #opnsfw #answered asks

[princeoftennis-imagines]

May I request jealous yukimura, Kirihara, And Yanagi? Thank you!!!

jealous kirihara is cute... please enjoy!! 💓

(this was in my drafts for a while, so i’ll post it now!)

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

Yukimura:

Yukimura wasn’t the jealous type at all. He usually kept his cool, and trusted you not to do anything unusual, but that didn’t mean he trusted everyone else. So when he noticed the new tennis member getting a little too comfortable with you, he began to feel things he’s never wanted to feel before. His patience thinned out more and more when he realized that the new guy was getting a little too close for his liking.

Yukimura caught sight of the guy confidently talking about his s/o with his friend during practice, announcing somehow that he would win your heart in no time. The regulars of the team moved away in fear of the boys life as the rikkai buchou radiated with a dark aura. He walked over to them with his arms crossed and a cold smile on his face. They both turned around to see their not-so-happy looking captain piercing them with his eyes.

“You know, it’s not very polite to be talking about someone’s other half right in front of them,” Yukimura coldly stated, smiling as his eyes darkened. “after all, it makes me very upset to hear that someone has the intention to steal them away..” They took a step back, feeling intimidated by his aura. How can a man be so beautiful and scary at the same time? “..and we wouldn’t me to be upset, right?”

Frozen in terror, they both nodded vigorously, fear overtaking their hearts. Yukimura clapped his hands joyfully, a smile now present on his face. “Good! I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he turned back to go walk away but looked over his shoulder, his words not as innoncent as they seemed, “now let’s get back to training, shall we?”

Kirihara:

Kirihara was flaring with jealousy. He couldn’t believe that someone had the nerve to even flirt with his s/o while he was there right next to you! To make things worse, you were completely oblivious to it all, and it frustrated him more than ever. He glared at the person who continued to openly hit on you without shame. God, his face was so punchable, Kirihara wished he could just strangle his neck until he stopped -

“Akaya-kun, he said this would look really cute on me! What do you think?” You nearly shoved the shirt in his face, too distracted to notice his angered expression. He huffed, annoyed as he looked the other direction. “It’s okay.” He didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but he couldn’t help it. You tilted your head innocently, noticing his answers were a bit off. “Are you okay?” Kirihara looked at the guy in jealousy and his voice spat with exasperation. “I’m fine. Why don’t you pay attention to him?“ You realized what was happening as his expression changed quickly, “that’s what you’ve been doing anyway..”

“Someone’s a little grumpy.” The guy said in an almost mocking tone. You saw how Kirihara eyes began to darken as his fists shook in anger. He was definitely gonna kill this guy. “Ah- please excuse us.” You said nervously, pulling your boyfriend away. Kirihara only mouthed a threat to him before you both completely disappeared. As soon as you made it to your destination, you held both his hands.

“Were you jealous, Akaya-kun?” He stayed quiet for a few moments but finally gave in the moment you sent him puppy eyes. He threw his arms in the air as he whined loudly. “I can’t help it when he says things like that to you! You’re mine, I don’t like when other guys flirt with you!” You chuckled softly and wrapped your arms around his torso, looking up at him. “I only love you and only you, so you don’t have to worry.” He sighed softly as he returned the hug, nuzzling his face into your hair. “I love you too..”

Yanagi:

Yanagi gritted his teeth softly as you sent him another displeasing text.

“Going to my study session with my seatmate! Good luck with your practice today! I’ll be rooting for you! (^｡^)”

He usually would be okay with situations such as these, but couldn’t ignore the jealousy raging inside him as you began spending more time with this so called “seatmate”. Yanagi wanted to confront you about it personally to be mature, but he couldn’t quite catch you at the right time. And even if he did, he always felt this feeling of silliness every time he tried to bring it up. Of course, sooner or later he was gonna have to confess to you his true feelings or he would feel the guilt eating him up inside.

At the end of his practice, you two both met up at the entrance and began walking home. You felt a little tense during the whole stroll. You knew Yanagi was usually quiet, but he was strangely quiet, often giving short or rushed answers. Deciding to shrug it off, you began to talk about your day, wanting to break the silence. “Yeah, and he taught me a certain way for solving math problems, it really helped me.” He looked down at you, continuing to walk. “Im capable of teaching you too, and there would be a 99% chance you could’ve comprehended it better,” now looking forward to the path ahead of you, he muttered the next sentence a little too quietly, “I am your boyfriend after all..”

Your eyes widened at the sudden comment, realizing the envy in his tone. You couldn’t believe your ears and wondered if you were dreaming. “Renji, are you jealous?” He was quiet for a few moments before stopping in his tracks. He didn’t look at you, but admitted it openly. “Perhaps.” You only walked up in front him and placed a hand on his arm. “Why?”

“There was a 95% chance he cherished feelings for you based on the way he behaved. Seeing my data made me overthink everything,” he let out a small breath, “maybe I was being unreasonable, I apologize.” You shook your head and moved your hand up to his shoulder. “I could’ve just stopped hanging out with him if it made you uncomfortable. You know you can tell me anything,” He felt the tenseness of his shoulders go away, and sent you a gentle smile, “besides, I love you only, and it was my mistake. I should’ve asked to to tutor me.” He put a hand on your head, his smile a bit bigger as he spoke. “No need to apologize, I should’ve told you sooner. Thank you for understanding.” You only returned the smile, and took his hand in yours as you both continued to walk home.

#prince of tennis #princeoftennisscenarios #prince of tennis scenarios #tennis no oujisama #scenario #yanagi renji #kirihara akaya #yukimura seiichi #rikkaidai #pot scenario #tenipuri

[m0etenchandon]

I think you need to be punished, Ben (Reader x Ben Hardy)

Summary: Ben has been slacking around the house and Y/N is not having it so she decides to tie him to the bed and make him think twice before doing it again

Authors note: I was debating doing this with Joe, but I feel like Ben would be an even bigger sub if given the chance. Also, OMG, thank you for all the response and love on “A game of beer pong”. It´s honestly so overwhelming, and I cant thank you enough. Im sorry i havent replied to your comments but this is my side blog and Im terrifyed that the many people from irl that follow me on main will figure out how much of a hoe i really am on here

Pairing: Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: SMUT (pure filth), sub!ben, being tied to the bed, overstimulation, cumming in pants, unprotected sex (reader on birth control). 18+!

Word count: 2.9 K

Masterlist

You and Ben always had an agreement that when it comes to household chores, you would both contribute equally. However, he had recently been slacking in that department. Bowls of cereal in the sink, not bothering to throw his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and coincidentally never being home when it was time to dust and vacuum. Obviously, he had a lot going on with awards season and interviews, but it wasn’t like he was never home either. He had plenty of time when you were off to your day-time job, but there was never dinner on the table or an empty dishwasher when you walked through that door. Most of the time he spent playing videogames online with Joe.

After slumping down onto the sofa after dinner, which you again had to cook, Ben went to pull you into his side. You however were mildly annoyed and sat back onto the other side of the couch.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?”

“Nah, its nothing. I’m just having a rough day”

“Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, knowing deep down that you were overreacting. Ben was so caring and attentive to your needs, he always listened when you complained. It was just that this was getting on your nerves, and you didn’t even know why.

“I know something I can do that will cheer you up, you know”. He had a smirk on his face as he inched closer. You didn’t push him away, always being a sucker for those kissable lips. You looked from them to his green eyes, then down to his lips again. Leaning in to give him a kiss, you closed your eyes. His lips moved slowly against yours, but the kiss didn’t last long. Ben left kisses at the corner of your mouth, your jaw, just under your ear, before moving down to your neck. He found your sweet spot, knowing fully where it was after two years of being together. Small moans left your mouth as he sucked gently, ever so slightly running his teeth over the sensitive spot as you pulled on the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled away and looked at you while caressing your cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it, love?”

“Mmm, yes. Later, I promise”

You were still very much enjoying his sweet touching and little kisses, but there was still some annoyance left in your body. Normally, Ben would be quite dominating in bed, never letting you get the upper hand. However, there was something about having him a whimpering mess underneath you that made your heartbeat rise and wetness forming in your panties. You had never dared to speak your mind, but now he definitely needed to be punished.

“Actually, can we try something new today?”, you asked running a ringer down his shirt. His muscles tensed under your touch sending electric bolts straight to your core.

“Sure, anything for you my love”. He was back to kissing your neck earning a satisfied hum from the bottom of your throat. You stood up and held your hand out to him, beckoning him to come with you to the bedroom. Ben couldn’t keep his hands of you, clearly excited to hear what you had planned. His hands roamed your hips, over your boobs and across your thighs as you moved up the stairs to the master bedroom.

“What did you have in mind then miss Y/L/N”, he teased when you came to a halt at the end of your bed.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could be in charge this time”. He visibly gulped as you ran your hands over his chest and down his abs, stopping right before you reached the waistline of his sweatpants. It was your turn to nip at his neck, leaving small bites along his collarbones as well.

“Fuck, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. You know that”. Ben tried to grab onto your waist, but you were quick to pull his hands away. He let out a low whimper. You already had him around your little finger.

“I know, I have a solution for that”

You walked over to your closet and pulled out the box that was stored into the very back. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs along with some ropes, you could practically hear Bens heartbeat going up. You also pulled out one of the vibrators that he had used on you countless of times. Smiling at the memory of the last time he had made you cum 5 times in a row with it, you walked over to him again. You put the vibrator and the ropes down on the dresser but dangled the handcuffs from your pinky.

“I think it’s your time to try these”, you teased. He slowly nodded staring at you, his eyes growing several shades darker. His breath was deep and fast, and you could already see a slight bulge in his pants. Your fingers ghosted along his waistline before tugging at his t-shirt. He lifted his arms and let you pull it off him. You bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you, never getting used to the way his muscles tensed, the lines disappearing into his pants and the little trail of hair leading way to his favorite body part.

Pushing him onto the bed, you started to crawl up his body. Settling on straddling his stomach, you grabbed one of his hands and put it inside one of the cuffs. Next, you slid it through one of the poles of the head board of the bed before locking his other hand into place.

“Is this okay baby? Do you remember our safe word?”

“Y-yes, fuck this is so hot. Please touch me”, he begged. Simply smirking at how desperate he already sounded, you let your lips fall to his neck again. Now that he was unable to touch you, you sucked harshly onto the skin just below his ear knowing it drove him crazy. His hips bucked into thin air and moans left his mouth. You giggled and let your lips fall on top of his. He kissed back with lust and neediness in the way his tongue made its way into your mouth. You, however, were not having it and pulled away. He tried to stretch his neck and kiss you again, but you had already moved down towards his chest. You left kisses across his collarbones and down towards his defined pecks. Leaving small kisses next to his nipples, whines fell from his mouth. Never having tried to touch his nipples before during sex, you decided to nip at them gently, earning loud moans from your boyfriend. He was completely wrecked, and you hadn’t even got to the fun part yet.

“Fuck, b-babe. P-p-please, touch me. Do s-something”, he whimpered. You started to kiss down his stomach, going between his abs. Once you reached his happy trail, you let your tongue lick small kitten licks down towards his pants. His bulge poked your chest as you bent down and Ben thrusted his up, desperate for some sort of pressure on his aching cock.

“Now Ben, you need to be a good boy and not move for me okay?”

He frantically nodded as you grabbed the ropes from the bed side table. You tied each of his legs to a bed post before moving off the bed yourself. While Bens eyes were all over you hot like a fire, you started removing pieces of clothing. Making sure to sway your hips a little extra, you shimmied out of your skinny jeans before pulling off your jumper. Now that the only clothing that covered you were a bra and panties, you crawled over to him on the bed. You settled yourself over his crotch earning a whimper from him. You were driving him insane with every movement and you were enjoying every second.

“You’ve been a very bad boy lately, Benny. Leaving dirty dishes in the sink, dirty socks on the bathroom floor, driving me insane. You know I hate when its messy in the house, yet you still sit on the couch playing video games with Joe all day”

You had started moving your hips over his hard length and he was looking at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

“I think you need to be punished, don’t you baby?”

“Please, I-I swear I will pick up the slack. Just please, fuck, t-touch me. I’m so hard it hu-urts”

“But I am touching you baby” you cooed.

“Naughty boys don’t deserve to be sucked off. Its either this or nothing”

He let out a long whine, tugging at the handcuffs. Loving the effect you had on him, you moved your hips harder. His cock was pulsating through the fabrics separating the two of you, profanities leaving his mouth. He had never been this hard in his life and it turned you on like crazy. Wetness had seeped through your panties and onto his sweat pants, forming a wet patch just above the tip of his bulge. Ben looked down to where you were rubbing yourself against him and moaned at the sight.

“You want me to stop baby?”

“N-No please don’t. Fuck, I think I’m gonna c-cum Y/N”

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum in your pants like a horny teenager? Gonna cum from me just rubbing my wet pussy all over your crotch, baby?”

His eyes had closed, and the rest of his face was red and sweaty from the contact with his cock. Determined to get him to cum, you scraped you nails down his chest. He was a whimpering mess underneath you, desperately trying to buck his hips up towards yours to get some more friction. He was at the very edge when you leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Be a good boy and cum for me. I know you want to, baby. Maybe then I will let you fuck me. Do you want that, baby? Want my warm, tight pussy around your aching cock? Want to feel my walls clench around me as you make me cum. Your cock always makes me cum so hard?”

That was all it took. Ben screamed out your name as he came. Tears were threatening to leave his eyes as he rode out his orgasm. You placed a few kisses on his chest before moving to get off of him. The patch on his crotch that was once just your wetness was now accompanied by another much darker one. Bens chest was moving up and down at a rapid pace as he tried to regain his breath.

“I can´t believe you just made me cum my pants”, Ben said still breathless. He was so embarrassed.

“Oh, I think it was really hot. So hot in fact that I´m literally dripping”. You got off the bed and slid your panties off before unclasping your bra. Ben was pleading to touch you, his eyes darker than ever. You moved up his body, placing your pussy just out of the reach of his tongue. He pulled at his restraints, desperately wanting to taste you. He could see how wet you were for him.

“Please let me taste you, love. You always taste so fucking good”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you deserve it yet”, you teased. You moved forward a bit so that his tongue could barely touch your clit, making you shudder at the contact, before moving back.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes, please Y/N, I need more”

You moved a forward a bit further, this time enough for him to drag his tongue through your folds. He pushed his tongue into you as far as he could go and lapped up all your juices. You completely forgot who was in charge as he started sucking at your clit, slightly grazing his teeth over the sensitive nub. You were rocking against his mouth chasing your high. He was moaning against your heat, sending shivers up your spine. You abruptly pulled away from him earning a whine from Ben. His chin and mouth were glistening with your juices and it took all you had to not sit right back down on his pretty face.

“I need you inside me, Ben”

“Y/N shit, I can’t, I’m too sensitive”

Ignoring his pleas, you tugged his pants and boxers as far down his legs as they would go while still being tied to the bed posts. His cock was still wet from cum and he was half-hard.

“You sure, baby? I really need it, and by the looks of it, you want it too”. You traced a finger over the prominent vein on his shaft, making him shiver. His cock started to stir. You had him completely under your spell as you lent down and kitten licked at the cum around his tip. It was all too much for Ben, who was tossing and turning on the bed. Taking his tip into your mouth and sucking lightly, his hips bucked up making his cock hit the back of your throat. You immediately let him slip out of your mouth.

“I just told you naughty boys don’t get sucked off, and yet you push your big cock right down my throat”

“Babe, I’m so s-sorry”

“I think you should show me how sorry you are by letting me ride you. Don’t you think that is a good idea, baby”

“Shit, please, I’m too sensitive”

You reminded him to use the safe word if it was too much, before lining him up with your entrance. All the teasing had got you all riled up and you were so wet he slipped in with no resistance. You kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you slid down onto his hard cock. Tears were pricking at his eyes as he bottomed you out. He was so sensitive, yet it felt so good he didn’t want you to stop. You took a minute to get used to his big cock, before lifting your hips and quickly slamming back down again. Ben was a moaning mess underneath you as you picked up the pace. You lent down to press a kiss to his mouth, but he immediately deepened it, craving the intimacy. Your orgasm was slowly creeping up on you, feeling the pit in your stomach grow tighter. His lips left yours, the kissing taking too much of his energy. He whispered sorry´s into your ear as you let your head fall onto his chest. You could tell he was close as his breathing became uneven.

“Are you gonna cum for me again, baby”

“Fuck, yes Y/N. It f-feels so g-good”

You grabbed the neglected vibrator from the bed side table and placed it against your clit. You were so riled up that it pushed you right towards the edge. Bens eyes nearly popped out of his eye socket at the sight before him. He threw his head back in ecstasy as he came, you follow shortly behind when you felt hot ropes of his cum coat your walls. You clenched around him as you came down, riding out your own and his orgasm. He was so sensitive by this point that a tear actually escaped his eye. A yelp left his mouth as he slipped out of you, the friction being too much for him. Leaning down to him, you kissed away the tears on his cheek before giving his lips a soft kiss. You unlocked his handcuffs as well as the ropes tying his feet. His arms immediately wrapped around you as you put your head on his chest.

“You okay?”, you asked tracing small circles on his chest. He kissed the top of your head.

“Yeah, it was just a lot. In a good way though. And I’m sorry for being lazy around the house. Seriously, I´ll do better. I promise, love”

“It’s okay. Besides, I´ll just have to punish you again if you don’t pick up your slack”, you smirked as you looked up at him. A flash of panic swept his features before they softened.

“Hmm, I did enjoy this whole scenario, but I think that next time you should be the one that’s tied up”

“Do you now? Don’t know if I dare after what I just put you through. You might be revengeful”

“You´ll just have to find out, won´t you”, he teased leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Maybe I´ll just abstain from sex and I won´t have to worry about that”

“Yeah, and that will last for about 2 days before you can’t say no to this anymore” he gestured at his torso and then down to his cock.

“You’re so full of yourself”, you pushed his chest laughing.

“I´m not wrong though, and you know it, love”

“I know.. it’s a curse really”

“Sure it is, it’s hard having orgasms every night”

“You´re such a wanker, Ben”

“But I´m your wanker”, he pulled you so close you could barely breathe. You laughed and pushed him away from you.

“You´re lucky you’re cute or I would have kicked you out of my bed right now”

“You know you love me”

“Unfortunately, I do, you dork”

“I love you too, Y/N”, Ben said, placing a sloppy kiss to your lips. You smiled against him and kissed him back.

Part 2

Masterlist

#ben hardy #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #smut #ben jones #ben jones smut #queen smut #queen imagine #borhap #borhap imagine #borhap smut

[wintermutal]

D, E, and Q for the writing ask 👁👁

end of the year writing meme

D. Any drawings or pictures that had a big influence on your writing?

i have aesthetic blogs for some of my characters, where i keep like, random shit that i associate with them, but in terms of general aesthetic probably john divola’s Dogs Chasing my Car in the Desert. i love that set of pieces. 

E.  Who’s your favorite main character you’ve written?

idk if an antagonist counts as a main character, but Dr. Dean Eiler is my fave person to write. he’s just awful. just literally terrible. he’s so incredibly insecure and immature that he’s incapable of seeing himself as anything but the victim in any situation, hes entitled as fuck, he has a traumatic backstory and thinks that excuses his behavior, and he cares so much about appearance over integrity that he’ll act like an entirely different person in front of people he knows could say something bad about him. overall he either genuinely believes what he’s doing is like, The Good And Correct Thing To Do or desperately finds a way to twist it so he can believe what hes doing is justified.

its like. oh god. hes literally a manchild. fun to write in the awful victor vale sort of way.

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read his year. Can be your writing, or not. 

okay. man. this ones gonna be long. 

this past year i spent a lot of time on scp stuff, so two of these three scenes are gonna be that; the first being the last time (probably ever) i wrote gears, and the second being a climax scene from my broken masquerade project. the third is a scene from something i wrote during nanowrimo, which is part of the exposition of my original story. im gonna post all this under a cut, because this shit is longer than i remember it being. 

notes in italics. scenes in normal text.

in late spring i wrote a piece about all the people a foundation report has to go through in the broken masquerade universe to get put into the database. primarily, it was about the concept of everything in the SCP database being written anonymously, by ghostwriters hired by the foundation specifically to put together the reports, and how the foundation was like, a city of ghosts or w/e because the flesh and bone of it was anonymous. never published it because it was supposed to be at the end of my other big masquerade piece as the epilogue. more than that, though, i think this scene from it is notable because it was the last time i ever wrote gears, and i wrote him a lot differently than i would have when i was younger. this is a bit longer. 

Gears heavily disproved of how Harrold had written the Starfish report. It wasn’t on a basis of skill— as someone who had written more than his fair share of reports, he found his technical descriptions of the disintegration of Site-56 and the resulting riot completely satisfactory— but rather on how Harrold had written about the SCPs themselves. He didn’t like how he’d called Miles by his name instead of his number (and his accession number at that; Gears loathed the new numbering system with a passion he did not express). He didn’t like how Site-56 had let Miles go outside in the first place. He didn’t like how they’d given him books. He didn’t like that they’d let him complete a high school equivalent in containment; he viewed that that was outside the Foundation’s responsibilities to provide him an education. He didn’t like that they hadn’t done more testing, and how they had given him the opportunity to move down from lockdown to a more relaxed procedure. The list went on.

All of these things, Gears thought bitterly, were things he would have never allowed back when he was the head of research at Site-19. He was a true Foundation hard liner, one of the last of his kind; one of the old horsemen who’d cracked down and worked, worked ruthlessly, tirelessly towards purely scientific gain. In modern Foundation terms, his policy had only become more conservative as he aged. He held a considerable amount of power in both the ethics committee and the 05 counsel, but both were still harshly divided on whether or not they agreed with the conclusions of his near half-century of Foundation experience.

In a lot of ways, he was the face of the Foundation. He was the grandfather. He was respected. But he also was one of the cruelest men many younger Foundation administrators would ever meet. He was quiet and polite in his mannerisms— of course, he was known for his stoicism, which had stuck with him into his old age and formed much of the outer shell of his notoriety— but what Charlie considered ‘cold’ was what many others considered ‘cruel’. There were plenty of Foundation administrators who still agreed with what he had to say and lined up behind him at every vote, but much of it was spurred either by intimidation or by the assumption that he simply knew what he was doing.

And in his mind, Gears did know what he was doing. He opposed every miniscule vote on every kind of policy in favor of humanitarianism. He’d sat down in his chair at the head of the council meetings and said in his emotionless tone that he didn’t believe in keeping D-Class around, for instance; that it was more scientifically accurate for them to be purged at the end of each month, a policy that hadn’t been in place since the late 1940s. He conducted himself with a pristine poise when asserting that he believed what was done in Korea was in the Foundation’s best interests, which was always seen as a rather cruel answer in regards to the civilians who had died.

Central Committee legend went that he hadn’t always been this ruthless. Jack Bright, 05-6, the only other person older than Charlie and far more progressive than him in his policy, claimed that there was a time when Gears had been softer than this. That he had been kinder. Not much kinder, but not outright bitter and stagnant like he was.

But that was a time far before Korea, and long before his promotion to 05.

So Charlie, looking at the Starfish report at his desk in Geneva, came to the conclusion that what was needed to remedy this situation was Foundation hard-linership. He believed that the Foundation had gotten too slack on the leash. He wrote up the gag order with the speed of a Foundation ghostwriter, albit hindered by the painful arthritis in his hands. He signed it electronically, again with much more difficulty then he considered permissible in terms of efficiency. And then he sent it out. And sat back in his wheelchair with the riot report in front of him. And thought for a while.

People had been joking for decades that Charles Gears would die at his desk. To Gears the real surprise was in the fact that he didn’t die in a lab in the basement of Site-19, in the deep Siberian dark where he’d run his laboratory with that cold stoic cruelty that shocked Foundation newcomers. His desk in Geneva faced a large bay window. In an incredible twist of irony— some would call it mercy— Charles Gears died in the light not an hour after writing the gag order. All he had to do was doze off.

___________________________________

next one is also from my old scp story. specifically, this would be part of the climax. glad i got this ask because it made me look over it again, and i want to modify this for my original stuff because it’s good as hell, but the original is very foundation-specific. also, this is the au where draven is awful. like, everyone is awful, but you know.

“You’re not the only one with a tragic backstory, you know,” Eiler called over his shoulder. “My father was a college professor. Taught classics, of all things. He was also one hell of an alcoholic…”

Miles heard a metal cabinet ram shut with a loud BANG. Something fell into the washbasin and thudded like dead weight. “When I was ten, he got into a drunk driving accident. They took him to the hospital and had him in with a shrink-” his voice suddenly was sharper against the tile and metal of the room, facing towards him now, “-and the shrink told him, ‘you know, it seems like your problems are ingrained in your identity, sir. Your personality, if you will. If you can find a core for yourself, some sort of foundation instead of resorting to whatever this is, you might do a lot better for yourself’”.

There was the sound of polished black dress shoes turning swiftly, then clacking like hooves on the polished white laminate, walking back towards the chair. “Well! My father never liked unsolicited advice from strangers to begin with, but that got to him. He waited damn near six months to get out of there, and in that time he decided exactly what kind of core he wanted.”

And then he was in his line of vision, smiling placidly like he always had. Miles squirmed against the leather restraints, and he disappeared again, reammerging with the careful insertion of an IV needle into the inside of his right elbow. Miles sucked in a breath. His gloved hands were exceedingly cold.

“He came home. Can’t you believe?” Eiler continued, circling back around to the front of the chair, then ripping the sterile plastic from a syringe. “He passed all the psychiatric evaluations from thereon out. Detoxed, even…” Eiler trailed off. The vial of liquid was so small Miles couldn’t make out the color until it was being pulled, millimeter by millimeter, up into the needle and the syringe beyond. Eiler tapped it carefully against the side of the glass tube, then held the plunger between his teeth and began to roll the sleeves of his pressed white dress shirt up to the elbow. In the sharp clinical light, the pale undersides of his forearms were littered with straight wisps of scars, lined like the braces of a railroad track.

“I really should have thought to do this beforehand,” he spoke around the syringe, then finished buttoning the cusps and removed it, holding it delicately in his right hand. “I apologize. Can’t be good clinical practice to hold it like that. But as I was saying.”

Before Miles had a moment to brace himself, the needle was in one of the pale blue veins of his left hand. He instinctively jerked what wasn’t pinned under a wrist restraint; without a moment’s hesitation, Eiler slammed his fingers under the tip of the tan armrest and held them there, forcing his palm down cool and steady, emptying the remainder of the contents into back of his grip. With his body pinned down, it was easier for Miles to realize he was trembling. The substance burned in a way that wasn’t explicitly painful, but left a sort of numbness in its wake that made a pit open in his stomach.

“He came home from the hospital. And detox. He told me about the shrink,” Eiler pulled the syringe out and walked somewhere behind him to dispose of it. Miles realized, vaguely, that although Eiler’s hands were gone, his own was still gripping the chair tightly, as if he was willing whatever it was to stop the inch-by-inch creeping of heat up his arm.

And then Eiler reappeared, now in the form of a hand around his lower jaw, bracing him forwards against the forehead restraint. Miles met his eyes, cool and calm; and then he drifted them down to Eiler’s throat, and realized with a sense of detached horror that he had loosened his tie.

“You know what he said?” Eiler muttered.

Miles could not respond. Whatever it was had travelled up to his neck now, creeping down his torso, coursing through his capillaries. He had never wanted something to stop more in his entire life. He had never wanted something to be a nightmare more.

“'If I’m going to build a foundation, I’m going to build it from the wreckage of you,’” Eiler whispered. And then smiled. And then took his hand away.

Miles swallowed. There was a vague awareness of the jumpsuit zipper pressing against his windpipe, gently, softly, present. Eiler stepped back.

“And then he did.”

The reality cycler roared to life. It occured to Miles that he was going to die.

———-

[x] Doberman Executioner

Flashes. Miles sees flashes from the machine to his right, then feels them behind him eyes, popping in the front of his skull, then ricocheting pain, and then Draven stands on a cold overhead catwalk and looks down on the crowd below and is afraid.

In. Out. Benjamin Kondraki fades from his mind and Alto Clef sets in, telling him he does not have to feel to shoot, and he does not have to think to finish a job. That’s how he killed all those kids, he thinks. He just was, and then they weren’t.

His body relaxes. The warmth in his chest is the feeling one gets with certainty, stability, a meaning. He remembers a time when he could think while doing these jobs, when his morals lined up with his soul and certainties. Not anymore. His job has changed since Korea. Now, his job is simply to be.

And Draven Kondraki would be.

———-

Although Miles does not physically hear the loud cracking sound he hears it mentally, like an electric shock, like something has wormed into one ear and whipped itself against bone. He feels tranquilized all at once; static on his tongue, invading his mouth, burning his teeth. Thinking becomes a struggle. There are small black dots at the edges of his vision and he slumps in the restraints slightly, then hauls himself upwards, pushes his back into the chair, groggily begs himself not to pass out, although it feels less like he wants to pass out and more like he wants to shrink his soul away and fall into a sleep as dark and smooth as the Marianas Trench.

He wants to sleep. Eiler woke him up, he remembers. He’s been so tired lately. He wants to go back to sleep…

And then there is a hand around his jaw, pushing him back against the headrest, tilting up upwards…yes, up to the moths in the overhead lights.

“There are no dogs in the deep dark,” the figure says, the shadow, the white tooth tiles of god, “That’s one high. And now we go low…”

———-

A single shot from the overhead catwalk. The girl’s head explodes into unrecognition. A memory from when he was eight surfaces, vaguely, in the back of his mind: his father saying humans take a tenth of a second to react to anything. Draven applies this tenth of a second. He drops the sniper rifle and starts to run as the crowd is recoiling, and as he runs he hears the sounds of more shots from the wings, from inside the crowd, from the imposters that have invaded this space with such precision.

———-

“There are no sharks in the water,” says a voice. It’s his father’s. They are looking out over the shale beach, the dark sea, the churning tide. Seagulls wheel and cry above them. His father says, “Do you hear me, Miles? There are no sharks in the water.”

Miles says, “Yes there are,” and the vision disappears, up, back up, back to the chair where he is not certain Eiler said ‘sharks’ or 'water’, and he is not certain of much at all, or even if the dark shadow outlined along the wall beyond his television static vision is anyone he knows, and then he is up again; another crack, this one louder; a nip of electricity at his tongue. His head is pushed back again. The palm of a hand is on his windpipe, inches above the zipper on his collar. The hume change is faster this time. He wants to beg and his jaw will not move.

“…And high again,” Eiler says. His train track forearms. Miles realizes in his peripheral that he’s sweating profusely through his jumpsuit, that it’s running down his face and dripping from the tip of his nose. “You see how this works? There’s a process here, Miles—” and the rest is drowned out by the buzzing of the hume field and the high, sharp crack of reality in his ears…

———-

[DRAVEN AGAIN]

———-

He’s holding him on the precipice of a steep cliff, dust and blue sky and noone to hear him scream. Eiler leans in.

“There is no broken masquerade, Miles,” he said, “There was no Korea. Do you hear me, Miles? You’ve been tricked. Lied to. I need you to listen to me.” A tightening around his throat. Hot tears in his eyes. “This is the best you’ll ever get, you see? There is no life for you outside of here. Now I want you to say it with me…”

A low, animal whine chokes up from his throat, thick with terror.

“Say it with me, now. 'There is no revolution because there is no broken masquerade’.”

“Please stop,” he sobs, “Please stop…”

———-

Draven wanted this to stop.

___________________________________

i wrote this one during nanowrimo. yes, miles and eiler here are modified versions of the miles and eiler in the scene above, but with different dynamics because i was just playing with stuff.

“There is no one in the cockpit,” Eiler growled. “This is an automated train.”

They were sitting at the table, a flashlight between them. The bleeding from Eiler’s temple had stopped, but they both had concluded he had a concussion after he’d pressed a hand to his forehead to check the wound, only to be hit with sharp pain and a blurred image instead of the typical biopathic visual.

“You’re saying we’re the only ones here?” Miles asked. He’d assumed there were people in other cabins, staff or something, at least someone running the train to begin with.

“I never said that,” Eiler said. “There’s one other person on board.”

“…Is she okay?” Miles asked. Eiler dug in his pocket for his cigarettes, working by the LED light.

“She should be fine. They drugged her to hell and back at the capitol, she’s on a drip and a catheter…” The flick of a lighter. Eiler had a cigarette in his mouth, now, balancing between his lips. “The hospital car has a backup generator.”

“She’s a prisoner.”

The lighter came to life, illuminating Eiler in the deep dark, creeping from the outside in in the same way sand always made it’s way inside his mother’s home. “You sound awfully surprised for someone sitting on a train going to a prison.”

“We should check on her,” Miles said. The older man took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled; with the heating shut off, the warmth of it left Miles frightened. It was colder outside here than he’d ever experienced outside at the capitol.

“More than that,” Eiler said, “we should wake her up. Pass me my cane, would you?” It was on the floor several feet away; as Miles got it, he pushed himself to his feet, visibly steadying himself on the wall.

“I don’t see why we need to wake her up. She’s a prisoner, right?” Miles handed him the cane, and Eiler balanced his cigarette back between his lips as he pulled an emergency lever, bright red and hidden in the wall beside the back door; it slid back to reveal a gangway through a storage car, loaded with crates and equipment.

“You know that blackout a few days ago?” he asked, limping over the threshold.”

Miles shuddered, remembering the bypass machine, the flickering lights, the nightmare it had been. “I do.”

“She caused it. Only perpetuator. She’s a technopath. Take the flashlight, will you?”

“Wait. She?” Miles took the flashlight and followed, walking along the narrow pathway through the storage car, following closely behind. Eiler’s cigarette glowed through the encroaching dark.

“You’re surprised by that, too? How boring is your life that you think that’s interesting?”

“Technopathy is a Y-linked gene, right? That’s why all technopaths are male—”

“—No, all technopaths you’ve met are male. The Y-linked hypothesis hasn’t been proven. The margin is skewed in the male direction, but a good quarter of technopaths are female. Probably more, seeing as technopaths are less… rigorous about everything than we are.”

“The X-linked biopathy hypothesis has been proven, though.”

“The X-linked biopathy hypothesis is wrong, too. It’s passed through the mitochondrial DNA, which is passed from the mother’s side.”

“You have no evidence for that.”

“And you do? How old are you, twelve?”

“I’m eighteen,” Miles said, shining the flashlight on the lever by the back door of the car. “and we learned both those phenomenons in medical school.”

Eiler yanked on the lever, and the next gangway door came open: the next car was medical surplus, vaccines in styrofoam containers, biohazard bags. “Rule one of the biological sciences,” he said, narrowly avoiding fluid leaking from a broken surplus of saline, “Researchers can’t make up their goddamn minds about any shit less than fifteen years old. Easier to just slap a hypothesis in a textbook, and the people who actually care will dig in and find that it’s more complicated then the goddamn lecture slides said it was.”

“And you’ve been keeping up with all this.”

“Of course. And I’m assuming you’re interested, too, since it wouldn’t be your first foray into research. Tell me, how much of agreeing to be my personal prisoner is due to the fact you heard about a freakish disease outbreak at the very prison you’d be going to?”

“That’s different.”

Miles almost ran into Eiler when he stopped to look at him, his cigarette starting to ash. “You worked at the Moray lab, right? Plague control. Dr. Wilde mentioned it.”

“I ran samples at the Moray lab. They gave me what they didn’t want to do themselves and I sat and did it. I got paid minimum wage. I was the equivalent of a dishwasher. Have you considered that I’m being sent to prison because I was sentenced to prison, but you thought that would put my training to waste?”

Eiler paused, exhaled smoke again, and turned to continue down the aisle. “Most eighteen year olds would be far more upset about going to prison, is all I’m saying.”

“So you think I’m going because I want to catch a strange disease I can die from in four days?”

“Oh, Miles,” Eiler said, “I never mentioned the disease took four days.”

Miles fell silent. Eiler smiled in the dark.

“A lot of my staff died over the summer. Most of them were too busy dying an agonizing, bloody death to be scientifically interested in what they were dying from. The way I see it, at least when it happens to you, you’ll be able to look inside yourself and tell me what’s happening.” He glanced behind him again, taking out a keyring to release a lock on the lever of the third car, “In non-pathics, the sense of hearing is the last thing to go. In pathics, it’s the sensation of casting that goes last. Might as well put it to good use. Might be a little painful though, what with the catastrophic bleeding and all. ”

The lock dropped open. The door slid away, revealing a sterile car with a tile floor and flood lights illuminating the cabin. It looked empty aside from a single gurney, midway up the left side, hung with tubes and wires. Eiler sighed.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s hope she doesn’t kill us.”

#Anonymous #man this is a lot #scp things are in the au where everyone is awful and everyone suffers so like. thats that on that #idk yall know what ur getting into at this point prob but #abuse ment / #think that probably covers all thats in there actually #draven kondraki #gears #writing #vandal.txt

[okaypottah]

Happy Valentine's Day

Contains: rimming. just rimming.

Draco's eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels the familiar warm tongue lick a stripe along his perineum, a whimper escaping his lips.

There's a slight tremble in his elbows where the entire weight of his upper body is supported on as he lays on his knees and arms, laid out and open for his boyfriend's eyes. His breath comes out in quick short pants, hitching in his throat when the tip of his tongue teases the rim of his hole.

"Harry," he breathes out, letting out a choked sob when he feels teeth scrape his sensitive hole, teetering him to his edge with every gentle bite and lick and suction. "Harry."

He feels more than hears the brunette. "Yes, love?" Harry makes an appreciative noise when his tongue finally breaches him and dips past the ring of muscles, making Draco grip the sheets, and cry out loud when the touch disappears. "Mm, love eating you out."

The touch comes back, tongue probing at his entrance while warm, strong hands push his cheeks apart and in response, Draco pushes his arse further into his face, pleas slipping out of his red-bitten lips.

"Fuck me, please. Harry." The plea ends in a gasp when there's a bite and he feels Harry shake his head as he pulls away, breath warm on his cheeks when he speaks.

"Today's about you, sweetheart," A finger traces the outline of his now swollen and sweat-slicked hole, making Draco shudder, cock leaking on the sheets, "Gonna make you come from my tongue alone. You'd like that, yes?"

"Yes, Harry." He spreads his thighs further apart as if in invitation and Harry happily obligies, his sinful tongue pushing Draco closer and closer to his edge.

The pressure in the blonde's core is unbearable, and he feels like he's levitating somewhere above the bed, only tethered to the earth by Harry's mouth and the way his hands are pressing his thighs apart amd keeping him splayed and on view.

When a lubed up finger enters him, a second one joining it shortly after and Harry curls them just like, stars explode behind Draco's closed eyelids and he rushes out, "I'mcloseI'mcloseHarryplease!"

"Come for me, darling," Harry says and that's all Draco needs before his thighs clench as a wave of toe-curling ecstasy rolls over him and then he's coming, ropes of white liquid on the crimson sheets, untouched.

"That's it, so good for me, baby." Harry's soothing voice continues, running fingers through his hair as the blonde collapses face-first into the pillow, coming down from his post-orgasm haze.

Draco turns his head so that he's lying on his cheek, grey eyes staring up at his boyfriend's face which is sporting a fond smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, Draco."

"Yeah, you too." He replies, eyes fluttering closed with Harry stroking his hair. "Mm, Merlin, I love you. Keep doing that."

There's laughter and a fond 'I love you too' whispered that makes Draco think that yep, the night is still young and yes he's going to show his boyfriend just how much he loves him.

-

yes im still writing valentine's day themed stuff what u gonna do abt it huh huh

part two soon (if u want, let me know)

#draco malfoy #drarry #harry potter #my writing #bottom draco malfoy #bottom draco #hogwarts #drarry smut #gay #draco/harry #harry and draco #harry x draco #draco x harry #rimmimg

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N:  So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened. 

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm. 

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree  @breezy1415  @peachthatdrinkslemonade  @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho  @marvel-randomness  @daniellajocelyn  @katecolleen  @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her.  Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze  the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.  

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

[badsext]

AU - Klaus Hargreeves x Nathan Young Part 2

Part 1 is here: https://badsext.tumblr.com/post/185460594572/au-klaus-hargreeves-x-nathan-young

Warnings: mlm SMUT, this one’s also kind of a tear jerker

“Nafan wot the fok? It’s Thursday! The probation worker’s lookin’ for you,” Kelley hisses.

Nathan sits up in bed, rubs his eyes, and stretches his long arms. The covers slide down just enough to reveal that he is naked. “Will you tell him I’m sick or something?”

Klaus sits up, also naked, yawning and scratching his head. “Kelley, you remember Klaus…”

“Jesus, Nafan.” Kelley cups her hand over her mouth to hide her gut reaction which is pure delight. They are actually pretty cute together, she thinks. Plus, this might be exactly what Nathan needs to make him less of an asshole. Still, she doesn’t want to look like too much of a softie or he’ll take advantage.

“No, Nafan. Vis cun wait till tonight.”

“Klaus is leaving tomorrow night. We just started getting on and I want to spend more time with him before he goes back to New York.”

Kelley softens, angry with herself for giving in too easily. “Alright, I’ll tell vem yoor sick.”

"We could really use a place to shower and change that’s not here.”

"Yoor pooshin’ et.” Nathan and Klaus both look at her with the same sad puppy dog eyes and she knows she’s done for. “Alright you cun stay at my flat ‘till I get ome, jost don’t be disgustin.’ You cun ave the chickun nuguts en va freeza.”

Nathan stands up excitedly to hug her, forgetting his nakedness. “Jesus, Nafan, put some clothes on and keep it down! Va key is oonda va mat. You’ll ave to sneak out while va rest of us are pickcun up rubbish.” Kelley walks away trying to hold back her smile.

Her flat is small, but cozy. The boys head eagerly towards the shower. They stumble around kissing and taking each others clothes off. Nathan turns on the hot water and gets in, pulling Klaus in with him. The shower is barely big enough for both of them, but they manage. Kelley’s soap smells like orange and jasmine. Nathan washes Klaus’ back, watching the lather find its way down the middle of his gorgeous ass. He vividly remembers the pleasure he experienced there and grows hard just thinking about it. His hand slides down the small of his back. He can’t resist slipping two wet fingers inside Klaus. Klaus moans, bracing himself against the tile.

After the events of last night Nathan embraces this new aspect of his sexuality fully and without reservation. He wants to experience it all with Klaus. For Klaus, being with Nathan feels different than the other guys he’s had sex with. An asshole, sure, but Nathan is also impossibly soft. Klaus is trying so hard not to fall for him for the sake of both their hearts.

Nathan slides his other hand down Klaus’ long tight torso to his stiffened cock. The water runs down their bodies, dripping and pooling into a chorus of splash sounds around their movements. Nathan nibbles at the back of Klaus’ neck while he strokes him and curls his nimble fingers inside him.

Nathan withdraws his fingers, releases klaus’s cock and spins him around by the waist. The water trickles off his eyelashes. “You’re such a tease,” says klaus breathlessly. Nathan smiles and begins lathering his own cock slowly and sensually for Klaus benefit. Klaus bites his lip, watching the show until Nathan stops to rinse the soap off. Klaus draws him close for a kiss. “So you want to be the little spoon, hu?,” he says reaching down to grab Nathan’s ass with both hands. Nathan jumps with a little giggle. They both laugh at his reaction. Klaus kisses his forehead. “We’ll go slow.”

They grab fresh towels and head for the bedroom. Nathan immediately starts tugging at Klaus’ towel. He lowers himself to his knees. His saturated curls are flattened except for a resilient few around his temples and behind his ears. He leans foreword, grabs The base of Klaus’ wet cock and eagerly wraps his mouth around it. Klaus squirms at Nathan’s initial use of teeth. Nathan looks up, his green eyes apologizing. He tries again, this time Klaus lets out an encouraging moan. Nathan takes Klaus in further, sucking him in a slow, careful rhythm. Klaus tilts his head back and closes his eyes. Nathan picks up speed, using his free hand to caress his balls. Klaus shudders and lets out a breathy “ah.” His hips buck forward on their own accord. “I’m about to come,” Klaus warns with shaky breath. Nathan holds his position, continues sucking until Klaus twitches and releases into his mouth with a loud moan. Nathan swallows every drop.

When Klaus opens his eyes Nathan is standing in front of him wearing a cocky grin. He laces his hands around the back of Klaus’ neck. “Not bad for your first time,” Klaus teases.

Fuck off, I was amazing!”

"I’m surprised you swallowed. How did it taste?”

"little salty, like mine.”

Klaus laughs.

"What?…Of course I’ve tasted my own cum. I thought that was standard guy behavior.”

"You are so fucking cute. Are we having breakfast? Im starving.”

"How about…"chickun nuguts?” They both start laughing.

They settle into the sofa eating nuggets and drinking beer. They find their favorite films on streaming. Nathan can’t believe Klaus has never seen ‘Death Wish’ and Klaus can’t wait to show Nathan ‘Moulin Rouge.’ They snuggle so comfortably in each others arms.

Kelley gets home to a surprisingly tidy flat and yummy smells coming from the kitchen. “Welcome home. Klaus made dinner.”

Kelley is pleasantly surprised. “Fanks, mate. I cood get used ta vis.”

Dinner is a weird combination of random food, but still pretty good. The three of them eat and laugh and hang out until the sun goes down. Kelley can sense the boys getting anxious to be alone again.

"I think we’re gonna go back to my place,” says Nathan, referring to the community center.“

"Everyfings locked.”

"I have my ways.”

"Be carefol you two. Don’t get caught. I’ll wake you up tomorrow and you cun stay ere tul Klaus asta leave.”

"Thanks, Kelley.” Nathan says sincerely.

"Shit, mate, you alright?” I’ve never erd you say vat word.“

They return to the community center and sneak in a back window Nathan keeps unlocked for this very purpose. The dark silence of the building feels different knowing this is their last night together. Klaus’ phone rings and he lets it go to voicemail, so he can focus on Nathan. Nathan puts on some music and starts dancing around like an idiot to lighten the mood. Klaus jumps in with his own ridiculous moves until the song changes to something slow. They lock eyes and make their way into each others arms. Nathan lays his head on Klaus’ shoulder. "I wish you didn’t have to go.”

"I wish I could take you with me.” Klaus smiles.

"I’m serious. Even if I had enough money for a plane ticket, I still have to finish my probation…You have to stay…With your power and mine…it’s meant to be.”

"I don’t know, Nathan. This is happening really fast.”

"Fucking hell! You come in here with that fucking face and mess with my head…” Nathan pushes Klaus in the chest.

"Nathan, the longest relationship I’ve had is three weeks, I’m homeless, I don’t have a job, I see dead people everywhere unless I’m on drugs…What about that appeals to you?”

"You could say the same things about me…accept for the last part.”

"I want to be with you. It’s just complicated.” Nathan kisses him and drags him to the mattress on the floor.

"I want you to fuck me tonight. That’s not complicated, is it?”

"I’ve actually never done that before…with a guy…I’ve never been on top.”

"Don’t you want to?” Nathan bites his index finger and flutters his eyelashes dramatically.

"Oh yeah, I’m going to pound that ass.” Klaus grabs a handful of Nathan’s ass and grunts.

They break into laughter that melts into lust. Klaus kisses Nathan, easing him into the mattress. He applies a generous amount of lube to his finger. He traces the rim of his tight little muscle a few times then glides slowly and gently through. Nathan sucks in a ragged breath. His legs twist and tighten around Klaus’ hand.

"You like it?”

"I want more.”

Klaus adds another finger, gently moving them in and out. Nathan writhes and clutches at the sheets beneath him. His swollen erection says everything.

"Are you ready for me?”

Nathan looks up. His eyes are glassy and dilated. “Mmm hmm.” He nods and rolls over to give Klaus easier access. Klaus lifts his hips and parts his legs a bit wider. Nathan rests his elbows on the pillow. He whimpers as Klaus passes through his entrance, then groans as he sinks deeper inside, intoxicated by the combination of pleasure and pain. Klaus summons all his willpower to go slow as he watches his cock disappear into Nathan. He leans forward, kissing between his shoulder blades and whispers, “Fuck, Nathan, you feel so good.” Nathan presses back against him and moans. Klaus responds, thrusting carefully at first, then gradually picking up speed. He strokes Nathan’s cock in equal rhythm. It becomes too much for Nathan and he explodes in ecstasy. Klaus pulls out and releases onto Nathan’s back, using the corner of the sheet to wipe away the evidence. They collapse beside each other on the mattress’ looking up at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath.

"What did you think?” Klaus says rolling into his side to look at Nathan.

"I think…I feel even worse about you leaving now,” An unexpected tear falls from the corner of His eye.

Klaus catches Nathan’s tear with his thumb and kisses him on the temple. “Maybe I should miss my flight tomorrow and we can figure it out from there.” Nathan reaches up and grabs Klaus’ face with both hands, searching his eyes for reassurance. Satisfied, he pulls Klaus down for a kiss. They soon settle onto their sides to cuddle and fall asleep. Nathan is the little spoon.

Kelley wakes them up the same as the day before. This time instead of heading straight to Kelley’s flat, they walk out to the river for a change of scenery. “I got a voicemail last night from my sister. I’m going to listen to it." Nathan lights a cigarette and looks out at the water to avoid staring directly at Klaus while he listens to the message.

"I have to call her back.” Nathan shifts his focus back to Klaus, with growing anxiety. Klaus rings Alison’s number and brings the phone back up to his ear, clutching his forehead.

"Shit, I’m sorry….That inconsiderate son of a bitch…Are you okay?…Yeah…I’ll be there.”

"What is it? What happened?”

"Reginald Hargreeves died yesterday.”

"Who the fuck is that?”

"My asshole father.”

”…I’ve got one of those too….I’m sorry, Klaus.”

“I have to go home for the funeral.”

"Fuck,” Nathan exhales, his eyes welling up with tears. Seeing him so emotional causes Klaus to well up too. He gathers Nathan up in his arms and they stand there like that for a long while listening to the water lap along the shoreline.

"I’ll come back after everything is settled. There’s nothing for me back home. I want to start over with you,” Klaus seals his promise with a kiss.

@kitty-red @kitty-red @klaus-hargreev3s @spokenforimagines @bcriss11 @mysticrebelwerewolf @itsfreakingyouth @helena-way07 @binchidavinchi @herosizedbirb @themilkcartonkid

#klaus hargreeves imagine #nathan young smut #nathan young imagine #klaus x nathan #Nathan x klaus #mlm imagine #mlm fiction

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

seal moves in

(i dont remember if i ever posted this so im reposting it, this is from the far far future)

Seven centuries ago the Wyld washed over an entire direction in the wake of a Crusade, and it recedes slowly. Islands of lucidity jut forth like washed-up debris, either raksha playgrounds or remnants of Creation. It is here, scant miles beyond the edge of the world, that Siege Perilous looms. The sun does not reach here, though there is light; the deserts give way to paving-stones and green hills, and a hamlet in the shadow of a castle. The hamlet is empty, long abandoned by the look of it -- but surely less than seven centuries empty, when bleached banners still fly in the square intact. No, these houses were evacuated a mere five years ago, when their ancient hero finally returned to liberate them from raksha encirclement. When the castle's heir took up his rightful seat. When the Seal of Unforgotten Kings came home. A marble statue stands in the Siege's courtyard, gazing down on those who would enter the castle. In those five years, it has seen the Dusk a scant three times. 

A bottle of champagne smashed across its sunburst-crowned brow. "I hereby chrishen thish party... open!" Star declared.

Seal glowered up at him, perched on the statue's shoulder. "Get down from there," he shouted. "I wanted to fucking drink that."

Star shrugged, tossing the neck of the bottle over his shoulder and fluttering down. "Desh brought more, I think. Beshidesh, that shtuff schucksh. Gotta drink like a bucketful to get tipshy."

Des had indeed brought more; various bottles nestled in the crook of her arm, and beside her a white-haired boy labored under what appeared to be picnic baskets laden so high they obscured his face. Des clicked her tongue at him. "You know you don't have to carry all that, Sever," she said. "I could have got a ghost to do it."

Shoulders shrugged carefully on either side of the tower. "I don't mind," a basket at face height replied. Severed Tail of the Serpent Resembles Truth By its Writhing carefully adjusted the tower, distributing the weight more evenly, and continued on his way. Behind him, Des frowned and followed.

+++

Seal flung the castle doors open. "Honey, we're home," he shouted, emboldened by the presence of his friends. The empty hall echoed it back to him, white dust swirling in the corners from the sudden breeze.

Take this seriously, a voice said in his head. Seal could see him out of the corner of his eye: the spitting image of the statue outside, standing ramrod-straight and two heads taller than Seal, running a finger across the breastplate of a nearby suit of armor. Brightest Morning Star frowned at Seal. Is this any way to treat your domicile? The inheritance of centuries?

"Shut the fuck up, old man," Seal muttered through gritted teeth. "You're not even real."

Realer than your cleaning skills, the man responded before Star breezed through the space where he should have been standing. "Scho, where do you want thisch?" he said, louder than usual and brandishing a pilfered bottle of Shadow's brandy. He was pointedly not making eye contact, and Seal recognized that he had heard him talking to his preincarnation.

He flushed with anger. "Do I look like I give a shit?" he snapped. "We're gonna desecrate every fucking room in this castle, I didn't make a fucking itinerary." 

Schtar shrugged and moved on, sweeping his gaze around the castle -- probably doing that dumb Investigation shit again. "Oh, here we go," he said, opening a door. "Big ol' dining hall, kitschen muscht be thish way. C'mon, let'sh shee if they got schomefing to toasht thish bread with." He disappeared into the darkness, and the other Deathknights followed suit.

Brightest Morning Star reappeared in front of Seal, a phantom wind blowing away the nothingness that obscured him. You haven't picked up after yourself since the last time you were here, he reminded the boy disapprovingly. Or the time before that. You could at least sweep up some wreckage before they see. 

Seal grabbed an ornamental vase and flung it at the apparition. It sailed through empty air and smashed against the floor. "Fuck you!" he shouted at the silent hall, but images assailed him behind his eyelids: ruined tapestries with the faces singed away, spears with the hafts snapped in half and buried in discarded shields, the remnants of Seal's last tantrum here. The vast mural of stained glass he knelt before, unable to destroy it, unable to look directly at his predecessor's face. Seal swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away hot tears. He flung the red droplets on the floor. "Fine!" he declared angrily. "I'll go do your dumb fucking chores. Bitch."

Broom's in the upstairs closet, if it hasn't rotted away, Brightest Morning Star sniped from inside his mind.

+++

The broom was not in the upstairs closet.

Seal stared at the rack where it should have lay, where his-and-not-his memories pictured it beside the dustpan, which was also gone. "Hey, old man," he called out. "Are you fucking senile or did you just have servants do all your shit for you? Don't know where your own goddamn broom is?"

No response. Seal slammed the closet shut, and it rattled the frame pleasingly. "What the fuck now?" he asked out loud. Did someone break into the castle and steal his fucking broom? Glorious First Light loomed in the back of his mind. What if, by taking it from the castle, he'd left it vulnerable?

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, and broke into a run. Seal might have hated all this fucking stuff, but it was his fucking stuff. The treasury was filled with priceless First Age artifacts and also a bunch of stuff he'd smashed to pieces, and if some raksha bastard even fucking thought about fucking touching it --

Seal skidded to a halt. There was no raksha bastard. The treasury door was open, and as far as Seal could tell everything was in place. Except for the story crystals he'd smashed to pieces last time he was here, and had left scattered across the floor. As far as Seal could tell, there wasn't even a splinter of crystal on the floor, though their spots on the shelves remained empty.

What the fuck? Seal spun around. The sword he'd bent in half was gone as well, replaced with a completely different one -- a jian instead of a dao. The row of statuettes was artfully arranged to hide the ones Seal had beheaded. Even the trophy case Seal had cut in half was standing straight. He ventured over and tapped a finger against it.

It crashed down -- someone had merely shoved the two halves together so neatly Seal hadn't spotted the join. The noise startled him, and he jumped back -- and, out of the corner of his eye, saw movement. "Hey!" he cried reflexively, and pursued. The castle was a maze of halls and display cases and rooms full of junk, but whoever Seal was chasing seemed to know it like the back of their hand -- Seal only caught a flicker of movement, a flap of cloth disappearing around a corner. "Stop fucking running, bastard!" he shouted, and hurled Glorious First Light.

The spear blasted a crater in the wall at the end of the corridor, coming to rest buried a full hand into the stone -- and a hair's breadth from Des' face, where she was coming around the corner. "Who are you yelling at?" she asked, unflapped, stepping back and tucking her hair back behind her ears. "There's no one here." 

Seal came to a stop with one foot up against the wall, trying to yank the weapon out. "Some -- fucker -- stole my broom," he said, grunting. "And cleaned my fucking treasury." 

Des raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Stole your broom and not your hoard of ancient and extremely valuable relics?" she asked. "And... swept with it? Surely you should be thanking them." 

"I don't know what they fucking did," Seal grumbled. He pulled one last time and finally pulled the spear free, which meant that boy and weapon went tumbling head over heels. From his new position on the floor, Seal swore loudly and freely.

Des' eyes sparked with laughter as she helped Seal to his feet. "Well, if you think the mystery can wait for an hour or two, Star has managed to warm up the pie. Without any slime involved."

"Pie," Seal said fervently, and forgot about the broom entirely.

+++

The pie was burnt. The sandwiches were dry. The brandy tasted like shit. Seal enjoyed the hell out of it all.

They had left the great hall dark and empty and chosen to eat in the kitchen instead. It was cozy, gathered around the slab in the center while the fire blazed in the stove. Des had found a fork and knife; Star and Seal were eating with their hands. Seal wasn't sure Sever was eating at all, but every time he looked there was less food on the plate, so he guessed he must be. Also, Seal was drunk. 

"Sol's own fucking cock," he said, wiping his mouth. "This stuff really fucking tastes like a rat's ass." He slammed the empty glass down on the table and motioned for Des to pour him another shot. "But damn if it doesn't fucking do you."

Star's giggle broke into hiccups. "How do you know what a rat'sh assh tashtesh like?" he managed to slur out. "Eat a lot of rat asshesh in your schildhood?"

"Not as many as your fucking mom," Seal shot back. Star gasped, actually offended, but Sever distracted him with a slice of pie and Seal gloated silently at getting the last word. 

"So," Des said, pouring herself another glass of rose, which Star and Seal weren't allowed to touch (Sever had a small cupful in front of him). "What sort of magnificent things have you got in this castle anyways?"

Seal shrugged around a mouthful of burger (helpfully prepared by Pho ahead of time). "Treasury mostly," he replied. "I raided the armory but there's a bunch more shit in there. Like five fucking rooms full of random junk. East tower's full of little glass things, no idea what they do. Library, chapel, hangar --"

"--hanger?" Star piped up. "Like a big clothesh hanger?"

"I believe Seal means a hangar," Sever cut in smoothly. "Where First Age flying vessels are often stored."

Star's jaw hung open, comically filled with half-mashed mince. "You got airschipsh?"

A grin spread across Seal's face. "Hey, Star. Betcha can't fly faster than a First Age warbird."

"Betscha can't hit me in the air with a Firscht Age warbird," Star countered, and they were off.

+++

This is not the intended use of a warbird.

"Can't hear you over the sound of this fucking warbird!" Seal shouted, over the sound of this fucking warbird. 

These are holy weapons of war, not children's toys!

"Eat my fucking ass," Seal answered hotly, pulling back on the harness-gloves. The warbird responded, thirty thousand pounds of ancient magic carefully yoked to steel and fire, made to cut through behemoths like wet paper. Currently, Seal was trying to keep Star in his sights, though the winged Day Caste was swooping erratically through the air above the Siege Perilous. 

At the very least you could shoot him down, Brightest Morning Star replied a little petulantly. It's commendable how quickly you've picked up the controls, but we both know it's really my hand at the helm. Show me what you can do.

Seal waved a hand dismissively, which caused the warbird to spin alarmingly through the air. "I'm not gonna kill him," he responded when the aircraft was back under control. "Just wanna show off a little."

Oh, and smashing a warbird into him at a hundred miles an hour won't kill him?

"He's got Resistance Charms," Seal said, squinting as he finally lined Star up in the center of his sights -- "He'll probably be fine." -- and rammed the throttle forwards. 

The warbird's skeleton, Seal vaguely remembered his preincarnation vaguely remembering, was made of orichalcum and jade inlaid with starmetal. But all the architectural parts were mundane steel, so it really should have been no surprise when the warbird intercepted Star with a sickening crunch and the nose of the warbird crumpled inwards, Star's body tearing through it like a cannonball and rocketing backwards past Seal's head. Seal whooped even as the warbird began blaring new alarm sirens; orichalcum and steel versus soulsteel and Abyssal, it was no contest.

I hope you're happy with yourself, Brightest Morning Star spat. Try not to land on my best roses.

The ground rose to meet Seal, and everything went black.

+++

When he came to, he was on fire.

Seal yelped and struggled out of the warbird's cockpit, slapping at himself all over. Half his shirt had burned away, and the right leg of his pants tore off entirely as he snagged it on something falling out of the cockpit. The flame didn't blacken his skin like it should have, but it still stung like a bitch, so Seal spent a good minute rolling on the ground and loosing a barrage of curses.

"Having fun?" a voice asked from nearby. Seal righted himself to find Des sitting at a glass table, teacup in hand. They were in the castle's courtyard, though Seal could see a smouldering streak on the roof where the warbird must have caught it on the way down; empty flowerbeds surrounded them, organizing the courtyard in a geomantically auspicious pattern. Seal could remember every flower that had bloomed here once, the perfected Essence they had channeled. None of them were the black roses spilling out where Bloodthorn was planted blade-down in the soil.

"Practically dust," Des said, setting down her teacup and running a hand over the dirt. "Haven't been watered in two thousand years. Still, there's life in these old things yet." She fondled a rose, heedless of the thorns. Seal was dimly aware that she was making a point, and decided not to care. 

"Where's Star?" he demanded. "Fucker owes me fifty yen."

Des shrugged. "He landed over there," she said, indicating a point over Seal's shoulder. He turned to see a divot gouged into the earth, and at the end a pair of craters he had come to associate with the Wings. "Then he got up, mumbled something about his bones, and limped away. Sever was preparing a party in the chapel, so I think he went there to lie down." Seal lit up and turned to go, but Des caught his hand. "Listen, Seal," she said, her voice lower. "Honestly. How are you feeling?"

A butterfly fluttered down to land on a rose. Vibrant blue shimmered against velvet black.

"Weird, honestly," Seal admitted. He came back to flop down into a chair opposite Des. "It's like.... he's still here, obviously, but this place isn't his anymore. It's mine. But he keeps trying to be me, or I keep trying to be him." He grunted in frustration at not having the words, but Des hummed softly and nodded.

"It's complicated," she agreed. "Hard to tell what's you and what isn't. And everything hurts in every direction. You know," she said, saving Seal the awkwardness of having to reply, "you should try talking to Sever sometime. You've got a lot in common."

Seal scoffed. "Sever?" he said scornfully. "I love the guy, but he's got more in common with a filing cabinet than a human being."

Des hummed again. "You might say that. Just as he might say you've got more in common with your spear than with any of us." Seal's anima burst into darkness, but Des laid her hand on his -- gently, communicating her calm. "Exactly," she said. "Exactly." 

Seal grumbled and withdrew his power. "Fine," he said. "Let's go see about this fucking party.

+++

They found Sever and Star in the chapel. Star was laying on a pew, an arm over his eyes, still smoking slightly. The Wings had sawed a hole in the back of the pew so they could drape dejectedly onto the floor. Sever was sitting on the floor, a scroll of parchment rolled out down the center aisle. Seal limped closer to discover that Sever was making exactly the itinerary he hadn't made: a room-by-room schedule that spanned the entire night. 

"Sol fucking Invictus," Seal muttered. "Did you hand write four fucking copies of the same schedule?"

"It is not the same schedule," Sever explained, handing them out. "These also contain personalized information such as alcohol preferences and sleeping arrangements. But, yes."

Des took her itinerary with interest. "My, Sever, this is.... very thought out. You've placed yourself on a team with Seal for chicken?" 

Seal thought he saw the shadow of a blush cross Sever's face. "Star has an advantage because of his wings and Seal has one because of his Caste, so I thought your style of motion would complement Star's best." Des nodded thoughtfully. 

"Yeah! We're gonna fucking kick your assh at schicken!" Star called from the pew, where he was now face down. "Juscht asch shoon asch my fasche shtopsh being on fire."

"You owe me a hundred yen, by the fucking way," Seal called back. Star grumbled and fished around in his pockets for a minute, then flipped him a koku and muttered for him to keep the schange. Seal pocketed it and glared around the room darkly. Colored crystal occupied the entire wall behind the podium, depicting Brightest Morning Star with four arms driving his spear down the throat of a serpentine raksha. There was no sun above Siege Perilous, yet Brightest Morning Star's face shone as though the sun were shining through it. Seal exchanged glares with it for a minute before looking away. "Do we have to fucking start here, though?" he muttered. "I hate this fucking room."

Sever looked down with a frown, pen already in hand, but Des caught his hand before he could start writing. "That's exactly why we're starting here," she said. "I've brought some supplies I think you might enjoy." She reached into a basket and pulled out a small silvery cylinder, with a bump at one end, and handed it to Seal. "Hold it like this," she instructed, "twist that nozzle, and press down. No, hold it the other way --"

A hideous shade of yellow-green filled Seal's vision, and he reflexively flared his anima. As Essence blasted outwards from his body his eyes cleared, and he could see that a faint cloud of that color was still hanging in the air, except for what had been blasted away and was now coating the carpet. Des sighed. "It's paint," she said. "You spray it on the walls and it stays there just about forever. I thought you might like to personalize the wall over there." She indicated Brightest Morning Star's shining disgusting face, and Seal grinned.

"Wake up, Star," he said. "Let's commit some fucking art."

+++

They defaced the chapel. They had a mock war in the armory. Seal let Des raid the library for all she could carry, then they built book forts and launched dictionaries across the room (Cascade of Papercut Terror made its debut to thunderous applause). They got scandalously, outrageously, rip-roaringly drunk in the wine cellars, which were full of booze that must have made even a First Age god-king's constitution take pause. They sang extremely rude songs in the courtyard, and did somersaults on every bed in every bedroom. The castle filled with laughter and dust. 

Eventually, though, even the most powerful of Exalted wear themselves out. Des found a glory-crystal saga in the library, the dramatization of some First Age romance-battle, and they set up in the great hall to watch. The deathknights bundled themselves up with blankets pilfered from the master room and scarfed down candied berries from the pantry. For something produced in a golden age of magic and science, the reenactment was laughably bad, and they spent a pleasant hour flinging critiques and berries at the projection. "Come on, haven't theshe guysh ever shtabbed anyone in the back?" Star shouted. "Thish ish the worsht fucking form I've ever sheen!"

"Completely horrendous," Des agreed as she popped another berry in her mouth. "But she deserves it. My god, anything to make her shut up for a second."

Seal stretched his arms out and yawned. "She talks more than Shadow fucking does when he's trying to justify his dumb shit as extremely wise fucking shit." He glanced around the room. "Hey, quick question. Where the fuck is Sever?"

Star diverted his gaze to scan the room for a moment. "Guessh he shtepped out for a minute," he said. "Maybe he couldn't shtomach the schitty shpeschial effectsh."

"Seriously, Sculpted Seafoam Eidolon is a Terrestrial spell, would it fucking kill them to put some effort in?"

"I'm gonna go find him," Seal declared, standing up and wobbling momentarily from the Exalted-level alcohol in his system. "Nobody gets to miss this shit." 

Des shrugged. "Whatever you say."

+++

Seal found Sever watching the ocean. 

The window at the end of the west hall, Seal knew, looked out onto a perpetually stormy sea with grey skies. Seal knew this cause he was pretty sure there was no fucking sea near Siege Perilous, and had been about to smash through the window and check it out before Brightest Morning Star yelled at him not to. He was never sure if it was a portal to some real sea in Creation or just an illusion, or maybe something else entirely.

Sever was curled up in the windowsill, head turned sideways to stare out over the roiling black waves. Seal thought for sure he would hear him coming up, but Sever was so lost in thought that he didn't notice until Seal tapped him on the shoulder. Only Seal's keenly honed battle senses let him notice the instant of reflexive tension before Sever returned to perfect relaxation and turned to face Seal serenely. "Ah, Seal," he said, sounding professional as ever. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"

Seal snorted. "You kidding?" he asked, moving to sit in the opposite end of the windowsill. "This is the best fucking birthday bash I've had in..... uh, ever. So fucking cheers to you." He mimed raising a glass, and Sever smiled faintly.

"Well," he said, rising smoothly, "I won't obstruct you, then. Continue to enjoy your evening --"

"Whoa, whoa, slow the fuck down," Seal said, catching Sever's wrist and feeling again that reflexive tense. "Where the hell are you going?"

Sever waved a hand vaguely. "To clean," he said, not resisting Seal's pull but not giving in. "The kitchen should be scoured, and though I understand the art in the chapel is to be a permanent fixture I'd like to sharpen up the edges and cover some of the more fragile --"

"Hang the fuck on," Seal said, as his brain finally caught up with what Sever was saying. "Was that you earlier, that cleaned up the fucking armory and then ran the fuck away like some kind of freak? What did you do that for? How did you know there was shit in there?" Sever looked like he was trying to answer every question at once, but Seal didn't let him get a word in edgewise. "For fuck's sake, dude, we brought you here to have fun, not to be some weird shadow with a broom. Live a little! Have some fucking fun, man!"

"As a matter of fact, Seal, I am enjoying myself. In my own way." Sever sounded slightly put off by Seal's enthusiasm.

Seal scoffed. "Bull fucking shit you are."

Sever blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said bull fucking shit on a rat's hot cock you're having fun. You think I don't know angst brooding when I see it?" Seal gestured out over the waters. "Dude, I brood here all the time. It's, like, my number three spot in the castle. Stare at the fucking ocean and think about death or whatever. Right?" he demanded.

Sever blinked again, more slowly. ".... something like that," he admitted after a long pause.

"Something fucking like that," Seal agreed. "Well, bullshit to fucking that. I'm not allowed to brood tonight, and neither are fucking you. No more cleaning either. Des can summon some ghosts in the morning."

"But I'm perfectly capable of --"

"-- of sitting your ass down and acting like a human being, you jackass!" Seal was surprised by the force of his own words. "Sol Invictus, it fucking wigs me out sometimes, you know that?" A mixture of emotions crossed beneath the surface of Sever's face. "I know you are, even if you fucking don't. Yeah, you don't know who you fucking are, your soul was eaten or what the fuck ever, big fucking deal. None of us knows a goddamn fucking thing about ourselves, and do you think it's ever stopped me? Come on," he demanded, suddenly rising to his feet and striding down the hall, Sever still in tow.

"Where are we -- I really must protest --"

Seal dragged Sever all the way to the treasury, scooped a shelf-ful of glass figurines into Sever's protesting arms, and then back into the chapel. "Right," he said, taking the figurines from Sever and setting them on the floor in front of him. "Got your sword with you?"

"Unfortunately," Sever said, "I was not allowed to bring Atrumarkinos on this expedition."

Seal rolled his eyes. "Good," he said. "You'd be too good with it anyways. Here," and in a single motion he summoned Glorious First Light and brought it crashing down on the back of the pew.

Sever flinched so hard Seal thought he might actually leave his body. "What are you doing?" he asked, so pointedly that Seal could almost consider it a shout.

"Improvising," Seal answered, pulling at a bar of wood off the back of the pew. He had to stand on it with one foot and wrench it off with both hands, and only Essence saved him from a fistful of splinters, but in the end he was left with a plank about half as tall as Sever was. He handed it to the bemused Day Caste, returned to his spot, and held up a figurine. "Right. What can you tell me about these?"

Sever peered at it from across the room. "First Age artifice is not my forte, but I believe they are similar to a lesser form of yasal crystal. Each imprisons a minor spirit, hardly greater than the god of a grain of rice. I cannot say what purpose such a least spirit could serve. Perhaps simply to retain a memory, and recount it when charged?"

Seal squinted down at the figurine in his hand, a little statuette of Brightest Morning Star with spear overhead. "Really? Huh." Now that Sever mentioned it, there did appear to be a little light flickering in the middle of it. Seal looked back up, tossing it in his hand to gauge its weight. "Well, I guess you're not wrong. But you're also totally wrong. The only fucking thing these things are good for," he said, winding up, “is for smashing.”

Sever flinched a good ten seconds before the figurine smashed against the wall behind him. A wisp of glowing smoke rose up and whispered in a tinny voice before dissipating. "Come on!" Seal shouted. "I know you have Melee, hit it with your fucking thing!"

"I do not believe this is safe, Seal," Sever called with rising urgency as he ducked another figurine.

"Safety is for fucking cowards!" Seal bellowed as he began to throw them with increasing speed. "Stop dodging and break some shit like a man!"

He had to admit, though, that Sever's evasive skills were impressive. Seal was putting some Essence into his throws now, trying to peg Sever in the arm or leg, and normally would have guessed there was no power that could stop him -- but whatever was driving Sever, fear or common sense, animated him like a madman and kept him just slightly faster than Seal's projectiles. A luminescent haze rose from the floor at Sever's feet, miniature gods dissipating into the ether. And then Seal saw the change come over him. To his adrenaline-charged senses, it seemed to happen in slow motion: Sever' feet squared against the stone, back foot braced and front foot pointed. His spine, usually painfully upright, bent like a coiled snake; purpose set his shoulders and tensed his arms. The crack of glass against the wood echoed throughout the chapel, and Seal could have sworn it was the most beautiful sound in the world, just before the spray of glass ricocheted back and stabbed him in the face.

Sever dropped the plank like it was red-hot and hurried over to where Seal was rolling on the floor, hands clutched to his face, making a sound like a dying elephant. "Are you alright?" he asked frantically, trying to hold Seal still long enough to assess the damage. "I'll get Des, maybe she can moliate something --"

Seal grabbed at Sever's shoulders. "That -- was -- fucking -- brilliant!" he shouted, and confusion replaced fear as Sever realized Seal was laughing. Blood dripped down his face, from cuts of glass and from his caste mark. "Yes! That's what I'm fucking talking about! You're a fucking natural!" Seal laughed, pumping a fist in the air with elation. 

+++

Des and Star found them another half hour later, the crystal-saga having ended on a cliffhanger. It was the sound that drew them to the chapel: sounds of shattering glass, splintering wood, and laughter -- a laugh they had never heard before. Des rounded the corner first, then threw out an arm to stop Star and backpedaled hurriedly. "Look," she whispered, so Star stuck his head around the corner to look, and what he saw made his jaw drop.

Seal was standing at the far end of the chapel, piles of glass figurines around him. He was hurling the shards overhand at Sever, who was standing with his back to the chapel's entrance, holding.... a broken-off piece of wood? And was, unerringly, smashing every figurine as it sailed towards him, even when he had to jump to catch it or dive before it hit the floor. Unerringly, the spray of glass flew back towards Seal, who appeared to be playing a game of how long he could wait before hiding behind the pulpit. Blood speckled the wall of crystal behind him, though only Star's Essence-enhanced senses could pick that up. But he didn't need Essence to identify the unidentifiable noise.

Both Sever and Seal were laughing.

#sanctuary in black #i wrote this for hgs birthday.... and then missed like the next three birthdays