#and of course the expressive elasticity not only with their faces but the way their bodies ft. respective elements can be expressive

[edwardwonghaupepelutivrusky4th]

wah i looove their designs and animation...

[withahappyrefrain]

Just a Game

You and Peter like to play a game. It requires no trivia or plastic pieces. Just two people and feigned innocence.

Warnings: CNC (which has been discussed explicitly) unprotected sex, language, minor breeding kink at the very end

You and Peter like to play a game. 

It's not a board game, though you two enjoy those from time to time. Not a video game, though Peter has expressed interest. 

This game doesn't require any trivia knowledge or plastic pieces. No one has to keep track of points. There isn't a timer. 

All this game requires is a surface and your two bodies. 

Sometimes it was a couch, when you two were in the middle of watching a movie. Other times it could be your kitchen counter, dinner be damned. Rarely, it would be the back of a car, which was your favorite. Peter’s favorite-against a wall- depended on when and where. 

Today the surface was your shared bed. 

It started innocently, like it always does. Peter found you curled up in bed, reading. He hadn’t considered playing today. But then he saw you, wearing only one of his hoodies and those pastel yellow panties that drove him wild. 

It didn’t help that Peter could smell you. Though the cover of your book didn't look out of the ordinary, your arousal revealed the true nature of your reading choice. 

“What’cha reading ladybug?” He asked, curling up to you. 

You put on an innocent smile, keeping the book to your chest, “Oh nothing. Just one of those silly romance books.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Silly? Let me see.” 

Before you could squeak out an objection, Peter snatched the book away, his eyes scanning the page you were on. 

“He pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her wet core. He dove in, lapping up her arousal like a starved man, his mouth quickly attaching itself to her clit.”

Sometimes you got so caught up in playing your role. Peter had said much dirtier things to you and yet there you were, head in your hands and a warm flush coursing through your body. 

Peter placed the book on your nightstand before bringing your hands away from your face. 

“Oh baby. You’re too sweet to be reading something like that. Why don’t we cuddle instead?”

With his brown puppy dog eyes and sweet smile, he actually sounded genuine. For a moment, you thought he wasn’t inviting you to play. Not when he had his head in your lap, practically purring as your fingernails gently scratched his scalp. 

But then his long, nimble fingers made their way under the blanket, grazing against your bare skin, drawing shapes along your thighs as he made his way up your body.

“Peter.” His name was said in a sweet, sing-song voice, “Thought you wanted to cuddle.”

He sat up, pulling you closer, “I do bug.” Peter's other hand was now underneath your shirt, creeping up to your chest.. 

“Peter,” you could barely breathe, too enthralled with how good his fingers felt kneading your breasts, “This isn’t cuddling.” 

“I know,” He sighed, as if he felt some guilt about what he was doing, “But doesn’t it feel good bug?”

You could only nod, breath hitching up when one of his large hands began to toy with the elastic waistband of your panties. 

The foreplay was fun, but it wasn't the main focus of the game. 

That didn't come until you were underneath him, completely bare and withering as his hard cock slid between your soaked folds. It was a battle, fighting the urge to jerk your hips up, potentially catching him. 

“Peter, w-we shouldn't,” your voice was shaky as you tried to come across as worried rather than in a pleasure laced haze.

“I know. We shouldn’t.” He's panting. Peter's lips ghosted over your bare skin, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses. 

In this game, your birth control and five year relationship didn't exist. 

No. In this game you were wide-eyed and innocent. In this game, both your heads were clouded with lust, longing threatening to overtake common sense. 

“Maybe,” His voice is soft, addictive. “Maybe I-we-just the tip?” 

You throw your head back when the head of his cock makes contact with your clit. Desire racked through your body, fingers creating crescent shaped marks along his back as you searched for something, anything to ground you amidst the pleasure haze that was clouding your judgment. 

Part of you wanted to break character so he would fuck you sooner. 

But where was the fun in that?

“But we-fuck- we don’t have a condom?” A box of condoms was currently stashed away in your nightstand. You had been on birth control for years. There was no concern.

Again, not in this game. 

With your wide, doe-like eyes, sweet voice, and withering body, Peter was truly surprised he hadn’t come already. 

But where was the fun in that? That didn’t allow him to play, to take off the friendly neighborhood hero mask and act out his deepest desires. 

His head dropped down to your chest, his thin pink lips quickly latching on to one of your breasts. Your back arched in pleasure, hands grabbing Peter’s soft chestnut locks upon feeling the scrape of his teeth. His hips continue to thrust forward, reminding you of what was within reach. 

“I know, forgot to bring some. It would just-just be the tip,” He sounds like he just ran a marathon. You’re so warm and wet. Everytime the plush head of his cock nudges against your clit, he can feel your walls clenching, trying to catch him, enticing him in. 

“Peter,” the way you moan his name is sweeter than any song he’s heard, “We-no. Peter, don’t.”

He’s already grabbed the backs of your thighs, hitching them up to your chest. Now he has the picture view of his cock sliding through your slicked folds. You have the prettiest cunt Peter’s ever seen and God, does he want to use it.

Your hips twitch as he nudges his cock towards your all too welcoming entrance, entranced by how your walls eagerly suck him in. Eyes roll to the back of your head upon feeling the head of his cock begin to stretch you, nearly forgetting your role in all this. 

“W-wait!” You try to prop yourself up, try to jerk your hips away. 

But Peter is stronger. It drives you crazy, his strength. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down onto the mattress. 

“It’s okay bug. Just the tip, remember?” The ambered irises are blown out with lust. Combined with the downright wicked smirk adorning his handsome face, he looks more devilish than heroic. 

It thrills you. No one else sees this side of him, only you. Only you does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in these desires. 

For a few moments, it's only the tip, sliding in and out of your tight walls. 

Sometimes he’ll dive right in, other times he'll drag it out, as if Peter is truly at war with his morals when it comes to your sweet cunt. 

“Just….just the tip,” he whispers, as though he’s trying to convince himself, trying to convince you. 

The outcome is clear, but you still nod your head. “Just the tip,” you agree. 

“So…fucking tight,” He watches where you two connect in awe, lips parted, “So warm. God…feel fuckin’ incredible.” 

The praise leaves goosebumps on your skin, almost distracting enough to not notice that Peter has been slowly pushing his cock in more and more with each passing moment. Your body betrays you, hips jerking upwards in a desperate, near pathetic attempt to get more of his cock. 

Sometimes the game is hard to keep up with. There have been times where you both forfeit, craving each other far too much to continue. 

If Peter noticed you breaking character, he didn’t acknowledge it. He’s too mesmerized by the way your cunt eagerly welcomes him. 

“Fuck, baby, m’sorry, it’s-you feel s’good.” His speech is slurred, drunk off your body. Before you can react, he thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. 

Finally. 

“Pete-no! We can’t!” You plead, despite your body enthusiastically welcoming the intrusion, “You said-ah! You said the-the tip!”

His cock twitches at your words, at the feigned concern in your voice. His lips ghost over your face, hips increasing the speed of their thrusts. 

“I know, I know,” it’s almost convincing, that he truly feels bad for this, for giving in to lust. As if neither of you wanted it. 

He picks up his pace, shushing your fake protests. His cock feels incredible, so full. No matter how much prep beforehand, the sheer size of Peter is still an adjustment. 

“You'll- you’ll pull out, right?” You gasp, eyes meeting his. 

“‘Course bug,” He chuckles. 

He won't. But it's the false promises that keep you going.

“As-ah- as long as you pull out, it's okay, right?” You're committed to the role of the naive girlfriend, Peter will give you that. The concern in your eyes is incredibly convincing. 

Sometimes he's so caught up in the euphoria of you that he forgets to play along. All he has to do is look you in the eyes to remember his role. 

“Yeah, it's okay. God, feels incredible. Your pussy.” He hitched your legs further up until they were nearly resting on his shoulders. The change in angle allowed him to thrust deeper, reaching the spot that made you see stars. 

Bliss quickly overcame you, causing you to focus less on the game and more on the coil that was currently winding up in the pit of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“God, you're clenching me. Can barely pull out.” His pressed his lips against yours, capturing them in a messy kiss. 

You shake your head, “Y-you should. Peter!”

But Peter continues, relishing in how tight you're gripping him. It's addictive. 

“Everytime I try to pull out, your little cunt sucks me back in. Think she wants me to stay.” His words elicit a downright desperate whimper from you. 

“How’s this? I'll stay ‘till ya cum.” His composure was incredible, his voice so soft you almost believed him. 

Almost. 

Weakly, you nodded as Peter’s perfidious promise promptly pershing into the periphery of your mind. Who could express you to focus, when his nimble fingers were toying with your clit? 

Your pleas to stop fade away, occasionally a feeble no falling from your lips. His massive hands were all over you, kneading at your soft skin, sure to leave bruises. 

It's one of the best things to Peter, waking up and admiring the work he did on your body from the night before. 

But for now, he could enjoy another favorite-you. It was cute, nearly adorable how your legs shook, your hips jerking upwards, desperate to get more despite already being full of him. The pathetic whimpers that fell from your lips, unable to form anything coherent. With each thrust, your breasts bounced against your chest. 

It was picturesque. Peter wished he could grab his camera to immortalize this moment, but that would break the illusion. 

So instead, his fingers skim your soft skin, tracing over your plush curves, downward until he reaches his desired location. 

After all, he promised he'd pull out once you cum. So why not help? 

His fingers on your clit felt like lightning, sending a crack of electricity up your spine. It's euphoric, you can't even bother to play along, hands gripping the strands of his hair tightly as the bedroom is quickly filled with your moans. 

When you finally get pushed over the pleasurable edge, it’s loud. There are no whines or pleads for Peter to pull out. Only raucous moans that fill the bedroom, combining with the erotic sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“Shit, feel s’good. S’fuckin tight,” He pants, “Babe-baby. You feel s’good. Don’t know if I can pull out.”

His words jolt you out of the lavender haze, reminding you of the part you were still playing. 

“N-No. You can’t!” 

Peter nods his head, though he’s not agree with you, “M’sorry,feel s’good.”

You try to sit up, to put up a fight. But just as you do, you’re pushed back down, your hands above your head, enclasped with Peter’s. His body covers you like a warm weighted blanket, the kind where it’s so soft and deceptively confining, you can’t get up even if you wanted to. The spicy scent of cinnamon that always lingers on his body floods your nostrils, his mouth swallowing your pleas to stop as his hips erratically slam into yours. 

It was blissful. You were enraptured by Peter, by his body, roleplay be damned. Your legs wrapped themselves around his lithe waist, pulling him closer. 

Peter reaching his own high triggers yours again, walls clamping tightly down on his cock as he floods you with his warm. 

“Baby, m’s’sorry, feels too good,” it's then you register he's still rutting his hips against yours. 

Well this is a new move. Usually the game ended at this point. 

The chance to prolong, to try something new was thrilling. 

So you shook your head. “Peter!” Your moan contained more desire than it did distress, “N-no, you need-oh- pull out!” 

But Peter just grunts. It's so animalistic, your thighs clench at the sound. His refractory period was much shorter than anyone else you had been with, no doubt thanks to a radioactive spider bite. 

Now sensitivity is surging through your body, pain and pleasure mixing together. He's hitting the spot that makes you see stars, the spot you didn't think existed until you met Peter. 

It's getting harder to stay in character. But as long as Peter is trying, so will you. 

“Y-you promised you'd pull out!” 

“I know,” he groans in your ear, “Shouldn't have such a fucking tight cunt then. Don't know how ya expect me to pull out.” 

His teeth sink down into your throat, earning a sharp gasp. 

“God, your cunt,” the scruff of his beard scratches against your skin, “Think you want me to cum in ya again.” 

You shook your head, “No! Please!” Fingers claw at his strong back to no avail. He continues with his harsh thrusts, paying no attention to how your mixed arousal was leaking onto the sheets. 

“No- stop!” But that wasn't your safe word. 

He could tell you were already close, your moans increasing in pitch, how your walls were clinging to his cock. 

You just needed a little help getting there. 

“Gonna cum in ya again. It might just take this time. Is that what you want? For me to fuck a baby in ya?” 

The illusion of your feigned innocence shatters, his words igniting a flame in you that can't be fanned out. 

You're now wailing, nodding enthusiastically at Peter's words. Fingers which were once clawing at him now grip his shoulders. Instead of jerking away, your hips move upwards. 

“Y-yes! Want it to take s’bad! Please fill me up!” 

Your voice was nearly unrecognizable; whiny and desperate. It only spurs him on, his cock thrusting into you at a near bruising pace. 

Peter's next high is with your’s, hips stuttering as he fills you once more. He knows he could go again, but everyone needs a break, an intermission before the next act. 

The next few moments, you two are speechless. The only audible sounds are that of heavy breathing and the overhead ceiling fan.

“Well, that was fun,” you chuckled, running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair. 

Peter finally made eye contact with you. His eyes are dark, almost black with lust. The grin on his face is downright wolfish. 

“Oh sweetheart, I'm far from done with you.” 

You were in for a long night. 

[cinnasalmon]

Hi! I have a question. Could you give us tips for doodling more "handsome" Zevlors? Do you follow all the wrinkles lines? In which features do you focus on more? Your Zevlor art is the best 🥹

Cbehcnsjbajc this is one of the best compliments ever 🥹 of course!! This is long. Sorry 😅

Zevlor has a very unique look which makes drawing him difficult yet easy at the same time. It’s virtually impossible to make him look like someone else, even without his iconic horns.

He has a lot going on his face (sorry gramps) that you dont have to feature ALL the lines and contours of his face to know it’s him. i.e. he has triangular/angular face, horns that continue underneath his skin, wrinkles from age (and stress), etc.

In fact these are really the only lines I make sure to use for him:

More under the cut!

I also like to give him downturned eyes (when I remember…) bc why not, even tho he doesn’t really have them:

And his eyebrows. I like to feature them bc they add expression. You almost never see his eyebrows in-game.

He’s got some juicy lips that I don’t go out of my way to showcase bc to me his sad tired eyes and wrinkles are the hottest parts about him tbqh. But a smooch from those things would change my life…. I just know they’re soft and plushy

Anyway enough oogling. I add plenty of lines but still try to keep it cohesive. Recently I’ve been adding a line or two under his jaw that I like the look of:

Really adds to that old man fucker feel ya know? Gotta let the people know his elasticity is on its way out.

And then Young Zevlor I mainly just do lines from his horns. He’s still got that collagen to rely on

And bonus wrinkle doodle just because:

So yeah! I hope this helps somewhat… to me, I just draw him and am very lucky it is well received by beautiful souls like you! 🙏

[eloquentlytired]

hi!! could you pls write a fic of nomad!steve rogers x reader where they discuss that one day steve can surprise reader with sex while she’s sleeping? like completely consensual! and a couple nights later, reader is like on her side, her back facing him while she sleeps and he’s pulling her panties to the side and going to pound town 🫡

18+ mdni

sweet sleep

pairing: nomad!steve rogers x fem reader

word count: a lot ?!

warnings: (consensual) s0mno — choking — just tons of sex once again — fingering — wet wet wet

summary: it takes a while for you to open up about your biggest desire to steve but when he finds out what you want, he doesn't disappoint.

steve is observant and also knows you like the palm of his hand so it doesn't help your case when you always appear so nervous or cancel your words every time you talk about things you enjoy in bed. it's a sensitive topic for you, not because you've been rejected in the past, but it simply had never come up and you'd never had a deep connection with someone else before — not like the one you have with steve. he doesn't pressure you but he mentions it occasionally, “you know you can tell me anything. I'd never judge.” and then he presses a reassuring kiss on your lips.

it should be fine, you tell yourself, because steve and you are so so close that it feels foreign to hide a part of yourself from him. when you feel courageous enough to tell him your biggest desire, with your hands literally shaking, steve accepts it without any judgement and suggests something before you do. “you don't work this week,do you?” you shake your head and steve’s smile widens. when you realize why he's asking you this, you blush and wrap your arms around him as a silent thank you. steve plants a kiss on your forehead and before he walks away he's sure to whisper against your skin. “I guess I should tire you out till nightfall?”

you spend another day discussing the basics such as what he is allowed to do and what he isn't; and of course to guarantee a final confirmation that you're both ready to do this. “I just want you to use me.” something flickers within steve’s eyes but he says nothing, except he uses one of his hands to give your thigh a rough squeeze. you gasp but no words are exchanged after. all you find yourself doing is wait.

and you do wait because steve doesn't act immediately. two days pass then three and by the time you know it, it's thursday. your day had been full since steve insisted on waking up for an early hike, then breakfast and then hitting the beach. you returned home at a late hour and you were completely exhausted, only mastering some strength to hit the shower and change into your favourite pajamas. steve bid you goodnight with a gentle kiss on your lips and you were absolutely gone, sleeping soundly.

steve knew that you were a light sleeper so for this to work,he only had one option and that was indeed to tire you out like he'd done tonight. it was almost cute how confused and unsuspected you looked when he prepared so many activities for today — but your naive mind didn't figure it out. it worked wonders for steve's plans regardless.

he took his time showering after you had fallen asleep and went for his sleepwear. steve pulled on some gray sweatpants, completely disregarding the choice of underwear, and walked into your shared bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. his little angel. you looked like you were having a good dream judging by your body language and the way you were nearly smiling. steve climbed on the bed behind you with your back facing him as you laid on your side. he scooted over carefully and his bare chest brushed against your back gently while his hand disappeared between your bodies. he grabbed the elastic band of your night shorts and pulled it down to your ankles, exposing the white panties underneath them. steve had to suck in his breath at how tight they looked against your cunt, expressing every outline of it against the fabric. it was almost see through too which left little to imagination.

steve’s fingers carefully traced your panties, pausing at the side of your body to pull them down as well and leave your pussy exposed to the cool temperature. it was good that you seemed unaware so far, still very much asleep and nuzzling against your pillow while steve undressed the lower half of you. with your cunt finally free of any confinements, steve moved slowly and used his hand to lift your leg slightly and push it forward so that your cunt was completely exposed to his eyes. two of his fingers slid against your folds like a teasing caress and steve noticed your body shuddering but whether it was from the cold or his actions he could not tell. he poked at your entrance experimentally but your reaction was faint. he had really managed to tire you out for tonight and by confirming this he became bolder and a little rougher.

“there we go.” he muttered to himself while sliding his finger down to his knuckle, stuffing your cunt with it. a whimper escaped your lips but you had still not awakened although your reactions to his touches were multiplying. steve began pumping his finger in and out of you and when he added a second one without waking you up still, his eagerness just kept growing.

he was knuckles deep inside your pussy and three of his fingers were currently being pumped into you, your walls swallowing them hungrily. there was a wet mess pooling in steve’s palm and he was laying there, observing your sleepy figure while your face formed countless expressions. at some point the back of your head was pressing against his shoulder as your mouth fell agape and small tears gathered in your eyelashes. the way you were whining in your sleep and with how your pebbled nipples brushed against your pajama shirt spoke many volumes about whatever you were dreaming.

steve eventually retracted his fingers from you but didn't bother wiping the juices that coated his entire palm. he shrugged off his sweatpants to his ankles and grabbed onto his own cock instead, pumping it to its full hardness and coating it with your wetness purposely. he guided the tip of his cock between your thighs then and offered an experimental grind of his hips, his body buzzing with excitement when his cock brushed against your wet folds. “shit.” he had done a good job prepping you surely and although the slide had been so smooth at first, your pussy entangled around his cock and suffocated it as you woke up with a startle.

your body jolted in both surprise and fear as you were absurdly woken up by something entering you. you could feel a pair of strong arms wrapping around you and holding you against a body so much larger than your own. when you registered what was really happening, your pussy clenched around steve’s cock and your mouth fell agape again. “steve—” both of you moaned at the same time when he began thrusting into you, pounding your cunt mercilessly to your waking point, and it was a surprise for the both of you at just how wet a situation like this had made you be. the sounds that emitted from steve fucking your weeping pussy were loud and extremely wet — and you couldn't recall a time when you were this turned on with another.

his arms surprised you by sliding underneath your armpits and his palms reached for your hair, pulling them on each side. in this current position you were completely under his mercy with his hips slamming against yours from behind and his strong arms forcing you into being just a helpless body. your hands could barely hold onto his elbows, scratching the skin there in response of his rough hair pulling. you cried out when steve slid his cock out of you and forced it back inside, stretching you into oblivion. “so soft,so pliant.” he rasped into your ear as you pressed your hips together, feeling yourself soaking around him even more because of his filthy words. steve fucked into you hard, his skin slapping against yours loudly. “so fucking unaware.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as a particular thrust had your entire body trembling.

steve grinned and pulled you back by your hair just so he could see your fucked out expression similar to his own. it did something to him when you, usually so sweet and shy and quiet, had expressed your heavy interest in experiencing something like this. and his cock twitched with delight when his usually reserved angel acted so inappropriately just because he had been fucking her in her sleep. “stevie!” you mewled as he offered a particularly hard thrust straight to your sweet spot, your pussy tightening around him again. he could tell you're close ,he was too, but he didn't want to let go just yet.

a string of whines and gasps suddenly left your mouth as steve slid one of his hands between your thighs and reached for your clit, pinching the swollen bud between his digits. the arm that was once placed underneath your armpit had disappeared as steve moved it around your chest instead, squeezing it until his elbow was resting underneath your chin. your mouth formed a faint ‘o’ as steve picked up the pace and offered you overwhelming sensations. it was impossible to focus on one — be it the fat head of his cock assaulting your sensitive bulge of nerves, his thickness stretching out your hole, his hand on your clit or simply his entire arm wrapped around your throat and putting it into a literal headlock.

your fingers scratched against his bare arm weakly as he choked you, his lips brushing against the side of your head. “you wanted me to use you so I am.” he growled and one more pinch of your clit had you trembling against him, your orgasm washing over you like an endless steam. steve tightened his arm around your throat and you gasped for air, your mouth gaping as your voice refused to work. his hand didn't halt even after you came, his fingers caressing your oversensitive clit as he continued pumping his cock into you. he refused to cum — not fucking yet.

it was impossible to keep your eyes open and although he loosened the grip of his arm around your throat, the rest of his motions did not cease. the restless pounding of his hips against yours and his hand toying with your spent clit were amazing but nothing could’ve prepared you for whatever words he would speak next, as sleepiness drowned you.

“fall back asleep, sweetheart. i’m not stopping.” and then your eyes fell shut.

author’s note: HI DEAR ANON!! I hope this met ur expectations, I did my best. this was my first request so I'm rlly nervous. Thank you sm for trusting me with it 🩷🥹🌸 ILY ALL!!!

[kanencrow]

Can you do gwen stacy/spider-gwen x reader where reader is patching up gwen after another fight? (similar to gwen and peter in tasm)

Playing Doctor - Across The Spiderverse | One Shot

A/N: Of course, thank you for the request! I'll be honest, it's been a very long time since I last saw The Amazing Spiderman, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

SUMMARY: You patch up Gwen after a particularly harrowing fight with what she considered her villain of the month.

WARNINGS: All characters are 18+. Descriptions of Physical Violence, Descriptions of Tending to a Wound, Blood, Swearing, Needles, Very Slight Angst, Fluff/Comfort.

WORD COUNT: 2400+

Attempting to sew up a decently large gash that sat just above the left side of Gwen’s chest proved to be a tedious and slow task, even with the top of her suit down, which was supposed to aid your ability in assessing where she had been hurt. You were in no way shape or form a professional in stitching up a wound, but when your girlfriend came in through your window, looking like she had just been hit by a truck, you really didn’t have much time to study. Not that you necessarily planned on learning the arts of medicine, but now that you knew the reality of who the woman in front of you was – when she wasn’t her true identity, you were certain it would have been a good idea to figure out a thing or two about treating cuts and bruises. 

When you saw her stumble into your room after opening up your window, you didn’t expect anything other than a simple ‘hi,’ before she would do her usual habitual routine of walking up behind you and giving you a warm hug, followed by a firm kiss to the top of your head. Every night, you’d find yourself cooped up in your apartment and losing your mind over a particular assignment that your professor pushed onto you and every other victim of their class. It would take Spider-Woman’s strength to tear you away from your focus on your computer, though when she didn’t do her usual embrace and peck, you turned around, only to see her tumble into the room, as though all of the strength in her muscles had vanished. 

The sight of her terrified you. You didn’t know what to do, other than immediately stop what you were doing and dart over to your girlfriends’ aid. It seemed like every bit of movement that she made worsened the feeling of affliction that surrounded her body. Of course, you noticed that quickly, and so you led her over to your bed and ordered her to settle down and take off her suit, while you busied yourself with going into your bathroom and grabbing the medical box you had under your sink. Your own movements were frantic and clumsy, unlike the blonde, whose own movements were slow and tentative. There were a few moments where you almost dropped the supplies you had collected, but you managed to keep track of everything, before you made it back to the room.

And by the time you did make it back, Gwen had followed your request, though she made sure to make herself comfortable in the process, when you spotted her laying across her proclaimed side of the bed, with her head laying against one of the many pillows you had. Even though she looked like she had been through the thick of it, she still sent you a small smile, when she opened her eyes and looked at you. You attempted to give her the same expression back, but it only seemed to come off as a grimace, when the woman scrunched up her face slightly and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. 

“That bad?” she asked you, before she let out a quiet grunt and grabbed at the strap of her compression bra, or what remained of it. Somehow, it was still connected by a thread, even after receiving whatever slash that her skin shared the same fate with, and it seemed to have finally lost all of the strength it had when you heard a quiet snap, followed by a hiss of pain that came from her, when the elastic smacked against her wound. “Ow, shit!” You set the box of supplies you collected onto the nightstand that sat beside the side of the bed you and her were on, before you turned around and looked at the woman who just had an unintentional mishap with a piece of fabric. 

The palm of her hand rested over the gash on the upper left side of her chest, and you immediately grimaced when the thought of it getting infected filled your mind. “Hey, don’t do that,” you told her, before you stepped forward and gently grabbed a hold of her wrist. “Your hands are probably dirty. You don’t want a wound this size to get an infection.” You let go of her limb as you leaned down to get a closer look at the laceration, which caused your girlfriend to smirk slightly to herself and lean back on her hands, which – actually – allowed you to see whether or not anything had made its way inside of the cut. 

“Since when did you become a doctor?” Gwen questioned you quietly, as she admired the way your face faintly scrunched up to show your concentration. Her voice was smug, and you internally wondered how she was so willing to be cheeky while she still had a jagged, untreated wound on her body. You had the sudden urge to roll your eyes at her lack of worry, but you managed to keep a blank expression, when you lifted your focus up to the woman who sat on your bed. 

“Since never,” you stated simply, before you stood up to your full height and stepped over to your nightstand once more. “I’m just using the information that I’ve come to learn from simply being alive,” you admitted, only to let out a sigh, as you picked up a white box with a red cross decal that sat on top of it. “You know… getting hurt a lot as a kid and then treating your own injuries, just so you wouldn’t get in trouble by your parents… it kind of also gives you this automatic idea of how to treat an injury.” You shrugged your shoulders, and eventually turned around to sit on the bed with your girlfriend. 

Gwen stared at you, all the while, as you unclipped the medical box, which carried all of the things you needed in order to treat her gash. Her smile slowly fell when she noticed the glassiness in your eyes, and the way you chewed on your lower lip, as though you were trying to prevent yourself from growing emotional. It caused her to sit up and scoot closer to you, before she bent her leg to let it rest on part of the bed, so that she could turn her body to fully face your own. “Hey… I’m still alive,” she assured you, but you only tightened your jaw in response to that, before you parted your mouth and breathed out a sigh that silently conveyed your discontent. 

“It doesn’t matter, Gwen,” you voiced, “you still got hurt.” You blindly gestured your free hand towards her, before you let it drop to hold onto the mattress. “I mean – I’m glad that you’re alive, but seeing you…” You trailed off and breathed in deeply, just to try and steel your nerves. “Watching you come through that window, barely able to hold yourself up… I guess it just reminded me that you’re still human. That anything can happen to you, even though you’re Spider-Gwen, or Ghost-Spider, or whatever you call yourself these days.” You let out a quiet chuckle when your girlfriend huffed in amusement at what you had just said. The moment of lighthearted nature was quick to die out, however, and the moment your smile fell, you spoke up. “I guess just – what if you didn’t come back tonight–?” 

“Babe, stop.” You felt Gwen’s hand come down to rest on your thigh. She understood your worries, loud and clear, but she knew that you were starting to lose yourself within that whirlwind. You immediately felt her comforting touch, and she felt the weight of concern fall away from her shoulders, when you breathed out an exhale to try and steady your spiral of thoughts. “I’m here. I’m alive. I’m okay,” she told you, but you didn’t show any evidence that you believed her. “Hey, look at me.” Her palm fell away from your leg to take a gentle hold of your face, and you didn’t fight her when you felt the warmth of her skin against yours. 

The moment your eyes met her own, your brow furrowed deeply. “You’re okay?” you repeated, before you let out a humorless laugh and looked down at the large gash that sat on her chest. Bruises and the like littered other parts of her body too, you had noticed, and the sight of it only made you more regrettable. “Look at you!” you quietly exclaimed, as your hands attempted to gesture up and down her form. “You look like you got run over by a freight train.” 

“Okay, rude.” Gwen frowned at you, as she dropped her hand away from your face and sent you a look of offense. “I think I look fine,” she admitted, before she tilted her head to the side and gazed up at nothing in particular. It was as if she were dwelling on the fight she had before coming here. “Honestly, you should see the other guy.” When she brought her focus back to you, you deadpanned at her, clearly unimpressed by her lack of concern for her own state. “Not only is he in jail, but he’s gotta go to the hospital before jail. So…” She shrugged her shoulders again, and you shook your head. 

“Gwen…” 

“What?” she asked, “I’m fine. I just need my personal doctor to fix me up.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you uttered, though your tone conveyed your endearment.

“Yeah, but I’m the same idiot that you decided to date, so what does that say about you?” Gwen asked smugly, which earned an amused eye roll from you, before you settled the medical box to the side and leaned in to press a gentle peck to her cheek.

“I guess that means that I have a thing for idiots.” You played along, which successfully earned a quiet giggle from your girlfriend, as her eyes followed you closely. When you leaned away slightly to scrounge through the box of medical supplies you had set next to you, you couldn’t help but glance up at her for a moment, before you brought your focus back down to what you were mainly doing. “So… who was the guy you fought tonight, then?” you suddenly questioned, “Was he the same dude you fought earlier this month?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Gwen mumbled, her eyes still watching you as you set up the needle and thread. “Super big guy. Dressed himself up in what looks like a cosplay of a rhino, which makes sense… considering his name is literally just Rhino.” You furrowed your eyebrows at her explanation, before you stopped what you were doing to look up at her once more. 

“Wait, so that’s literally just his name? Or is that his stage name?” 

“Stage name?” she repeated, suddenly growing confused. 

You paused and blinked at her. “You know, stage name? Like how your real name is Gwen Stacy, but when you’re wearing your suit, you’re Spider-Woman – or whatever you call yourself.” You couldn’t keep up with the names she created for herself these days. Was it Ghost-Spider, Spider-Gwen, or Spider-Woman? You didn’t even know, and she told you everything, so honestly, you should have probably known. But you didn’t. 

“Oh! Right, right.” Gwen nodded her head, suddenly catching on, while you set the thread and needle to the side to grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide instead, as well as a little fuzzy cotton ball. Her eyes followed your hands, all the while, and she grew a little nervous when you unscrewed the cap of the container and dumped some of the liquid onto the miniature cloud of white. “He, uh… his real name is Aleksi Sytsevich.” You hummed at her simple explanation. “Yeah, he, uh… he’s kind of an idiot.” She paused to glance up at the ceiling of your room for a moment. “Kinda surprised it took me so long to catch him…” 

“Well, hey, at least you got him,” you muttered, before you dabbed the wet cotton ball against the wound that the rhino guy created on your girlfriend. “And hopefully you made him bleed just as much as he made you,” you added on, which earned a small chuckle from the blonde in response. 

“Oh, trust me,” Gwen said, “I did.” 

The conversation fell into silence the moment you set your entire focus on trying to stitch up Gwen’s wound. For someone who was used to getting thrown up against walls and crushed by things that were ten times the size and weight of her, she whined a lot. Everytime you would push the needle through to cinch the skin back together, you would hear some sort of quiet curse or a little dramatic whimper come from her. She definitely made a note to state her discontent for what you were doing, but you always made sure to remind her that it wasn’t your fault Rhino decided to be an asshole and give her a particularly gnarly wound. 

You hadn’t sutured a gash up before, though, so when you eventually finished and sat back to admire your work, your lips downturned deeply to show your impression. For a complete rookie, you did a pretty okay job. Although, you still planned to take a trip up to the hospital with her in the morning, just for the sake of making sure that nothing bad would happen in the process of her recovery. And you were more than willing to drag her there, because you knew just how much she hated those medical centers.

“Do I still look pretty?” 

Your eyes flickered up to look at Gwen, who had her eyebrows raised in question. A warming sensation of love filled your chest when you noticed the hopeful expression on her tired face, and you couldn’t help but lean forward and press your lips to her own. It was a silent reply that, yes, you still thought she was beautiful. She accepted the action immediately, and you could hear her hum against your mouth quietly, before you pulled back slightly and sent her a small smile, your eyes keeping contact with her own. 

“You’ll always be pretty. Don’t you worry.” You sent her a playful wink, before you settled back and hopped off the bed. “Now,” you uttered. “Why don’t we get you into some more comfortable clothes?” You blindly called from over your shoulder, and you felt yourself grin when she happily replied to your query in turn.

[xemdead]

[NSFW below the cut! Minors DNI]

Gentle kisses pepper over your face from above as Levi leans his body over yours. His lips skim across your hairline and down your nose, yet he denies himself contact with your lips. You grind yourself slowly on his thigh that’s helpfully placed between your legs. Clothing litters the floor surrounding your bed- sans underwear, which is still on your bodies.

The orange light from the lamp on your bedside table only illuminates the right side of his face. The hue softens his stress lines making him look younger, more relaxed.

It’s rare you indulge yourselves in each other like this. With your respective roles in the survey corps there’s never time; always things to plan, meetings to attend, paperwork to sign. It’s an overwhelming lifestyle.

Levi leans forward again, placing a careful kiss to you jawline. You caress his nape and guide his head to the dip at the base of your neck. He sighs into your skin, breathing you in deeply. You note that he’s being careful to not lay his full body weight on you- opting to awkwardly loom over you instead.

“You can kiss me, you know?” You murmur into his ear.

“I am kissing you,” he replies bluntly, voice muffled from his position.

“I mean my lips, Levi,” you feel him tense up so you stop grinding, sensing a change in the mood.

He doesn’t move, face hidden so you can’t gauge his expression.

“Levi?” You try again… nothing.

“We can stop if you want?” You express, as your fingers card through his dark locks. The night had stared out gentle and as each layer of clothing was peeled away, your intentions became very clear to each other. Or so you had thought.

“What if I hurt you?” A mumble is heard as he rears his head up to make eye contact with you.

“You won’t.” You reply immediately with confidence.

“But sex hurts for the woman, right?” He questions again, grey eyes unwavering from yours. Your face scrunches up in thought and you consider how you should explain things to Levi without making him withdraw even more.

“It shouldn’t hurt if the woman, or me in this case,” you grin at him, “is properly turned on.” You continue: “I’m not loosing my virginity either, so it won’t hurt in that regard,”

Levi still looks unconvinced. “If I hurt you, you tell me. Immediately.” It’s not a question this time, but a command. Levi wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he caused you pain in such an intimate way.

“Of course,” you reply truthfully.

He nods curtly, unsure how to pick up where you left off. Reaching back up, you lace your fingers around the back of his neck and pull him towards your lips. It starts slow, but soon heat builds between the two of you and you feel Levi’s tongue swipe against your teeth asking for entry. You let him in. Tongues glide and teeth clash as you grow more and more desperate. Repelling apart to catch your breaths, you sit up and reach forwards towards the elastic band of his boxers. With fingers hooked over the edge you look up at him asking silently for consent. He nods again and mimics your movements by tugging down your panties and then looping his hands behind your back to remove your bra.

“Fuck...” he mutters eyes gliding over you. He thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

His hand pushes softly on your shoulder, making you lay back down fully. Levi kisses your lips again, less feverishly than before, and makes his way down your body. Kisses litter your breasts and stomach. You let out a gasp as his mouth reaches your inner thigh- so close to where you need him.

“Levi,” you moan.

“Yes?” He deadpans, teasing you.

You reach a hand down and weave your fingers in his hair, guiding his face between your legs. He places a kiss on your core.

“Oh,” you breathe.

Levi begins with a slow long lick up your slit, his tongue just grazing your clit. Upon hearing your low moans of pleasure he picks up the pace- pressing his face further in. You’re soon a gasping mess. His tongue focusing on your clit now, he eases a finger inside of you.

Levi pauses momentarily “This okay?” He quizzes.

“Gods Levi, yes,” you praise, arching your head back. He begins to pump his finger as his tongue returns to your sensitive clit. You grow wetter and as a response Levi slides in a second finger. You can feel your release building as he continues his constant simulation.

“I’m gonna cum-,” you moan loudly to him, body writhing under his fingers.

“Cum for me, darling,” he responds.

And at that, you feel the pleasure snap in your lower belly, you let out a silent scream, your body twitching as Levi continues to finger you through your orgasm.

“… holy fuck,” you breath coming down from your high.

“Are you ‘properly turned on’?” Levi quotes, with a little smirk.

“Oh yeah,” you sigh happily. You look down at his fully hard member, now absolutely dripping with pre cum.

“Looks like you are too, huh?” You say unashamedly, looking back at him. He blushes but holds your gaze.

“We’d better so something about that then,” he quips.

It’s your turn to blush.

Sitting up he folds your legs around his waist. Levi hesitates, then pulls you towards himself for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.

“Ready?” He asks, trying not to show his nerves.

“Ready,” you smile warmly at him, throwing his fears temporarily out of his mind.

Tentatively, Levi rubs his cock up and down you slit gathering up your slick. Then, pushes his tip in slowly. The usual sting you feel with penetration is barely felt this time and you breathe deeply at every little push. He lets out a shuddering sigh as he works himself fully into your heat, finally bottoming out. You’re both panting, breath mingling together as the distance between your faces is once again closed. Levi stays as still as possible, letting you to get used to the feeling. You cross you ankles together locking your legs around Levi’s waist, your hands reaching up to caress his face and then down his toned stomach.

“I’m ready,”

At your say-so he begins to pull out then thrusts himself back in. Your moans of pleasure synchronise as his movements continue at a steady pace. The bed frame smacks against the wall with each thrust. You never break eye contact, wanting to see each others reactions the whole time.

“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he grunts.

“Ah huh,” is your attempt of a reply, disappearing into your combined moans.

Levi starts sucking kisses into your neck whilst caressing your breast. You reach around and give his ass a small squeeze pushing him deeper towards you.

“I’m going to cum-“ he grunts into your ear.

“M-me too,”

Both of your breathing is erratic as you near your highs. Levi cums first, pulling out quickly as he empties himself onto your stomach. You whine at the loss of him.

“Ah- shit!” He curses feeling the euphoria wash over him. Quickly, his fingers rush to your clit; rubbing small, fast circles so you can finish too. The second orgasm hits you even harder than your first.

Laying down next to you, his and your breaths eventually even out. You roll on your side to face Levi’s, now sweaty, face. Kissing him softly, you curl towards his warmth. “You okay?” he mumbles into your hair.

“I’m perfect Levi. You okay?”

He smiles warmly across at you, “Never better.”

[ssukidesu]

vengeance

Fandom: Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairy Tale

Pairing: Inukag

Rating: T

Inukag Week 2024 ( @inukag-week ) - Day 4: Seasons

Summary: The feudal era isn't immune to the heat of the sun, and neither is the group of shard-hunters. Luckily, there's a nice, refreshing river to take advantage of… but Inuyasha's not convinced it’s worth it getting his ears wet. Kagome convinces him otherwise.

Read on AO3

Read under the cut

To him, there was hardly a worse sensation than having wet hair. He watched as the rest of them splashed around like children, alternating between floating lazily on their backs and submerging to see how long they could hold their breaths, between flinging water at each other by surprise and skipping rocks when they returned to shore for a breather.

“Come on, Inuyasha!” scolded Miroku, who was down to his undergarments despite the offended cries of the women. They were over it now, of course, as even they had removed most of their clothing. Sango appeared mostly comfortable with only wearing her bindings, while Kagome seemed noticeably hesitant to leave the water once she’d jumped in. If he had to guess, it was probably because she was slightly embarrassed by her own attire.

She’d called it a bathing suit, but, well, it was honestly no more than two scraps of yellow fabric that clung so tight to her form that he quite rapidly obtained yet another reason to keep himself fully clothed, lest he expose his own growing problems. 

They had daisies on them. Daisies. She was pure evil, and she had the audacity to blush so innocently about it, as if she was ignorant of its effect.

“Inuyasha?” It was Sango this time, calling out to him from the shore some yards away as she wrung out her sopping hair and moved to plop a piece of fruit into her mouth. “You’ve gotta be burning up in that,” she mused. 

She wasn’t wrong. 

As a demon, he wasn’t as subject to the whims of the temperature; his body heat was roughly self-managing. But even still, he had long ago soaked through his undershirt, and he could feel his fire rat robe growing moist on his back. 

“I’m fine,” he grunted for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Shippo, who was floating on his back near where Kagome was up to her neck, piped up. “Come on, relax a little! It’s super refreshing,” he teased, giving him a knowing look before leaping out of the water and onto Kagome’s head. “Kagome could tie your hair up if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He choked on his own spit, and he fought the blush growing on his face. “No way.”

Finally, after seemingly fighting her own internal battle, Kagome spoke timidly, “It’s really no problem… I’d hate for you to keep baking over there while the rest of us cooled off.”

He was going to refuse immediately, but she started moving toward the bank, freeing her skin inch by inch until he could see her entire form, dripping head to foot. She joined Sango where she was snacking upon a large boulder and brought her water canteen to her lips.

His mouth went dry.

If he’d been looking at any of the others at that moment, he would have seen their condemning smirks. 

Kagome bent down to shuffle through her knapsack and pulled out an elastic band. Her wet hair stuck to the skin of her back, and he could see from afar her eyelashes clumped together with moisture. Her cheeks, nose, and shoulders were pink from the sun. 

Situating herself on the rock, she spoke again with the slightest shake in her voice: “Come here—I promise I’ll be gentle.” Then, as if remembering herself, her cheeks grew pinker, and she grabbed her towel and draped it over her shoulders to recover some modesty. 

In that voice and with that expression, she could have asked him to leap off a cliff, and he would have done it. 

“…Whatever,” he scoffed, and he stood.

Sango took the opportunity to leave her place and return to the water, where Miroku and Shippo still were. They knew better than to say anything with him so near, but he knew they were communicating with their eyes and expressions that they thought the whole ordeal was humorous. 

But he didn’t care too much about that now—since Kagome was waiting for him there. If he sat in front of her on the ground, the good news was that he wouldn’t be able to see her. Maybe then he could refocus his scattered mind before arriving at the dire moment in which he’d have to strip. 

Well, it turned out her fingers in his hair and her shapely legs dangling around him from where she was sitting behind was not much better. He quickly saw that his best bet was to close his eyes and pretend it was someone else—anyone else—combing and twisting his long hair. Thank heavens above she never touched his ears during the process.

His hair was off his neck now and secured not too tightly at the base of his neck in a simple bun. To signal her completion, she pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and urged him to stand. 

He felt that he was safe enough for the moment to remove his garments, and he did so without turning around to face her. He started by shedding his robe, then untying the sash of his shirt beneath. He ignored the near-silent sound of her taking in a sudden breath, and he strode as close as he could toward the riverbank before finally shedding his pants, leaving his lower undergarment the only thing on his sweaty body. Miroku, Sango, and Shippo were at least pretending distraction as he submerged himself one step at a time. 

Well, he couldn’t deny the pleasantry that was that chilled water. It certainly cooled him off—in more ways than one. When he was up to his navel, he turned back to inspect Kagome, and he found that she had dropped her towel and was returning to the water herself, eyes glued to the rocky ground. 

Inuyasha came to where the rest of their group was currently floating, not wanting to be distinctly separated from them. Miroku was on his back, and Sango was playing some sort of water game with Shippo that involved dipping their heads beneath the surface and avoiding coming up at the same time. 

Kagome joined them, and they all five soaked in the bliss of the cold water. 

“See?” asked Kagome, who was up to her chin and likely on her toes. Being covered by the water seemed to bring back some of her confidence, though he did notice how her eyes would fall to his shoulders and clavicle every few seconds. “Much better than sitting in the sun, right?”

“I guess," he said. “So, what—we just gonna float around till we get tired of it?” 

“No,” corrected Miroku, whose eyes were closed to the world. “We’re going to relax."

“Sounds like the same thing to me,” argued Inuyasha. 

Kagome giggled. “You don’t know how to relax, do you?”

He brought his gaze back to her and watched a drop of water trail down her cheek and drop from her chin. She was smiling at him, but something under it put him on edge. “Don’t get the occasion that often,” he defended.

Sango and Shippo had paused their game to catch their breaths. She truly was the mother of the group, and her tone took that softness as she said, “Then enjoy it while it lasts. Who knows when we’ll get the chance again?”

He hummed, and he felt Kagome’s eyes on him again. He caught her gaze. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, not even hiding that she was clearly plotting something. “Say, Inuyasha? How much do you hate getting your hair wet?”

He narrowed his eyes. “A lot.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” she said before lifting her feet up in the water and swimming a few paces away. Just as he thought he was safe, she brought a single foot close to the surface and propelled herself away with one violent kick—and a thick splash of water smacked him right in the face. 

Sango, Miroku, and Shippo all took that as their cue to get the hell out of the way. 

Inuyasha, whose eyes had clenched shut in anger, felt his eyebrow twitch. His hair was still mostly dry, but he knew that was more so from his luck than it was her mercy.

“Kagome,” he growled. Then, he heard another splash. He opened his eyes and saw that she was fully submerged and swimming away, no doubt in an attempt to flee his range.

In normal circumstances, he’d be able to chase after her in no time—but in the water, especially when he wished to keep his head dry, it was surprisingly difficult to catch up. Even the advantage of his height only really slowed him down; she could swim faster than he could wade, and he realized he’d have to forsake his desire to keep his hair dry if he was going to get at her.

Well, it was no big matter if his hair got a little wet, he supposed. He cared more about his ears, anyway.

She came up for air some yards away and was facing him, swimming backwards. Her expression was a terrible combination of mischief and trepidation. Their eyes locked, and he kicked up his legs to swim after her with a glowering smirk plastered on his own face. At his movement, she instantly squeaked and flipped herself back around to swim further away. Despite submerging again for her best speed, she had no hope of keeping it up—he was faster now that he was swimming properly. He could see the reflection of her form, and as soon as he was close enough, he propelled himself forward and latched his hand around her ankle, and yanked.

She popped her head back up and tried to dislodge his grip with a kick, but she only caused herself to flail. Since she couldn’t reach the bottom here, and he was holding one of her legs, she had to flip around to float on her back to keep her head above the water. In a desperate effort for freedom, she swiped a hand to splash him, but before she could fling too much water in the air, his free hand was around her wrist. 

“N-No! she shrieked in defeat. She would have tried again with her other hand, but his grip on her ankle loosened and came to her other wrist in a flash. He held them down by her side, grinning viciously at her failed attempts. 

He grimaced at her, their faces perhaps a foot apart. Her bangs were in her eyes. “What was the point in putting my hair up for me if you planned on doing that, huh?” he grunted.

“Oh, come on…” she tried, a poor attempt at an apologetic smile stretching her mouth. “You can’t blame me for messing with you a little.”

“Yeah?” he prompted, eyebrows revealing the suppressed anger behind his smile. He watched her gulp nervously, and he admired how the bright sun made her eyes appear more blue than normal. “Better hold your breath,” he said cruelly.

Her eyes widened, and she hardly had the chance to obey him before he was tugging her down below the water, submerging her head. He was on his toes here—so she was about a foot and a half from the rocky floor. She kicked at his shins playfully, and he felt a surge of victory fill his chest at his vengeance.

Until he saw a full cloud of bubbles flutter to the water’s surface.

His smile instantly evaporated, and he tugged her back up. “What the hell—why’d you…?” he began, watching her reopen her eyes. 

Not half a second later, he learned exactly why: her lips pursed, and a strong stream of water spewed directly onto his head and into his face. His ears instinctively flattened, but to no avail: they were drenched. 

He’d shut his eyes, but he heard her laughing raucously. His nostrils flared, and he clicked his tongue. “The only thing going for you was that I didn’t want my ears wet.”

“Whoops,” she said between giggles. 

He slowly opened his eyes and glared at her. He still had her wrists, and he was holding her just above the surface, their heads level. “So I’ve got nothing to lose now,” he pointed out.

Her laughing stopped quite suddenly. 

In a swift movement, he brought her wrists together behind her back, collecting them in one hand, and pulled her under again. He dragged her lower this time, even though it meant his head would end up soaked. He wedged his free arm beneath her knees, and forced her to do a full back flip under the water. She sputtered for air once she came up, a look of raw offense marring her pretty face. He unfortunately had to release her hands for the move, and she was free to retaliate. She shoved two hand’s worth of water right at him, then brought her feet to kick at his stomach, using him to propel her away. 

“You jerk!” she shouted, still coughing. “You stay away from me!”

Inuyasha’s eyes flashed, and he felt his mouth grinning more outright than before. “Don’t act like you didn’t lure me in the water. It’s your own fault,” he said, swimming after her at a purposely slow pace. 

Anytime he got to close, she kicked her feet to send more water in his face. When he was thoroughly soaked, he gave into his irritation and did the only thing he could do against her defenses. 

He took a deep breath, and dove under the water.

He felt his ears pop, but it wasn’t as terrible as he thought it’d be. He opened his eyes.

And almost lost his mouthful of air.

The sun’s beams were bright, and his demonic eyes retained their sharpness beneath the water. Her form was on full display for him, everything below the neck, as she fought to swim backwards and keep him away. All of the sudden, the idea of pursuing her seemed to take on a different feeling altogether. He didn’t let himself mull over it. 

He could hold his breath far longer than a regular human could, of course, and he took full advantage; he descended as low as he could to keep himself from being visible to her, and he circled her like a shark. He could see her head whipping around above the water, searching for any sign of him. For naught, of course.

He placed himself behind her, placed his feet on the rocky floor, and pushed himself forward.

Right between her legs.

It was a delicate mission, but he pulled it off perfectly: his head came right between her knees, and as he continued forward, his shoulders caught where they were bent. He swept her legs out from under her, and with nothing to support her in the water, the momentum threw her torso, neck, and head backwards beneath the waves. Inuyasha’s hands came to grip her ankles, yanking her legs even higher until they were out of the water and hooked over his broad shoulders.

To her horror, he didn’t let go—no matter how hard she flailed. She tightened her core and did a full sit up, finally regaining air. Her rear end was flush on his back—much higher than it was normally when he carried her—and she brought her hands to grip unceremoniously at his neck. 

“H-Hey, let me go!” she urged, stuttering not just for want of a good breath. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t splash you again.” She loosened her left hand and brought it to claw at his hand around her left ankle.

“Yeah, like I’d believe that,” he said. 

She would have argued further, but he plunged himself under the water again—and he repositioned her so that she’d be fully sitting on his shoulders. When he came back up, her legs were the only part of her in the water. Her hands instinctively braced on his head. He peered up at her with a smirk. Her face was angled over his, blushing furiously. 

“Inuyasha!” she cried, scandalized.

He couldn’t really blame her for being surprised—he wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him, either. Something about being in the water with her, having the excuse to touch her freely, to make her a little mad—it filled him with a bit of male arrogance, he supposed. He’d probably wack himself upside the head later for everything, but he couldn’t help himself. He was trusting she wouldn’t punish him with a sitting later.

Well, even if she did, he supposed it’d be worth it if he could land this one final move of revenge.

His hands had moved to her thighs during his last adjustment, but when he submerged once again, he regripped her ankles and put her feet on his shoulders. Her legs were straight beneath her, and when he came back up, she was raised entirely out of the water in a terribly unsound standing position. Her arms flailed in desperation for balance, but to no avail.

With full use of his strength, he heaved—and flung her into the air. 

She plummeted back into the water with a wild scream and a grand splash. 

He made sure to begin his journey back to the river bank before she popped above the water again. He knew if he stayed in after that show, she’d come up with something to get back at him—and he didn’t want to give her the chance. 

He managed to put about ten yards between them before she caught her breath enough to yell his name. The water was now only at his waist, and he was forever grateful for the chilled temperature as he watched her trail behind him, her own body escaping the depths little by little. Once the water was at his shins, he began to run, water splashing with each step. He was cackling, and he thought he’d better get it together before this episode dragged on too long and he did something he’d really regret.

He smartly grabbed his pants as soon as they were in reach and yanked them on one leg at a time while she was trailing behind him. It was hard putting them on while soaking wet, but he forced them, and by the time she was out of the water, he was rearing to sprint his heart out if she looked too violent. 

To his relief, she didn’t come for him right away; instead, she made to go grab her towel. She shouted at him nonetheless, her voice clearly threatening laughter: “I’m never going swimming with you again! ” 

Phew, he thought, shaking his head and twitching his ears to rid them of water. Thought she’d be more angry than that.

She plopped down on the boulder and brought the towel to her hair. 

Well, he considered, might be best to offer a truce .

He warily made his way to her, holding his hands up in surrender. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What now?”

He held out his hand. “Gimme that,” he said simply. 

Kagome looked him up and down, assessing his intentions. “…Alright.” She handed him her towel.

Inuyasha came to sit behind her on the rock, staying propped on his toes just in case she lunged at him. He threw the towel over her head and rubbed, drying it gracelessly.

“Hey, you’re going to tangle it!” she cried, twisting to face him and free her poor victimized head. Retaining the towel, she scooped her hair onto one shoulder and began to pat it more gently, combing it with her fingers. 

“Keh,” Inuyasha grunted, lowering himself fully on his butt. “I was just trying to help.”

Kagome took him in, and something humorous shined in her eyes. “You should probably worry about untangling your own hair,” she said. 

“Huh?”

He lifted his hand to the bun. 

It had devolved into an absolute rat’s nest. 

“Uh… Kagome?” he tried timidly.

“Nope, not helping,” she sighed, beating him to the punch. 

He gave it a testing tug with his claws. It hurt. “H-Hey… are you sure you can’t—”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, placing her feet on the ground and standing yet again. The towel was draped around her shoulders, and her hair was dried enough to be slightly frizzy around her face. She came to prop her hands on the rock and lean forward, judging him with a rather merciless glare. He tried really hard to keep his eyes on her face.

Then, she gave him a sweet smile. 

He gulped. 

Her voice was low, likely to protect her from being overheard by their friends, who were somehow still minding their own business in the water. “You lost the right to my help the minute you put your head between my legs.”

Every cell of blood flooded his face. She watched him blush with cruel pleasure. 

Then, she turned on her heel and left him. He didn’t blink a single time as he watched her take every step. 

His hands twitched where they were braced on the rock, and suddenly, he felt like he understood Miroku more than he ever thought he would.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Clipped Wings: Chapter Five

Clipped Wings: After living a life in seclusion due to an over protective father, you sneak away to experience life as it really is. Slowly building up the woman you always wanted to be, your quiet life is interrupted when you meet a rather elastic boy and his crew. This is just the beginning of trouble and your carefully crafted life starts to crumble around you. The past never really stays in the past, and now it has come knocking. In more ways than one.  

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material, Clumsy Raw Blow Job Scene, RAW.

To Note: Dracule Mihawk x Reader, NAMED!FemReader, Some physical features have been given (hair & eye color).

Word Count: ~2.4k

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“Is it really that unusual?” You questioned while you slowly walked back to your hotel with Mihawk by your side. You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up walking back with him as company but he had mentioned something about the pirates wanting retribution for you stabbing one of their men. Well, no one had attacked you but you sure had some angry men glaring at you as you ignorantly walked away from the tavern lost in your own thoughts.

“Yes,” Mihawk replied, eyeing your scrunched face. He’d notice that you did that when you were thinking hard about something or confused. There were a great many nuances he’d noticed while sitting in your presence, like the way you controlled your facial expressions but not the emotions within your eyes. Or how your eyes sparkled like polished amethyst when you began talking animatedly about an experience you had. Such an unusual woman. Event the most menial of life events seemed to be incredible to you. To live.

“Hmm, but— surely there are others like me who haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing things like going to a market, or picking out your first blade, or even being on a boat.”

“I fear that you are an enigma, Vee,” Mihawk said, further eyeing your confused face. “And I think I would like solve you.”

“How do you do that when not even I can figure that out?” You questioned, toeing a rock out of your way.

“I have my ways,” You snorted at his words and tone, he was so sure of himself. You actually kind of liked that.

“Tell me when you figure me out, then.” You stated wryly before smirking. “I’d sure like to know why I’ve never been kissed before.” A small giggle poured from your lips and you snuck him a glance. “Of course you’re welcome to change that if you wish, but I digress…”

You continued walking as Mihawk came to a standstill, shocked by your candid words. Did you reallynot know who he was?? You’d been offhandedly flirting with him in such a teasing manner since he’d bought you that glass of wine so clearly you had no idea he was a Warlord or a pirate. You weren’t bothered by the massive sword on his back and you’d already called his eyes beautiful. Enigma indeed. There was an air of innocence caused by your lack of life experiences, but behind your violet eyes was a sophisticated well read woman that knew exactly what she was doing. An incredible combination that piqued Mihawk’s attention in more ways than one.

You had made it only a few paces forwards by the time Mihawk started walking once more. His long legs carried his tall frame to you in seconds and with nothing but a light touch upon your wrist he had you spinning around and pressed up against the wall of a nearby building. Your breath caught in your throat when his face was in yours, your noses touching and the rim of his hat sheltering both your faces from the light of the moon. For a moment you wondered if your words had bothered him. So you parted your lips to tell him that he wasn’t inclined to just because you had said so, but the man had already made up his mind.

Taking your chin in hand, Mihawk pulled it up just enough so that your lips brushed and proceeded to swallow the words you were about to speak. You were caught off guard the moment lips met yours and didn’t know what to do, but that didn’t matter because Mihawk was more than happy to be the one in charge. He expected it to be that way. Pushing his lips against yours, Mihawk urged your lips apart further and swept into your mouth with a seductive tongue. You flushed with a tremble, one hand grappling the wall of the building while the other twitched in his grasp.

Your lips were kissed with the gentleness of the sun just barely touching the horizon of a new day, and tongue drawn into a swirling dance. The surprise within you waned and for a few precious moments you found yourself clumsily kissing back. But those precious seconds were all that you had to experience that gentle kiss for the Warlord was soon turning possessive with your lips, ravaging them with a hunger that you couldn’t quite place but were more than welcome to sate.

There was a sting in your bottom lip and your lips parted wider as you softly moaned. Mihawk nipped at your lip again, finding the noise you made sweet and beautiful, and welcoming more from his lips and tongue. He kissed you deeper now, ensuring to imprint the memory of having one of your firsts. Not just anyone could’ve that honor. Mihawk had every intention of pirating a kiss from your lips that you would never forget.

At this rate you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind for weeks.

You’d had the misfortune of wandering into a red light district early on in your travels, so you had seen many explicit things that had made your cheeks flush with embarrassment then. Luckily a few sex workers had hustled your naive person off the streets and into their personal living quarters to ensure that you wouldn’t be taken advantage of. You’d gotten the lecture of the birds and the bees, and had witnessed many sexual actions on accident. But not a kiss like this.

With possession build upon a gentleness that made you truly enjoy kissing someone for the first time. You certainly liked the heat you could keep from his body and especially enjoyed the way his neatly trimmed facial hair scraped your cheeks. Even the grasp upon your wrist was migrating to your palm, pressing into your flesh and pulling your body further against Mihawk’s. You sighed against his warm lips and your eyelashes fluttered. To kiss someone was really quite nice. You were beginning to feel lightheaded and your chest was hurting when your lips finally broke apart.

You stared at Mihawk with wide eyed and labored breaths for several seconds, reveling in his beautiful yellow gaze. How could it be that the intimacy you’d gone your entire life not knowing its comforting and bedeviled touch, was something so sweet and warming you felt like you would wither without?

“Well that’s one unknown down,” You murmured to yourself, your eyebrows scrunching slightly. Mihawk’s own rose at your comment. “Thank you, that is a curiosity that I no longer have to wonder about.”

“I think I am beginning to think you are not nearly as complex as you think yourself to be,” Mihawk spoke, observing your flushed face and swelled lips. Ah to taste them whenever he wished so would be a dream. You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes.

“I am not that simple,” You argued back, nose scrunching. “And I doubt that you can figure me out just by kissing me. It’s a technicality, that doesn’t count as there are many other things my body hasn’t experienced before. You can’t solve a puzzle with only one piece,” You boldly stated before slipping free from his grasp and continuing your way to your hotel room. It wasn’t far, perhaps a few more doors down. A thought popped into your head. “Of course you’re also welcome to change that,” You called with a laugh, digging the hotel key out of your pocket. You had the door to your room halfway open when you got your answer.

Mihawk, tempted by your complete and utter mysteriousness and intrigue, hadn’t taken long to consider your words. He’d already indulged himself in your lips, why not the rest of you? He was a possessive man and liked the idea of having yet another one of your firsts. So following in your footsteps, he easily caught up to you and placed it hand upon your waist. In one smooth push he had you spinning around while stepping into your hotel room and shutting the door behind him. When your world stopped moving, your back was pressed the door. Mihawk was standing in front of you, eyes staring intently into yours.

“Very well little one,” The seductive drawl of the man made a shiver run up your spine and in the back of your mind, a flickering thought resonated: perhaps you had finally gotten yourself into something you might not be able to handle.

Mihawk had gotten you down onto your knees, looking up at him with the most innocent yet devilish eyes he’d ever seen. How could one so untouched look as impish as you? He desired that innocence and planned on ruining it with his own twisted pleasure. He was a decidedly selfish man that liked to live his life the way he saw fit and dining upon such untouched flesh would be an absolute delicacy. But first he wanted to see what that mouth of yours could do for after he had partaken in your lips, they were swelled and further inviting.

Your fingers traced the dip along his pants as you admired the tone of his muscles. Clearly he spent a great time tending to his physical condition. A lingering thought of wanting to trace each line with your finger overtook your conscious. Would the rest of his body look just as refined and cared for? Long fingers lifted your gaze to that of Mihawk, who had his eyebrow raised.

“Distracted already, little bird?” Your cheeks warmed and your lashes fluttered.

“You have very nice muscles,” You blurted out. “And since when am I not allowed to appreciate that?”Amusement flickered through Mihawk’s eyes.

“Since I gave you an order,” The look on his face made a shiver run down your spine, but not a bad one. Your fingers deftly unraveled the belt buckle at his waist and when your fingers brushed finely trimmed hair your body finally caught up to the situation you were in. Heat boiled beneath your skin as Mihawk dragged his fingers along your cheek, ultimately sliding them into your hair. “Your mouth is sharp and quick witted, let’s see if it has any other uses. Pleasure me with it.”

You obediently did as he asked, your fingers pulled his pants down until fingertips brushed neatly trimmed hair. You didn’t pause nor did your eyes stray from his as you stroked warm taut skin. In all honesty, you might have stumbled upon intimate actions on Gliss Island, but you still felt naive and unsure of your actions. That, however, didn’t stop you from lowering your gaze to Mihawk’s cock and gently taking it in hand. You copied the actions of the woman and men you’d seen doing (because you’d been skirted off to a private room by some very concerned sex workers) and felt the fingers in your hair curl.

It was apparent that he was waiting for your mouth, but your hand was soft and touch silken light… and you were clearly fascinated by what your own actions caused. Mihawk drew his thumb along the curve of your jaw while you continued to stroke him, marveling at how his cock reacted to your simple touch. It was rather addicting to have such control. On impulse you leaned down and pressed your lips against the side of the head. A soft sigh departed Mihawk’s lips from the beautiful warmth of your lips and bunched more of your hair within his grasp.

Your lips tantalized the swordsman, running up and down his length with the occasional dart of tongue. You may be inexperienced in many a thing, but you were a rather quick learner with a devilish tongue. Clumsy your tongue may be, but its touch and heat was more than enough to give Mihawk the pleasure he sought. Then you parted your lips and tentatively bobbed your mouth over the tip. This time a beautiful moan slipped passed the man’s lips and you found that you liked that sound very much. So the next time you pushed your head down further, trying to relax your throat from Mihawk’s impressive girth.

“It seems you are a woman of many talents little bird,” Mihawk drew out, fingers clenching around midnight strands and tugging them. The sounds coming from your mouth made your cheeks flush, for it sounded lewd and rather wet. But you didn’t even have the time to take in that when on the next bomb of your head he pushed your head down until you fully took him down your throat. You choked and gagged, your free hand landing on Mihawk’s thigh when your eyes watered. For a moment you thought to pull back and glare, but the sweet and deep moan that graced your ears was hypnotizing.

Well, you did glance up but not to glare. The moment your amethyst eyes caught sight of the exquisite look upon his face. Mihawk’s pretty eyes were gone from view, but his head was tilted back in and the picture of ecstasy was painted ever so beautifully across his features. Pleasure was a stunning experience you were definitely adding to your collection of firsts. Sucking a little harder, the grip on your hair became painful and his hips began bucking up, pushing his cock to the back of your throat every time your head bobbed.

Your mouth was an intense warmth and source of pleasure that toppled Mihawk over the cusp of organ and it washed through his body in an electric twist. A surge of heat flooded your own throat and you almost choked on it as his seed poured down your throat. Not knowing what else to do, you swallowed, feeling that burn carry over to your belly and remain.  You were more than just lightheaded now, now your body throbbed in need and you tumbled backwards.

Falling back onto your rump, Mihawk’s cock slipped from your lips and you heaved in heavy breaths. Your face was flushed and blistered with heat. Your eyes were round and shimmering. And your mind was spinning in circles like a hurricane. Pleasure was so delicious to give. But what did it feel like to receive? Mihawk’s own glimmering gaze was fixated on you with such intensity that you knew you wouldn’t not be leaving this room without finding out. You were an innocent indulgence that he was going to have all to himself for the night, and that pleased him greatly.

Date Published: 10/21/23

Last Edit: 10/21/23

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[cosmicjoke]

You gotta’ love how some people are totally dismissing this entire, hour long epic episode of “Attack on Titan” as trash because Levi’s eyebrows didn’t look sad enough in some scenes.  Talk about the definition of nitpicking.

These animators at MAPPA and the entire crew from the sound design to the musical score to the direction and voice acting worked their asses off to bring this final arc to life, and all some of ya’ll got is “Levi looks too angry in his scenes!”.  Come ON.  

I feel like this is the same complaint we’ve been getting with people about Levi in the anime for years, complaining that the anime makes Levi seem somehow less compassionate and heroic than in the manga because his face isn’t expressive enough.  I mean, first of all, one of Levi’s defining characteristics is that he usually has a flat or stoic expression.  He’s not very, outwardly emotive as a person.  But I watched the anime before I ever read the manga, and I knew within the first few minutes of Levi’s introduction that he was meant to be seen as the classic hero of the series, and that impression only became more and more reinforced as the series went on.  I never thought of Levi as emotionless or uncaring or cold, because it was always obvious that he wasn’t.  Because it was obvious to me that Levi’s compassion is and always has been in his actions.  He doesn’t make big, exaggerated expressions with his features.  He doesn’t have big, expressive eyes.  Shit, he smiles exactly ONE TIME in the whole series.  One freakin’ time.  He cries exactly one time too.  He only ever shows real anger or intensity when he’s in the middle of a combat situation, and even then, most of the time, his expression is pretty neutral.

That’s not to say Isayama’s art didn’t do a better overall job of conveying Levi’s emotions within his eyes.  Of course it did.  Isayama always captured a kind of subtle sadness in Levi’s expression that’s hard to convey exactly BECAUSE it was so subtle (a testament to the fact that Isayama is a better artist than he’s given credit for). Again, Levi’s expressions were never exaggerated or elastic or grand.   At times he simply looks exhausted or dejected.  His face never crumples in agony though, or lines in intense grief or pain.  That’s just the way Levi is.  He’s a man of actions, not words or gestures.  

I just think it’s stupid to dismiss this entire episode, which obviously had so many people’s blood, sweat and tears poured into it, with great passion and love for the source material, all because you don’t think Levi looked sad enough in some of the scenes.  Levi is OBVIOUSLY sad.   He’s obviously heartbroken.  And there’s plenty of scenes where we do see his face lined in pain and grief.  

Levi was never a character who had to announce to the world how much he cared through grand gestures and big displays of emotion.  It was always in the ways he acted, the actions he took, the choices he made, which showed us how much he felt for everyone around him.  His manner has always been gruff and blunt and some might even say rude, but it was always evident, at least to me, that it was nothing but a cover, laid in place to conceal the most kind and compassionate heart.

[autumnalwalker]

The Melts

Author's Note: A while back I had a bit of a ramble on how I wished that it was more common to find examples of human bodies artistically warped into new and interesting configurations presented in a manner other than horror and gave an off-the-top of my head example of a hypothetical episode of a slice-of-life series going on that theme. A couple months passed, and then with Halloween approaching, I decided on a whim to slam out a rough draft of that story over the weekend. So here we are. Summary: What if your entire body slowly melting over the course of the day got treated as being no worse than the common cold and you still have to go to work because you work retail and already used up all your sick days? Wordcount: 5,295 Content Warnings: Descriptions of the sensation of one's body slowly melting into a fleshy pile of goo, various weird anatomical modifications, spider-like creatures crawling all over people, having to go into work while sick.

Mil had the melts.

They became aware of this approximately four and a half minutes after waking up when their hand made an unfortunate squelch sound upon palming their alarm clock’s snooze button.  They held their hand in place in denial for another half minute while their arm slowly stretched and drooped down into the space between bed and bedside table.  They reluctantly opened their eyes and groaned at the sight of the clock’s contour pressing up through a hand whose bones had gone limp and elastic.

It was going to be one of those days.

The thought of calling in sick today briefly crossed their mind, but no, it was close to the end of the year and they’d already used up all of their sick days.  Any more would have to come out of their precious holiday leave time.

It was fine, they told themself while throwing back the covers of their bed and pointedly ignoring how that arm curled back around on itself from the momentum.  It was only a mild case and it would probably clear up by the time their shift was over.  Enough to be annoying but nothing worth making a fuss over.  Unless it was a severe case, but that almost never happens.

As a small mercy, Mil’s legs weren’t as melted as their arm so they only almost fell over immediately upon standing up on appendages that bent and swayed in spots that don’t have joints.  Thank goodness for counterbalancing tails.  People often called their look basic, but Mil preferred to think of it as classic.  Feline ears and tails had been among the first reshapings to see mainstream adoption and Mil had personally always found more complicated additions of prehensile limbs and sensory organs to be a nightmare of overstimulation.  Plus, the ears and tail were a nice aid in emoting to make up for the difficulty Mil usually had with expressing themself by voice and face alone.

By the time Mil reached the kitchen they’d found a workable rhythm to their unsteady gait that managed to keep them mostly upright.  No time for anything complicated for breakfast, and probably best to keep away from the toaster in this state, so cereal it was.  That had its own complications of course - grip the spoon too loosely and its weight would stretch their fingers down and apart, but too tightly and their whole hand would roll itself up and try to retract back into their arm - but several minutes of grumbling around mouthfuls of wheat byproduct and dairy tree milk where enough to convince Mil that it wasn’t really all that bad and that they’d be able to manage at work today.  

They pointedly ignored the ensuing contrary evidence that came in the form of their legs getting stuck on the inside of their pants and rolling up into lumpy balls until they gave up and went with a skirt.  They’d already spent all the time they normally would have devoted to their morning workout on trying to pour themself into a tight turtleneck while getting the right body parts through the right holes.  Supposedly wearing snug-fitting clothing like this was an effective way to hold your shape relatively solid in a bad case of the melts - which Mil definitely (probably) didn’t have - but in practice it was not as useful a tip as its popularity would suggest.

But hey, they were fed, dressed and out of the house almost on time, so that was a victory.  And it meant they were almost on time to catch the tram before it left.  Oh.  Wait.  

It’s fine, they told themself while fiddling with the straps on the mask they’d donned on their way out the door.  It would only be a few minutes until the next tram scuttled up.  They’d only be a little bit late to work.  Everyone would understand.  Afterall, who hadn’t had the melts before?  In the meantime it gave them a few extra moments to try to get their mask to squeeze their head into a less embarrassing shape.  If Mil had to go in sick, it was the least they could do to try not to spread it.  But if they could be considerate while not having their skull get squished in the middle into the shape of a peanut, that’d be great.

A few pats on the side of the face, a push on the the top of their head, some hard nodding, get their fingers untangled from the mask straps aaannnddd…. A plop and a dizzying snap as Mil felt their jaw distend and the lower half of their face slide fully into the mask just as the next tram arrived.  Checking their reflection out in the tram’s shiny carapace confirmed that their head was an acceptable shape.  Maybe a little bit snout-y, but they could write that off as being part of the feline look.  So long as no one saw the mess under their mask.

The good part of being out at the end of the line like this is that Mil almost always got a decent seat on the tram and plenty of time to listen to their audio books.  It almost made up for the long commute.  Of course, today one earbud kept falling off the top of their head every few minutes from that ear not holding its shape well enough and the other one was worming its way uncomfortably far into an ear that seemed to be trying to swallow it through a series of expansions and contractions that mirrored Mil’s breathing.  By the second stop Mil gave up and shoved both earbuds back into a skirt pocket, resigning themself to ride stewing in silence.

That silence only lasted one more stop when the bulk of the other commuters started to pour in.  By the fifth stop Mil was firmly wedged between a shell-backed construction worker and a twelve-armed switchboard operator who had enough respect for personal space to keep those arms wrapped around zemself but not enough to not press three different elbows into Mil's ribs.  Mil tried not to hold it against zem.  It was the morning rush hour.  Getting pressed together was to be expected.  Even if that meant winding up half a foot taller and considerably flatter.  Mil tried not to think about how many people they were spreading their melts to.

At the ninth stop Mil extruded themself from the over-packed tram and toddered over to a bench to catch their breath.  If they were going to be late anyway, what was an extra minute or two to let their shoulderblades stop overlapping and left and right halves of their ribcage stop interlacing?  Just a few deep breaths to puff their torso back out and they were good to go.  They could fix their hair later after they got into a restroom to wash the public transit funk off their hands.

Walking into the store’s employee entrance a couple blocks down the street, Mil was greeted with the terrifying visage of their manager, Baroft.  The smile wasn’t terrifying because of the fangs (Mil had been considering getting some themself for some time now but couldn’t quite justify it with how little meat they ate), nor because of the extra pair of slit-pupiled crimson eyes (pretty standard for those who could adapt to the extra sensory input), nor even for the contrast with the face’s second mouth that wasn’t smiling (that one never smiled, it wasn’t the customer service voice mouth).  No, that smile was terrifying because if Baroft was happy - even worse, relieved - to see them walk in the door late for work, then that could only mean one thing.

The store was short-staffed today.

Mil would have to deal with customers.

Mil was - generally speaking - not good with people even on the best of days, and today was - as the flesh of their hand pooling at their fingertips under the force of gravity like ripening fruit would attest - not the best of days.  Most of the time they got by on trading duties with coworkers to spend as much of their workday as possible on the backend duties; stocking inventory, cleaning, feeding the weavers, updating displays, etc.  If one good thing could be said about Baroft it was that after seeing Mil awkwardly stumble through enough customer conversations and fitting attempts, yt had realized that putting them in a customer-facing role was more likely to lose the store money than earn it.

But now Baroft was complaining about Rangel being out on jury duty at the same time as Kalei being unable to come in due to thons kid pupating, and Paras from the evening shift had called in sick, so Mil could just imagine the sort of morning Baroft has been having, and Mil was going to have to be a team player and pull through just for today all the way through until closing time, and yes there would be overtime compensation once they made up for arriving late, and what’s Mil complaining about it’s just the melts, if they were able to get here then obviously isn’t that serious, now no attitude and best behavior in front of the customers, it was already bad enough that yt had had to call Leolani and ask eir to come in early today.

That last part cut through Baroft‘s blizzard of words and caused Mil’s heart to skip a beat.  Leolani usually arrived just as Mil was getting ready to leave for the day so they didn’t know eir all that well, but the handful of brief conversations the two of them had shared always left Mil wanting to change that.  It wasn’t a crush per say, only that everything about Leolani struck Mil as indescribably cool and made them wish they could be friends and hang out.  Eir jacket covered in punk patches that ei left draped over the chair in the employee breakroom that no one else dared claim.  Eir perfect eyeliner.  The way ei could multitask taking one customer’s measurements while uncoiling eir twelve-foot neck over to help another customer pick out a suit off the rack.  Eir taste in music that had made the basis for the longest interaction Mil had managed with eir.

Under other circumstances, the opportunity to spend the day commiserating with Leolani over being the two youngest employees by a wide margin and how awful the holiday rush that started earlier every year was might have almost made up for having to work late.  Now though, they were suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way their spine had started to go limp in places and force them into a slouch.

Mil’s trip to the restroom to straighten up in front of the mirror was a perfunctory one.  They might have arrived late to work, but no way were they going to be late to feed the weavers on schedule.  Elam - in early and still in nir fall look of leaf-like orange hair and skin covered in gray keratin growths mimicking tree bark - gave a marginally less brusque than usual greeting when Mil pushed aside the heavy curtain separating the dim tailoring room from the shop, even going so far as to offer nir sympathies for Mil’s melts.  Mil’s more solid hand glorped over one of the nutrient slurry canisters on the shelf as they insisted that they were fine.  Just a minor case of the melts that would clear up by the afternoon.

Elam raised a skeptical woody eyebrow and offered to handle the feeding duties today, but Mil declined and stepped into the weavers’ enclosure.  The way Mil saw it, they were something like an apprentice to Elam who had finally promised to teach them how to direct the weavers once the new year rolled around, so any chance to prove themself… well, it wasn’t so much welcome as not something they could afford to pass up.  Experienced weaver handlers were always in demand (as evidenced by Elam being able to afford four full-body reshapes a year just to keep up the image of a tree changing with the seasons), and honestly it was the closest thing Mil had to a career advancement opportunity.  

Besides, Mil genuinely liked working with weavers, they thought as the small swarm of arachnoid bio-tools began crawling all over them to get to the nutrient slurry.  It was important that the weavers were well-fed in the morning before any clients came in for a fitting lest they get either too tired or too carried away with their purpose.  As it was, a few of the weavers must have failed to recognize Mil’s scent and shape due to their illness and mistaken them for a client, forcing Mil to gently shoo the engineered creatures off before the threads of their turtleneck could be unpicked and reassembled into whatever pattern the weavers had last been installed with.  Most of the chittering swarm sloughed off to feed once the nutrient slurry had been dispensed and Mil was able to encourage the stragglers to depart from their body heat without too much trouble.

To Mil’s chagrin, once they stepped back outside of the enclosure Elam leaned over and plucked a weaver off the back of their neck that had pushed their unusually pliant skin into a little bowl to nest in.  Mil’s stammering apology was met with a laugh and an encouraging slap on the back that made their whole body ripple unpleasantly.  Better than a reprimand.

Back out in the main store, Leolani had already arrived and engaged with the first customers of the morning, signing at one with eir hands while stretching eir neck over an aisle of racks to explain the fitting process to another.  When ei caught Mil staring, ei sent the second customer their way.  The next few minutes constituted the first grueling attempt of many that day to talk someone who wasn’t really all that interested (whether due to boredom, intimidation, lack of intent to buy, or just wanting to get their stuff and get out) through pricing options on bespoke versus alterations by limb configuration and fabric type.  Or failing that to sell something off the rack, even if it was just an expensive pair of socks with the store’s monogram on it.  Or failing that at least collect an email address for a mailing list.  This is what made the holiday rush so awful.  The rest of the year most of the store's customers were regulars who mostly had a specific goal upon walking in, but for the next couple of months traffic would surge with only a minimal uptick in actual sales to show for it.  All the same, everyone that walked in had to be treated as a potential new regular just in case.  As if it wasn’t already anxiety-inducing enough to deal with people whom Mil possessed at least a passing familiarity with.

By noon Mil’s ears were pressed flat back against their skull.  In part, this was an expression of their mood, but mostly it was a matter of the ears’ swivel muscles losing cohesion and getting stuck in the last used position.  It was making it a little bit difficult to hear clearly, but they had long since learned the hard way that making a rough guess and sticking to a script tended to be received better than asking people to repeat themselves.  At last the lunch-time lull arrived and Mil was able to steal off to the break room for a reprieve.  It was blessedly quiet in there save for the hum of the refrigerator holding the protein shakes Mil had stashed for days too busy for a proper lunch.  Mil dipped into that stash today.  Their melts were getting worse before they were getting better and the prospect of trying to wobble down the street in their current state to their usual lunch spot where they would surely be recognized struck Mil as lethally embarrassing.  And exhausting.

They took the opportunity to examine the patches on Leolani‘s jacket (draped over eir chair in undisputed claim as ever) while they struggled first with the shake’s cap and then with their mask.  Their fingers weren’t cooperating much at all now, between having gone mostly limp and being plumped up with all the flesh their normally-flatteringly-body-hugging turtleneck was now squeezing out of their torso and arms and into their extremities.  At least one or two of the patches on the jacket had to do with bands, Mil was fairly certain.  Would it make for a better conversation starter to ask Leolani about those bands, or to look up and listen to the music up themself first in order to have something in common?  Mil mulled the question over while nursing their shake.  Better than thinking about the similarities between their lunch and the weavers’ breakfast.

As Mil threw their head back to drain the last few drops from the protein shake’s bottle, they felt their spine come loose and their head just kept going back.  And down.  And around.  Until it bumped into the back of the low-backed chair, upside down and just above their own waist.

They had folded themself.

Mil took a breath, held it, let it out, and came away even less calm than before.  Lungs not making up their mind where they should be will do that to a body.

It was fine.  This sort of thing happened.  Annoying, but nothing serious.

Mil tried to swing themself upright, but it was the sudden lack of back muscles that got them into this position.  They tried grabbing the chair and pulling themself up into an unbent vertical, but the strain just stretched out their hands.  They tried to do the obvious thing and just stand up, but folded like a wet, heavy towel as they were over the chair’s back, they couldn’t get the proper leverage and just scrambled their feet, scooting the chair along the floor with a teeth-itching squeak.

Mil heard Leolani walk in before they saw eir.  Not that they could see much besides the floor behind their chair.  Leolani asked if they were alright and Mil’s mind raced with enough potential responses that it might as well have gone blank.  But then fear of getting stuck won out over pride.  There was no salvaging this one to come out looking cool.

Mil asked for help.  Just a little bit mind you.  They’d be fine if they could just get themself unfolded.

Boots made for digitigrade feet stepped into Mil’s inverted view, followed by a round face with perfect eyeliner that then rotated to match their perspective in a motion that suddenly shifted the impression from serpentine to owlish.  A light joke about the view from down there was quickly followed by a warning that came at the same time as a pair of hands gripping (very literally) into Mil’s shoulders and lifting.  Once ei had them upright ei asked if they were good.  Mil said they were and then immediately slumped forward, overcorrecting and refolding in the opposite direction.

Leolani, neck now coiled up over and around eir own shoulders like a scarf, told them to hang for a minute and then came back with a mop handle and a roll of duct tape.  A comment about a friend of eirs once having done this for eir and an apology about this feeling weird was all the warning Mil got before the Leolani began working the mop handle up the back of their shirt.  Ei called it the scarecrow method of stabilization.  After producing a pair of compression gloves from eir messenger bag and helping Mil get them on, Leolani let them apply the duct tape in private with a reassurance that it was the cheap stuff and would come off after a decent soak in a hot bath, if not sooner.

Trying to walk with the improvised back brace was awkward, but better than the alternative.  Mil shambled out of the employee break room, wondering how much longer their legs would stay semi-solid, just in time to see a regular they recognized but couldn’t put a name to walk in.  Somehow additional legs were far less popular than additional arms, so this regular’s centaur pattern group body configuration stuck out.  Not that Mil knew for sure whether it was hooves, feet, or claws beneath those patent leather shoes and it would be rude to ask.  What Mil did know at a glance was what xe was here for.  The regular’s bat-like wings (aesthetically impressive and flexible enough to clasp in the front and fold into a cloak, but almost certainly not flight-, or even glide-rated) hadn’t been present on xyr last visit to the store.  Now here was something that was as close to Mil’s comfort zone as anything got.

They greeted the regular and went through their mental script for this sort of interaction, making the appropriate vague inquiries about xyr wellbeing, complimenting xyr new wings, trying not to drip on anything as their melts slowly got worse, guiding xem through the booklets of fabric swatches and catalog of styles, and dancing around the fact that they couldn’t remember xyr name for the life of them.  Once the regular made their selections, Mil led xem back to the tailoring room where they handed the selections off to Elam.  Strictly speaking, Mil should have left it be from there and returned to the main display floor of the store, but they liked watching this next part and were even more willing than usual today to take any excuse for a break.  If anyone asks (no one will) they’ll say that they were taking notes.  Or would saying that they were assisting sound better?  Whatever the truth would be on most days, this time Mil simply leaned on a wall for support and watched Elam type in a console to install the selected pattern on the weavers, guide the regular into the weavers’ enclosure, and start speaking in the language of clicks, snaps, and command phrases the bio-tools had been trained on.  What before had been a disorganized collection of individual lab-created arachnoid creatures became a precision swarm washing over the regular (who had been through this enough times not to flinch too much), taking xyr measurements by touch with sensitive legs able to estimate and account for offsets due to the regular’s clothes by pressure and texture alone.  Once each of the individual weavers was in position on the regular’s body Elam snapped nir fingers to send the swarm skittering into a different position, held for a few seconds of processing, then snapped again for a third configuration.  A larger swarm could have generated a full three dimensional scan of a target’s body in one go, but the upkeep costs on swarm size wasn’t generally seen as being worth it just to shave off a few seconds.  A final command word cleared the swarm back into the corners of the enclosure.

Like most customers, the regular elected to come back later in the day to pick up xyr new suit and have any last-minute alterations made then.  As opposed to partially undressing and allowing the weavers to weave the new suit directly on.  Supposedly the latter option would get a truly amazing bespoke fit, but for most it wasn’t worth standing still for an extended period of time with bug legs crawling all over you and working miniaturized biological sewing machines millimeters away from your exposed skin.  Maybe one day when Mil had Elam‘s job and income they could find out for themself.  For now though, Mil simply offered to lend nem a hand with loading in the fabric feedstock to get the assembly process started.  It seemed that pinstripes were making a comeback this season.

The next few hours were, all things considered, not too bad.  A decent portion of customers were regulars rather than randoms, Mil got to watch a couple more sessions of the weavers at work, the one song that they weren’t tired of on the station the store had been running on loop for the past three weeks came on, and - most importantly - they’d managed to keep up something like an ongoing conversation with Leolani in between customers.  Now if only their melts hadn’t been getting steadily worse instead of better.  By the time Mil’s normal shift would be ending they were having trouble standing up for more than a minute or so at a time.  Elam even offered to talk to Baroft on nir way out - ne still got to live at nir usual time today - about letting them go on home.  Against Mil’s better judgment, they turned nem down, citing the appeal of overtime pay and silently fearing that leaving might reflect poorly on their performance or attitude.

So, of course, two hours later Mil’s skeletal structure gave out altogether, reducing them to a fleshy puddle on the floor.  They’d felt it coming on and had just barely been able to make it back to the breakroom and out of sight of customers.  Leolani came rushing in moments later, having seen their attempt at a distressed and hasty exit.  If there was a silver lining to the gross (they were on the floor in a public building) and embarrassing situation, it was that their skirt had flared out enough to preserve some semblance of modesty and mostly cover up the skin-covered blob slowly spreading across the linoleum.

When Leolani asked if they were alright, Mil’s response came out garbled and bubbling.  So, no, not so much.  

After several rounds of “One blink for No, two blinks for Yes,” Mil managed to first turn down an offer to call an ambulance (it might be a severe case, but it was still just the melts; they would sleep it off and be fine by morning) and then to direct Leolani to retrieve their phone and its neurolink adapter from their skirt pocket and attach the adapter to Mil’s forehead (or at least a spot on Mil’s increasingly amorphous form slightly above their eyes).  Neurolinks like this one were a clumsy technology, still in its infancy, so Mil had to concentrate on a single letter at a time for a second or three apiece to make words appear on the screen, but it beat the alternative.  From there the two of them were able to talk - after a fashion - and settle on the plan of laying Mil out in the tailoring room, out of sight of both customers and Baroft.  If Baroft asked where they were, Leolani would cover for them and say that they were handling some task or another that Elam left for them.  Afterall, with Mil only being able to sort of writhe and flop around, it’s not like they were going to be able to get themself home, so may as well just sleep it off here.

Unprompted, Leolani input eir contact info into Mil’s phone before leaving them in there.  Being able to exchange text messages made lying there barely able to move in the dimly lit room for the remaining hours until closing time considerably more tolerable.  Almost pleasant even, despite how exhausting trying to type with the neurolink for extended periods of got to be.  The white noise of the nearby weavers’ chitters and skitters helped.

And then, as the store’s closing time was approaching and the last customer left for the night, Leolani offered to take Mil home instead of leaving them in the store overnight.  Mil could keenly feel the spike in their heart rate at the question rippling through their not-quite liquefied form.  The added clarification that Leolani had realized about an hour ago that the two of them both lived roughly the same part of town with the same tram stop so it wouldn’t be much of a detour for eir to drop them off at their place quickly dispelled the wilder fantasies (terrifying and idealistic alike) that Mil’s mind had started jumping to.

Mil was aware, objectively speaking, that they didn’t really know Leolani all that well outside of the off-and-on conversations about hobbies and interests they’d been having most of the day and that letting someone like that know your address and handing them your keys wasn’t really the smartest idea.  Subjectively speaking however, Mil was tired, young, and platonically infatuated with their cool coworker whom they seemed to be hitting it off well with.

A few minutes later Mil heard Leolani‘s and Baroft‘s voices outside the backroom’s curtain and caught snippets of Leolani offering to close up the store for the night and lying that Baroft had just missed Mil leave a minute ago.  Another minute or two of silence followed before Leolani pushed aside the curtain and strutted over to Mil carrying a large bucket.  It took some doing, but ei got them to fit.  The melts made flesh as compressible as it made it elastic.

Somehow being scooped up, poured into a bucket, and pressed on until they fit was not the most embarrassing experience Mil had been through that day.

Leolani was able to lift Mil’s bucket with relative ease.  Surprising at first, but on second thought, Leolani must have had some manner of musculoskeletal reinforcements for strength and balance if ei was walking around with all that extra weight from eir neck sitting on eir shoulders all the time.

The conversation on the way back home was fairly one-sided.  It was simply too hard to concentrate on typing through the neurolink with all the novel sensations going on.  Sloshing slightly in the bucket as it swung with Leolani‘s gait.  Staring straight up into the night sky (or eir face) while moving.  The uncomfortable warmth generated from being their own folded blanket stuffed in a tight space.  The rumbling of the tram transferred through the floor and sides of the bucket making their whole body quiver and vision blur.  It was fine though.  Mil had never been a big talker and Leolani seemed more than willing to fill the space.  Or was ei intentionally trying to keep Mil distracted from all those other less pleasant aspects of their current situation?  If ei was, it was working.  And it turned out Mil hadn’t even needed to ask about the band patches; Leolani had started talking at length about them all on eir own.  Best of all, stuck looking out of the bucket up at the ceiling like this, Mil couldn’t see anyone else staring at them and could almost pretend it was just the eir and them without the eyes of strangers that had always made them uncomfortable.

And then Leolani was standing at the door to Mil’s apartment, holding their keys.  Ei let eirself inside, carrying Mil’s bucket with eir, found their bed, lifted them from the bucket, and laid them out flat on top of the sheets.  Being exposed to cool air again was a blessed relief.  They would absolutely need a shower in the morning, but for right now they were too exhausted to care.  They tried not to think too hard about how being rather literal putty in Leolani‘s hands felt.

Duty done and aid rendered, Leolani left the neurolink on Mil’s face in case anything came up in the night before they solidified, left the keys on the bedside table, left the lights off, and left the apartment.

On eir way out, ei suggested hanging out together sometime when they weren’t sick.

*******

Mil’s hand made a perfectly normal pap sound upon palming their alarm clock’s snooze button.  Their hand was hand-shaped and none of their bones wobbled.  And why wouldn’t that be the case after a good night’s sleep?

It had only been the melts.

[articskele]

FNDSJKFNSDJK OMG I HADNT THOUGHT OF DOING SOMETHING SILLY WITH THE KEY ON HIS GOGGLES OMGFDSJFNSK

anyway :D I imagine/plan a lot of stuff involing Jame-joe and his twin's doll bodies, enough that i made this ref (though i'm still deciding on their interior, maybe it'd be cool if they had some sort of mock skeleton in their torso but idk yet

they can like, feel touch but generally speaking they don't feel pain the way humans do. Like removing a limb isn't painful and so they'd do so frequently for stuff like reaching for things, I think Joey-janes would be the one giving Jame-joe a hand more often then the other way, not for any particular reason other than i want them to have distinct roles in their duo. despite being magically reinforced they're not made for like, harsh conditions or extended athletic ability so it doesn't take too much to break them, they're ball jointed with a few joints being exceptions so I think Jame-joe keeps a 'first aid kit' if you will of stuff for quick repairs (extra finger joints, a little wire hook for pulling elastic back into place, a sewing kit of course, and a bag of pixie-dust that can temporarily hold the magic that makes them together until they can get it properly repaired.

while Jame-joe handles repairs (when they're on their own) between them, Jame-joe only cares about being functioning/practicality so any other doll-body-Maintenace goes to Joey-janes

also just: sound effects: they could have a mario movie style emotional hug but instead it's all just *clink* *creek* *clankity*

anyway! I still have a lot of development on this story to do but i got a solid couple of other character concepts and just came up with the strange but i think might go hard idea of a vampire-snow white? if I'm going with a fairy-tale setting i might as well have fun with fairy tale characters lol

YEAAAAHHH DOLL BODY DETAILS :D

Absolutely loving the notes on what every little part is made of down to the blush! And the choice of onyx for the eyes is really nice since it's super opaque and shiny looking when it's polished

I looked it up and some of them have these bright white bands so I'm picturing a doll with like, that effect where an eye has an extra circle around it? Like this!

Pffft someone's like "oh you're so cute I could just pinch your cheeks" and then they go to do it but it doesn't work since the face is solid and the doll is just looking at them with a deadpan expression akjflkdsfsdf

The little first aid kit is so silly and charming I love it :D I love the whole idea of Jame-Joe prioritizing practicality while Joey-Janes seems like the type to fret over little tears and stains in clothing lol- They seem like a good duo ouo

Kasjfksd the potential for sound effects is amazing- Ooh and vampire Snow White sounds banger! I can't help but think of Flutterbat and fruit bats lol

[distant-velleity]

Act of Benevolence

Summary: Santiago has a bit of a problem. Chrysos spawns a million more internal problems trying to solve the first one. Word count: 2.4k A/N: i don't know what to tell you guys i was just kind of possessed while writing this one. it's not that great but i had to get the idea down lol... two idiots trying their best at a friendship, what more can you ask for Tagging: @thehollowwriter (enjoy the sillies)

-

As of late, Chrysos has found himself waiting by the school gymnasium after club activities with increasing frequency.

Because both the Film Research Club and Basketball Club meet daily, his monotonous schedule remains the same before that every day—waking up in the morning, getting ready, eating breakfast then going through all of his classes and lunch. It’s mechanical and practically muscle memory at this point with how samey it is.

Arms crossed, he impatiently taps one finger against his bicep as he glares towards the locker room entrance. Again, for the second time in five minutes, he mentally makes sure that he remembered the meeting date correctly; no, of course he’s right, they’d talked about it before homeroom and during lunch—really, why is he worrying about this? He’s the one on time, the one being forced to wait!

Chrysos huffs angrily to himself and continues his glaring campaign against the poor door to the locker room.

Just when he’s about to pull out his phone and send a barrage of passive-aggressive text messages, the door struggles and groans open. Santiago steps out, muttering to himself while hoisting his duffel bag’s straps over his shoulder. He looks up, though, and plasters on his usual antagonistic smirk when he sees Chrysos.

“Good to see ya, Goldie,” he calls out, making his way over—weirdly, it lacks his usual amount of unwarranted swagger. “I see the study session is still on?”

—So, yes, everything else about his schedule has been the same, more or less. This, however? Meeting up with (very arguably) his least favorite classmate to study? This has been a considerable deviation from the norm recently, and Chrysos isn’t sure how to feel about it. But, it is what it is, and it’s not like he can go back in time to avoid it now.

…Not that he would avoid it now if he could, anyway, but that’s a thought to file away for later processing.

“Awfully confident, aren’t you,” Chrysos says in something resembling Jamil’s dry, unamused voice, before returning to his own. “You’re the one struggling in Crewel’s class, but you’re the late one…”

Santiago winces. “Listen, it’s not even my fault! Coach Vargas got on my case for something and held me back after practice was over.”

“...So it was your fault.”

“No, it wasn’t!”

Chrysos looks at him, unimpressed.

“Ugh…” Santiago reaches up to run a hand through his hair, the red-and-blue strands of it matted and sticky with sweat. “I mean, I guess it is…? But even then, that’s not really…” He stops mumbling to himself and sighs. “Basically, my bangs have gotten a lot longer since the start of the school year, and it’s started messing with my vision during practice. I’ve screwed up a lot in the past few days.”

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously. It sucked—well, it sucks, but especially during practice.”

Honestly, Chrysos almost wants to brush it off as nothing meaningful right away, but upon closer inspection the statement isn’t without truth. When Santiago’s bangs fall back over his face with elastic-like swinging, it’s obvious that they go past his eyes, and Chrysos only hadn’t noticed because of how they were usually parted. It’s already inconvenient underwater, trying to engage in athletic activity with long bangs—with the gravity on land, then, it must be something else entirely…

“Sucks to be you, then,” replies Chrysos, smugly smiling at the way Santiago’s face morphs into an expression of exasperation. As if I could do anything about your predicament, you goof. “We still need to go over those theory problems.”

Santiago lets out a long, overdramatic groan—indicative of a successful subject change. “I hate theory, dude… I’m so much better with the practical part of assignments.”

“That’s why you have a D right now.”

“Shut up! I’m still kind of passing!”

“That counts as passing?” Chrysos snickers silently.

“We can’t all be like you, Mr. Highest-Exam-Grades-In-The-Freshmen-Grade...”

As per usual, they bicker while walking side-by-side, all the way to the Hall of Mirrors. 

-

It should have ended there, really. Not just the study sessions, but also a certain train of thought Chrysos intended to forget about entirely after that conversation. 

He stares up at the pale purple ceiling of his dorm room.

…I still haven’t forgotten about it.

It’s already the Sunday morning after their conversation outside the gym. Maybe it’s because, while he was performing last night at the Lounge, he’d spotted Santiago in the audience—maybe that’s why he’s thinking about it again, having dreamt of a flurry of parrot feathers obscuring his vision…

Chrysos rubs furiously at his eyes and rolls over onto his side, his blanket winding around him in the process.

What a stupid dream, really. It didn’t have any relevance. Just like Santiago’s bangs had no relevance to their later studying, nor any relevance in general.

It’s irrelevant, Chrysos reminds himself, closing his eyes and hugging the edge of his blanket a little closer to himself—trying to fall back asleep despite having slept in an hour or two already. Today’s my off day: no club activities, no shifts at the Lounge. I shouldn’t be thinking about that stupid jock…

The creasing of Santiago’s eyebrows and the shifting of his eyes as he admitted he’d been struggling during basketball practice flash in his mind.

Chrysos’ eyes shoot open as he sits up, like a man possessed.

“...Dammit,” he curses aloud. 

Thank the Seven he doesn’t have a roommate, because that momentary slip-up would have been downright humiliating if anyone had been around to witness it. Not that they would have known why it happened, but he has an image to keep up. And thinking about someone else this much already goes against said image.

So, clearly, he needs to get a grip. Seriously. Desperately. This is not a reasonable thing to be thinking of. Really, if he’d known this would be the consequence of spending more time with Santiago…

Maybe some time away from school will help. I’ll go into town to clear my head.

As quickly as he can, Chrysos gets up and throws on some street clothes, haphazardly brushes his hair and slips on his shoes. He’s out the door not long after, passing only a handful of other students as he leaves the dorm—

And not two hours later, Chrysos is back in his dorm with his wallet several thaumarks emptier and now in possession of a pair of golden barrettes. Because clearly, even his self-control had been thrown for a loop.

In his (admittedly nonexistent) defense, he hadn’t meant to buy them. Well, technically he had, but that wasn’t the original plan. It’s just that he saw them by the cash register of a new clothing store he was perusing through and had—for a moment—been reminded of someone fond of gold, of accessories, someone in need of a way to keep their hair in check… 

And then he’d bought it as if his body were on autopilot.

Now, they sit on his vanity desk, glinting innocently in the light from his window. A reminder of his attempted-and-failed goal for that stroll in the village.

It’s fine, he thinks, or, rather, convinces himself. Since I’m an Octavinelle student, it can be considered an act of benevolence. He nods to himself hesitantly, trying to commit. That’s right. And I can just say he’ll owe me one for this. That it has nothing to do with actually wanting to help him.

…Of course, it’s not entirely true. There, begrudgingly, is a small part of Chrysos that does actually want to help Santiago out, but that’s definitely just the part of him that doesn’t want to hear any more complaints, right…? And not the part that swells with pride and thrill at the mental image of something he picked out being worn so openly.

Yeah. Definitely.

With that in mind, he reaches for his phone and pulls up his DMs on Magicam.

chry.pendant youcome to first period 10 minutes early tmrw

The response, for some reason, is immediate.

s_parro Wtfwhy

chry.pendant youll see

s_parro No explanation???ok thenif it’s a fight then I’m definitely winning tho

chry.pendant in your dreams

s_parro So does that or does that not confirm you wanna fightLike legit why do you want me to come earlydudeare you gonna answer

chry.pendant fuck around and find out

Chrysos hits send and then turns off his phone.

-

Come the next morning, Santiago is already in his usual spot by the time Chrysos reaches the classroom. He’s fiddling with his feather earring while gazing out the window, at the stunningly blue sky beyond the glass. 

“You’re not late,” Chrysos observes, sitting down backwards in his own seat to face the other. “For once.”

Santiago glances down at him (thanks a lot, tiered benches). “I didn’t need the reminder, thanks.”

“You could use it.”

“I’ll have you know that my attendance has been stellar as of late,” declares Santiago. He sounds a little eager when he asks, “Anyway, what are we even here for? You never told me.”

Oh. Right. 

Chrysos huffs and pulls his bag into his lap, unzipping the smaller front pocket. It only contains a little clear baggy with the barrettes inside, so it’s easy to take it out. “Open your palm,” he says, and drops the barrettes into Santiago’s hesitantly outstretched hand. “Since you complained about your hair getting in the way at practice.”

He almost says more, about to spill out more excuses including I just happened to find them and I don’t want to hear you whining anymore, but clams up after taking a good look at Santiago. 

The boy in question is staring at the barrettes with an indecipherable expression, eyes slightly wide and lips parted. It seems like disbelief with something else mixed in, and that something else is unclear.

A pang of anxiety strikes Chrysos’ insides. He realizes a little too quickly for his liking that it’s because he’s worried about this—worried that Santiago won’t like what he picked out, or that he’ll scorn the idea of the gift entirely. Which, rationally speaking, is ridiculous: why would this notorious lover of all things shiny turn down something both beautiful and practical? And why would that rejection feel personal—

“Is there a problem?” Chrysos asks, voice low and soft to avoid any trembling.

—why is he suddenly so unsure, so concerned about this, when it really should have no deeper meaning? He can just ask for repayment and then never think about this again…

“No,” Santiago insists quickly, holding the clips in his hand with a sort of reverent care, a feather-light gentleness one wouldn’t expect from him. “I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever like something you gave to me, but this is pretty cool. No—really cool. And… and I’ve never actually received anything from a friend before; much less a friend who cared enough,” he admits in a quieter, almost embarrassed tone.

Chrysos feels the words You owe me, the ones he’d intended to say, die in his throat at the double-layered admission. “You…” He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like a fish ungracefully thrust out of water, before he finds his voice again. “Then, you… you can just pay me back by actually using them,” is what he says finally, while his thoughts frantically try to untangle themselves.

He must have said something right, emotionally disoriented as he is, because Santiago’s expression immediately brightens. It feels like sunburn on Chrysos’ face, burning and weirdly pleasant. “Not gonna deny the ‘friend’ part, huh?” 

“You’re the one who called us ‘rivals’ to begin with, all those months ago!” Chrysos retorts, grabbing at his curls to hide his face. 

“Oops, did I hit a sore spot?” Santiago laughs, as if this entire exchange isn’t proving that he’s even more enthusiastic about having someone to call a ‘friend.’ “Well, it’s not like you can take it back now.”

Chrysos glares at him, half-heartedly jabbing him in the chest with his finger—annoyance covering his embarrassment. “Shut up already! Just—put those damn barrettes to use, got it?”

“Yessir,” is the sarcastic reply he receives. And then, as if to test his limits, Santiago asks teasingly: “Mind putting them on for me? You see, I can’t really use them as effectively if it’s just me…”

“You—!!” Chrysos grits his teeth and takes the clips. He uses his other hand to quickly grab Santiago by the shirt collar and pull, forcing him to lean down. The bird beastman makes noises of complaint, but shuts up as soon as Chrysos carefully brushes back his bangs and clips the barrettes into place. It’s with a bit of pride that he notes how they go perfectly with Santiago’s earrings. “Happy now?”

Santiago stares blankly, for a moment, an odd expression on his face (is it a trick of the light or are his cheeks darkening?). “Y…Yeah,” he manages, having momentarily lost his previously playful attitude. As if he wasn’t actually expecting Chrysos to do that. “For something you did, it’s pretty good. I’ll make sure to wear them during practice. Thanks.”

“Good,” Chrysos says approvingly. “Now take them out before other people arrive and start asking questions.”

“You don’t gotta order me around, jeez…”

The five-minute warning bell rings, so Santiago quickly gets to taking off the clips. Right before they’re removed and pocketed, though, Chrysos thinks to himself for just a moment:

I was right. He really does look good in those.

-

(BONUS:

Chrysos is sitting at his vanity that night, brushing his hair, when the door opens behind him. In the mirror, he can see it’s Floyd who’s decided to barge in with all the grace of a whale in the royal palace.

“Heya, Lionfishie,” sing-songs the eel, leaning on the doorframe. “I heard during practice that you gave Parrotfish some hairclips.”

For the Seven’s sake. Chrysos closes his eyes, inhales, and then exhales.

“He admitted it all innocent-like, too,” Floyd continues, unbearably smug about it. “Like, straight-up said it was a gift from you, but apparently it had no deeper meaning. Guess he just doesn’t know anything about mer culture.”

Chrysos continues to brush his hair with slow, purposeful strokes. From the corner of his eye, he spots Floyd moving closer in the mirror.

“So, did you ever even state what your intention was with the gift? I mean, for all we know, it could be because you wanna snog hi—”

The hairbrush flies towards where Floyd’s head just was and soars past, slamming into the doorframe with an exceptionally aggressive-sounding thwack.

“Get out,” Chrysos demands.)

[clavissionary-position]

🐆🍰🥳🎉(#3)

"I think she wants you to stop."

"Hahaha! Oh, she's far too smitten for that. Besides, she hasn't kicked me in the face yet."

Cyran's exasperation alone crowds the stables. Only once he nears the first stall (holding Chevalier's stallion) does his tread slow. Each subsequent step, while pointed toward Clavis, seems more inclined toward the horses to his side. By stall three his expression has more in common with the bubbly spring air outside than the retreating sun at its back.

Clavis assumes he's safe in the meantime. Until a hand claps his shoulder. Cyran's other hand pries the brush from him mid-stroke. "I groomed her when we returned from town earlier."

Irritation mars Clavis' features for a cloudy half-second. His face recomposes just as quickly, elastic from a lifetime of faking. He rips the brush back in a flourish causing the bay mare between them to sigh almost human-like. "Nothing warms my heart more than when my favorite knight and favorite horse get along, but this is my special bonding time."

Cyran stares as if he's unsure why he lets Clavis finish his sentences. He seizes the brush back. "You never come by at this hour."

Clavis slips the brush back before Cyran realizes what's happened. "Think of it as a surprise inspection."

Cyran yanks the brush and Clavis narrowly avoids smooching a horse. "Leave her out of your procrastinating, please."

The brush reappears in Clavis' hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Snatch. "I rather think you—"

The horse whinnies, her tail swishing against her manger and dislodging a tiny avalanche of grain.

"You're stressing her out!" comes the voice of two idiots in harmony.

The horse throws a look so tormented it may as well have found itself in an enemy camp.

Cyran is the first to stand down. He tucks his hair behind his ear and fixes Clavis with a softer, pitying expression. "The bumps are gone. I triple-checked. She's perfectly fine."

"I think she could stand to be a bit more shiny. It won't do for her beautiful master to outshine her."

"Clavis."

"I'm not procrastinating. I sent the formal request before coming here."

"That's not what Lucian tells me."

"Then I'm pleased to know that even Lucian misses things sometimes." A hint of surprise glitters in Clavis' eyes.

Cyran puffs his cheeks before sighing. He idly toys with the hilt of the sword at his belt. A long moment passes. "Okay. Fine. I'll leave you to it, then."

Clavis claps Cyran's shoulder this time, stopping him. "So you'll help me?"

"With what?"

"Picking out the best fabric. For the outfit."

"The outfit for your lover or..." Cyran glances to the side. "...for the horse?"

"For the horse of course." Clavis produces a sketchbook from who-knows-where. "There's no better way to celebrate a full-recovery than with a brand new outfit."

Cyran stares as if he's really, really unsure why he lets Clavis finish his sentences. Ever.

[gradrags]

How Can You Choose the Perfect Graduation Caps in UAE for Your Big Day?

Graduation is one of the most significant events in a student's life, marking the successful completion of an important phase. One of the indispensable items of this significant event is wearing the famous graduation cap. In the UAE, it is necessary to select the right graduation caps so that you can face your important day with pride and confidence. Of course, you need to know which graduation caps in UAE you should choose. Let's walk you through the decision-making process so you make the right choice.

Why Graduation Caps in UAE Matter

Graduation caps are far more than a component of the dress. They even represent your academic achievement and all the tough work you have undertaken to reach this destination. Graduation caps in UAE are available for various students studying at different universities and educational institutions, which heightens the sense of wholeness and celebration. The right choice of cap ensures you not only look good but also experience the pride of graduating from college.

What to look for in material

UAE graduation caps are made from material that supports comfort and style. Usually, graduation caps are made of polyester or other synthetic material blends. The felt of polyester is durable and smooth but sometimes comes with a velvet or satin finish to give it an elite look. In the selection of your cap, look at the material, especially if it allows comfortable wear for hours at the event.

The most vital consideration for graduation caps in UAE usually is the size and fit. A cap that is either too loose or too tight distracts by bringing discomfort. Check on the sizes offered by your institution or supplier to avoid this. These include the elastic band and adjustable features. The graduation cap should be tried before the date of graduation to ensure it is fitted correctly.

Custom Graduation Caps in UAE

For most students in the UAE, customizing graduation caps is a way of adding personal flavor, such as designs, words, or colors that symbolize their nature, to them. This has made custom graduation caps in UAE very fashionable. You can come up with your emblems, which express your area of specialization, inspirational quotes, or even some glitter. Ensure, however that your custom is approved by an institution in case it is required.

Where to Buy Graduation Caps in UAE?

There are so many suppliers and stores in the UAE where you can buy your graduation cap. You can easily find them online or in stores offering graduation apparel. When you are buying graduation caps in bulk for a group or class, you may want to search for suppliers who give significant discounts for big orders. You should always try to check some reviews and consult your colleagues or institution on high-quality graduation caps in the UAE.

Conclusion

The right caps for the degree in UAE can well make all the difference on your big day. Whether it is in terms of material, size, fit, or even customization options, each one adds up to making you look and feel the best for that milestone event. Given these factors, you shall be able to pick a cap that suits your dressing and at the same time prides you for your achievement. Such graduation caps in UAE are much more than the mere accessory, but they represent how hard you have worked and how successful you have become.

[lazysimp]

Innocence /// Virgin!Tamaki x Fem Reader (18+)

Click Here to read Top!male Reader

Request: Hello! Can I request a top fem reader x Tamaki. It's his first time and he's very shy and reader takes advantage of it.

A/N: Of course anon, I love the idea of corrupting a sweet innocent Tamaki

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI explicit sexual content, virgin!Tamaki, dominate reader, submissive Tamaki, mild somnophilia/dubcon, tentacles, handjob, She/Her pronouns

Word count: 4k

masterlist┃AO3

Patience had never been a virtue of yours, so when a soft timid Tamaki beats around the bush asking you out on your first date you took the first step. And when he could not find the words to ask for a second you gladly volunteered them. Instead of growing annoyed or feeling emasculated your sweet boyfriend looked at you with gratitude every time you guided the relationship.

So, when it was finally time to take your relationship with him to the next level it was no surprise that you were the one to push it there. In the dimness of your shared bedroom, you laid still in bed listening to his breathing. During the day he would never let you stare at him like this, he would grow too flustered and hide his face.

You wish more than anything he could see himself how you see him. How he is the strongest person you know, choosing to push beyond his limits every day to save those around him, uncaring if it left him in a panic after. You had to bite your tongue every time he came home from work covered in blood and dirt. You know he can handle himself but the idea that someone can look at Tamaki and still choose to hurt him baffled you.

You raise your hand to his face and brush your knuckle across his cheek. You wanted to be with him in every way, but you were so unsure he was ready. You know if you asked, he would say yes, he would never deny you. But he has never shown any sign that he wanted to take that next step.

So when a deep groan left his soft pink lips your ears perked up. Normally the only sounds he made while he slept were a few soft huffs as he shifted around. You sit up in bed, now watching his face intensely. Maybe your mind made up the sound, desperate for an excuse to jump on him. But to your delight, his mouth opened, and a single word left his lips, "Please."

This had to be too good to be true. Was your boyfriend having a sex dream? You needed to investigate. Carefully lifting the covers, you look down his slender body unit your eyes landed on his pants. You rub your eyes to clear them and make sure you were seeing things right and you were. A large bulge pushed the seam of his pants up, his erection barely contained in his underwear.

Instantly you felt heat flare-up in between your legs. You look up at his face and grow even hotter, his cheeks were dusted pink, and the tips of his pointed ears were bright red. His lips were slightly parted letting you catch a glimpse of his teeth as he let out another low groan, this one even more desperate than the last.

Without thinking you trail your hands down his chest, tracing the soft muscles until you landed on the elastic of his pants. You could feel the warmth he emitted and moved in closer until you lie parallel to him. The soft purple hair of his happy trial teased the tip of your fingers as you ever so carefully slip your hand under his pants.

You watch his face for any distress, but he held the same expression. Growing bolder you inch your hand further down until your fingers brushed against the head of his cock. You have to stop for a second, already overwhelmed at how far you have gone.

He was so warm and soft, his sweet olive smell filling your nose. You needed him so bad, needed to be close with him, touch him, love him. So you take a deep breath and wrap your hand around the head of his cock. You could feel his hot length pulse in your hand, just begging for your touch.

Needing to touch him more you place your lips by his delicate ears and whisper, "Tamaki, baby, wake up for me."

The man under you tensed and ever so slowly his eyes lazily opened, "Huh?"

You can't help but laugh at his dazed expression, he looked like a newborn fawn. "Baby, can you look down for me?"

His bright purple eyes looked at you with confusion but did what you told. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his gaze snapped to meet yours. "What?" he asks his eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

You keep your face neutral, not wanting to give away too much, "I could hear you begging in your sleep." You purr, "And when I looked down, I could not help but notice the tent in your underwear."

His face grows impossibly redder, and he looks anywhere but your face. Not liking that you gently squeeze your hand around his cock until his eyes snapped back to you.

"What were you dreaming about Tamaki?"

"N-nothing?"

You tsk your tongue, "That's not true, is it?" You lift the hand is his underwear up, revealing his hard cock for both of you to see. You could hear his breath hitch as he was finally able to see what your hand was doing.

"Now why don't you tell me what you were really dreaming about?"

You could see his mouth open and close as he tried to form words. His purple eyes started to grow wide and wild. Needing to stop that train of thought you decided to try something else.

"How about I try to guess what your dream was about?"

His breathing slowed and he tiled his head, "What do you mean?"

"We will play a game of hot and cold. If I am doing something you saw in your dream you say hot and if I do something that was not in your dream you say cold."

He looks to the ceiling, "I've never played that game."

You softly smile, "That's ok, we can try it out and if you don't like it, I will stop."

"A-alright," he tightly swallows, "Let's try it."

You let out a squeak of joy and peck him on the cheek, "I am so proud of you!"

He gives you a wobbly smile, but you could see his eyes starting to dilate. He was getting excited.

You look down at your hand and take a deep breath. You know he has never done anything like this, so you had to make this perfect for him. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gently slid it down until it rests on the base.

The soft hair surrounding his base ticked the back of your hand as you let it rest there for a second waiting to see what he says.

"Cold," he mumbled weakly.

You give him a rewarding squeeze and began to pump your hand, admiring how his foreskin traveled up to cover his glands. Everything about Tamaki was perfect and his cock was no exception. It was long, almost double the size of your hand. Instead of being perfectly straight, it bent off a little to the side. You could not wait to take advantage of that.

"Warmer," he said a little stronger.

"Good boy," you praise, starting to pump your hand a little faster.

A shiver traveled through his body at your words. You made a mental note to praise him more. As you gently pump your hand on his cock another idea popped into your mind. With your free hand, you pull up his nightshirt revealing his chest. His nipples were soft little peaks begging to be touched.

With one hand toying with the far nipple, you bent down and took the other into your mouth.

"Bunny," he cried, "Warm."

You hum your approval, sucking the tight bud into your mouth while you pumped your hand, once, twice, three strokes. His hips started to lift in time with your hand, creating even more delicious friction.

"So good Bunny, don't stop!"

You press your teeth down onto his nipple biting the tender tissue until it formed a still peak. Needy cries filled your ears as you started to stroke him at a punishing pace, already feeling his cock pulse in your hand.

"Hot, hot, Bunny it's so hot." He cries, his hips sloppily meeting your hand.

You force yourself to keep steadily pumping, knowing the consistent pressure is what he needed to finally tip over the edge. And you were right, with his hands white knuckling the sheets he came with a silent cry, his face contorted in pleasure.

You watched mesmerized as he releases all over your hand and his stomach. You ease your grip on his cock, not wanting to overstimulate him too much, and instead weakly kept your wrist moving, letting him ride out his high. His chest rapidly fell up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

As he came back to reality, he looks down at you with a wobbly gaze, “I’m sorry.”

Your hand flies up to cradle his cheek, “What are you sorry for baby?”

He looked down at the mess on his stomach, “I came too early, I messed the game up.”

You take a second to try and find the right words and finally settle with, “We are just having fun Tamaki, there is no winning or losing.”

His hands lift to cover his face, “But I finished so fast, it’s humiliating.”

“Hey,” you coo, “It’s just me and I thought you cumming so quickly was hot.”

His hands lowered slightly so his eyes could look at you skeptically.

You laugh, “I am serious, the way you could not control yourself and cried out will be the fuel of my late-night fun for weeks.”

His hands fell from his face and the look in his eyes changed completely, “You think about me when you touch yourself?”

"Yeah baby. You are all I can think about when I touch myself. I think about how your cute little ears twitch when you are embarrassed, I think about how good you look in your hero uniform, and I especially think about the look on your face as you take down a villain. But do you want to know what gets me off every time?"

He nods eagerly, the embarrassment of finishing quickly long forgotten. You crook your finger at him urging him to lean in closer. When his pointy ear was inches from your mouth you whisper, "I think about how you would use your quirk to fill me up until you are the only thing I can feel."

He shoots back and looks at you with a mix of curiosity and horror, "You don't mean. . ."

You nod, "That is exactly what I mean."

His entire face grows bright red, "B-but that is so, so dirty."

"That is why it's so hot."

"What do you say we continue our little game but it will be my turn to say hot or cold?"

"Y-you want me to touch you like that?" He whispered the last word.

"Yeah baby, I want you to touch me like that."

He bites his bottom lip, "What if I mess it up or hurt you?"

"You have nothing to worry about baby, I will be in charge the entire time."

The worry on his face eased a little at your words but you could see he was still fiddling with his fingers.

"Why don't we start off slow?" You suggest, rubbing your hand along his bicep.

"You can put your hands anywhere on me and I will say hot the closer you get to where I want your hand to be."

"What if I touch you somewhere you don't want to be touched?"

"Impossible," you mumble, "There is nowhere I don't want your hands to be."

A high whine left his lips, the sound sending heat flashing through you. Oh, you wanted to ruin him, and you were pretty sure he would let you.

Not wasting any more time you wrap your hand around his wrist and lift it towards your chest, letting him get a feel for your skin. His breathing increased and his eyes grew wide as you dragged his hand up your chest until it rested near your collarbone.

"I am going to drop my hand, remember I will let you know where to touch me, all you have to do is follow my cues.

He nods, barely breathing as you drop your hand from his, leaving him free to explore. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, staring at his hand touching you. His soft cock was already filling again, ready to stand to attention as he carefully dragged his hand down the side of your arm. He looks to you for instructions.

"Cold," you mumble as his hands drift off to your hands. He nods, his fingertips sliding up your arms. Involuntary you could feel goosebumps follow the trail of his fingers. If he ever figured out how much power he held over you, you would be doomed.

His fingers trail up until his hand settles around your neck. "Warm," you groan pushing yourself closer into his hand.

With his first hand occupied his second slips under your shirt, sliding up the soft material until he revealed your breasts to his view. You could hear his breathing stop completely as his gaze locked onto your soft peaks.

"Breath Tamaki," you order, "In and out, that's it." You watch his chest rise and fall slowly as if it took intense concentration to remember to breathe.

When his breathing grew steadier his hand reached out and slid up your stomach. "Warmer," you reach out to bunch the blankets in your hands, needing something to keep your hands busy.

His brows furrowed as his long cold finger circled around your areola, watching in amazement as your nipple bunched into a tight peak. "Warmer," you say, needing him to deepen his touch.

Thankfully he seemed to understand what you wanted as his fingers pinched the bud and rolled it. You could not stop the whine from leaving your throat as he flicked his finger against your nipple.

Growing bolder from your reaction Tamaki dipped his head until his mouth was only a breath away from your nipple. Again, his bright purple eyes look up at you for approval.

"Hot baby," you bring your hands to thread through his hair as his lips wrap around the swollen peak, sucking it into his wanting mouth. His cheeks hallow as he takes long drags, his tongue lashing the tender bud resting in his mouth.

Small mewls of approval leave your lips as the hand on your nipple pinches and pulls, a stark contrast from the soft teasing of his mouth. The difference in touch left you reeling, if you thought you were wet before, you were fucking dripping now.

"Tamaki," you push his head in closer, wanting more, god you wanted so much more. He strengthens the suck on your nipple until you were sure he was going to leave a mark.

The hand on your nipple leaves and started to trail down the softness of your abdomen, caressing the skin. "Warmer," you moan, hoping they would go where you wanted. And he did, his fingers lift the elastic of your panties and his palm resting on your mound waiting to be told what to do.

"It's hot inside," you urge knowing he can feel how hot and wet you were already.

One finger pushes down, slipping into the middle of your slit. You both let out a groan of want as his finger settles in.

With the tip wet his finger slid through your folds, exploring your wetness. As his finger dips down toward your entrance you mumble, "Cold."

He lets out a huff, sucking harder on your nipple as his finger moves up. In the quiet of your room, you could hear the lewd sounds of his fingers sliding up as he looked for your slit.

After a few misses attempts you could feel him grow more agitated, his teeth now nibble on the tender bud of your nipple. "Patience baby, move your finger up, just like that, a little to the side- there!"

Your hips lurch up into his hand as his finger finally brushes across your clit. Your hands in his hair tighten to a bruising hold but he didn't seem to mind, in fact, your reaction drove him even further.

His soft fingers hone in on your clit, rubbing the of it gently, a little too gently.

"Harder Tamaki, touch me a little harder."

And the good boy did as he was told. His middle finger pressed down on your clit, making small circles before settling to rub one side. You were feral, having him touch you like this was better than any fantasy your mind had made up to help you get off. There was no comparison to having the real thing.

While his mouth distracted you the fingers into your cunt grow longer and softer. You look down in confusion unsure what was going on only to see purple tentacles now circling your clit. One large sucker on a tentacle latched onto your aching bud, now sucking on it like a mouth.

Your head falls back, too overwhelmed to watch anymore. You could already feel the tight group you had on your control slipping away. Following the cues of your body, Tamaki used another tentacle to tease your entrance. It circled around the tight hole, wetting itself in your juices before carefully easing inside.

He releases your nipple to watch his tentacle sink deeper inside you. The tightness of you around him would fuel his fantasy for years to come. He had always felt deeply for you but doing something like this with you made everything click into place. There was no one else in the world he would ever want to share this with and being with you for his first time was something he would never forget.

He moved his tentacle up inside you, remembering something Mirio had told him a year earlier about a g-spot. It seemed his best friend was right. You bucked wildly into his hand, he could tell you were fighting to keep control of your movements, but he wanted to see you lose control, he wanted to see his bunny become wild.

So when the sucker around your clit strengthened its pull you had no hope of maintaining your hold. In a matter of seconds, blood rushed into your head in a beautiful release of pressure. You hold your hands in his hair steady as you ride out wave after wave of sweet release, lengthened by his touch.

As you slowly come back into your mind you could feel Tamaki placing small kisses around your neck, guiding you back into reality. You let your hands fall from his hair and fall to your side.

"You made me feel so good baby," you praise, pulling him in for a hug.

"You really liked it? What I did with my quirk?"

"Fuck Tamaki I don't think I will ever be able to get myself off again without your help," you look down at him, "Nothing could compare to that."

A bright smile spreads across his face, "I am glad I made you feel that good bunny. I am happy to do anything to make you feel good.”

"Mmm, anything?" You look down at his body and smile.

His head tilts and he follows your eyes until it lands in his erection. His breath sputters as he tries to wave it away, “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“Riding your cock?” You offer.

“I, you, you want to- “

“Ride you. Yes baby I want to ride on that pretty cock until I can’t speak.”

His mouth open but no sounds come out, for a second you worry you have finally push him too far but suddenly he snaps back into focus. “Yeah, bunny, I want to d-do that too.”

You give him a relieved smile and get to work. You quickly take of your panties and swing your leg over his lap, positioning yourself to hover over him. You reach down and grab ahold of his throbbing cock still slick from his earlier release.

With you already being prepared all you had to do was allow your knees to sink lower, slowing impaling yourself onto him. The stretch burned as the head popped past your entrance.

You force yourself to look up and meet his eyes and it was beautiful. He was an absolute wreck, already gasping for air and you were not even halfway down. His pupils were blown out, eyes barely focusing until you grab his hair and force him to look down.

“Watch baby,” you coo, “Watch me touch you like this. No one but me will ever get to see you like this but me.”

He whimpers but complies, watching you sink down the last few inches. You lean forward and press your lips to his, wanting to be surrounded by him. Needing his taste on your tongue. At the same time, you start to lift your hips, admiring the feel of him slipping out of you before sinking back down.

With each rotation of your hip a new whine filled your mouth as he tried to stay in control. You broke the kiss and ordered, “Put your hands on my waist.”

He complied, his fingers digging into your hips and helping to increase the power of each thrust.

“Y-you are so perfect,” Tamaki panted as you rocked your hips forward in time with his. “I never want to be without you.”

“My baby,” you groan, “You are a natural, feel so good inside of me.”

His breath hitches, you could feel him growing closer, the hands on your hips weakening and the trusts becoming more desperate. Wanting to cum together you grab his hand and direct it down.

“Touch me Tamaki,” you beg, “I want to cum on your cock.”

Without needing to be told twice his hand came to life spurting three tentacles. The smaller two spread open your cunt making it easy for the third to latch onto your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, your head falling forward to rest in the crook of his neck. “Just like that Tamaki, please keep fucking me just like that.”

And as always, he did as he was told. His thrusts remained the same speed, driving you higher and higher, the sucker on your clit took long pulls, mercilessly milking the pleasure from your body.

“Ah, god Tamaki, just like that,” you babble, unsure if the words were even able to be understood.

He beamed at the praise, shifting his hips to get a better grip. The next time his cock plunged inside of you is struck up, nailing your g-spot. There was nothing you could do to stop the shock of pleasure suddenly blasting through you. Before you could even moan his name, you were swallowed whole by your release.

You convulsed in his arms, your mouth opens in a silent scream as your pussy clenched around him, sending him spiraling too. In the middle of your haze you could make out his dick pulsing inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum. His tentacle still sucking on your abused nub.

Unable to hold yourself up you collapse onto his chest. His strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in closer to his chest. Resting your cheek on his pec you could hear the faint sound of his heartbeat as you both caught your breath.

“Wow bunny,” Tamaki said breathlessly, “That was amazing!”

You kiss his sweaty neck weakly, “Yeah baby it was.” You look down to where your bodies were still joined and could barely make out some of his cum already starting to seep out of you. “Tamaki, I don’t think I can move.”

“Oh good, because I don’t think I can either.”

You slouch down even more, “I think I will just lay here for a little bit; you feel so warm.”

The arm around you gives you a tight squeeze, “Sounds good to me bunny.”

[endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus]

More Zaddy Brain Rot + Spicy Hand Headcannons

alright hear me out, two words: Leather Gloves

Warning: NSFW 18+ ONLY

The moment a slight chilly breeze wooshes in, Silco is gloved and loaded. In a dedicated drawer he has a collection of leather gloves crafted from the finest material. Some are customized with spikes and studs on days he needs to deal with business while the others are plain or embroidered with his signature crest all of which vary in shades of black, brown and red

Today was a casual day and called for his usual black simple, smooth fitted gloves. They slipped on easily, giving each digit a warm and welcoming hug. They were indeed a perfect pair.

The crime lord truly felt powerful when he wore them; he would often greet you with his hand extended out which you would take in your own and lay a kiss on the knuckles. Electricity would shoot up your spine as the icy fabric met your lips; your eyes locking in place with his. He didn’t need to say anything because his mischievous glare said it all.  He expected to be treated like the royalty he is and you obeyed every command.

He knows it doesn’t take long to lure you into his office and If seeing him in his gloves wasn’t enough, feeling him is a whole other level. He would press you up against the edge of his desk before hoisting you to now sit on the wooden furniture. At first his roaming fingers would leave a cool trail behind, giving you an instant rush - every inch of your delicate skin was shivering with chills - he’s only just begun and you were already a melted puddle under his touch.

Of course the cheeky bastard would take his sweet time; dragging his hand at a tantalizingly slow pace up your plush thigh and towards the lacey undergarment he’s specially handpicked for you. He’d hook his first two fingers under the elastic band and pull it just enough for it to snap back causing you to squeak. Those same two troublesome fingers would graze ever so lightly towards your clothed slit while his free hand snaked its way through the valley of your breasts and firmly braced around your throat eliciting a faint gasp from you.

He’d soon become impatient of the endless teasing and feathered like strokes and have a carnal need to touch your supple skin. He’d loosen his grip from your neck and cup one side of your face, the velvety texture of his gloved thumb outlining the shape of your lips. “Open.” he’ll demand and you’ll do as so. Your tongue would loll out for him and without a second thought you’d wrap around his intruding finger; gently sucking. He’d growl his next order, “Off.” and you’ll slide your tongue back and replace it with your teeth, giving enough force for him to slip his thumb out. You’d repeat the same action for each individual finger and free his ever so wicked long fingers.

If you weren’t behaving he’d take the lovely opportunity to teach your bratty self a lesson. He’d force you to kneel before him, crammed between his spread legs. His thumb and forefinger pinching your cheeks together, pressing your lips into a pout. His expression was stone cold, the same one he uses to mark others with fear, unfortunate for him it didn’t have the same effect with you. No problem, he has alternative ways to break you.

Your stubbornness got the best of you today; “Count to ten.” his sentence didn’t register in your mind when he planted the first smack on your ass. You merely whimpered when he repeated the action; each slap increased intensity, echoing louder and louder throughout the corridor due to the leather. When you reached ten you were a sobbing mess, you could barely feel your ass thinking he had slapped it right off. His demeanor softened, soothing your raw, reddened bum with the coolness of his gloved hand.