#mangled splash

[swytdoll]

emoloser!choso, who nearly breaks down when you hint at removing the condom for the very first time. “are you for real...?” he gasps, his eyes fluttering, toes tensing up at the mere thought. a gentle smile creeps onto your face as you nod. “i’m for real real.” you hum, savoring the way he trembles. his breath catches with each caress of your hands across his bare chest. "ugnh, i...i’m not sure if i’ll be able to—hold on!" his voice cracks as your hand clasps his shaft, pad of your thumb teasingly circling the sticky slit.

choso's hips twitch uncontrollably, the warmth emanating from him palpable. he mutters that he might faint as you tighten your grip, his whole body quaking. and in that moment, he thinks to himself, this is how i could go. my pretty girl playing with my cock, really, what more could a guy ask for?

you choose to show compassion to the unfortunate loser as you float above him. he truly is a gracious victor, and honestly, you enjoy being the one in charge. watching him writhe underneath you. slowly you take the condom that dangles loosely from the rubber ring and slide it back over his arousal, playfully building up the tension. “ah! don’t i’ll cum—“ choso shudders, hands sinking into your thighs.

a slight shift is all it takes to position the tip just right. then you lower yourself onto his fat size, observing the way his eyes flutter shut, his jaw slackens, and his eyebrows arch in surprise. the sounds he emits are captivating; he starts with a whimper that evolves into a deep moan. his body tightening, muscles taut with the overwhelming sensation of your walls inviting him.

it sends chills down your spine, knowing you can turn emoloser!choso into a quivering mess with just your cunt. you revel in the sensation of his hands gripping you tight, fingers pressing into your skin as you rock back and forth, savoring every bit of his length as he splits you. he wants to tell you how good it feels, how good you’re doing, but the words come out as mangled sobs.

delicately you grasp his hands, guiding them to your chest. his thumbs caress your stiff nipples with a natural ease. a soft moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head, lost in the moment. you’re so fucking pretty, eyebrows scrunched over flickering eyelashes, waves of hair splashing down your back as you ride his taut cock. he see’s the way your plump lips quiver each time he bottoms out inside you, you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. if not more. "oh my god, oh my god—can’t take it anymore! m’sorry!” he stammers and with a sudden shift, he turns you onto your back, parting your thighs before diving back into your warm pussy, his mouth forming a perfect 'o' in bliss.

your fingers tangle in the sheets as he drives into you with increasing intensity, each thrust more urgent than the last. your heels press into his backside, drawing him nearer, compelling him to push harder. a deep groan escapes him, resonating through his body. "cho!" you gasp, the pleasure overwhelming. his fat dick throbs and swells, his eyes squeezed shut, while his hands clutch your waist with a possessive grip.

he doesn't mean to be so rough with you, but god, does it feel good. "feels so— fuck, fuck, fuck," he's crying out, leaning down to press the sloppiest kiss against your lips, his black hair falling into his eyes. his purple-tipped fingers hold your cheeks and pull them apart, the dark eyeliner on his nose smudged while his heated skin glimmers in a light sheen of sweat.

he pushes into you deep, the tip of his cock bumping your cervix. any other time he'd be embarrassed to be acting like this... so pathetic for your pussy, but he can hardly help it. you're so damn warm, sucking his length in, letting him ruin you. he’s tugging his lip ring between his teeth as he fucks you ditzy, hands intertwining with yours as he fucks you into the comforter. “look at me... please?” his voice is desperate; he wants to fill you up. he swears he’s gonna come when you flutter open those pretty little eyes and lock them with his. “oh my—shitttt. can’t b-believe you’re m-my girlfriend—m’so lucky. hah!” his breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tension building in every thrust.

choso imagines this is what heaven feels like, he swears he can feel every ridge of your cunt.

emoloser!choso who forces his tongue down your throat as he shoots his load across your cunt. he’s mortified. he’s come before you. “fuck fuck, i-i’m sorry!” he’s whimpering, remaining spurts of cum emptying from his sore balls. you giggle, running your hands over his lips then his eyebrow piercing, then burying them in his sticky wolf cut. “it’s okay baby boy. . .” your hand guides him down, and he immediately catches on. “let me take care of her, yeah?” and before you know it he’s spreading your thighs apart, eating you like a starved man.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

words for when your characters get into a fight (pt. 4)

Pain

ache, anesthesia/anaesthesia, distress, harassment, hurt, pinch, strain, suffer, torture, wrong

Attack

aggression, assail, beat up, blast, blind-side, bomb, brutality, charge, come at, coup d’état, embroil, encroach, fire, foray, go for, infest, insurrection, invasion, lay into, mug, occupation, offensive, onslaught, overrun, pillage, pounce, raid, ravage, rush, sortie, subvert, waylay

To destroy

ablate, abolition, annul, batter, bomb, bring down, burst, butcher, clobber, come unglued, consumption, coup de grâce, crumple, cut down, decimate, deforestation, demolition, desecrate, desolate, devastate, dismantle, dispatch, do away with, do in, end, endanger, eradicate, erosion, execute, expunge, exterminate, extinguish, finish, genocide, hara-kiri, homicide, jeopardize, kill, knock off, liquidate, mangle, massacre, murder, obliterate, paralyze, pillage, poison, prostrate, pulverize, put away, put out, quench, raze, ruin, sack, shiver, slaughter, smash, stamp out, subdue, suppress, undo, vandalism, violation, wipe out, wreck

To injure

abuse, ail, batter, beat, bruise, cost, crush, debilitate, deface, deform, desecrate, devastate, disagree, disfigure, expose, fragment, gripe, handicap, hurt, incapacitate, jeopardize, lacerate, maim, mar, mistreat, mutilate, outrage, paralyze, poison, pummel, repay, ruin, sabotage, scar, shatter, shoot, smart, snap, spoil, stress, taint, torture, turn, violate, vitiate, wrong

To make dirty

adulterate, clutter, mess up, smudge, stain, tarnish

To make hot or cold

air, chill, freeze, heat, melt, numb, refrigerate, shrivel, warm

To make wet

absorb, dampen, dip, drench, drool, dunk, extinguish, marinate, oil, permeate, saturate, souse, splash, spray, squirt, submerge

Military action

barrage, blow up, conflict, coup d’état, deploy, deposition, dethrone, disarm, draft, engage, enlist, explosion, incursion, induction, invade, maneuver, occupation, offensive, overthrow, rebellion, revolt, salute, station, volley, warfare

Bad person

accessory, accurser, adversary, aggressor, alarmist, antagonist, ass, assassin, authoritarian, barbarian, bigmouth, bottom feeder, bum, burglar, cad, captive, charlatan, clod, cold fish, conspirator, criminal, crook, culprit, deadbeat, delinquent, demon, derelict, desperado, devil, dirty old man, dolt, do-nothing, dope, dregs, drone, dumbbell, dunce, enemy, espionage, exile, failure, fall guy, femme fatale, fighter, firebrand, fool, fugitive, gangster, glutton, good-for-nothing, gossip, grump, hellion, hobo, hot dog, hypocrite, imbecile, impostor, incubus, insurgent, intruder, Judas, killer, klutz, know-it-all, lawbreaker, lemon, loafer, loser, lummox, mad person, maniac, menace, misanthrope, miser, mole, mountebank, naysayer, ne’ er-do-well, nuisance, nut, ogre, organized crime, parasite, pawn, pessimist, pill, placebo, prodigal, prostitute, psychopath, quack, rascal, renegade, rogue, ruffian, sap, scamp, schlemiel, Scrooge, shirked, shyster, simpleton, skinflint, sleazebag, sneak, sourpuss, spy, swindler, tattletale/tattler, thug, tool, traitor, troll, truant, tyrant, vandal, wanton, whipping boy, wimp, witch

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary Writing Notes: Fight Scenes ⚜ Word Lists: Fight ⚜ Pain

[writers-potion]

Vocabulary List for Fight Scenes

Combat Actions

Hoist

Dart/Dash

Deflect

Shield

Sidestep

Snatch up

Stalk

Stamp/stomp

Stretch

Stride

Wagger

Oust

Leap

Lose ground

Mimick

Mirror

Negate

Overpower

Parry

Rear to full height

Resurgate

Suanter

Seize

Take cover

Throttle

Twirl

Unleash

Withdraw

Entwine

Flee

Gain ground

Grasp

Cling to

Breach

Duck

Dodge

Hits

Amputate

Bloody

Carbe

Castrate

Collision

Connect

Crush

Defenestrate

Destroy

Disfigure

Dismember

Dissever

Grind

Maul

Perforate

Rend

Riddle with holes

Saw

Smack

Splatter

Sunder

Torn Asunder

Traumatize

Whack

Writhe

Gut

Hammer

Maim

Mangle

Plow

Puncture

Melee

Assault

Attack

Barrage

Bash

Belebor

Bludgeon

Carve

Chop

Cleave

Clio

Club

Crosscut

Dice

DIg

Gore

Hack

Impale

Jab

Kick

Knock

Onsalught

Pierce

Plnt

Punch

Rive

Shove

Skewer

Slice

Smash

Stab

Strike

Sweep

Swipe

Swing

Transfix

Thrust

Visual Flair

Agony

Asphyxiate

Chock

Cough up bile

Cut to ribbons

Flop limply

Fractue

Freckled with blood

Gouts of blood

Grimane

Hemorrhage

Hiccup blood

Imprint

Indent

Resounding

Retch

Rip

rupture

Shiny with gore

Spew

Splash

Slumped in despair

Splatter

Split

Tear

Topple

Void

Vomit

Wedge

With a fell gaze

With a fiendish grin

With blank surprise

Audible Flair

Bang

Barking

Bong

Boom

Crack

Cackle

Clang

Clash

Crash

Cry

Echo

Elicit a curse

Frunt

Hiss

Howel

Hum

Moan

Muttering

Whoosh

Whistle

Whizz

With a keening cry

Thud

Thunk

Thawk

Splat

Snarl

Swoosh

Squeal

Sing

Sickening Pop

Silintly

Shriek

Shout

Snap

Thundering

Effects

Blind

Burn

Cause frostbite

Cauterize

Concussion

Combust

Daze

Dazzle

Deafen

Disintegrate

Electrocute

Freeze

Fuse flesh

Immobilze

Incinerate

Melt

Pralyse

Petrify

Purbind

Radiate

Reduced to

Shock

Sightless

Stun

Transiluminate

Death Blows

Annihilate

Behead

Decapitate

Disembowel

Eviscerate

Extirpate

Murder

Obliterate

Raze

Exterminate

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part one

Steve’s alone with fish guy, and it’s the perfect time to make his second attempt. For the first time Steve figures the guy must finally be relaxing, if only a tiny bit. The frozen peas were a massive hit, and maybe that’s helping. Being hungry like that must be really shitty, especially if it’s for a long time, like Steve suspects from the look of fish guy.

Maybe fish guy is starting to realize that this isn’t the labs under Starcourt any more. That Steve and his friends aren’t here to hurt fish guy.

Steve flicks another pea off into the water as he drinks his coffee; fish guy retrieves it in a flash, his eel like black tail easy to spot in the water, quickly coming back for more.

The kids keep calling him a merman - but he doesn't look like any cartoon or kids picture Steve's ever seen. His tail is too flat, for one, definitely more like an eel, plus there's no fins that Steve can see.

Steve offers him a handful of peas, carefully cupping them until fish guy has his hands cupped underneath, ready for them to be tipped in. They don’t touch, and Steve vaguely wonders if the guy will feel cold from the water. The skin of his fingers isn’t pruned like a regular persons would be, which makes sense since he’s a fish guy. Maybe he’ll feel clammy, or rubbery. Or scaly. Steve van very vaguely remember petting a stingray in a low tank at the aquarium once, surrounded by other kids. Might have been a field trip or something, but he can remember how surprised he was by the feeling of the mottled brown skin. Super rough, like sandpaper. Fish guy doesn’t look like he’ll feel like that either, though.

Fish guy eats his handful of peas and then looks back to Steve expectantly; or at least, that’s what he’d call it on a human person. It must be the same sort of thing though, right? The top half, at least, is built the same, right?

Steve’s down to his last handful of frozen peas; he’s already called Robin, she’s going to pick up a bunch of groceries of the green variety on her way over after her shift later. Also a few other bits, like carrots and bell peppers, to see if fish guy will try them.

Steve holds up a single pea between his thumb and pointer finger. Fish guy’s eyes track it from where he floats, a foot away from the ledge. Steve taps his chest, “Steve,” and then he points to fish guy.

Like last night, he comes a little closer, lifting out of the waster a little and then, cautiously points at Steve, he makes a noise that...kind of...sounds like ‘Steve’. His voice is raspy, and the word is kind of mangled, more of a sad ‘Steee,’ but near enough. It looks like he’s really trying, brow furrowed with concentration.

It’s not what Steve wanted, but Steve gives him the pea.

It’s overcast today, same as yesterday, and the day before. Blowy and cold. Steve doesn’t want to stay out here much longer, so he dumps the remaining peas into the water and then gets up and heads inside to wait for Robin.

Steve’s nearly at the door when he hears a splash and then a mournful, “Steeeeeeeeee.” and immediately regrets all of his life choices.

He sighs, and goes back to the pool, “yeah?”

Fish guy tilts his head, frowning, and then lifts his had out of the water, pointer finger and thumb a smidge apart...just like he’s holding an imaginary pea.

Well. Communication is definitely something they will be able to work on then. But Steve flaps the bag, showing the picture of the peas on the front, and the face that it’s very clearly empty, “all gone. Finished,” Steve makes a cutting motion in the air with the side of his hand, to indicate they’re done.

“Inied,” the fish guy manages cautiously.

“Yeah, finished.”

The fish guy watches him for a second, and then dips back down under the water, off too huddle in the bottom corner of the pool.

Steve wonders vaguely if he’s still hungry, but hopefully it won’t be that much longer before Robin gets here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who really, genuinely likes celery.”

“Me neither, it’s like peppery water.”

“With hair in.”

Fish guy though, very clearly, likes the celery. He didn’t quibble over the cucumber either, that disappeared very quickly. He was cautious about the carrots, but with a little encouragement, and a lot of sniffing, he ate the bottom half of one, not seeming to like it so much at the thicker end.

Steve hands him an entire bell pepper, watches as fish guy takes a bite. He seems to like it, but then pulls a face, scraping desperately at the seeds on his tongue and spitting the whole mess out into the water. Steve can’t help laughing. Fish guy looks affronted. The look of genuine distaste and irritation on his face is very human and also hilariously funny.

“Oh Steve, I think you offended him,” Steve wipes the tears away to see that Robin is right, and fish guy has gone to huddle in the far corner of the pool, only his eyes peeking out. That’s got to suck, having no where to go. No where to hide; no privacy at all.

“This has got to suck for him; he’s stuck in an empty box,” Steve tries to imagine living his entire existence in a completely empty room; he can’t, not really.

“Well what can we even do with him? He seems to be freshwater, so the oceans are out. Even if we let him go in a lake, we don’t know what he understands about people, if he got caught…” she trails off. Steve doesn’t need any help imagining what could happen.

“I don’t know but...we need a plan...and he needs something to do.”

“What like, enrichment for his enclosure?”

It’s the first sunny day for a while. Steve had been getting resentful about it but a bit of warm sunshine is starting to make up for it already.

Steve looks uncertainly down at the bucket of dollar store toys he’s paid for. Doesn’t matter that the kids picked them all out, apparently Steve is still the money in this operation.

Plus gas; they had to travel further since the mall is now a fenced off ruin.

All the kids are on their knees at one end of the pool; all of them holding something. There’s a slinky (he can play with it along the edge), a Rubik’s cube (water proof, and we might be able to figure out if he can see color), a bucket, a plastic dog bowl (it’ll float, you can fill it with peas), a rubber duck, and a ball.

Fish guy, on the other hand, had retreated to the furthest corner he could, curled up into a ball, and stayed there.

Steve’s starting to suspect that the noise of the kids constant chatter and bickering is actually a bit too much for fish guy to handle, from the way he either hides or watches them wearily from the other end of the pool. If they move, he moves.

“Maybe if we spread out, then one of use will be close enough because he won’t have anywhere to go-”

“Absolutely not,” Steve tells Dustin, “that’s cruel, if he’s hiding it’s for a reason. Just let the stuff be and he will deal with it when he’s ready.”

He gets a little bit of whining from them, mostly Will and Dustin, if he’s honest, all the other kids seem to be really understanding.

The ball and the bucket they let go to float around in the water, and the kids soon loose interest and head off to cause trouble elsewhere.

Steve desperately wants to dip his feet in the pool, same as he would on any other day, but since there’s someone living in it, it feels kind of rude. Like he’d be knowingly walking mud into someone's house, or something.

Steve kneels at the same end of the pool the kids were at, he doesn’t want to startle fish guy by appearing right above him. If he comes to Steve or not should be his choice, but Steve has two bunches of celery and a dog food bowl filled to the brim with frozen peas, so he thinks his chances are pretty good right now.

He’s right, fish guy does come over, but his whole face is scrunched up and he misses the celery on the first try; it takes Steve an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure it out, even with the guy eating with his eyes pretty much closed.

It’s the first fully sunny day they’ve had, and the guy had been in a shitty artificially lit lab, and before that, presumably the Upside Down for his whole life.

It’s fucking bright out here.

And even as he takes his sunglasses off, Steve has no idea how to communicate this with fish guy.

Steve has the bowl of peas for leverage, but still. He shows them to fish guy, who, squinting, does come closer. And then Steve hands over the glasses. Fish guy, face all scrunched up, tilts his head, looking at them.

Steve takes them back, put them on, takes the off, and offers them again. Ever so carefully and slowly, fish guy takes the glasses. Steve knows fish guy is at least kind of smart; he’s confident he will figure this out. He’s proved correct pretty fast when fish guy holds them up so he can blink up through the lenses.

And then he...very carefully, almost comically carefully, slides them on.

He grins up at Steve, and Steve floats the dog bowl in the water, giving it a nudge.

Fish guy looks delighted.

Part Three

[ftmsimonriley]

soap picks up fishing while on mandatory leave, allowed to borrow price's boat to take it out on the coast, never far enough to catch anything more than rockfish and other coastal dwellers, most of which he releases back anyway. he spends his days out there, drinking and letting the hours tick by as he waits for a bite.

one day, the water's calm and he doesn't have a care in the world. a little past tipsy, he's watching some gulls fly past when suddenly the line catches. the speed of the boat doesn't make up for the speed at which the reel rapidly unravels as whatever is at the other end takes off. he's left to scramble for the rod, and it's a fight to reel it back.

about halfway back, the line goes slack.

he's left feeling a little disappointed as he winds it the rest of the way, expecting nothing at the other end. but what he reels up is half of a catshark. obviously something else was trying to catch it, too.

when he looks up from the mangled corpse, he's startled to find something in the water staring back.

a human face, with just eyes out of the water, deep brown with seemingly no pupils, which he chalks up to the trick of the light reflecting off the water. what skin he can see is pale and freckled, and the short hair flattened to the person's head is deepened to a dark brown from how wet it is.

he knows mers exist. he never thought he'd meet one, much less almost accidentally catch it.

"this yers?" he calls out, undeterred by the lack of a response. only quiet staring, the mer never letting the waves push it closer to his boat. he's quick to pull the catshark off his hook, less careful than he'd be with a live one. with an underhand toss, it hits the water with a quiet splash before sinking.

the mer is diving after it in a split second, and soap assumes that's all he'll see of it.

he stays out for a bit longer after that, intent on catching something that's not already half eaten. but the mer seems to have scared off all the fish, and he's considering accepting that today wouldn't be his day before something heavy is landing on his deck.

there, is a whole northern pike, freshly killed. when he looks over the side of the boat, there in the water is those same two brown eyes.

"dinners on you, is it?" he's a bit in shock, not only with meeting a mer but having it seemingly hunt for him. but unless its somehow messed with the pike before throwing it on board, soap isn't going to question his intentions beyond interpreting this as some form of gratitude for giving him the rest of the catshark.

and after that, he sees the mer every day he's out on the water.

always keeping his distance, always just his eyes above the surface. he starts to call him ghost, what with his ability to disappear and reappear so easily, and his eerie silence. ("like a wee ghost swimming around my boat.")

he suspects ghost is also, intentionally or not, scaring away all the fish. but at this point, he's casting as an excuse. why fish when he has a mer to talk to (or to be apt, talk at, as ghost never speaks) all day?

[clanborn]

star climax that i would personally enjoy: splashtail's got frostpaw pinned in their final confrontation, he's this close to finally killing her, and all of frostpaw's fears culminate and leave her frozen, unable to struggle free. curlfeather, through sheer willpower ignited by this immediate threat to her daughter's life, summons all the energy she can muster to project her image into the physical world, visible to both splash and frost. her sheer fury, her mangled corpse--here, present, clawing her way out of splashtail's dreams and into a waking nightmare, here to drag him down to hell with her--spooks splashtail to the core. this either frightens him so bad he suffers cardiac arrest, or he instantly bolts and abandons the clans forever (for the case where he could be brought back as a villain who is ideally no longer lame). once more, curlfeather saves frostpaw's life, this time from beyond the grave, so great is her love for her daughter. with the image of her bloodied mother burned in her mind, frostpaw's conflicted feelings bubble to the surface, feelings she's desperately forced underneath a layer of anger and resentment. frostpaw faces the truth: that her mother manipulated her for her own gain, but also that her mother loved her, and ultimately cared for frostpaw more than her own life. curlfeather was not entirely good or bad, she was simply just a cat, a flawed one, one capable of both good and bad things. hidden in all of her misdeeds was a cat that could be forgiven--and in turn, frostpaw too could be forgiven, and no longer needs to blame herself for every misfortune that had befallen her and her clan. frostpaw is also just a cat, a child under incredible duress, forced to make decisions that no child should have to make. she thinks of every cat that pushed that responsibility onto her--yes, her mother, but also splashtail, her older clanmates, every clan cat around the lake that turned a blind eye to her desperation. even starclan--her all knowing, benevolent ancestors--had stood by while she suffered, had caused her suffering, had used her not unlike the way curlfeather had. what made them different? why was curlfeather punished by cats who were no better? why was frostpaw punished for doing everything right? what distinction did starclan make between "good" and "bad" when all cats were capable of both, including starclan, in all its alleged, unerring kindness?

frostpaw once again does starclan's bidding, touches her nose to the moonpool and receives her nine lives. with each life, cats flash before her vision--harelight, riverstar, jayclaw--but they aren't the cats she sees. in her mind she sees curlfeather, blood on her paws and love in her eyes, and newly named froststar decides what sort of leader she will be. this is the last time she will follow starclan's path, no more will riverclan be subject to their will and their hypocrisies. relying on starclan is what destroyed them, their ancestors standing idle as riverclan tore itself apart for their favor. no more will riverclan force warriors and apprentices in certain roles, no more will it allow complacency, letting desperate voices go unheard. splashtail rejected starclan, but that is not what drove his bloodthirst and desire for power. under froststar's leadership, power would not solely lie in the paws of her and starclan, but shared among her clanmates, unable to be ripped away by a lone instigator, shattered by a single break in the chain.

maybe she'll be the kind of leader curlfeather wanted to be. maybe she'll be better. either way, froststar will lead riverclan into a golden dawn.

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! if you’re up to it, would you be able to write something w james or remus with comforting a reader who’s insecure about her skin/having broken out? i’m totally not projecting (i get chronic rashes on my face and one broke out recently and it’s making me sooo self conscious because my birthday is soon and i wanted to feel pretty 😖)

thank you!! mwah!!!

xoxo @mareagirls

Hi Rosa my love! Thank you for requesting and happy early birthday!!

cw: reader is insecure about her skin

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 750 words

You scrub at your skin with your fingertips, pads pressing harshly as you distribute the cleanser over your face. Then turn the tap as cold as it can go, splashing water and scrubbing again to make sure the product is all gone. 

“Alright, enough of that,” says Remus as you towel your face dry. You look up to see your boyfriend watching you in the mirror from the bedroom. He tents his book beside him on the bed, beckoning you over. “Come here, bring your stuff.” 

You turn around to look at him. “Why?” 

You can see Remus intentionally smoothing the pique from his expression, gentling it into something kinder. “Just come sit with me, please.” 

You gather your things off the bathroom counter, carrying them into the bedroom and plopping down in front of him on the bed. Remus knows your routine. He takes a washcloth from you wordlessly, wetting it with product. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You do, and he starts swiping the product gently over your skin, starting at your jawline and working his way slowly upwards, following the planes of your face. His free hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck to steady the both of you. 

“Why are you doing this?” you murmur, trying not to move your face as you speak. 

“Couldn’t stand seeing you look so angry with yourself,” Remus replies, matching your volume. His voice is low and raspy, inlaid still with traces of frustration. You hadn’t realized you had been looking like that. “S’like you’ve no idea how pretty you are.” 

There’s a thick pause. The washcloth shushes over the skin of your forehead, and you can feel Remus’ gaze boring into your shuttered lids. 

“I know you think I just say that,” he says, setting the washcloth down on your leg. You open your eyes, and he’s squirting moisturizer onto the pad of his index finger. His eyes flit up to yours, the color of honey or perfectly steeped tea. You look away. “I don’t. I wouldn’t bother saying anything if you weren’t as lovely as you are, and it’s insane that you don’t know it yourself. I mean, we’re looking at the same face, aren’t we?” 

Your lips twist upwards as you close your eyes and Remus sets his hands to your face again. He smooths the moisturizer into your skin with thorough, loving strokes. 

“I do feel pretty, sometimes,” you admit. “Just not so much when my skin is acting up like this.” 

“Not sure how that changes anything.” His voice is gruff, audibly judgemental in the way you’re sure only he can manage. It coaxes a soft laugh from you, and Remus’ thumb swipes extra affectionately over your cheekbone, approving. His tone lightens. “Really, dove, it’s not like the rest of you just disappears because you’ve broken out. You’re just as lovely. I’m not sure anything could change that, short of reconstructive surgery I suppose.” 

You roll your eyes. They’re still closed, but you hope he sees the motion anyway. “You’re being too nice to me. I know it’ll go away eventually, but it’s still not the same as when my skin is clear.” 

“It’s not,” Remus allows. “Of course it’s not the same. But that’s like saying I’m not the same with my scars as I was without them. And I still managed to snag you all mangled-looking.” 

You open your eyes, despite his hands still moving over your face. “You’re not mangled-looking,” you say. You know Remus knows this, but it feels important to tell him anyway. “I love you with your scars.” 

He smiles softly, and you close your eyes again, satisfied. “Then you see what I’m getting at,” he says. “I love you like this, just the same as when your skin looked a bit different.” His touch arcs over your eyebrow. “And everyone else loves you just the same, too.” 

You hum, a pleased sort of capitulation. “You’re such a sweet talker.” 

“Doesn’t take much imagination to tell the truth.” You can hear Remus’ smile. “You’re always lovely, dove, but I like you best when you look like you feel lovely, too.”

“I’ll try,” you say. He hums satisfiedly, thumbs brushing twin paths across your cheeks. “Is there really still product to rub in?” 

“Mm, not strictly speaking.” Remus’ lips press, soft and sweet, to your freshly moisturized cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind the bumps. “But I think I’d better do this a while longer just to be sure.” 

[zarnzarn]

1/2/3/4

reverse Odyssey au where polites is still on the ships when Poseidon arrives, and that last bit is enough to push Odysseus to beg him to stop, to spare the men he spent ten long years fighting hard and bitter to save. 593 men is no less amount after all, not for a small island like Ithaca, only three generations old. he'll do anything, anything at all, blind him, torture him, kill him- just let his men go; they were not the ones to blame.

Poseidon considers, staring down at the king with the odd grey eyes that he knew the origin of. Athena would be furious, after all- so why not take away the one thing her favoured pet was known for?

the crew rushes towards their captain, their king, as shouting emerges from the other boats, as he hits the deck convulsing, grasping at his throat. the cries of his men rend the air as his legs melt into oceanspray, remerging as a fish's tail, Odysseus gasping for air wildly, his tongue a mess of mangled flesh on the main deck, unable to talk or breathe.

they have no choice but to pick him up and tip him into the sea, and they watch in horror as he falls beneath the waves and with a flick of the tail, disappears.

six hundred men chase their king down, following the odd silver glint that appears once in a while above the blue water, following the strange cursed monster that Elepnor sees when he falls drunk into the ocean one day. follow him all the way back to Ithaca, where the people gather on the shore to cheer their arrival.

telemachus is all of ten and untameable at the return of his father's ships, running past the guards and the priests to the dock, where the soldiers and heroes are all setting down the ramps, strangely quiet, unsmiling in the face of ten years of gore and bloodshed being done. Penelope catches up to him, laughing as she cranes her head up, scanning the ships to see which one- which one had-

she only has to time to see euroluchus' shame-filled tears and polites guilty devastation, feeling her heart slowly sink to the ground, when there's suddenly a splash and an outburst of screams and propped up on the dock is a man with a fish's tail and familiar curls and razor-sharp teeth and eyes that are solid grey. the soldiers cry out in horror and thunder down the ramps to them as the monster reaches out- and Penelope can't do anything, frozen, as it reaches out and places a webbed hand with deadly claws on her son's cheek, caressing almost; and her breath catches when it looks back up to her, and she knows the face as well as her own, knows the grief and fear and knows it is her husband-

Then the pounding footsteps from the closest ships and the guards behind reach them, and Penelope only has time enough to scream to stay their weapons, already shoving Telemachus behind her and reaching out to shield off any spears or arrows from battle-strung men who'd shoot first and ask questions later-

Instead she only feels the brush of cold skin under his fingertips for the briefest of moments and then she's caught up in a fisher's net, tangled and alone. More nets are thrown, men crying out for their captain with desperation and fear, Polites running straight past her and leaping off the dock to swim after him-

But her husband is a descendant of Hermes, and Odysseus is gone.

Penelope listens to the story that night and does not cry, sitting straight-backed in the face of her family sobbing around her, of the five hundred and ninety-three men staring at her with grief and guilt alike, of being the only widow in the kingdom. Pets Telemachus' wild hair and remembers his father's, and thinks.

"You have told me much," She says finally. "But I'm still to hear a single, solid plan."

The room rustles as all the heads swing to her.

"Plan?" Eurylochus says finally. Anger burns as soon she looks to him, but she pushes it down firmly- rage will not win her anything.

"Yes. A plan," she says, "To bring my husband back home."

Telemachus unfolds at her feet and stares up at her with a hopeful grin, echoed slowly on the faces of the men around the room. Penelope smiles back.

"My husband spent ten years fighting for his people to make it back home," She proclaims. "Let's wait at least that long before we give up on him, yes?"

The answering cheer shakes the walls of the palace and echoes through the streets of Ithaca.

[lcverwrites]

the lovers ― aegon targaryen ... part two

THE LOVERS ― AEGON TARGARYEN ... (part two) (1.9k)

summary ...it has been said that aegon and his wife, the lady tyrell, were a match of political view, but it was suddenly apparent to anyone with eyes, that the two wandering souls were made of the same cloth, two lovers bound with fluttering butterflies and dazzling stars. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... smut, this is pure smut, very little plot in this story, 18+ content ahead please be warned, afab reader, unprotected sex (p in v), soft smut, semi sub Aegon (as if he could be anything else), not totally dom reader but like soft dom reader note ... I'm obsessed with this pairing so much, you don't even wanna know. I have so much I wanna write for them, but I'm lacking in the words to actually get it written out. I also have been thinking about making this an actual series, like I've planned out a pinterest board for this couple, I'M OBSESSED.

<< previous part

⠀⠀⠀The red Keep had been engulfed in a warm silence, the waning moon rising just beyond the horizon, painting the castle in a cool milky glow. Few people milled around the castle at this time. A maid carrying a pile of fresh linens for the Princess, guards standing at the ready at the entrance of the hall, poised with silent strength and sharpened weapons, white cloaks glowing beneath the moon’s glittering presence. A coolness creeped into the barren corridors, the breeze carried on the back of the chimes of midnight, brushing upon warm cheeks, a lick of winter in the air.

But beyond the corridors, Aegon and wife painted a rather different picture.

The King’s Bedchamber was illuminated by the hearths flickering embers, bathing the room in Autumnal colours, splashes of warm orange and buttery yellow, breathing warmth into every corner of the room, edging out the cool night. The windows were left uncovered, allowing slips of moonlight into the room, wisps of frigid wind snaked their way into the room, but were pushed through the layers of linen and furs, whipping around the the gossamer like curtains that framed the windows, fabric dancing with the serenity that settled in the room.

Golden goblets sat strewn on the table, drips of crimson wine staining the rich wood, dripping below, painting the stone with the richly scented liquid. The spilled wine was followed by the finest of slips, weaved with rich silks, a pearlescent sheen to the fabric, underclothes belonging to someone of riches. It was intertwined with a piece of cotton, a fine material on its own, belonging to someone entirely different. It was mangled around a pair of leather breeches, ties haphazardly undone, holding on for dear life.

The trail of wine and clothing led to the spacious bed in the middle of the room. The bed is lofted by an ornate frame, wooden carvings swirled around the rich oak wood. Covered in freshly washed, soft looking linens, blankets of rich green and stark white were strewn across the bed, hanging off the edge, tittering with every movement.

Aegon and his wife, Lady Tyrell, were tangled in the thin linens.

She pressed her hands against Aegon’s chest, nails pressing into the smooth skin, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

Aegon panted beneath her, hands running over the expanse of her thighs, dipping into the curved skin of her hips, holding her body against his. Her back curved as her hips followed a fluid motion, back and forth, slow circles that drove Aegon to the point of insanity.

Aegon thrusted his hips up, meeting her halfway. The sudden movement called a whine from between her lips, airy and sultry.

“Aegon” She whined, the air taken right from her lungs, and the only word she could spill from her lips was her lover's name.

Aegon felt spurred on by her wanton sound, using her hips as leverage, pulling himself up. His chest pressed against her own, each breath she took, pressed her skin further against his own, as if wishing to become one.

Aegon craved her pleasure like no one else, coaxed it out with the subtle shove of his hips, hands moving from their rightful place on her hips, grasping her backside, hauling her body against his, as if there were any space between them for her to take. They were skin to skin, sweat clinging to their bodies, slickly sliding between them.

“That’s it, my love” Aegon pitfully groaned, pressing his reddened lips against her neck, lapping at the sweat slicked skin, mouthing at the already pinkish skin.

One of Aegon’s hands released her backside, travelling the length of her spine, feeling her warmed flesh beneath his fingers. He interlaced his fingers in the loose strands of her hair, pulling on the soft locks, tugging her head back, allowing Aegon more of her neck to lather in kisses, soft bites of flesh beneath his teeth.

Her skin was smooth beneath his lips, warmed by the thumping of her heart, blood rushing through her veins. Aegon’s teeth skimmed over the taunt skin, wishing he could bite through her flesh, tearing through muscle and bone alike, devouring her very being, to devour the devotion she bled for him.

He imagined it would be sweet, just as she always was, but tinged with a bitterness that bled from his own heart into her.

He wanted to devour her, mind, body and soul.

And he knew she would allow him.

Her devolution was a double edged sword, and Aegon loved running his fingers over the sharp edges, cutting himself open for her pleasure, bleeding his heart dry for insatiable hunger.

Aegon used his strength to flip them over, laying her against the soft linens, hair fanning out around her, plush lips parted in a silent gasp, enjoying the change of position.

Aegon thrusted his hips against her own, his cock pushing further into her cunt, her legs locking around Aegon’s narrow hips, locking him against her writhing body.

“Yes…Aegon my love, please” She pleaded with Aegon, though Aegon was sure she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

But Aegon would give her whatever she desired.

He would give her his heart if she asked for it, served to her on a silver platter for her delight, it was her already anyway, he wouldn’t miss it.

Aegon placed a hand on the pillow beneath her head, holding his body above hers, while the other was gripping the supple skin of her hips, kneading the flesh of her thigh wrapped around his hips, nails digging into the flesh, claiming her body as his own.

“I love hearing you” Aegon whispered into the space between their bodies, their shared air was wet and hot, coated in their arousal and passion.

“I…I love-” Her statement was cute off by a rather loud moan, her hands coming up to grasp at the base of his skill, threading through the silvery locks of Aegon’s hair.

Aegon whimpered at the tugging of his hair, feeling a flush bleed across his already reddened cheeks, ducking his head back into the skin of his neck, teeth latching onto the skin of her shoulder this time, biting down harshly. She responded in kind with another keening noise, nails digging into the nape of his neck, seeking purchase to keep herself grounded.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in Aegon’s ears, the soft squelching sound of her wet cunt welcoming his cock was like music to his ears.

“Please come for me” Aegon whimpered, pleading with his wife, wanting the sweet satisfaction of bringing her pleasure that no one could. “Please, my love”

Her back arched, pressing her chest against his own once more, her hardened nipples scraping against his hot flesh.

Her lips parted a string of half words and pleasured sounds fell past the soft pillows. Aegon continued to thrust his hips, picking up speed, feeling her cunt gripping his cock like a velvet vice, holding his pulsing member inside her as waves of pleasure ebbed and flowed through her body.

“Aegon” She whispered, using her grip on the back of his neck to haul his face from the depth of her neck, pressing her forehead against his own. “I’m gonna--”

“Please, please, please” Aegon whispered, his words overlapping, lips pouted and slick with his own spit. “I want it, give it to me”

She tried to utter another string of words, but the only sound that fell past her lips was a strangled moan, perhaps it had been Aegon’s name, he wasn’t sure, but the sound produced goosebumps to raise across his skin.

The squelching sounds in the room doubled as she came around Aegon’s cock, clenching around him, pulling him into her gushing cunt. Aegon followed her body’s demand, continuing to thrust his pulsing cock into her cunt.

“There you are” Aegon’s voice caressed her cheek, hot breath fanning out against her skin, the low treble of his voice had a shiver of delight running down her spine, quivering in Aegon’s hold.

Her legs were like jelly now, struggling against the force of her pleasure, muscles shivering around Aegon’s hips, but keeping their vice-like grip around his body, holding him close, unwilling to let him free.

Not that Aegon wanted to leave.

“How beautiful you look” Aegon continued to talk to her through her orgasm. “Coming around my cock, coming for your husband-- for your king”

Aegon placed a rather harsh thrust against her quivering sex, resounding in a loud moan from her lips.

“How beautiful you look” Aegon continued to talk to her through her orgasm. “Coming around my cock, coming for your husband-- for your king”

Aegon placed a rather harsh thrust against her quivering sex, resounding in a loud moan from her lips.

“I love you” She breathlessly said, finally gulping enough air, to find the words she wished to say.

Aegon’s hips continued their movement, thrusting in and out of her hot, wet cunt. Hips snapping against her own, an ache forming in his thighs from the strenuous action, but he craved more of her, he always craved more from her.

“My husband” She graced Aegon with a wet kiss against her cheek, his skin like molten beneath her lips. “My King” She followed a path from his cheek, down the long expanse of his neck, teeth gently grazing his skin as she spoke, hot air pulsing around his neck, setting his heartbeat a race.

She used the little strength she had to maneuver them once more, pressing Aegon down into the sweat soaked linens, silvery hair fanning around his head like a slice of moonlight caressed his skin, setting him aglow.

She moved her hips up and down, swivelling atop Aegon’s still throbbing cock, enticing him to his orgasmic bliss.

She bent down, arching her back, lips pursed right beneath his ear, hot breaths spilling over his skin, a jerky moan ruptured from his lips as her tongue licked at the tender skin beneath his ear.

“My lover” She finally finished her loving words, voice reaching the innermost part of his worn out heart, creaking open as if she had pried it apart with her delicate fingers weaving her love into his very blood, burning deep holes into his heart, making a home for her tender embrace.

Aegon’s teeth buried into his bottom lip, letting out a deep and gravelly groan, feeling himself become putty beneath her hands. Aegon’s hands, now firmly pressing into the crease of her hips, held her body to his, giving a half attempted thrust, before he felt himself exploding.

Hot jerks of come erupted from his cock, burying themselves into her welcoming cunt. A shallow groan fell from Aegon’s lips, hips slowly trying to bury himself further inside her.

“Thank you” Aegon found himself muttering, the words falling from his lips before he could think about them.

She pushed her head from his neck, cheeks inflamed with a dark hue, hair a tousled mess around her shoulders, spilling over her chest, tickling Aegon’s rapidly rising and falling chest. Her lips were parted with deep breaths and she ground her hips into Aegon’s keeping his cock within her.

He could see that glimmer in her eyes, the one she had solely for Aegon, the one that spoke the thousands of words Aegon could never find. The unspoken love between them, the devotion that spilled from their very pours, bleeding into each other. The love exchanged between passionate kisses and sweat tangled embraces.

“Whatever for, my love” She replied, in a way that made Aegon think she would never truly know what she did to him.

What she provided him with.

A love like the gods. To be protected beneath her caresses, to feel his skin beneath her palm, without knowing that his entire being belonged to her. To be graced with the heavenly touch of her lips, eliciting sounds only ever made for her ears to hear.

“For loving me” Aegon supplied the simplest of answers.

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (1/?)

A word before we start: screaming sounds a whole lot like laughter.

Nothing beats the paranoia of a high man. Rough, calloused hands shove you into the dark wooden closet, whisper-yelling orders to keep your damn mouth shut before the though of protesting could even occur inside your little drunken head. Everything is spinning inside around the room, too focused on the light sensation in your head to be able to connect the dots until it's too late.

“Listen, man, we don't have anyt—” Life can be unpredictable. One moment you're having fun with your friends in a rented cabin in the woods, and the other, your best friend is being shoved into the floor by a much bigger man, the loud sounds of his shouts and struggling instinctively forcing you to put a palm over your mouth, trying your best not to scream along your dying friend.

A quiet whimper makes its way out of your throat the moment a long, bloodied machete is raised in the air, horrified wide eyes meeting yours as the panic fully sets in for him. It's like seeing a trainwreck yet being unable to stop watching, even when your brain is screaming at you to close your eyes. To save yourself from the trauma, to protect your psyche, to let the last image of your best friend be him alive—

Hack.

The masked killer lands heavy blows one right after the other on the figure underneath him, blood splashing all over the room, forcing another muffled whimper out of your lip as the man hacks away at your friend's dead body, seemingly getting more and more excited with every single new wound he's forcing.

The house is quiet— way too quiet for a group of 5 drunk people. You were previously in the bathroom, too preoccupied throwing your guts out in the bathroom to hear any noise through the loud gags and the ringing in your ears. The man's heavy breathing fills the room, making you subconsciously hold your own, not wanting to get any of his attention and be his next victim. They say ignorance is bliss, yet not knowing if the man is aware of your presence only makes the black pit of dread grow in your stomach.

His movements are slow and calculated, letting go of your friend's mangled up corpse, the sound of the machete being pulled out of his flesh almost makes you gag, secretly thankful that you emptied your stomach earlier. Baby-blue eyes scan the room with a precision that almost seemed robotic, instinctive, like a predator who has always succeeded at catching his prey.

Your heart goes down to your stomach when his cold gaze connects with yours through the thin wooden blinds, masked head tilting to the side in what seems to be sick amusement. He inches closer to you, his footsteps surprisingly quiet for a man his size, eyes crinkling up with his pupils dilating quickly, black almost taking over the pale blue.

His gloved hand raises slowly towards the doorknob, maintaining eye contact with your tear-filled eyes— only for his head to snap up towards the sound of a crack on the wooden floor coming from the kitchen. He gives the closet one last look before running towards the sound, the sickening sound of your friend's blood and guts dripping down his machete and clothes following right after him.

Thrashing and more screaming is heard from the other side of the house, snapping you out of it enough to realize it's your only chance to escape the same fate your friends met. Your shaky hand twists the doorknob slowly, not daring to look at the dead body right in front of the door— the body of someone who died just to protect you.

A shaky whimper escapes your lips when you accidentally kick the limb corpse, shaking your head a few times to snap out of it before you move away from him, staring ahead with an unfaltering sense of dread eating you from within.

Your steps are wide and calculated, sobered up the moment the masked killer started attacking your friend right in front of you. From what little you can see thanks to the moonlight seeping through the windows, the entire place looks out of a horror movie, blood staining every single wall, dripping down at such a slow pace that it almost seems like it's God's way of taunting you.

Relief finds place into the pit of dread the moment you can see the entrance door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe again— like you're not leaving behind any of your friends who may have survived the brutal attack. Guilt has no place in survival, you convince yourself within seconds as your shaky hand reaches for the doorknob, only to be slammed against the wall, a gloved hand covering your mouth to muffle the bloodcurdling screams that leave your lips.

You thrash against his rough hold, earning nothing other than a much harder hair pull, only stopping your thrashing the moment you feel cold metal pressing against your throat. Your eyes close as tears fall down your cheeks, pooling on the soft fabric of the gloves of the man holding you against your will.

“And where the fuck do you think you're going, hm?” He turns you around forcefully, pining your body against the wall with his own, tilting his head to the side just to taunt you as his sharp machete presses harder against your neck. His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, teasingly spreading your friend's blood all over your cheeks, forcing a choked sob out of you.

“Aww... Now you're all quiet. Poor pretty, broken princess...” His tone holds nothing but fake pity and pure amusement, sickly getting off on your pathetically horrified expression. His body presses against you harder as he looms over you, only leaning down to press his masked face against the crook of your neck, not bothering to hide the way he's inhaling your smell as the back of his gloved hand keeps absentmindedly running over your cheeks in an action that would be soothing, had he not been the man who killed your loved ones.

“I'll let you go.” Your breath hitches at his words, not believing him for a single second— not when you can feel his boner pressing against your stomach, his hips subtly rubbing against you to get more friction while he wonders if it's truly worth it to let you go instead of sending you home in a box.

“But you say a word about this to anyone... and I mean anyone, princess, and I swear to God, I'll gut you like a fucking fish.” His words take a bitter tone after he calls you princess, though the hold on the machete softens slightly as he hears your choked sobs, knowing the only thing preventing you from nodding vigorously like a well-trained dog is the blood-bathed steel pressing to your neck.

“Yeah? Do you promise?” The machete is moved out of the way, yet he still keeps you pinned against the wall so you don't try to run away. His pinky finger is raised up to your face mockingly, giving you an expecting look that takes you a few seconds too long to understand. Your shaky hand comes up to his, intertwining your pinky with his in a childish promise, a whimper leaving your lips the moment he applies enough pressure to make it hurt before releasing you.

He moves out of the way after a few tantalizing seconds, nodding his head towards the door, watching you scurry away like a kicked puppy, his entire body itching to go after you— and deciding against it last second, knowing he'll be seeing you soon.

[NEXT]

Author's note: The art published in all chapters belongs to @moosch!! We're both very excited about this project and to expand on something we've been talking about almost daily for months, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we do. <3

[casuallyanidiot]

I'm not quite sure if your request is open but i have an idea for a yandere prince or yandere barbarian king that got wounded from a war but reader, a slave from another tribe/kingdom, saw them from a nearby forest, and try to help them treat their wound not knowing that he's from the opposing tribe/kingdom, and she just left after nursing him since one of his men found him leaving a piece of fabric/item that he will treasure for the rest of his life, now his whipped for you, he found is new mission, raiding each neighbouring tribe/kingdom, just to find you, just to have you, to be with you, no matter what it takes.

Ooooh I think this is such a good idea for day 11 of Yantober, which is bloodbath btw.

A yandere warrior who remembers everything about the few moments he spent with you. The smell of your hear, the feeling of your tears splashing onto his skin as you prayed and labored for him to wake up, for him to live on. You had no idea of his standing, that he was an enemy or that he was a prince of the enemy kingdom. Or perhaps you did. Maybe you saw the medals covered in blood and attached to his mangled uniform and decided to help him anyways.

All he knows is that you are kind.

And he wants so much more from you. Your name, your hand in marriage, your kindness, you despair. All of it. Just as he's conquered kingdoms and burned empire's down for much less, he'll find you, and he'll take what he wants. Just wait until he arrives and crushes you village into fine dust just to have you.

[wanderingcritter]

Being a lesbian and nonhuman at the same time feels.. strange.

Because, like, human girls are these absolutely stunning, almost unreal beings. They're beautiful beyond words, the kind of beauty that can only ever be conveyed through the careful plucking of guitar strings, or through a vibrant splash of paint against barren canvases. They hold the stars in their eyes and flecks of gold in their hair, as if the forces of the cosmos themselves hand crafted their forms. They're soft and gentle and warm, but also strong and fierce and an unbelievable force to be reckoned with. Once when I was young, I got caught outside during a tropical hurricane and was almost lifted into the air by the winds; that is the closest thing I can compare to the feeling of falling for a girl. They are everything that a human being should be and more.

And then, there I am. A beast. This.. thing that stalks the woods in the darkest hours of the night, with dirt coated matted fur and piercing amber gaze, unseen and uncomprehended by man. Constant yearning, hunger. For flesh, for bloodlust, for isolation and freedom, to be feared, to be whispered about in hushed tales around a withering campfire. The creature in the forest, didn't you hear? If it catches you alone on a full moon it will peel your skin away from your body with fangs the size of your palms. Stay close. Your measly pocket knife won't do much in its wake I fear. A wild, snarling thing that flinches beneath humanity's touch and rejects their "civility" in favor of the murmuring creek that sings old and long forgotten hymns to the ancient mountains above.

I know when they look at me they see one of them, a human with soft skin and kind eyes, a human who smiles at them and perhaps offers a passing compliment, a human who always tries to coax the timid street cat and watchfully steps around sidewalk slugs. A human. But that is not what I am, at least not in the way that they are. And when I look back at them, with my green eyes that I wished glowed amber, I can't help but wonder "How could someone so divinely human find companionship with something so desperately unhuman as me? How long until you realize the humanoid body you see before you is merely a flawed disguise? Will you still grasp my hand with fond affection when it warps into a mangled paw?"

[octagava]

BSD: SUNRISE NAVIGATION POST

The day Atsushi and Dazai meet...

[AO3 LINK]

It had been exactly four years since she left, and not a single day has passed without Atsushi's mind wandering back to her.

Even now, as he sat on the damp ground, morning dew seeping into his pants as the crisp September air of Zephyr was biting into his skin, her absence clung to him like a phantom that would not let go.

The river stretched out before him, sun rising above the water illuminating the soft oranges and golds on it's surface. Reminding him of the long dark night where his body ached and his mouth tasted of blood, when the only proof that he was not really in the depths of hell was the rising sun over the horizon. Always indifferent to his suffering.

He was hurt. Other people were hurt. Yet the world kept spinning.

There used to be a time when he watched those sunrises with her. Now however, all he had was an old, mangled phone charm. So worn and disfigured that it was nearly unrecognizable in what it used to be. So loved and cherish that it is no longer the same.

Was this what truly love was?

To be changed by someone, to be left with pieces of them long after they were gone? To be destroyed even in the gentlest of hands?

Nevertheless he batted away the thought, sighing at it. He'd tried his best to live as she asked, to save people, to make a difference, to scrub away the blood on his hands even if it was a rotten work. To live the way she wished him to.

But. No matter how much he did, how much he tried and do what felt right, it was never enough. Not to him at the very least. Leaving him in a state of wonder if she would have liked the life he's leading a lot more then him. If she was here instead of here, she would have been happier.

Atsushi closed his dual colored eyes, focusing his senses on the sounds around him, the whispers of the wind, rhythm of the water, every now and then even a humm of a passing car, loud clatter of a train, eve somewhere behind him a military squad had jobbed by earlier, their boots thudding heavily against the pavement.

And then-

A splash.

His eyes snapped open instantly.

For just a single moment he thought he might have imagined it. Then he saw them…. two legs floating on the waters surface upwards, with the current pulling them under, bit by bit.

Huh?

Atsushi stared.

Someone's…. drowning???

His body moved before his mind caught up.

The shock of cold water hit him as he moved towards the sinking figure. His hands grasping onto the fabric, with sharp pulls he dragged the person back towards the riverbank, forcing them onto the solid ground.

The man looked barely conscious, his dark hair plastered to his bruised face. Atsushi caught his breath, then pressed two fingers against the man’s neck, searching for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.

A soft buzz spread against his fingers at the skin contact.

Atsushi leaned in, checking for breath, but just as he did so, the man lunched upwards with a sharp gasp, nearly colliding with Atsushi in the process if he had not pushed himself away.

Dark red eyes meet the purple-gold.

They stared at each other for a good while, none of them speaking up.

The man blinked blearily. Then, as if only just processing that he's in-fact alive, a mutter left his cold lips, "Ah."

A beat.

"Ah," he muttered again, slightly louder this time. "I'm alive."

Atsushi, dripping wet and cold, "Yeah. The current must have swept you up," he stated "You should be more careful."

The man turned his head in a jagged way to look at him fully, gaze slow as if trying to piece what had happened. Then, after a long pause, he let out sharp and annoyed "Damn."

"Excuse me?" Atsushi frowned.

The man flopped back onto the grass with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the sky. “That was the point.”

"What." He blinked, unsure if he’d heard him correctly.

"I was meant to drown" his tone was lecturing, as if Atsushi was the idiot here.

"Well, congratulations," he said flatly. "You failed."

The other just let our an exaggerated sigh "How tragic" he whined.

Atsushi pushed himself up to his feet wringling out his sleeves. He looked up and down the man, he wasn't anything special, more so reminded him of a drowned cat. He didn't even has any shoes, only mismatched socks. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you and honestly I don't have the tie for this. Just… don't do it again, get a therapist or something."

He was rewarded with a noncommited humm.

"Im serious."

"Im sure you are."

The white haired man already could feel a migraine coming his way "You got a name?"

Black hair titled this head lazily, as if evaluating if he should give his name in the first place." Dazai. Dazai Osamu."

Atushi eyed him, just for a moment before nodding at him "Right. Well, Dazai-kun, I-"

"I suppose that makes me your responsibility now," Dazai cut in without a care. His tone was just as carelss as his posture, one leg stretched out while the other was bent, his smirk couldn't be even descriibed as smug, but more so lazy.

"What." he seemd to be saying that quite a lot when interacting with the youngin.

Dazai stretched his arms over his head, looking completely ar east despite being int the soaked state and being half-drowned a minute ago. "You saved me. That means you've got to take care of me now."

"That's… not how this works," Atsushi stared at him, unblinnkingly, his words said slowly as if he was talking to a child.

"Isn't it?" The other turned to him fully now, a faint smirk gracing his lips. "You pulled me out of that river. You stopped me from dying. Now I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to." amusement was evident in the other "You wouldn't just leave me after all that effort would you?"

Serval different responses ran through his head, sure Atsushi could leave, he probably should. But, a little part of him that was still hung on what he promised was whispering, take him in, she wouldn't want you to abandon someone in need.

And even Atsushi himself was not a man who leaves someone behind. He never had been. Never wanted to leave those in need. He could feel the phantom weight of a worn charm in his hand.

Atsushi rubbed the bridge of his nose "Im not babysitting you." it could have been a rejection "But fine."

Dazai grinned, slow and sharp "Oh, I wouldnt dream of it."

Somehow Atsushi didn't believe him.

[tinydefector]

Marine Centre 7 - Merformers AU

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of dead animals, eating dead animals, attempting to court/filrt.

Masterlist

Perv

Next

_____________

Big blue had been avoiding them the best he could while at the centre, staying at the bottom of the cove or out in the deep water of the sea so that he wasn't near them. 

 But all the other oceanides began to get very friendly towards them, following them up and down the sea line and around the walkways around the marine centre.  

Angelfish trills, surfacing from the water cooing as he tries to get their attention. "Hi Angelfish, I'll talk later. I'm trying to find Big blue” they hum with a smile as they continue walking towards the cave.    

Cherry shoulder-checks him aside. Calling out himself He waggles his fins as he pushes himself up onto the sand a little, using his hands to drag himself.  “Cherry! No,no you just got out of quarantine, don't you damage your scales again!” They nearly shout while trying to shoo him back into the water. 

As Rodimus makes another persuasive overture, the three Oceanides continue calling and thrilling as if trying to get their attention but they were set on a mission they wanted to find Big blue. They had books that they wanted to read to him, to help him be able to speak a little more or just be able to ask more questions from the food they eat to oceanide ways. 

“What has gotten into you three my God, you're acting like pups” They chuckle only to hear Bee call out. They would know that call anywhere. “Bubba!” The little yellow pup calls out. “Yes hello baby!” They call back. 

 The little pup zooms through the water, spitting out a mangled blend of little melodies and little words. "No! Cuddle, cuddle!" He huffs puffing up as he chases them. “You can cuddles in a little sweetheart.”  

Firefin seems just as persistent to stop them from going to the cave. Beaching himself in their part, blocking them. They let out a sigh realising they weren't going to escape the three adults and pup. “Fine, fine guess I'll sit here then” they huff out and sit down in the sand. 

Bumblebee is quickest to zoom over, trilling excitedly as he uses the waves to wash himself up closer to them as he wiggles and drags himself into their lap. They grab out one of the books of fish holding it out for Babybee to see. The other three almost crowd around to inspect what they have. 

“Fish, Fish” the pup shouts. “Yes bubba, fish, gonna point out them and you nod if you eat them” they coo while pointing to the fish, making a motion to their mouth, doing a head nod and shake to try and make sure the oceanides understood what they were asking.   

 

Cherry jabs at a pufferfish photo, then to Angelfish who shoves him away with a playful hiss. Bumblebee trills happily from his perch, little hands pointing at fish as he peers at them. “Do you like Flathead?” They hum only for the little one to nod vigorously. The other three seem to be playfully fighting between each other over an answer. 

Firefin rumbles thoughtfully. He nods slowly at them, he then points to the lionfish and makes a low snarl at it. “yea i know you don't like the Lionfish, the Sharks seem To once they are dead.” They continue pointing to another one, this time an Eastern Wirrah. “What about this one?” 

At the next indicated fish, Angelfish perks up. Cherry nods eagerly. As they continue to go through the book making doen fish that they liked and didn't, Bumblebee babbles as he points at other fish, crustaceans and shellfish excitedly. 

But it's their heads snapping to the side as Shimmer beaches himself with a kill. “Holy shit, holy shit!” They shout pulling Babybee closer as they watch Shimmer rip into the seal carcass. His head snaps towards them as blood runs down his mouth and chin before he goes back to eating. Shimmer lazily tearing into a seal carcass on the sand. The pup coos excitedly at the gory sight, wiggling out of their arms and quickly splashing his way over.  

__________________________

"Hello gorgeous!" Rodimus trills, only for Bluestreak to surf closer to them. "Come swimming with us again please?" He calls out only for Sideswipe to shoulder-check him aside. " Ignore this fin flicker, you can do better. Name's Sides - I'll show you a way better time than any landwalker." He waggles his frills eagerly. 

As Rodimus makes another persuasive overture, Sideswipe cuts in flamboyantly. "Forget these two- I'm the best you'll find in these seas, sweet thing!, come on you have see me at my lowest" 

Rodimus elbows him aside. "The they're not interested in guppy talk."  

Their displays only grow more elaborate as the softone strides unresponsive past, oblivious clicks drowned out by youthful cry of Bumblebee. The little pup zooms over spitting out a mangled blend of songspeak and soft word phrases. 

But Rodimus presses ever closer, blocking their path. “Come on, you had no issues talking with me after Optimus took off” he nearly whines. The softskins let out a sigh realising they weren't going to escape the three adults and pup. So they sit down in the sand. Close to the water so that Bumblebee could move closer. 

The group lets out a noise of success. “finally we can actually spend some time with you!” Sideswipe laughs as he moves closer, watching curiously as they pull out strange looking boxes. But as they open it the oceanides see the images of fish. 

Bumblebee, trilling excitedly as bright illustrations capture his fleeting focus. Sideswipe and Bluestreak crowd close as well, "Ooh, look - it's you, Blue!" Sideswipe jabs, pressing his claw at a  picture of a pufferfish. Bluestreak shoves him away with a snort. "Frag off, your ugly mug is Not!." 

They let Bumblebee curl up in their lap while pointing to a fish. And making a 'to eat' motion before waving their hand in the direction of the three like a question. Before doing a head nod or shake. Sideswipe catches on first, snapping his dentas. "Eat it? Frag yeah we do, looks tasty!" 

Bluestreak elbows him. "Spongebrain, they're asking if WE eat it, not if YOU would." He turns a questioning gaze on the humans. "yes we hunt those" he nods along as they point to different ones. At the next indicated fish, Bluestreak perks up. "Oh, those? Fat suckers are a real treat, their meat just falls off the bone. We'll chase those gutbusters all over the reef given a chance." Sideswipe rumbles while admiring the different fishes.

Sideswipe nods eagerly. Rodimus nods too, he then points to the lionfish and makes a low snarl at it. “Those firefish are nasty, we don't eat them, they make us very sick” he informs only for the softone to make a noise in understanding. 

He points to others, fielding answers. "Groupers are yummy. Lobsters if we're lucky, fast buggers though. Any big fish, deep fish.  barracuda, Mahi Mahi, sunfish, even marlin if it's a big feeding party."

As the softone continues pointing to others as the boys nod or shake their heads over which ones they eat. Bumblebee babbles as he points at other fish excitedly, “yummy, yummy!” He coos which earns a laugh from the others. “ yea pup they are yummy”

The smell of blood has their attention as Sunstreaker drifts onto the sand with a seal that he is ripping into and eating. The metallic scent draws Sideswipe's attention downbeach. "Hey, looks like Streaker's found himself a feast." The others follow his gaze to see Sunstreaker lazily tearing into a seal carcass on the sand. 

Bluestreak clicks his dentas, eyeing the dripping prey. "Not a bad catch, solo this time?"  Rodimus' fins flick approvingly. Sunstreaker licks a lingering gaze to their softone. Bluestreak snaps his dentas jealously. "Showoff, look he's got them interested now!"

"Always got to one-up us, eh Streaker?" Sideswipe whines. "Can't you let the rest of us wow someone for once?" Sunstreaker just huffs, blood dripping from his chin. "Not my fault if you clownfish can't land a catch to save your sorry shells. At least I get results." He flicks gold and silver fins in a taunting display.

Bumblebee swimming over to Sunstreaker. Cooing softly as if to ask if he could try the seal with him. The little pup is very polite as uses his big wide eyes up at him, Sunstreaker had a soft spot for the pup reminding him of his own pup sunstorm bumblebee's plea proves effective, as his big puppy eyes always did. With a smug quirk of his lip, Sunstreaker tears off a choice strip of seal meat for the eager little pup. 

"Here you go, squirt. Maybe you'll finally fill out that scrawny frame with a real meal." He ignores the others' jealousy as Bumblebee trills his thanks around the treat. As he lets the pup have his fill of the seal while he eats. 

Bluestreak scoffs. "Look at that, he's stolen the pup's affections too..." Sideswipe tries to stop the soft one from following Bumblebee down to the seal carcass. "Don't pay them any mind, sweetspark. I'll hunt something for you." He calls out as a promise. 

Bumblebee eagerly devours his seal chunk with Sunstreaker's watchful gaze. When the pups caretaker edges closer, Sideswipe whines pathetically. "Don't do it, you'll only encourage his displays! Gorgeous, come back - I'll prove myself a far truer catch." 

But their noisemaking falls on deaf ears as their human carefully approaches the feeding pair, wary yet curious. Sunstreaker lets them near without hissing, merely flashing bright patterned frills at them in invitation. 

A challenging smirk curls his lip components. "See something you like, landwalker? I'm always up for another hunt if it means claiming a worthy prize." The others can only whine and fawn, outmatched by the golden mech's sheer audacity. 

"What are you doing?" Drift asked, popping his head up to watch the younger Oceanides. Bluestreak huffs. "We're trying to win favour, prove ourselves to the landwalker. But Sunstreaker keeps showing off as usual." 

Sideswipe nods fiercely. "He only does it to make us look bad. If he'd frag off maybe one of us could get a real connection going."

Rodimus vents softly in amusement. "Optimus already tried a fin show, but I doubt Sunstreaker will get them that easily." Sideswipe titters. "Can you blame him? The way they doted on Bee, of course he got all showy!" 

Drift shakes his head in amusement before taking off again. 

"No way, Optimus!," Bluestreak insists. "I mean look, they're still not even reacting to us" 

Sideswipe nods eagerly. "Bet his display freaked them right out, Wonder how far south he hauled his sorry tailfin..."

“I'm telling you Blue, He got so worked up while Ratchet and I were at the caves, fins and frills All flared out as he made a little call to them. And beforehand I was asking him if they were his mates. He said something to them in their words and they got very shy” Rodimus says to him.

"How would you even mate one?" Sunstreaker shoots back at them.

Bluestreak hums curiously. "I don't suppose landwalkers mount the same as we do? No tail, slit or pelvic fins in sight." 

"Frag if I know." Rodimus says defensively. 

Sunstreaker fans his fins and frills at them again, a soft little rumble leaves him as he puts on the show, the softskin looks at him and smiles as they talk and praise Sunstreaker in the language he can't understand, but they do make a whistle noise at him. He smirks triumphantly as the landwalker's praise. Bluestreak scoffs jealousy. "Fragger thinks he owns the surf with this showboating" 

A deep rumble echoes off the waves and it has Bumblebee looking up and calling out to his Sire. Even the softones attention flicks to the large Oceanide as he hangs back in the deeper water. Optimus was still keeping his distance from them after his flare up. 

Sunstreaker falters his display. "Well frag me, Papa Prime's making his presence known out there..." Bumblebee trills excitedly at his sire. “Papa, Papa!” he calls out to him.

____________________

Photos of what the Oceanides look like for those who haven't seen Megatron is the next one I'll be working on.

____________________

______________________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@horizonartist980

@murkyponds

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

@rosielecktor

@shurushurubanban

@wosemoose1

@strawberrydutchling

@azuragalaxya

@dumpster-fae

@simp-sentral

@smallestapplin

@starscreamloverfr

@doodle-dongs

@askcookieanon

@aerisvirtue

@horizonartist980

[writingrock]

i called for you

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: waiting for your hero boyfriend to rescue you. you've called him and he's sure to come to your side.

notes: major death, angst, set in hero war arc, prequel of 'a lost dream' fic

word count: 995

a/n: you can read 'a lost dream' before or after this one. This is a short prequel <3

“Katsuki ... !”

“Katsuki, where are you?”

Your voice rings in the midst of the battlefield, echoing hauntingly. All alone. You stare at the daunting threat in front of you. Your eyes twitch at the writhing, myriad of hands Shigaraki unleashes. They move at an impossible pace. It's a horrifying sight. As much as you want to defeat him, you can't. You're badly injured. Falling back is the smart decision. A sharp pain on your side snaps your thoughts. Your breath hitches as you look down at your wounds. Your fist tightens. Everything hurts. Trembling, you fall back onto the rough rubble. Surrounded by the destruction you could not prevent. But you should be pleased that you did your part of the plan. Now you could fall back and recover. Everyone else had their part to play.

“Kats… fuck.. I need you..” a cough leaves your mouth. Along with it, there’s blood. The splatter splashes across the rubble. Fuck. When was help going to get here? Where is your boyfriend– your hero. He's the only one you want to see right now. You need him. The pain in your chest tightens as you grit your teeth. Suffering quietly as you kept your eyes open- searching for him in the ruins of battle.

As if your prayers have been answered, you see him. You’d recognise that messy, spiky hair anywhere. Adrenaline gives you one last push to get up. Your injured leg limps and stumbles as you run to him with all your might. Using your last strength to be in his arms. The embrace feels amazing. Katsuki feels so warm to lean on. Choked sobs leave your mouth. Mumbling about how thankful you are that he’s here. You're saved.

“You’re here to help right? To save me?” Tears roll down your cheek as you hold onto him, “I called you and you came here to get me right?” The grip on him tightens. Relief fills you to see Katsuki finally here. Your body feels light knowing you’re in safe hands now. That you can get help—

“Why did you call me?” Shock startles your body when he said that. Your quivering eyes looking up at him. Is he joking right now? The Katsuki Bakugou. Making some sick joke on the battlefield. You scoff at him and hit him in his chest. “Stop joking Katsuki, it’s not funny.” You barely choke out.

“I’m not here … ” His voice is firm and his words cut through your heart like a knife. What is he talking about? He’s not here? But he’s right in front of you. Fear rises in your chest. But before you could tell him off, Katsuki stops you. Your name drifts off his lips softly, “I can’t save you.” Why is he being so cruel? His words hurt more than the pain in your chest. You're about to scream at him when his red eyes focus on you. It quiets you down. His eyes are strangely serious with a heavy weight to them. He pauses before looking off into a direction. Instinctively, you follow his gaze to see…

You. You're sprawled across the battlefield. Mangled and bloodied all over. He can’t save you because you’re dead. Realisation hits you hard. Shattering your earlier hope. You’re about to fall to your knees when Katsuki catches you. Slowly, he guides you towards your body, his strong arms holding you close. A closer look at the body only confirms it. There's no mistaking it. How did you not realise it? You didn't even feel it. Was your death that ruthlessly quick?

You want to fight. You want to live. You refuse to accept this. Falling to your knees, you crumble over your dead body. Can you go back into your body? Maybe if you just leaned into your body it would work. Desperately searching for any solution to this impossible problem. You keep trying. Looking for a way to somehow revert your death. Deep down, you know that your attempts are futile.

Katsuki calls out your name. “It’s over,” he says flatly, a hint of regret in his tone, “I can’t do anything about it.” He’s not even here. He's not real. Your Katsuki. This Katsuki is just a figment of your memories. An illusion of your lover to accompany you during your dying moments. He’s not real. You let out a sob. You couldn’t even say goodbye to him.

“What do I do now..?” The question leaves your lips quietly as you process this. You died too young. There was so much you wanted to do. Your goals to be a pro hero are swept away. Heck, your plans for tomorrow are taken from you too. Your loved ones and family— didn’t you promise them to come back? Katsuki. You promised him to fight didn’t you? All the plans you made with him are reduced to nothing. Weren’t you guys going to celebrate after all of this? To go on that date you’ve been nagging him for?

“It doesn’t matter what you do now.” Katsuki says softly as he kneels down to look at you. Did you do your part? Are your friends okay? Thoughts scramble through your head but the one you don’t wish to face is Katsuki. Yet with this spectral form of him in front of you, it’s hard to ignore. You pause, “then can I stay here with you then?” Katsuki nods and pulls you into his arms. Embracing you tightly like he usually does. Correction— like he used to. Accepting your fate, you lean into Katsuki. His body doesn’t feel the same. This embrace isn’t the same. Yet it’s the only thing you have.

“Are you excited for our date after all this?” The question barely leaves you as you combust into sobs. The vision of Katsuki holds you tighter and replies, “Yeah.” Your cries fall on deaf ears as you get cradled by him. Barely, you managed a small “yeah.” You want to curse the gods. Scream at them for giving you such an early death. But nothing you do matters.

"It'll be really fun right?"

"It'll be good."

“I love you Katsuki.”

... He doesn’t answer.

a/n: I have way too much angst plots, i swear there will be fics that aren't just angst !!

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.