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mountainsandmayhem · 1 day

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BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks. CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present.

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things.

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple.

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas.

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.”

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things.

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat.

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!”

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.”

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.”

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean.

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional.

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.”

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.”

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough.

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles.

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.”

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole.

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror.

But not JM.

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility.

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February.

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home.

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’.

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that.

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'.

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome.

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out.

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?”

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head.

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.”

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck?

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed?

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman.

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone.

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her.

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip.

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass.

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft.

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?”

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you.

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him.

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.”

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.”

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning.

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.

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glitched-dawn · 2 days

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OKAY SO

I made a notes post a while ago that I did not fulfill at all. I regret that very much, but now I have a new chance since summer break is around the corner.

So, we got notes post 2.0! and this one is a little simpler, with smaller steps:

10 notes, ill make healthier snacks

20 notes, ill make sure to drink at least one full glass of water aside from dinner every day

35 notes, ill try and shower at least twice a week

50 notes, ill try and go on walks more often and go on longer walks

70 notes, ill make an effort to eat breakfast and lunch every day

100 notes, ill ask my friend if we can make a work-out routine daily/bidaily/weekly

110 notes, ill ask him if we can switch cities during the workouts and learn how to ride the bus together

130 notes, I’ll ask my mom to take me shopping for more masculine clothing and second hand tattered stuff I can tinker with (my pants are currently breaking apart as I write this)

150 notes, ill ask my mom to help me find a good binder (my size is out of stock on the good website i found, tips are greatly appreciated)

200 notes, ill ask my mom to take my mental state more seriously and see if we can get me appointments on BUPP or UMO (youth therapy in my country)

250 notes, ill ask for an autism diagnosis/depression diagnosis/dysphoria diagnosis if i can get a hold of one

300 notes, ill try and get my gang together and do more shit like D&D, hikes, hangouts etc

rules: only five reblogs per person, five comments, you can tag max seven people, and you have to do this before June 14:th.

aight go go go lmfao

(update: ill use strike-through on the goals i've achieved by June 14:th, and make an update post when ive done all of them)

another update: 1000 notes and I’ll ask the councellor to make a concern report so I finally get to live somewhere other than my “home”. (It’s liveable but horrible)

#notes challenge #notes post #notes #yall are never gonna achieve this lol #but these I can now achieve since school isn’t in the way #thoughts from the abyss

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 days

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I recently started writing for a new fandom, it's big, the,source material is still ongoing, my previous one was a small fandom. My problem is, people a lot more rude and demanding in this fandom. I got comments like, o h i dont wanna be mean but...(points out all the mistakes and grammar and typos in my fic) and its been only a week since óhe last update, but i get comments whether its abandoned and comments that simply read i want more, or update soon. I kind of losing my mmotivation for this current WIP of my because of the feedback i received. When I look at BNFs fics, they only have positive comments. I turned off guest comment andturned on comments moderation but i still get comments like this. It's overwhelming. I share fics to share the story and my ideas and excitement with others, but it feels like posting it doesn't worth it. Any idea what i could do in this situation?

*hugs* I'm so, so sorry that you're dealing with this anon 💗 That doesn't sound very welcoming of your new fandom.

I'm glad that you've already turned off guest comments and turned on moderation. Both of those things are what I usually advise as a first step. Apparently with this fandom, you'll need to go further.

When you get a comment from someone you consider rude, look at the bottom of the comment. You'll see a group of buttons there. Tap on the Block button. Doing that will open up a new page where you learn that Blocking a user means they can no longer kudos or comment your works or reply to your comments elsewhere on the site.

You can unblock people at any time by visiting your Preferences page, but in the meantime it will stop those people from leaving comments on your works at all.

Another option you have is to use your Author's Note to tell people that you don't want comments giving you corrections. Alternatively, you can leave a note telling people what kind of comments you do want. @longlivefeedback has a Comment Project that can help you out with that.

When it comes to "update soon" and "I want more" comments, it might also help to look at them a different way. When you read them as people making demands on you, they are very upsetting. If you change the meaning to "I'm on the edge of my seat and I'm going crazy waiting to read the next chapter! I want to know what you're going to do next!" then maybe it feels better?

You also always have the option of leaving the fandom, but if you want to stick with it then I hope this helps.

I'll open it up to the blog and see if anyone else has more ideas of what you can do in this situation. I really am sorry this is happening, anon.

#asks and answers

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greatstormcat · 2 days

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So those android!141 thoughts I mentioned yesterday…

It was a posting you’d been dreaming of for years, working on the highly prestigious TF141 project. It was the pride of the British military, a team of four state of the art androids owned and operated by the SAS and CIA in a joint project. Created to go to places no human could ever reach, achieve missions no human could ever hope to, in conditions that no human could endure. And when they got shot, blown up or damaged…? Well, someone like you would just piece them painstakingly back together.

What you hadn’t expected were the long, tedious waits between their operational periods. You were no soldier, just a technical specialist, so living on base was not your ideal situation. All the shouting and yelling of the people on base got to you, the crowds making you uncomfortable in the mess and highlighting how much you didn’t fit in. The quiet of the hanger where the 141 were housed for storage and maintenance became your default home eventually as no one bothered coming here.

It amused you that the four large, not quite human looking statues became your main companions, resting in the reclined docking pods that protected them and monitored their functions. They were not be activated until they were ready for their first exercise, so you spent time maintaining, improving and caring for them.

They looked so close to human, almost as though they were sleeping in the open fronted pods in their plain fatigues. You were told their features had been modelled on real soldiers from some point in time, each utterly unique in appearance so they could blend in with civilian populations. Their heights and builds were different, and the lead unit, B-06, had even been painstakingly given a beard. The simulated skin that covered them felt soft, not quite as soft as human skin but a good enough replication to fool anyone who didn’t know the difference.

You found yourself talking to them as you worked, telling them about something you’d read, or a show you’d watched as you went about your duties. It became a habit to explain to them what you were doing when you opened one of them up and made alterations to an internal part or another. Even at the end of the day, you said goodnight to the four figures, totally still and silent as they lay in their repose.

You put a suggestion forward that they should have names, to make it easier to move them through clandestine operations, and it doesn’t take much more to get the brass to agree. You receive files from Kate to update each android with a name and basic background, and who could really blame you for spicing up the programming with a few additional traits. So what did it matter if B-06, now know as John Price, likes cigars and single malt? Who would ever know that B-05, now Kyle Garrick, liked the colour blue? Programmers were always adding little Easter eggs to their work, why shouldn’t you do the same?

After a few quiet months, odd things began occurring. The feeling of being watched became a constant, which you put down to the security camera that were installed to protect the… assets. The word made you so uncomfortable. Then you began to catch movement from the corner of your eye, but saw nothing there and no one else in the room. Your nerves jangled, and you comforted yourself by talking to the boys, as you now called them.

On one occasion while working on the Kyle, connecting a data cable to a port beneath his dark, curled hair, you swear his full lips had twitched while you chattered away, pulling on the little scar below his left eye. You sat back and stared at him carefully, watching for any other sign of movement in his features. On a whim you trailed your fingertips along the inside of his forearm, down towards his palm. What you hadn’t expected was him to grab your wrist as you touched his palm. Your breath left you in a whoosh and you sprang back, startled, but he lay in his pod utterly unmoving and eyes shut. The moment crawled on, but nothing else happened, and you forced yourself to go back over to the machine, convincing yourself it was a power surge.

When the call came from Laswell to prepare them for a training exercise with a team of US Marines she was bringing, you were so excited. You began prep immediately, running diagnostics and telling them what was going to be happening, that they’d get to show off their stuff and you’d be so proud to finally see them in action.

The morning arrives to wake them up…. No, that wasn’t right. You were activating them, you remind yourself, these aren’t people. They are machines, but what did it hurt to treat them with respect and dignity, really?

“Right boys, it’s time to rise and shine,” you announce as you carry a cup of coffee into the hanger with you, smiling happily. “You need to show those Marines exactly what you can do today, prove just how great you are.”

You busy yourself with switching on the various terminals, lost in scrolling commands and data. You don’t hear Price move from his docking pod and move over to you, you don't notice him until he touches your shoulder and rumbles into your ear with a deep voice.

“Good morning to you too.”

Your coffee spills from your hand to the concrete floor as you spin, spluttering with terror.

“What are you doing? How… why are you…?!” words tumble from your lips and eyes go wide as you gawp at the huge man-shaped machine standing so close you are pinned against the desk.

“You said it was time to wake up,” he… it smiles, blue eyes looking over your face carefully.

“I… I didn’t type the command to wake you up though,” you hiss.

“You didn’t need to, I heard you,” he answers, as though explaining something obvious you should understand.

“That doesn’t make sense though,” you insist, “you were… off.”

“Huh, what good am I if I’m not aware of what’s going on?” he grins, leaning closer, planting his hands on either side of you on the desk behind you. Trapping you. With a jolt you notice the others are all quietly climbing from their pods unbidden, eyes focused on you and Price.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” you whisper, keenly aware that your job and entire career could be in jeopardy if this project fails, a tiny voice also suggesting you could be in danger.

“Things change, especially when the operation needs it,” Simon announces as he walks closer, taller than all of the others by far, and looms over Price’s shoulder.

“What’s going on? Who gave the order to activate them?” Laswell’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip, but all four androids remain focused on you. Price gives you an expectant look, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I…. was running a diagnostic and… woke them up,” you lie to Laswell, glancing briefly towards the blonde woman as she nears.

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you waited in future,” she grumbles. Price finally steps back, looking somehow smug at your subterfuge, keeping his body between you and Laswell as he turns to her and nods.

“Laswell,” he says simply, and she eyes him with beaming pride. All she sees are the four mechanised soldiers that serve her purpose, she doesn’t understand they shouldn’t be able to decide to activate themselves.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says to you, and your stomach churns. She doesn’t seem to care or notice that the four machines are behaving in too human a manner.

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goingsunnythousandmerry · 3 days

Note

Hi 👋🏽 Congrats for your 1000 likes 🥳.

I’d like a Ace x reader with some nsfw, you can write it with the plot of your choice.

Thankssss

Reader X Ace, Reader x Law, Reader x Marco, Reader x Shanks

Helping Needy Reader

Authors note: Another attempt at perspectives of events with multiple characters. This time a NSFW category. Different approach, OP men letting needy reader use some different tactics to get off. Hope you enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts and comments below or in my inbox.

Warnings: NSFW. MDNI, Fingering, finger riding, thigh riding, breast play, ass play, masturbation (F), public sex, watched masturbation, vaginal penetration, female riding, petnames, I do not own these characters, praise kink, breeding kink

SPOILERS FOR POST WANO w/ Shanks

Ace

You couldn’t sleep, so you went for a stroll on the main deck of the Moby Dick. The deck was empty this evening, the night shift lookouts were standing guard in the crows nest, so you were alone with your thoughts. Your boyfriend, Ace, was away on a mission and you were missing him in more ways than one this evening.

Your mind races with the thoughts of activities you wished you were doing with Ace. A cool breeze blows by your ear and helps dull your need. Stopping at the railing of the Moby Dick, you look out at the choppy water and take a deep breath of the salty air. You pull the blanket that covers your skimpy pajamas tighter around you. A gravelly voice calls to you and wakes you from your daydream.

“Can’t sleep, Y/N?” Ace asks.

You turn around swiftly at the sound of the man's voice. A large smile grows on your face as he tips his orange hat to you. He smirks at you with delight as he gets a peak at your pajamas as you adjust your blanket when you realize who is in front of you.

“Ace!” You call as you run to hug him. “When did you get back?”

“Not too long ago. I’ve just been updating a few of the other commanders. I still have to speak with Pops and Marco.” He says as he plants a soft yet passionate kiss on your lips and wraps you tighter into his embrace.

As you pull out of the kiss you bite your bottom lip. Ace tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You look into his eyes longingly as you feel your needy heat begin to rise in you. You and Ace made certain activities pretty regular, but he’d been away several days and you couldn’t help, but crave him. He knew what you wanted when you bit your lip and looked at him with soft blinking eyes.

“Can it wait..?” You ask as you gently begin to caress his muscular arms.

Ace gently kisses you again. Then slowly moves his lips to your ear. Chills run up your spine as his hands move beneath your blanket and begin to dance up and down your waist.

“So needy for me… You just can’t wait, can you?” Ace whispers before he nibbles at your neck. “You know how Pops and Marco get if I take too long to give them an update, but…”

“But… what?” You whisper between moans as Ace kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

Ace takes a nibble of your skin, just above your breast. You moan and pull him closer to you by the back of his head. He smiles against your exposed skin.

“But… maybe I could help you real quick, then catch up with you again later?” He asks as he stands up tall to look down into your E/C eyes.

You nod at him with a soft smile. A wide grin grows on his face as he grabs you by the hand and takes you to stand at the railing on the side of the Moby Dick. He carefully begins to remove your blanket revealing your pink slightly see through pajamas. You look at him in confusion with your eyebrows furrowing.

“Ace, what are you doing?” You ask.

“You wore that to take a walk on deck? My my… my princess was a naughty one while she thought I was away.” Ace replies as he examines your figure, the blanket still around your shoulders enough to hide your body from the rest of the ship.

“Hey! I couldn’t sleep. I had the blanket on, so no one would see anything. Now what are you doing? Let’s go to my room.”

“Tsk. tsk. On a beautiful night like this? No. Let's stay here. We’re alone after all. It’ll be fun and exhilarating.”

“But what if someone wakes up and sees?” You ask Ace as you begin to bite your lip and reach for his chest.

“I’ll put the blanket around my shoulders and wrap my arms around you.”

“Okay. But I thought…”

“Wearing something like that on deck while I was away..? Then being so needy for me the minute I get here… Now you have me risking getting in trouble with Pops…” Ace says as he peels the blanket off your shoulders and wraps it over his.

Ace puts his arms around you, the blanket draping over your body. Ace spins you around, so your back is flush with his chest. He takes a step forward and you follow suit. His lips find your neck and begin planting soft warm kisses down your shoulder. You moan softly and reach forward for the rail in front of you. His hands under the blanket roam up to squeeze your breasts.

“Ace.” You say breathily.

“Y/N. I’ll give you something you want, but you’ll have to do the work, then maybe later I’ll give you more.” He whispers as he twists one of your sensitive buds.

You nod against his chest as he bites the side of your neck. His hands roaming down to your waist where one stops to rest. His other hand continues until they find your wet core. He rubs back and forth on your core through your shorts.. He laughs softly to himself then kisses the top of your right breast.

“So wet for me and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Ace.” You moan.

“You’ll have to stay quiet, Princess. Can’t have you waking up the crew with our fun.”

Ace finds the waistband of your pajama shorts and slips his hand inside. You grab to pull the blanket tighter around the two of you in one hand as your nails dig into the wooden rail with the other. He slides his fingers up and down your core as you close your eyes and bite your lip to stifle your moans. Without a warning he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you.

“Accceee.” You say as you clench around his fingers and close your eyes at the wonderful feeling of his fingers filling you.

You hear a door open and close. Your eyes dart open and you nervously look around the deck. You see no one else on deck. Ace’s fingers sit still inside you as he watches you look around the deck, a large grin growing on his face. You look up at him nervously with wide eyes.

“It’s alright Y/N. I’m pretty sure it was just the galley door in the main hold.” He says as he pulls you by the waist closer to him. “Now you have me. Show me what you want. Ride my fingers.”

“But Ace. You aren’t going to help me?”

“Not this time, Princess. I want to watch you work for it. If you’re so needy, show me what you want and I’ll reward you later.”

Your hips buck as his warm palm adjusts to rest on your clit. You were desperate for friction against it and he was providing a source, but you wished he’d do more. Ace wanted a show after his long journey and it just so happened, you were desperate enough to give it to him.

Ace takes over holding the blanket around the two of you as both your hands return to gripping the rail before you. Your hips begin rolling against his hand and fingers inside you. You stand on your tippy toes and bounce up and down on his fingers. His fingers curl slightly within your core. You moan and begin rolling your hips forward again to rub your clit upon his palm.

“Ace.” You say as you begin to feel heat build within your core.

“That’s it princess. You can make a mess, it’s okay baby. Let loose for me. It’s just you and me.”

His hand holding the blanket around you lowers to your pajama top where he flicks at your nipple. You moan out desperately for his touch as you continue to rock against his fingers inside you. The salty breeze blows through a break in the blanket causing you to cry out from the stimulation.

“Ace.” You coo through closed eyes as he laughs against your neck.

The door to the inner deck swings open and you hear footsteps approach from behind you. Your rolling hips slow to a gentle rock and your teeth clench. A voice calls to Ace. Ace looks over his shoulder at the owner of the voice. You through half lidded eyes attempt to follow the call.

“Ace.” Marco calls. “Didn’t know you were back. How was it?”

“Oh, hey Marco. I was just coming to update you and Pops. Byn was just telling me how much she missed me.” Ace replies as his fingers begin to play with your g-spot.

Your lips purse inwards, to suppress a moan. You grip the railing hard. As Ace and Marco converse you attempt to remove a hand from the rail to grab at Ace’s wrist to stop his actions, but he moves his thumb to stimulate your clit. You bite your lip in response, feeling the heat building to its finality within your stomach. You grip Ace’s wrist tightly trying to make eye contact with him about your oncoming release, but he’s looking at Marco. You can’t help, but pant at the pleasure building within you. You’re trying not to look at Marco and instead stare lazily at the ocean before you.

“You feeling okay Byn?” Marco calls.

“Fine. Thanks for —Checking Marco.” You say with a jolt in the middle of your sentence as Ace’s fingers start to pound in and out of you.

You smile at Marco before turning your gaze back to the sea to focus on not letting Marco know what’s going on beneath the blanket around you. Your nails dig into Ace’s forearm and he pulls you closer. Ace’s thumb circles your clit as his fingers within you curl tighter to pound your g-spot. With one more twist of your nipple with his hand, holding the blanket around you, your hips rock and your climax explodes.

Ace’s fingers don’t stop through the whole thing. Your eyes close and your teeth clench. A small moan escapes you, but you’re too distracted by the pleasure from Ace’s fingers to care. Ace moves his lips to whisper in your ear.

“Good girl. So needy for me you didn’t even care that someone was watching.”

Marco raises an eyebrow at Ace’s action and rolls his eyes. He turns around and waves to the two of you.

“Come find Pops and I when you’re done Ace.” Marco calls.

You lay your head back sleepily against Ace’s chest. Ace plants a kiss on your lips and readjusts your pajamas beneath the blanket. He unwraps the blanket from around his shoulders and places it around you. He puts one of his hands on your waist and licks the fingers on his other hand clean. You look at him with pursed lips.

“That was mean.” You say through pants as you try to recover.

“You being so needy, certainly made coming home more fun. I can tell you enjoyed it. Now, I better go find Pops and Marco. Wait up for me and I’ll reward you some more.” Ace says with a wink.

He wraps his arms against your blanket covered body and kisses your forehead. He pulls out of the hug and heads for Pop’s cabin. You lean against the railing of the ship and watch him go.

Law

You awoke this morning and for some reason found yourself more needy for your boyfriend, Law, than usual. Problem was, Law was a workaholic. He did not like his work to be interrupted, that’s why you often scheduled “activities” with him. However, this week he had to cancel a session to care for one of your sick crewmates. The result was, today you needed him, desperately.

All day you tried to distract yourself with chores and conversations with your other crewmates that would deter you from the dirty thoughts in your head and the heat building in your core. The minute you stopped working or had a moment to yourself to think, your thoughts wandered to Law. When you saw him in the galley, you could hardly look away from him. He caught on to this a few times and looked at you suspiciously in response, through furrowed brows. Your crewmates were having to wave their hands in front of your face to bring you attention back to them. You then had to come up with excuses for why you were staring off at your Captain. Your crewmates of course didn’t officially know the two of you were together, but there had been speculation. You were doing a terrible job of deterring their theories today, but you couldn’t help it, you missed Law, you needed him.

By about 7 pm, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew on Wednesdays Law liked to do research late, but you had to try for the sake of your sanity. You head to your room to change. You pick a yellow sundress which accentuated your cleavage and the hem of which hit just above mid-thigh. You knew Law would grumble about you being outside of the dress code, but you knew once he saw you in your outfit, hopefully he would be unable to help himself and stop caring. You sneak to his office, hoping to not be caught by any of your shipmates who were mostly slacking off playing cards in the galley. Once at his door you take a deep breath and knock softly.

“Law.” You call quietly through the door.

Law’s body stiffens as the knock upon his office door draws him from the pages of his medical textbook. He relaxes as he hears your voice beyond the door. He stands abruptly and walks to the door. He undoes the lock and opens the door. As the metal door swings open he stops it half-way and he examines you and your outfit at his doorstep. His eyes widen as he looks upon you.

Your arms are behind your back, you’re biting your lip and staring up at him through blinking eyes. You smile softly at him as he leans against the doorway. His right shoulder rests on the door frame and his arms cross in front of him. A half smile forms on his face as he tries to look at you sternly.

“Y/N. What are you doing here and why are you out of dress code?” He asks as he looks up and down the hallway for your crewmates.

“I had a quick matter to discuss with you, may I come in?” You ask as your gaze flicks down to admire his muscular figure, then back up to meet his gold-gray eyes again.

He steps back from the doorframe, holding the door open for you. You enter and Law closes the door behind you. He leans against the door and looks at you with raised eyebrows. You wander to his desk and begin examining the papers he was studying, ignoring his gaze that lingers on your back.

“Y/N. I thought we agreed I would work late on Wednesdays..?” Law questions as he takes a deep breath and heads back to his seat behind his desk.

“Yeah but…” You start as you look up from his desk to meet his eyes glaring at you.

“But..?” Law asks as he takes a seat.

“I. Well with Bepo being sick the other day… We didn't get our time and well… I miss you.” You say as you round the corner of the desk and place a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s your work late night… and I tried Law. I just. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You reply as you look away from his gaze and lean against his desk.

“You what?” He says as he continues to stare at you.

“I don’t know.” You say as you glance over at him, then return your gaze to the floor before you.

“Spit it out already. I really need to get back to work. I’m behind this week.” He says angrily.

“I need you okay. That’s why I put on this stupid dress and snuck around the sub to come here. I need you. It was dumb. I know how you like your schedule.”

Your head sinks low and you take a deep breath before stepping away from the desk. Before you can get too far, a hand is on your wrist. You look over your shoulder at Law and see his lips curled in a half smile. He pulls you onto his lap. You place your hands on his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. He kisses you tenderly and brushes your hair off your shoulder and behind your back.

“I’m sorry. I miss you too. I just really need to get this done.” He says as his eyes meet yours. “I can help, I want to help. I just need to keep working, but I want to give you something. You’re so pretty for me after all.”

He lifts you up to stand in front of him and spreads your legs. His hand rubs up your leg from just below your knee to your inner thigh. His eyebrows raise as his hand reaches the top of your thigh. You moan as his fingers slide across your wet core.

“Came all this way and forgot your panties. Someone certainly is needy for their Captain’s attention.”

Your hands slide down his chest as he guides you to sit on his right thigh. He scoots his chair forward, so your back is inches from the desk. The cold feeling of his jeans feels great against your folds, but you were hoping for more of him. You stare at him and furrow your eyebrows.

“Law?” You question as he returns to looking at the book on the desk in front of him.

“I have work to do, but I’m happy to have my thigh help you. Entertain yourself now and I’ll give you more later, I promise.” He says in response as he kisses you gently on your cheek.

You lick your lips and adjust yourself against his thigh. The friction did feel nice against your naked clit. Laws hold on your waist tightens with one arm as he turns the page of his book with the other. You lean forward and plant a kiss on his neck, hoping if you distracted him enough he would help you. His leg beneath your core began bouncing up and down gently, causing the friction between your legs to shift.

“Law.” You moan softly against his neck between pants.

Your hips roll forward against the bouncing motion. Your lips kiss down Law’s neck and stop to bite his collarbone. He continues to pay you no notice, too entranced in his reading to look at you, but his leg begins bouncing beneath you quicker. You claw at his chest as the friction between your legs causes the heat to rise in your abdomen. Now your nipples were demanding attention as well, so you pull the top of your dress down to reveal your hardened buds. Law continues to stare at the book before him, but his hand around your waist pulls you closer, so your nipples are rubbing against his clothed chest. You moan as friction hits your exposed buds.

“Let go for me babe. Show me how needy you are.” Law says as he licks his lips and finally looks over at you.

“LAWW.” You yell as you hump him faster.

One of your hands falls from his chest and plays with your clit. You feel the heat in your stomach build as the friction between your legs and against your chest overstimulates you.

“Going to cummm.” You say breathily.

“Make a mess for me babe.”

“LAWWWWW.” You call as you lean your head back and he tucks his head into your exposed breasts.

Your warm juices erupt from your core and wet his spotted jeans. He continues to bounce you on his leg as your body shakes against him. You pant as you try to calm your body atop his leg.

“Good girl.” He says as he licks his lips and lifts your head back up to face him.

His soft dry lips press against yours. He gently nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away from the short kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and your head flops on his shoulder. He pets your hair and pulls you close.

“Now I really have to get back to work, but if you go lay in my bed and let me work for a bit, I promise to take good care of you when I’m done.”

You kiss his cheek and slide off his lap. As you stand you slide your dress off the rest of the way, so it falls at Law’s feet. You smile deviously at him as you turn around and walk to his bed, completely nude.

“Clearly. You miss me too.” You call glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Now that was cruel.” He calls back as he watches your ass shake as you crawl into his bed.

Marco

You and the First Division Commander had been seeing each other off and on since you joined the Whitebeard Pirates. You weren’t sure if it was dating necessarily, but the sex was off the charts. You knew he didn’t like it when you slept with anyone else and you felt the same, but much more than that, you hadn’t discussed. That’s why when you woke up this morning hornier than usual, you decided to stay on the ship with Marco. You chose this to the alternative of joining your crewmates in exploring the new island you had just docked at.

You enjoy your morning meal with your crewmates and explain to them you had some journaling to catch up on and were planning to stay on board instead of exploring with them. They moan and groan at you, but ultimately understand as you’d become a pirate to write of the world beyond your home island. That way anyone who didn’t have the chance to leave their home and explore could do so through your writing. You stand on the deck and wave them off as they set out on their next adventure.

You knew Marco had planned to stay back as you’d heard it from Izo the night before. Something about him needing to reorganize the medical storage was all Izo could tell you. It had been a few days since you personally had talked to Marco. You return to your room and sit down to do some writing. However, you don’t get very far before you notice a heat between your legs. Your thoughts wander to what Marco is doing in the infirmary. You finally give in and head to find him.

The door is open when you arrive at the infirmary within the ship. You look down and examine your outfit. You’re wearing a short black skirt and a low cut tank top with a blue button up, resting lazily on your shoulders. You take a deep breath and knock on the doorframe of the infirmary.

“Hey Marco.” You call.

Marco turns the corner from the supply room holding a box and looks up at you over his glasses. He smiles and sets the box down on the counter. You take his smile as an invitation and take a few steps into the infirmary. You look around at the open cabinets and supplies covering every empty surface.

“Hey Y/N. Decide not to head out with everyone else?” He asks as he glances over at you, before returning his gaze to open the box in front of him.

“Yeah. I had some writing to catch up on. Izo told me you were reorganizing, so I wanted to check in and see if you needed a hand.” You say as you stroll over to lean against the counter beside him.

“Hmm…” He says looking over his shoulder at you standing beside him. “Something tells me you aren’t here to help.” He adds.

“Hey. I just… It’s been a few days… I wanted to check in.”

“Sorry Y/N. I’m a bit busy today. You’re welcome to stay here and entertain yourself. Let me get a little farther then maybe I could help.” He says with a laugh as he looks you up and down before returning to the contents of the box in front of him.

“Self entertain huh?” You say as you tap your fingers on the counter beside him.

Marco shakes his head at you, then returns to the storage room off the infirmary. While he’s out you decide to take him up on his offer. You shut the door to the infirmary and lock it. Then you lay back on one of the infirmary beds. You trace your fingers across your lips as you hear Marco talk to himself in the room next door. You smile as you listen to him search for something. You wished he was searching you.

“Hey Y/N, do you see a box of tongue depressors in there?” Marco calls.

You reach down and pull your underwear down from beneath your skirt. You pull them from your ankles and drop them on the floor beside the bed. You look around the room for the box Marco asked about, but fail to notice it. You spit in your hand and bring it to your core beneath your skirt.

“No. Sorry, Marco. It’s not here.” You call back.

“Damn.” You hear him say to himself as you hear boxes move around on shelves in the closet.

You close your eyes and begin tracing your hand up and down your slick folds. You take a deep breath and moan softly at the feeling of your cool fingers moving across your core. Your other hand lifts to play with your breast through your shirt. Your nipples harden and you lower the hem of your tank top to expose your buds. You twist a nipple between your thumb and forefinger with one hand and use your other to roll your fingertips over your clit. You moan a little louder this time, loud enough for Marco to notice. Marco exits the storage room and stands in its doorway looking at you. Your eyes flutter shut as you start to imagine Marco’s larger hands playing with your sensitive parts.

“Wow. I didn’t know you were this needy.” Marco says as he leans against the doorway to the storage closet.

He adjusts his glasses and watches you explore yourself with your fingers. You flutter your eyes open and look over at him. You bite your lip and lower the hand playing with your breast to the sheets beneath you and grip them. Your other hand continues to play with your clit causing your fingers to buck. A smirk forms on Marco’s face as he watches two of your fingers lower to tease your entrance.

“I’m only doing as you instructed. How about you come help me?” You beg as you flutter your eyelashes at the blonde muscular man before you.

“Not turning to someone else today..?” Marco asks.

“Marco. All I want is you. I need you.” You coo as you look him up and down. “If it means I have to entertain myself sometimes..” You say breathily, pausing to pant while your fingers continue to play between your legs. “I will help myself if I need, if you need, but you’re what I’m imagining between my legs.” You reply as you dip two fingers into your entrance.

“Prove it. Let go for me, Y/N.”

You nod as you close your eyes and dip your fingers in and out of your entrance while your thumb rubs friction upon your clit. You bite your lip and hear Marco’s footsteps grow close to you. He sits on the end of the bed and watches you curl your fingers to reach your g-spot.

“Marco.” You beg.

Your hips roll harder against your fingers as you start to feel the heat in your abdomen build. His calloused fingers roam up your calf and rest on your knee. He swallows hard as he scoots closer to you. Your fingers curl faster on your g-spot causing you to squeeze the sheets harder.

“Look at me, Y/N. What are you thinking about?”

You pant and slow the action of your fingers. You gently open your eyes and look at the man licking his lips before you. You push a third finger into your entrance and continue to curl your fingers within you. Your heat builds.

“You, Marco.” You say breathily. “You, you pounding me here in this bed…” You say.

He smiles at this and reaches for your hand between your legs. He lifts it, removing your fingers from your entrance and guides it to rub your clit. You moan as he guides your fingers faster and faster without breaking eye contact.

“Keep going, Y/N.” He says as he lets go of your hand and slides two of his large fingers down into your slick to your entrance.

You keep rubbing varying sized circles across your clit as Marco’s ring and middle finger enter you and pound in and out. Your free hand grips tighter at the sheets.

“MARCO.”

“Cum for me.”

You nod. Marco’s fingers begin to curl and toy at your g-spot hitting it better than you were with your smaller fingers. Your hips roll against his fingers, your hand on your clit slows. Your eyes cross as you feel your heat burst. Marco’s fingers continue to service you as you scream his name.

“MARRCOO.”

You lift your head and slam it back on the pillow behind you. Your juices squirt out on the fingers between your legs. Your eyes drift closed as you come down from your ecstasy. Panting, you half liddidly gaze at Marco, a large smile across your face.

“Thank you. Thank you, Marco.” You say.

A smile grows on his face as he stands from the bed and cleans off his hands on a nearby towel. He returns to sitting beside you on the bed and kisses your forehead. As he sits up and looks down at you, you raise a hand to his cheek.

“Marco.” You say licking your dry lips.

“Hmm..?” He says staring at you deeply.

“I meant it. All I want is you.”

He presses his lips softly against yours.

“Alright then. I’ve never done the girlfriend thing before, but guess we will try it.” He replies with a smile.

You press your lips to his again and wrap your fingers in his hair, pulling him close.

(Daddy) Shanks

You were a newer member of Shanks’ crew. The only woman. Shanks tried to resist, but he quickly grew infatuated with you. Your crewmates all warned you not to get involved with the playboy, but you couldn’t help it. The two of you began seeing a lot of each other. However, lately he was too focused on planning his next plan of action, to spend much time with you. You and Shanks had been regularly active the past few weeks, so the sudden lack of attention left you very needy.

Tonight Shanks finally announced his plans to go after the One Piece to you and the rest of the crew. The announcement resulted in a celebration. Maybe it was missing Shanks or just the alcohol, but an unquenchable heat began to brew between your legs. One you knew only Shanks could tame. You chose a low cut red dress for the occasion.

After finishing another mug with Lucky Roo you found Shanks at a table with Yasop and Benn Beckman. You approach from behind and place a hand on his shoulder. His officers knew about his now somewhat common meetups with you, as they tended to be loud. Seeing you at the Captain’s table hadn’t surprised them, frankly it probably didn’t surprise any of the crew. You’d quickly proved your own as a new member in more ways than one. Everyone was happy to have you on the crew.

Shanks raises his hand to set his calloused fingers on yours. He looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. The other men at the table chug their drinks and head to the bar for a refill. Shanks grabs you by the waist and pulls you to his lap. You place your arms on his chest and look around the crowded room, then bring your eyes back to meet his.

“Shanks, what if someone sees?” You ask.

“They’re all drunk. Who cares? They’ll barely remember any of this tomorrow.” He says as a smile grows across his face.

You purse your lips inward and stare down at your hands on his chest. You take a deep breath as your eyes dart up to meet his gaze. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What is it?” He asks gently.

“I haven’t seen you in days…” You confess nervously.

“Yeah? Do you miss me?” He asks with a soft laugh.

“Shanks.” You start as you raise your hand to run your fingers through the back of his hair.

He raises his eyebrows at you. You bring your lips to his ear. Before you can speak he kisses your neck causing you to moan. Your hands slide back down his chest as you rest your forehead against the side of his head.

“What is it?” He whispers in your ear before he nibbles at your neck.

“I need you.” You reply with a soft moan.

He removes his lips from your neck and looks deeply into your eyes. A devious grin forms on his face. He pulls you closer into his chest before raising his hand to the strap of your dress. He traces his finger down the strap of your dress across its neckline, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Is that why you wore this red dress? Hoped to drive me wild, aye?” He asks as he rubs at the fabric hitting just above your left nipple.

“Shanks. It’s been days. Can we go to your quarters?” You beg.

Shanks laughs as he presses his lips against yours. You get so distracted by the taste of his sweet lips you forget you’re in a room surrounded by your crewmates. His hand begins to explore your body as your fingers rifle through his hair and pull him closer into your embrace. Mid-kiss you quickly pull away from his lips and look around the room wide eyed.

“They’re all plastered, Y/N. No one’s paying attention to us.” He says as his hand roams up your thigh to your core where he pulls your underwear aside.

You moan as his fingers slide between your slick folds. You claw your hands down his muscular chest as he dives two fingers into your entrance, causing your hips to buck. You moan in his ear and wrap your arms tighter around his neck. Bringing your well endowed chest closer to his face. You feel his length harden against the fabric of his clothes beneath your core. You can’t help but hump against it.

“Shanks.” You moan as your thighs clench inward.

“If you’re this needy, Y/N. Ride me right here.” He says in your ear as his fingers curl at your g-spot.

You pull away from him and look into his eyes. He nods at you and pulls your lips back to his. His kisses were intoxicating, they had a way of making the world around you melt away. You’d never had sex in public before, but Shanks had a way of making things comfortable when you tried new things. You pull your lips from his and stand from his lap. You look around the room and notice no one is staring at you, they are all drunkenly laughing with one another and enjoying themselves.

You rest your hands back on Shank’s shoulders and nod at him. He unbuckles his pants and lifts his length from the waistband of his briefs. His large length never fails to make you gasp. You scoot up his waist, to stand and hover over his length. You examine the room around you still no one notices you and Shanks. He pushes your underwear to the side beneath your dress and he lines up his length with your entrance.

“You ready?” He asks as he looks up at you with a smile.

You bite your lip and nod. His hand lifts from beneath your dress to rest on your waist where he guides you as you sit down on his length. You slowly sit down, sucking him between your legs, deeper and deeper. You moan through clenched teeth and closed eyes as you swallow him whole between your legs. You rest your head on his chest and catch your breath once he’s fully inside you. Your dress perfectly covered your new connection,

“So tight for me.” He mutters breathily. “Now use me like you need, Princess.” He says into your ear.

You moan against his lips and he shushes you.

“Shhh… Princess. Don’t want them catching on.”

Your lips find his as you slowly start bouncing up and down on his hard member. His hand roams your waist until finds your ass and squeezes it. His lips separate from yours and he pulls you tighter around his chest. You tuck your head into his neck and begin rolling your hips to help stimulate your clit and g-spot. You weren’t sure why, but your heat was building in your abdomen quicker than normal. You return to bouncing up and down on your captain’s waist.

“Surrounded by your crewmates? Such a slut for me.” He says in your ear.

You swirl your hips on his member and clench down on him. Shanks holds you tighter as you return to bouncing on him. Your breaths both quicken as you ride him faster and deeper.

“Shanks.” You quietly moan against his neck. “Going to…”

“Me too. Make a mess for me, Princess.”

Shanks hand wraps tighter around your thigh as he begins to lift from his seat and pound into you. His length hits your cervix and your eyes cross. Your ecstasy explodes. You bite into his shoulder trying to cover your finish. Your juices drip down your thighs.

“Shanks.” You mumble..

“You take me so well.” He says with a smile.

Shanks continues to pound into you as you come down from your high. He presses his lips against yours as you feel his length twitch within you. You clench around him and feel his warm seed fill you. He pulls his lips from yours and rests his head on your chest, as he breathes heavily.

“I’m going to have to let you get needy more often.”

You laugh and tuck his hair behind his ear.

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matan4il · 2 days

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For the Nonnie who asked me to share some of the response to the performative "all eyes on Rafah" campaign, I hope it's okay if I add to the two images you sent me, and turn to the people sharing that AI generated image...

If all eyes are on Rafah, are you seeing Hamas' abuse, torture and even killing of its own Gazan civilians?

("Resistance is justified when people are occupied!" Cool cool, but what kind of a "resistance" attacks its own people?)

If all eyes are on Rafah, where were your eyes on Oct 7?

If all eyes are on Rafah, 'coz Gazan kids being burned alive (by Hamas, even though Israel got falsely blamed for it) is so unacceptable, then where were your eyes when our kids were burned alive by Hamas? In the pic: 2 years old Omer Siman Tov, who was deliberately burned alive by Hamas terrorists together with his entire family, his parents and two older sisters, in their own home.

youtube

If all eyes are on Rafah, do you see Kfir Bibas, kidnapped at the age of 9 months together with both his parents and his 4 years old brother Ariel? Kfir is the youngest hostage in the world ever (second youngest ever was Charles Augustus Lindbergh Jr., who was kidnapped at 20 months old in 1932).

If all eyes are on Rafah, are you seeing our other molested hostages?

If all eyes are on Rafah, are you seeing Hamas' rocket launchers which continuously operate and target our civilians from there? (note the dates vary from Dec 7, 2023 to May 26, 2024)

If all eyes are on Rafah, where the IDF did strike and kill two senior Hamas leaders, Yassin Rabia and Khaled Najjar, near (but not at) a shelter tent camp, are you seeing that Hamas deliberately chooses to risk its own civilians by having its leaders carry out consultation meetings so close to regular people?

If all eyes are on Rafah, why did you see the rescue of two of our elderly hostages (and the killing of the terrorists who tried to prevent the success of this operation) as a massacre? And why did you claim this was Israel invading Rafah back on Feb 12 already, when the actual ground operation in that city only started in May?

If all eyes are on Rafah because you care about the Palestinians so much, where were your eyes when Palestinians were endangered and killed by fellow Arabs?

If all eyes are on Rafah, where almost a million people have been evacuated by May 20 already, then whose eyes are on Sudan, Congo, Yemen, Syria, Iran, Ukraine among other places, where the murders of hundreds of thousands in each (and altogether, millions) is being carried on unchallenged? Where are the campaigns for the people whose slaughter you can't weaponize against the Jewish state?

If you shared that graphic, but didn't do anything about any of the other things listed in this post, you don't actually care. You just want to seem as if you do.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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blaithnne · 2 days

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Local big sister experiences emotions, more at 6

Been wanting to do one of these with Lauren for AGES, but I never got round to it. Then I saw the Lydia and Phinium expression sheets on @littledigits’ website and I felt inspiration like never before.

The funniest struggle I have with Lauren’s design right now is that she nose too big for she got damn face. Literally, Hilda characters noses take up a fairly small portion of their faces, and her’s took up WAY too much, leaving little room for her to make facial expressions. But I struggled to find a fix because when I made the nose smaller it just didn’t look like Lauren anymore, so I took this as an opportunity to work on that!

She still has a larger nose than most characters, starting higher up (like her grandad!) and ending lower down (but not quite as low as before). I also made her eyes a little smaller and with a shape similar to Lydia’s (though you can see in some of these I hadn’t quite landed on that yet and her eyes are a bit too big), which works both as a nod to her parentage and because I think it makes the nose look bigger. This still doesn’t leave as much room for the mouth as most other characters, but that’s okay — Lauren is a very private person who keeps her feelings close to her chest, I think it works for her to have subtler expressions, adds to how guarded she is! Oh and I also updated the shape of her hair slightly, just to make it a bit more style accurate.

These changes are pretty small on their own, but I think combined they work well to make Lauren feel a lot more…alive? Far less stiff, anyway. I think she also has a more unique facial structure now, instead of just “what if Johanna was 90% nose”. She’s still got a big old nose and I love it but now she can emote, yay!

This is really all just concept stuff, I’m hoping to get a new fullbody style-ref for Lauren out soon! Now that I’ve improved the main issues I had with her face in the last ref, now it’s onto the silhouette! I want her to read as more of a strong character (though it comes across decently in her current ref, I wanna push it more without being as exaggerated as Ahlberg, which is. A challenge for me lol), streamline her silhouette, and finally make her taller than Johanna like she’s always meant to have been <3 I made her shorter for so long because I thought it would help her read better as her daughter but you know what? That’s dumb actually, she’s tall.

ANYWAYS, thank you for listening in on the annual Lauren redesign, and to the artists behind the show for posting so much amazing inspiring show stopping concept work for free because it makes my autism worse /pos

#her hair will prolly need some slight adjustments to account for her blue streaks but that’s a problem for future Sadie #also #local Sadie can’t stop saying “’local person… more at six’#more at NEVER. STOP IT SADIE ENOUGH #oh and apolgoes 2 @littledigits 4 the tag I do not mean 2 bother u <3 #anyways these are not perfect! it’s my first time doing an expression sheet like this #but I’m proud of em anyway!#hilda #hilda the series #netflix hilda #hilda netflix #art #my art #digital art #fanart #doodle #Hilda oc #drawing #Hilda Lauren #Hilda fanart #don’t look too closely at the background I was very lazy with editing the template. which is also from littledigits blog #I will probably do more of these one day #I especially wanna work on her angry expressions lol cause if you’ve read plenism you know my girl has anger issues ✨#and she’s worked on the m since but.#she very much still has a temper so long story short her angry expressions are IMPORTANT I think lol #also the third expression on the top row? my favourite genre of Lauren expressions #just experiencing the horrors #oc #my oc #also the expressions are ordered weird I know but I couldn’t be bothered to line them up properly or in a way that makes sense alright shus

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elementroar · 3 days

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Just quick recap of the Slayer patch in relation to A.B.A and Paracelsus:

1) No special interactions acknowledging their past encounter prior to GGXX ACCENT CORE. Bummer.

2) However, interestingly updated GG World glossaries and entries related to them. First is that as shown by Kaialone’s post, there’s no longer any ‘not really her husband’ or ‘she thinks of as her husband’ style statements for Paracelsus’ bio. Paracelsus is now plainly stated to be her husband.

And the second update is to Paracelsus’ glossary entry updated to explain how Paracelsus’ shapeshifting works and A.B.A’s part in it. Paraphrasing as I haven’t seen the entry myself firsthand as of writing, but it says that Paracelsus's form is shaped entirely by A.B.A's thoughts and the only reason why he doesn't end up human is because of “A.B.A's subconscious fear that he would leave her if he had a human body".

Both these lore updates are surprisingly very direct. The way I see it, Paracelsus’ bio updated to remove ambiguity of his part and role in their relationship seems to confirm he reciprocates romantically on some level and that it isn’t just in A.B.A’s mind/dreams. It’ll be interesting if he does actually introduce himself as her husband in future interactions with other characters.

It also means Slayer is totally biting someone’s wife in front of her husband when he bites A.B.A. So not Dandy!

And we get confirmation of just how much power A.B.A has over Paracelsus’ form. Apparently she doesn’t just morph him into vaguely key-shaped weapons, she can make him into ANYTHING she wants by sheer will.

And if she goes to therapy and gets over her remaining doubts and fears, human Paracelsus is actually THAT close to being canon. The fact the glossary acknowledges this is so directly is refreshing!

It’s so weird how this changes from previous lore where she had to find another machine to do the process. She now has the power to do it at any time and I don’t think she realizes it.

It also explains why she stopped seriously considering her original plan anymore after the arcade ending. Her heart was never really into the mission of getting Para a human body, she had the lingering fear.

#guilty gear strive #guilty gear #paracelsus guilty gear #a.b.a guilty gear #aba guilty gear #ggst #arc system works #my post #ABA can turn Paracelsus into ANYTHING people #your fanfics/fanarts just became canonically possible #yes this also means Yuri Paracelsus is also possible

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johnslittlespoon · 17 hours

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hii happy pride month, have a little 'you're a dog (i'm your man)' chapter four snippet as an apology for radio silence <33

“Did I wake you?” Gale asks, glancing at John apologetically, but John looks up from his effort to avoid muddy puddles to shake his head. Gale supposes it’s a silly question; John sleeps like a rock, dead to disturbances made by anything other than his own brain.

“Just my sixth sense,” John says, shrugging and shooting him a small smile. Gale snorts.

“You got a radar for me?” He teases, and John smiles wider, eyes crinkling.

“Built in,” he answers matter–of–factly, raising a hand and making a fist over the center of his chest before dropping it, returning his vigilant gaze to the uneven ground. Gale stares for a moment longer, floored not for the first time by John’s apparent obliviousness to the weight of his sentimentality.

Even knowing John how he does, it’s always unexpected coming from someone who a stranger might assume to be brazen and surface–level; John’s loud mouth and wandering hands do him no favours in that regard.

But Gale does know John, like an extension of himself half the time, and still he manages to render him speechless. The way his heart flutters as the sentiment hangs in the air makes Gale want to reach down his throat and squeeze it until it never beats again.

#slow progress but progress #dog coded bucky fic #still sick unfortunately lol i thought i was lucky enough for it to just be a week thing but i forget i am chronically ill!#(read: i gaslight myself into thinking i'm normal sometimes)#i'm trying to get this chapter done before i reply to asks/post other stuff #bc i rly only have the mental capacity for one or the other at once atm :( but i miss you guys and being deranged here SO BAD. so so bad #thank u for the endlessly kind messages and your boundless patience oh my word <3 it rly is so reassuring mwah hugs #i rly do feel so bad for not replying to @s and messages tho i just have so little energy rn so i am conserving it :(#but i read them all whenever the migraine brainfog subsides enough to scroll and i smile and weep simultaneously <33 #so if i have not replied to ur msg. i promise it is nothing personal i'm just a walking corpse and will get back to u when i can <3 #and that's my boring author's life behind the scenes update JSKGD my bad y'all #buckbucky

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stonerbellybabe · 16 hours

Note

Two questions!

1. Back when you where flaunting on the beach in the summer you too pictures in a hammock, any point you thought it might rip? Or you struggled to get in? On seeing the post the first thought I had was “how on earth is it holding you?” 😂

2. Back on January 1st this year you posted a clip of you doing jumping jacks, any chance now we are approaching halfway through we could get an updated one? 😳

1. Nope, supposedly that hammock and straps are rated for like 400 pounds lol

2. Yeah sure

#ask #me #video

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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Stricken 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, ostricization,and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you were scarred by a storm years ago and its bringer has come to upheave your life once more.

Characters: God of War!Thor

Note: I did this finally.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You always know when a storm's coming. The hairs on your arms stand and your skin burns hot. The smell of rain is tinted by another scent. That of burning flesh and ash. Your scars raze as if struck again and for a moment, you cannot hear or see.

Slowly, the scent of rain returns to you and the noise of the patter, sometimes more a hammering, as if to remind you of its bearer. The thunder is his war cry. The lightning his wrath. You do wonder why then it should’ve come down on you.

You keep your hood up, your chin low. Though you hide, the villagers know who you are, they know of your misfortune. The calamity wrought into your flesh in veined scars. Your face is marked with the storm, zigzagged with lines as your left eye is struck blind and white.

Yet it isn’t your name they whisper as you stop at a stall to buy grain. It is his. The Prince of Asgard. The might God of Thunder. The monster who made you like this.

The air is thick, roiling with unspent moisture, and the clouds threatening in a grey ripple. You should have come yesterday. You should not have waited so long.

You trade your coin and move on, gathering the small rations you can afford. You’ll return to your hovel, gather what you can from the garden, and check the traps for rabbits. It should get you through, though the frost does eat away at your harvest.

As you have it, between the chirping of your disfigurement, there is worse creeping from the north. The snows have fallen heavy and whole lakes have frozen to the silt. You do not believe all you hear but you know better than to disregard the nip in the air.

Your basket remains like but you’ve spent your limit. Your cloak shifts with your movement and you shrink lower as you near the group of adolescents feigning at battle with sticks. Their audience glimpses your passing and you hear their voices mingle with laughter.

“It’s that crone. The burnt one,” comes a bit louder than is meant.

You don’t stop. You don’t show that you’ve heard it. There is nothing to be said.

“Cursed, by Thor’s hammer,” another chortles, “it is said he was forging and struck the blade too hard. In his wrath, he sent a storm. A mongrel like her drew it upon herself, broken like the sword.”

Certainly, that too is a story to be met with skepticism. One cannot guess at what the gods do in Asgard nor why they bring only misery and chaos to Midgard. You cannot disagree that the storm was no favour to you. A curse, certainly, though the meaning can never be known.

You move along, leaving behind their whispers and their sneers. Off to your solace, to your safe. Out of the path of any wandering soul or any blowing storm.

⛈

A storm rages without. Water swirls and batters your small abode, built against the wall of a cave on a carpet of peat. You cover your ears as the winds whistle and wail. You quake beneath your cloak, eyes locked shut as you cower away from the tempest so much as your own memories.

The blinding white flash and the scalding hot pain. Your fingers creep up to your chin and feel the rigged scars. You can never forget, no matter how you try. You can never be as you were. You are marked, you are damaged, and as the villagers have it on their tongues, broken.

Even your family would not have you. You remember your mother’s wail as your father drove you off like some beast. ‘The gods have smited you themselves. You cannot remain or you will wreck ruin upon us all.’

Days of walking and tears, like the very storm that scarred you, a haze through which you trod until you could go no more. Until your head would split and the burnt flesh began to weep. A woman found you on the forest floor, rotting away from the corruption spreading through you.

You don’t remember much of her. Only her touch and how she healed you. She bid you off with the cloak you wear and some food for your travels. Then you were alone and thus you remain. Not even the thieves will steal from you, nor the criminals darken your door. A curse is worth no piece of gold, no drop of blood.

The pounding of rain relents. A chill creeps beneath the slats of your door and seep into the walls. You fill the earth with what kindling you have, the clay chimney puffing smoke up through the center of the roof. You hold your hands out to warm but find little comfort.

You settle on your side beneath your cloak and stare into the flames. You shiver. It’s cold. Very cold. Typically, the rain chases away the chill but this is different. You can feel it in the ground. You curl up tight, clinging to your warmth, let your eyes close. Sleep comes but for lack of and not peacefully.

Your dreams are a maelstrom. There a flames and ice, one after the other, sometimes together. Sharp pointed shards frozen and hanging, then licking tendrils of heat from below. You are lost in the land of sleep, tortured by a world built of your own fears and follies.

You wake stiff and frigid. The fire has gone out. Not even smoke remains in the pile of ash. You move carefully, bones aching, scars tingling. You touch the hard ridging along your cheek and your fingers pulse from the cold. You can see your breath.

How can it be? It was sunny before the rain. You get your feet under you and stand with a groan. Near the door, a strange dusting of white powders around the door, flecking in from beneath and around the edges. Snow?

Were the tales true after all? You wince as suddenly your scars singe and sting. Ow. You recoil and cover your face with your hands, hissing and wheezing through the pain. It hurts terribly. Worse than even the first strike.

You pull your hands away as your eyes water and you blink through your tears. You can see, at least in your good eye. There is no lightning, it is only in your mind. You shakily turn and search around. You cry out again as the agony surges once more in your head.

Why?

Your legs quake. Something is amiss. The frost has come and this meagre hut cannot withstand it. You take your rucksack and put what you can carry into it. Your water skin is strung across your chest and your pack upon your back. You wrap your boots with rags and your hands too. You haven’t the clothing for the cold but you will need to find something. Perhaps skin a hare or two.

The door blows inward almost as soon as you touch it, another gust nearly bowling you over. You sway with the wind and cling to the crooked doorframe. You shove yourself out, just as quickly flattened to the wall by a flurry of snow. It dusts your face coldly and you pull up your neck scarf over your nose and pull your hood into place.

You set off, hunched, reaching with your arms as you lift your knees over the treacherous heaps. You keep close to the rock wall. The thought of turning back stops you but it seems as foolish an idea. The hovel cannot hold for much longer. You need to get to the mouth of the cave and chance a sleeping bear within.

You sidle along, slowed by the snow and the wind, the former soaking through your clothing as the latter whips around your hood. Suddenly, a roll of thunder, like war drums, churns in the air. The word dims and the furor sounds again; louder, closer.

You cry out and lift an arm to shield yourself instinctively. You curl your hand into the rockface and holler even louder, closing your eyes as your memory summons another storm. No, it cannot be. Not again.

A deafening boom shakes the ground and knocks you to your knees. You crawl along, keeping low near the ragged stone, those hidden beneath the snow jabbing against your palms. You whimper and whine, blinded by the thickening curtain all around you.

Yet you never heard of the god raining down snow upon the lands. Only the slaking rains and the hot violence of his bolts. Never this. What sword has he broken this time? Perhaps it was his very own hammer.

The thunder overhead continues its horrid thrum as more pulses in the earth. Boom, boom, boom. You feel it beneath your hands. Your knees come down clumsily as you scramble through the piling powder. You open your eyes and still cannot see. The world is smudge in gray white and black, the sky flashing and darkening from one moment to the next.

You cry out again as your scars burn. You push yourself back on your heels and grasp your face as you shriek. It hurts! So bad! Your eyes well and flow over. Your body trembles and collapses. You writhe in the snow, contorting with the agony as your flesh feels as if it is splitting.

Beneath the incessant pounding comes a rocky noise. Like laughter it curdles in the air and chases after you like the steady boom, boom, boom. Closer and closer, louder and louder, the earth quakes in tandem with the cacophony.

“I’ve found another,” the deep voice scoffs and snickers, “ah, Heimdall, you must see this--”

The craterous voice halts and the air still. The snow drifts but the wind stops and the thunder relents, the world seeming to hum. You scratch at your face as the flames grow unbearable. You must be alight. It can be the only reason for such pain.

The large figure, a blurry silhouette in your skewed vision, looms like a mountain. He steps over you, sliding a foot between you and the cave wall and flips you onto your back. You stare up at the sky, rolling in sheets of grey and black, the dark figure standing above, blotting out the clouds. You sob and plead.

“Make it stop!” You beg as your hood falls back, “kill me! Kill me! It hurts.”

He bends as your eyes roll back and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He pulls you half off the ground, not a single grunt for the effort. You feel whoever, whatever it is, looking down at you; upon you. A rattle rises in his gritty throat.

“And what are you?” He breathes.

You feel another surge and babble, reining in your wild eyes as you quiver uncontrollably. You make yourself look at him. You shudder and shake your head. Shaggy red hair, a braided beard, and eyes so blue they jolt you. Ink marks one side of his broad face as he wears fur upon his soldiers beneath emblems of the godly lands.

“It hurts...” you rasp, “I am dying.”

“You...” he grabs your chin, holding you by your shoulder. His thumb extends up your face to touch the scars and you let out a shrill howl as the agony piques. You latch onto his thick arm and thrash.

“It buuuuuuuurrnssssssssss,” you scream as your spine arches.

“Hmm,” he hums and throws you into the snow. You continue your desperate wriggling, the fire softening but not leaving you completely, “Heimdall!” He calls out like a war horn, “get your skinny ass over here!”

There’s a tinkle of coy laughter and lighter footsteps that land on the boulder above. Your eyes drift over and you see another shadow, this one hazier but smaller. A dusting of snow flies up beside you as the other man lands beside you. No, not a man.

Heimdall? Son of Odin.

“Oh, Thor, what trouble have you found--”

“Another one,” the other growls. Not the other, Thor. The God of Thunder. The beast who marked you. “Father says they all must come.”

“This one?” Heimdall muses as his voice spikes with humour, “why look at her. Pathetic—wait a moment... brother, is this your handiwork?” He squats to see you closer and snickers again, “why how very peculiar.”

“Bring her,” Thor barks and spins on his heel, swinging his hammer, “we haven’t time--”

“You bring her, brother. As you say, you are so much stronger--”

“Just do it!” Thor snarls and a peel of thunder breaks through the clouds. “I need ale.”

#thor #god of war #dark thor #dark!thor #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #god of war ragnarok #stricken

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