#Red Rock Secret Mountain

[kaelula-sungwis]

Push forward by Brian Evans Via Flickr: Sedona, AZ

[thorsenmark]

What a Wonderful Way to Experience a Sunday in Coconino National Forest by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A setting looking to the northwest while hiking and taking in views over nearby evergreens and then to eroded formations in the high ground present. This is along the Fay Canyon Trail in Coconino National Forest.

[buzzkillchainsaw]

When No-one hatched, he of course wasn't given the name "No-one". No rational Skywing adult would subject a dragonet to such idiocy. No, they probably named him something nice and appropriate like Ridge, Moraine or maybe Granite. It didn't really matter through, because he didn't keep that name for very long.

He quickly learned that there was something he could do that all the other hatchlings couldn't: Whenever he really, really wanted something, it happened. When he once dropped his favourite shiny rock into a mountain crevice and wished for it to come back, it flew into his claws as if someone down there had thrown it to him. When he wanted to win a race against a fellow dragonet, a bug flew into his opponent's eye and distracted her, making her lose. When he wished he could taste a cut of meat one of the stronger hatchlings had taken for himself, a piece of it slid off as if cut by an invisible knife and slithered towards No-one. Of course, No-one was smart enough to keep this power a secret and to not tell anyone, not even to brag. He was convinced that everyone would want him to share it and do a bunch of stuff for them all the time if they knew about the power. But he couldn't keep it hidden forever.

Once Skywing hatchlings reached a certain age, they were rounded up and brought into a room. That room contained nothing but a candle and some disgruntled soldiers blocking the only exit. One by one, the hatchlings were tasked to sit in front of the candle and "wish for it to be snuffed out". No-one immediately realised that this was a test to find out who had secret powers like him, so he decided to cheat. When it was his turn, he concentrated on the opposite of "snuffing out the candle". Instead of continuing to burn as normal though, the flame shot up towards the ceiling, scaring all hatchlings and making them huddle together in a pile. The adult Skywings fixated No-one with their eyes. He realised that he had screwed up and that the adults would now force him to share his powers with everyone, so he ducked under the soldiers' grasping claws, dashed towards the scared group of hatchlings and wished he could trade places with one of them. After all, once the adults discovered that the other hatchling couldn't do magic at all, they'd probably just let him go. In the ensuing chaos, nobody in the room noticed how one dragonet's deep red scale color instantly faded into orange with yellow speckles, while No-one turned red. The now-orange hatchling was dragged out of the group, screaming, crying, protesting, while No-one and the others were ushered out of the room.

The next years of No-one's life passed by rather uneventfully. He had assumed the other hatchling's identity (whom he didn't see around anymore, for some reason – which made it even easier) and lived an ordinary dragonet life full of training, chores and school lessons. During one lesson, he was taught about animus magic and that it made the user "evil" and "destroyed his soul". This obviously couldn't be true, because No-one was using his magic daily and he wasn't evil. He convinced himself that it was just exaggerated fear-mongering. Still, there was a slight fear starting to settle into the back of his mind. He tried to be more careful with his power, but just couldn't resist using it to get small advantages here and there. No-one was smart about it, but not smart enough: the adult Skywings around him started catching on, noticing the unusual luck that seemed to follow this particular dragonet. Alas, they had no proof that they had an actual animus in their midst – thanks to no small part to their lackluster experience with magic due to their, uh, animus-related zero tolerance policy.

No-one began feeling the pressure. He was plagued by nightmares, first about the adult Skywings discovering him, then they gradually turned more scary, outlandish and violent. In one, he entered the hatchery and commanded rocks to fall from the ceiling and smash the sleeping dragonets' bones. In another, he made a wooden splinter bury itself into the soft flesh of another hatchling's belly to kill it. When he woke up, exactly this had happened to a dragonet sleeping next to him – although the splinter had stopped before causing any major damage –, but luckily everyone just assumed she had just accidentally slept on it. Still, the situation was escalating and No-one had to make a difficult decision.

His plan was simple: 1. Leave the Skywing kingdom undetected. 2. Master animus magic. 3. Find a way to offset this mysterious "damage" to his soul that the magic supposedly caused. The first step was rather easy: He picked out a young, freshly initiated soldier who would definitely be allowed to leave the Skywing territory unsupervised. No-one then took an earring and enchanted it to make the wearer appear as an exact copy of the dragon who was previously touched with it. He then sneakily rubbed the earring on the soldier's tailtip and sprinted away, eager to try out his new spell. After putting it on and looking at his reflection in a puddle, he rejoiced: The soldier, big and strong, stared back up at him. No-one promptly left towards the outskirts, tricking some guards at the border in the process (My weird childish voice? Yeah, I have a sore throat actually).

His new life had begun. It was rather lonely, though. He flew south until he reached the Mudwing kingdom and threw his earring at the first brown dragon he saw sleeping in the mud. Having copied the Mudwing's appearance, No-one felt comfortable enough to explore the territory. The other Mudwings largely paid him no mind, but he did get a few weird questions here and there about where his "sibling group" was, whatever that meant. Away from the prying eyes of other dragons, No-one continued practicing his magic. He made fish jump into his mouth and grass coil around the legs of swamp animals, holding them in place for No-one to catch. But each enchantment he did made the fear and doubt in his mind about his damaged soul worse and worse. He needed to implement step 3 of his plan, quickly. And as luck would have it, an opportunity was about to run into him.

A Mudwing dragonet, barely older than No-one, bumped into him while he was stalking some prey, frazzled and distraught. No-one immediately took notice of that and asked her what was wrong. The Mudwing, a "bigwings" named Tawny, was looking for her younger siblings who loved to run off on their own. She sighed and said that she wished to always know where those naughty dragonets were, so she wouldn't have to worry about looking for them. No-one's ears perked up, as he sensed the opportunity. After making sure no one else was around, he took off his earring to reveal that he wasn't an adult Mudwing at all, but a Skywing dragonet. Tawny was shocked, but he quickly calmed her down and revealed that he was an animus and that he wanted to grant her wish. But seeing as animus magic damaged the user's soul, he wanted to copy her appearance in return and cast the spell in this form to offset the damage to her. Since it was only one spell, she had nothing to worry about. Tawny was unsure – a wish in exchange for just a teeny tiny bit of soul damage? But it was getting dark and her siblings already had a huge head start, so she ignored her worries and accepted. No-one touched her with the earring, put it on and turned into a mirror image of her. He then picked up a rock and enchanted it to become hot when one of her siblings was nearby and then become cold when they moved further away. Tawny rejoiced and put the rock into a pouch tied around her neck. Once she was gone, No-one, still appearing as Tawny, cast a few more spells, and he really did feel different. Lighter. Better. That night, he slept without a single nightmare.

And so, the world opened itself up to No-one with endless possibilities. He travelled the lands, taking on countless appearances and granting wishes in return. Since the spell was very complex, he eventually started writing it down and presenting it to the other party as a contract they had to sign for it to work. Everything went smoothly. However, he did notice one thing: sometimes, one of the appearances in his "collection" would disappear and he was unable change his own appearance into it anymore. He had no idea what caused this, but he wasn't really eager to travel back and find out.

He kept granting wishes to keep a steady supply of appearances. His favourite place to stay was the Rainwing territory, as the weather was pleasant, the food was good and the dragons there were easily convinced to make stupid wishes.

[pennylanewrites]

[used to be my girl] levi ackerman x f!reader

inspired by used to be my girl by the last shadow puppets

cw + what to expect: cheating, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, levi is mean and a tease, marking, missionary and lotus position

find part two here

you loved your partner, erwin. you really did, but god, he was so…vanilla. and you never came with him.

only when you were thinking of your ex instead.

you hated it so much, but sex with levi was so good. he knew exactly where to touch you, kiss you, what position made you scream his name. and you needed to feel that way again so, so bad.

but you and levi were long over. he broke up with you when you became a squad leader, never really explaining why. but you knew well he was just scared. levi had lost too many people in his life, that any new ones he just pushed away. you never tried reasoning with him, you knew it would fall on deaf ears anyway.

and then, you and erwin smith became much, much closer than before. all those late nights in his office, discussing tactics and helping him with mountains of paperwork brought you closer, and closer, until you were sharing secret kisses in dim-lit hallways, until he changed the squad positions to have you close to him, until he fell down on one knee two years later and asked you to marry him when everything was over. of course you said yes, and you were beaming and showing off that tiny diamond on your finger, until everything went to shit.

hange had warned you that erwin is in love with his job. you just never knew it would get so bad, to the point he came to sleep in your shared bed once every two weeks, only pecked your lips in a rush when you asked, only fucked you once in a full moon.

you were still in love with levi ackerman. and now you were standing at the annual gala for the survey corps, in a long blue gown, staring your ex boyfriend up and down. your table was filled with wine glasses, and someone would think you had company, but you were all alone since the start of the event. levi was listening to hange babbling about whatever, his pink lips in contact with a whiskey glass every few seconds.

god, you could eat him up right then and there.

what am i thinking? you brought your cold palm against your burning cheek, opting to look for your fiancé instead. he was nowhere to be found, of course. a gala basically in his honour and he was gone.

your eyes fell on levi again. he was wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up and black pants. so simple, but so, delicious.

the glass almost fell from your hand when he locked eyes with you.

oh god, he’s coming. make a turn, make a turn, don’t-

“hey, levi.” you gave a half embrace and kissed his cheek, your cheap lipstick leaving a faint red mark right on his cheekbone.

“you look beautiful.” was all he said. “and drunk.”

“i’m not drunk,” you scoffed, “this is my second drink.”

“what, in the last ten minutes?” he motioned to the table and your cheeks turned bright red. “where’s your husband?” his tongue was bitter with sarcasm.

“he’s not my husband. and i don’t know.” you mumbled, embarrassed. what kind of fiancée doesn’t know where her partner is?

“want to get some air?” you only nodded, following him out of the main hall and to a bench overlooking the walls. it was a starry night, the moon was full and you felt like a teenager again. just like you were when you and levi first met.

you watched intently as his hand reached in his pocket for a packet of slim cigarettes. he sighed when he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found, but you came quickly to his rescue. opening your purse, you took out a silver lighter, the initials L.A engraved on the side in tiny letters. levi was surprised you still had that, his eyes never leaving that stupid rock on your ring finger as he let you light his cigarette. he offered you one as well, now his turn to light it for you. your eyes met his. were you wrong to think they were full of longing? was he wrong to think yours were filled with regret?

“don’t tell him i’m smoking.”

“dear husband doesn’t allow it?” you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“he just hates it.”

“it’s a good thing he doesn’t kiss you then. he won’t smell it on your breath.” you turned your head surprised. how did he know?

“everyone knows, y/n.” he replied without you even having to ask. you sighed, staring at the burning cigarette in your hand.

“great. the survey corps’ walking anecdote, ladies and gentlemen.” you bowed to an invisible audience, leaning back on the bench with a frustrated sigh.

“what are you even doing with him?”

“it’s none of your business.”

“it is when i hear you moaning in the supply closet every night.” you let out a surprised gasp. how did he say these things so freely?

“the only person masturbating around cleaning products could be you, levi.”

“then who’s that moaning my name in there? every single night. at 2 o’clock sharp.” his voice came out in a whisper, lips touching your ear as he spoke. shivers ran down your spine and your eyes were burning with guilty tears.

“sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

“sounds like erwin can’t make you cum.”

“shut up!” you got up, looking out in the distance. two familiar arms snaked around your waist, locking against your lower stomach. wet lips came in contact with your neck, and you wanted to pull away so bad. to leave, run to your fiancé and kiss him.

but you couldn’t. and you didn’t.

because it was levi you were in love with.

“levi,” you whimpered and he swore his knees would give right then and there.

“shh. let me have this, let you have this.” he was kissing that spot right behind your ear, his hands roaming your body over your dress.

“someone could see us, levi.” you warned him.

“bet it would turn you on.” fuck, he knew what he was doing. “my room. ten minutes.”

levi went around the building and you went back into the main hall, falling right into erwin’s arms.

“i’ve been looking all over for you.” he scanned your face with worried eyes. “you look…”

“i can feel a migraine starting, erwin. i was just out getting some air.”

“okay, go get some sleep, alright? i’ll be in soon.” your heart skipped a beat.

“no, have fun tonight. you deserve it.” you reached up and kissed his lips softly, tears brimming your eyes.

you practically sprinted to levi’s room, head spinning and heart pounding like crazy. you knocked on the door and levi opened in mere seconds, as if he was standing right behind it waiting for you.

“you took too long.” he took you in his embrace, letting his forehead touch yours as you shut the door behind you.

“i ran into erwin.” you bit your bottom lip when levi showed the slightest hint of annoyance. he pushed you against the door, protecting the back of your head with his hand.

“yeah? did you tell him you’re gonna fuck your ex?”

“n-no.”

“you should have. because he’ll take one look at you tomorrow and he’s going to know.” his lips were attached on your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. god, you missed his touch. you missed needing him.

“levi,”

“what?” his voice didn’t show, but he was worried. scared you’ll regret this and leave, run off to erwin and tell him everything.

“kiss me, please.” you didn’t have to ask a second time, because his lips were slamming against yours, and he was so, so hungry. he lowered his body and his hands were around your thighs. you let him lift you up, wrapping your legs around his torso, letting you take him into the bedroom. two candles lit the room up, and you were hit with memories as soon as he dropped you on the mattress.

“take that off.” he instructed and you began unzipping your dress, but he stopped you. “i meant that.” he pointed at your finger. you didn’t give it a second thought, placing the ring in your purse and throwing it on the floor. “now that.” he pointed at your dress as he undressed himself too. you were too focused on the tricks the flame played on his chiselled abs, his strong veiny arms and muscular thighs.

god, he looked like a greek statue.

“can’t even do that yourself?” he took matters into his own hands, slowly taking your dress off before pushing you down again. he fell on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips and leaned down to kiss you. your lips were locked in place perfectly, like the last two pieces of a puzzle you couldn’t finish.

you took your bra off and let it fall on the floor with the rest of your clothes. levi’s lips latched onto your nipple, his fingers rolling the other one. you arched your back off the bed, moaning softly in his ear. his erection hit against your panties and suddenly you were going crazy.

you needed him. now, and forever. you rolled your hips against him as he kissed your body hungrily, watched him as he slid down until his teeth caught the bow on your underwear. he took them off as quick as he could.

“tell me, does he do this?” he asked, leaving a kiss on your clit. god, you were embarrassingly wet.

“he does…” you looked away, but levi reached your jaw with his hand and made you stare at him.

“but?”

“he doesn’t know where to touch me.” you mumbled.

“does he touch you here?” you felt the pads of his fingers come in contact with the top of your clit. you nodded no. “here?” he asked, slowly pulling his fingers down, to that spot that made your stomach tighten.

“no.”

“that idiot doesn’t know what he’s missing then.” was the last thing levi said before his tongue slipped into your folds. your hand fell on his head, as if out of instinct, and you pulled on his perfectly styled hair, guiding him right where you wanted him. a row of fuck, shit, oh god came out of your mouth. how long has it been since you felt this way? your fingers didn’t do even half of what levi was doing to you right now.

“levi, i’m coming.” you warned and he looked up at you as he added two fingers to the mixture, entering your slick cunt. you couldn’t look away from those mesmerising gray eyes as you moaned in pleasure and that knot in your stomach came undone. levi slowed down until he was off your pussy completely, now coming up to you again.

“has he ever made you this wet?” he kissed you, making you taste your juices mixed with his saliva.

“never.” you were telling the truth. levi was the only man who could ever do this to you. he was like magic.

“can i fuck you?”

“yes, please.” you whined when levi slapped his cock against your clit and you looked up at him through eyelashes painted black, silently begging for him to fuck you. he didn’t wait any longer to enter your cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he adjusted your legs around his ass and leaned down, chests touching, to kiss you.

“you can’t even kiss me?” he teased. how could you? you were a moaning mess, getting louder with every harsh, slow thrust. even though erwin was much bigger than him, levi filled you up perfectly in every way.

he was made for you.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sucking on his neck and those pretty collarbones to muffle your moan. leaning back, you admired the purple and red marks before smiling at him. levi could melt right then and there.

he picked up the pace, fucking you fast into the mattress.

“please, please, please!”

“what, coming again?” he chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eye. “how long has it been, y/n? since someone made you come?”

“too-too long.” you breathed out.

“two years? two and a half?” you knew what he was doing. trying to make you admit he was the last man to make you orgasm.

“oh god, i’m coming!” your walls clenched around his dick, making him moan in pleasure. “levi, levi hold me.”

“i’m holding you.”

“more.” you needed his arms around you. you needed to become one again.

levi pulled you up and into his lap and you wrapped your legs around his torso, arms roaming his back, scratching it. he held you tight, slamming you up and down his cock until you were coming again, and again…

“missed this pussy,” he whined when he felt you clenching again, “missed your claws on my back.”

“give me all of it, levi.” you whispered in his ear and he lifted you up, hips bucking into the back of your thighs as he reached that spot he knew drove you mad. he was close, you could tell. oh god, you didn’t want this to end.

“fuck, i’m gonna-”

“inside me.” you didn’t let him finish. you wanted to feel all of him so bad.

“does erwin cum inside?”

“he doesn’t. he thinks it’s filthy.”

“good. this pussy’s…” his sentence was cut short with a groan and you felt a new, familiar warmth inside you, as he brought you down to fit all of his length, “all mine.” he whispered.

out of breath, you stared at each other. you didn’t want him to pull out. it would all become too real. but your juices combined were making a mess on his lap, so you slowly got up, heading for the bathroom. levi was hot on your heels, accepting the towel you took out for him. you looked at him through the mirror with a sad smile and he returned a serious gaze.

“don’t say this was a mistake.” he blurted out when you opened your mouth to speak. “don’t say anything.” he spun you around and hugged you tight. you could feel his warm breath on your neck, his fingers leaving white marks where he held you, his toes touching yours.

“i have to go.” your voice was shaky. tears fell down your cheeks and dropped on levi’s back, startling him. he pushed you softly and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“stay.”

“i can’t. i’m sorry.” you kissed his cheek and left. levi didn’t come into the bedroom. he waited for you to get dressed, and only when he heard the front door did he go into the room.

he spotted your bag, forgotten on the floor. with a sigh he took it, sat on the bed and opened it. lipstick, his lighter, cigarettes. your engagement ring. he took it in his hand, inspecting it against the light. he leaned to open the top nightstand drawer, a red slick wooden box the only thing inside it. he opened it, comparing the two rings.

“mine’s better. cheap piece of shit.”

[and-the-stars-collided]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[sashiavi]

•·····🍑········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•········🍑·····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#7•��𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐•#7

𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙸𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³ᵏ

Contrary to popular belief, Arataki Itto was actually a very clean man. He took pride in his appearance, always carrying a comb for his wicked, thick hair, just in case he needed to gussy up. His embellishments on his clothing were always polished and replaced if missing, not a stitch out of place. His large fangs were pearly and white, brushed thoroughly every morning and night, his form bent over a small sink with frothy toothpaste dribbling down his chin was a sight to behold. Itto's skin was (freakishly - in your opinion) clear - minus the stark red tattooing that painted his body. He claimed he had a 'Super Duper Top Secret Special Arataki The One And Onsen Enjoyer Itto' method to having immaculate skin. Not that you were particularly listening to him.

"Aren't you permanently prohibited from the Hot Springs in Inazuma City?" You quip at him. You weren't wrong, he was in fact banned. For life. Your boss seemed to terrorize the city in the most underwhelming fashion possible.

Somehow, you found yourself atop a high mountain, skin bit at sharply by the cold wind, you were surprised there wasn't any snow. You press on, nearly dragged by the aforementioned Oni, he insisted that he would graciously share his little secret with you. Through a set of thick bushes and trees you come across a small clearing, a steaming hot spring nestled by thick boulders and cliffs. The air was wet and humid, the water slightly clouded, but the scent of sulfur was welcomingly absent. Itto puffs his chest out, clearly proud of his little discovery, already showing you all of the 'cool and awesome features' it had to offer.

"This rock could totally be used as a cup holder!" He bouts. Did he even bring a cup?

Before you can even reply Itto was already working his clothes off, untangling the intricate buckles and straps adorned over his body. You're quick to look away, finding a sudden interest in a lavender melon, though, not before you catch a glimpse of his large naked form. You hear the water ripple softly as itto climbs into the spring, groaning out a long "Ahh" as he sinks into the steaming water. You glance back, his arms stretch over the slippery smooth stone behind him, resting his elbows on the lip of the pool. His thick, painted chest peaks above the murky water, large pecs rising with his deep breaths. Weirdly, he looked as though he were in his natural habitat, this large hulking creature resting, relaxed in his own personal bath. Itto definitely had an essence of dominance, as if he owned the place, he probably thought he did considering he had found it.

"C'mon! Are 'Ya comin' in or not?" He calls from his spot. Oh, right. You were here for a reason, to experience the spring he had gushed so highly about. The idea hadn't fully set into your brain, you didn't really have time to think of the logistics of the activity - to be naked with Itto; The boss of the Arataki Gang, the Gang you were very much apart of, therefore your boss. Naked, with your boss, practically sharing the same bath. Maybe it wasn't too late to take a leap off of a nearby cliffside. Did Itto experience embarrassment? You were starting to think he did not. You pressed your lips into a thin line, the water was clouded, if you kept your body submerged maybe he wouldn't see you.

"Can you look away?.. please?" You plead softly, the last thing you wanted to do right now was perform a strip tease for him. A strip tease? Why was that the first thought to pop into your head? Alright, maybe you have had the one off, maybe several, countless sleepless nights thinking about the large Oni. Archons, It wasn't your fault that he was beautiful. The man of the hour shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head back against the lip of the spring and shuts his eyes. You were doomed. The soft swell of his Adam's apple accentuated by his extended throat, his sharp jaw angled prettily under the tree's shade. Was he aware of just how handsome he was?

You blink away from him, carefully removing your clothing and folding them into a neat pile. The cool mountain wind makes your skin shiver, prickling with goosebumps, the steaming spring was looking especially tempting. You wrap your arms around your chest, ineffective against the breeze but still bringing you a slight comfort, at least some part of you was covered up. Tentatively, you dip your toe into the spring, the warm water swells under your touch. You carefully step in, bypassing the slippery stoned ledges naturally carved into the pool. Your arms stay around you as you sink into the pool, sitting directly across from Itto, a good few feet away.

Itto peaks an eye open, downturned from his position, he gives a cheeky smirk and lifts his head to face you. You sink further under the murky water, cheeks flushed from more than the steaming spring. Archons, could this be any more embarrassing?

"Why are you all the way over there? I don't bite!" It apparently could. Itto's voice was ever boisterous, you were sure he alone could cause an avalanche, maybe that was just what you needed. You'd never have to think about this situation ever again. Reluctantly, you cross the length of the hot spring, carefully making your way over to where the large Oni sat.

You weren't careful enough it seemed. You felt as though something brushed against your calf, slimey and thin like a tendril. Oh Gods, there was surely a flesh eating whopper flower about to pop up and snatch you for dinner. The thought is stupid but your brain wholeheartedly believed it for at least 0.2 seconds - So did your body. You jolt unexpectedly, yelping shortly as a little tendril of grass attacks you under the water's surface. Your foot slips on the slick rocks beneath you, launching you straight into the unsuspecting Oni.

If you weren't already embarrassed (you were), you sure as hell were now. Could the Abyss just open up and swallow you whole? Please? Your body was frozen in place, your soft tits pressed into the Oni's hot skin of his chest. Your hands brace his large shoulders, your finger's barely wrapping around the swell of him. Your legs were stuck, straddling the thick quad muscle of his thigh, flexed hard due to the startle of you slipping on to him. Archons, Itto was handsome, never have you seen his face so close before, his strong, pretty nose, sharp brow and jaw, soft, parted lips. He looked stunned, crimson eyes wide, tongue poking behind his thick canines.

Everything about your current situation was warm. The warm steaming water, the hot press of his skin, his warm breath on your lips, sweet and strawberry scented. His tongue wets his bottom lip, stained red from one of the many lollipops he'd nursed on during the hike up to the spring. Your eyes dart to his mouth and back at his face, he follows suit, swallowing thickly as he inches ever so slightly towards your lips. You're not sure who closes the gap, but your lips end up on his, slow and tender. He breathes you in, his broad nose knocks into your own as he tilts his head. Your tongues collide, slipping and rubbing against each other, as sweet as candy. Your tongue swirls against his, lips open and pressed together, drinking up each other's soft moans. Slowly you pull away, only just, hot spit connects your mouths together, barely getting a chance to snap before you dive back in. His thick canines carefully bite at your lips, irritating them deliciously, making them ache and swell.

Your hips move on their own, grinding your achey cunt on his thigh. Itto's breath catches in his throat, growling lowly on your tongue. A large palm squeezes at your hip, slowly guiding you in his lap. You moan sweetly into his mouth, chest rising heatedly, a soft pressing ache blooms in your clit as you squirm on his thigh. The water below dribbles from your palms as you slide them from his chest to his neck, wrapping your arms snuggly around his shoulders. You card your wet fingers through his hair from the nape of his neck, tangling the strands with the moisture on your hands. You feel his unoccupied hand slide down your front, over your bellow and towards your navel. He thumbs at your clit, rubbing slow circles over your achey bud.

"I-Itto!" You wine into his mouth. He mutes your cries with a harsh press of his lips, Archon's he couldn't get them off of you. He drinks in every little noise you make, swallowing them up with his tongue. The pads of his fingers press elsewhere, dipping ever so carefully into your hot cunt. You sigh as he slips his thick middle finger into you, tugging at the hair growing from the nape of his neck. His finger teases you, fucking into you with quick short curls before slowing down, pressing his thumb to your clit. His pace alternates, always surprising you, earning him the sweetest whines to eat up. A second finger joins, nestling into your pussy, rubbing at the sweet little spot inside of you. You can't help but grind into them, wiggling your hips down on his yummy fingers.

The thick length of his cock presses into your soft tummy, his fat velvety head rubs against your sternum. Archons he was huge, the thought of his cock splitting you open makes your pussy ache on his huge fingers. Your hand comes down to cup his fat cockhead, carefully rubbing up and down. You thumb at his slit, teasing and hot, it was his turn to whine into your lips. Your cunt clenches on his fingers, begging for something longer, thicker.

"Gods… Can I sit on it?" You whine into his mouth, biting against his plump bottom lip. You're fairly certain his mind short circuits, his very last brain cell is fried. His lips part with a soft moan, his cock twitches hard on your front, clearly he's entertaining the thought. His fingers curl hard in your sweet pussy, fucking you fevourishly. Your head tilts back with a short hiccup and he kisses across your cheek, warm lips land behind your ear. He nibbles softly at your skin, big teeth pressing so sweetly into your neck.

"If you can take me, Doll~" His voice is low and cheeky, Archons you've never heard him like this. You squeeze at his thick cock to prove yourself, flicking your wrist in just the right way. Itto moans a laugh, capturing your lips in a quick, searing kiss. You move to straddle his lap, legs already aching from just how big his body was. You rub your sweet pussy on his cock, catching his thick head on your achey hole. He groans as his fat cockhead slips through your folds, slick from the warm water and your own creamy arousal. Gods you must be dripping if he can still feel it.

"..Want you…" You keen, chest heaving, pretty tits pressing into his chest with every hot breath. Itto nods, his brows pitched up, eyes foggy and glossy. He wanted you too. You guide his fat head to your achey little hole, wiggling your hips over his cock as it nestles into your little pussy. His large palms brace on your hips as you *slowly* sink your cunny down on his length. Your pussy was somehow hotter than the steaming spring around you, creamy and tight and just so right for him. His cock stretches you nicely, stinging in the best kind of way. His length was never ending, sinking into you forever it seemed, Gods you swore you could feel him in your throat. Was this what heaven was? You were willing to sin again and again if this was your destiny.

"Take it all.. Yeah, yeah, lookin' so good in my lap-" Itto babbles. Gods he was so vocal - And you loved it. Your pussy kisses at the base of his cock, clenching sweetly on his thick length, squeezing lovingly. Itto continues to babble sweet praises, lips pressing into your neck and shoulder with every few words. His palms caress over your skin, settling on your plump ass cheeks, squishing the flesh with his fingers. He gently pulls you forward, rocking your hips on his cock, nestled so deeply inside of your cunt. It was your turn to whine, stringing sweet pet names into his ear, praising him for filling you so well.

You take initiative, carefully lifting your hips in his lap, dragging his length out of your warm cunt before dropping back down with haste. The sweet press against your cervix makes you cry out, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. You continue, fucking his fat cock with slow thrusts, relishing the thick stretch of your walls. It was slow, it was intense, and you never wanted it to end. Ittos breaths are heavy, laced with a soft pitch of his voice, his chest heaves against yours with his breathy pants. He has to resist fucking his length into you from below, resist grabbing your smaller form and having his way with you. His hips crane into yours accidentally, pushing his cock head well beyond where you thought was physically possible. You moan from your throat, whiney and high pitched.

"F-Fuck- 'm sorry Doll" He moans pathetically, soothing his hands over your behind. You shake your head, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip.

"No.. not sorry- Fuck me~" You keen. Your legs ached, the water's resistance did a number on your thighs. Itto's jaw drops and his eyes roll, Gods you were insatiable. He snaps his mouth shut with a click of his teeth. He squeezes your ass, fucking his hips up into your gushy pussy, relishing in the soft squeeze it gives his cock. He starts out slow, tentative, testing the limit of your creamy cunt, pressing his tip hotly into your aching walls. The hot water ripples around you, lapping in waves against the edge of the pool. You wiggle and squirm in his hold, trying to grind your sweet cunny down on him faster. He nips at your bottom lip, spreading your ass cheeks and bottoming out hard in your pussy. He relishes in the loud cry you give him, grinning dopily before he picks up his pace.

He thrusts up harshly, his fat cock fucks into your soft pussy over and over. He bounces you on his cock, the water of the pool splashes and laps at the slippery rock edges. Your pretty tits rub at his chest, sweet and bouncy, standing out insatiably against the red tattoos he adorns on his skin. Gods he was strong, battling the thick resistance of the water with his hips and forearms just to fuck you. Your puffy clit grinds into his navel, sending the sweetest ache into your cunny. You string a sweet babble of his name;

"Itto~ Itto! 's good Itto!" You hiccup, fucked stupid in his lap.

"Such a pretty girl~ P-Pussy's made for me~!" He babbles back. Archons he was drunk on your cunt, he couldn't get enough of you. He certainly wasn't letting you go after this.

"..'M close~ Itto- I-Itto 'tto~" You cry, breath caught in your chest, clit aching, pussy clenching over his fat cock. The water was hot, he was hot, your cunny aches and burns as he fucks you. A pretty little line of drool dribbles from your lips, Itto is quick to lick it up, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Your pussy clenches on him, your hips grind into his groin, your puffy clit aches and stings in the best way possible.

"..'M cumming- Ittoittoi-itto! Cummin-!" You squeal into his mouth, humping his fat cock into your cunny, somehow matching his impossible pace. Your pussy clenches his thick cock with your orgasm, squeezing his aching length so sweetly. Your lips kiss at his sloppily, hiccuping sweetly as you ride your high on his cock. Your orgasm spurs him on, fucking you with long, slow thrusts, bullying your cervix with his fat tip. He pressed in deep, groaning on your tongue, whispering sweet praises as he rides out your cunny. His fat cock shoots the thickest, creamiest ropes into your pussy, pulsing hotly with every spurt of his load.

When all is said and done, Itto runs his hands over your back, soothing your sweet hiccuping form. He kisses into your hair, giggling dopily, hugging your smaller frame and sinking further into the warm, steaming pool. You hum into his neck, nosing at his wet skin.

"My legs hurt" You snicker from your nose, lifting your head to place a firm kiss on his lips. He soothes his palms over your thighs, carefully lifting you, cradling you in his arms like a princess. Your head tucks against his chest, fingertips tracing over the thick red lines on his skin. Everything was warm, the steaming spring, Itto's skin, your heart. You relax into him, maybe coming along was a good idea.

You dread the trek down, maybe you can convince Itto to carry you. He huffs a short laugh and kisses your forehead. You hum, you don't think he'll need much convincing.

This... This was three thousand words I am so sorry

I just- I just think he's really really neat *sob*

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Ily ♡

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[gojou-violin]

catch your breath

| pairing: tamaki amajiki x gn!yandere!reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. dead dove do not eat. breath play. drowning play. overstimulation. edging. multiple orgasms. begging. consensual yandere behavior.

| summary: tamaki reserving a private onsen for your anniversary probably wasn't his brightest idea.

| wc: 2.8k

| taglist: @laraleafs , @alkr-67 , @worshipmevenus , @aylitgirl , @ifeelsofilthy , @preciousamethyst , @justanotherpasserby , @lyteatus , @its-makonom , @unknownspecies , @diorsbrando , @thisbicc , @bakugosgorl , @saccharine-darlin , @1-800-movha , @tylerthecreatorswife , @nc-vb , @mysicklove , @archer-fb , @bedheadloser , @your-caffeinated-bitch , @svinxie

It was warm… It felt inviting, honestly. The last time you’d gotten the chance to relax so nicely was over winter when Tamaki surprised you with a trip to a cabin up in the mountains so that you two could share your first white Christmas together. In the middle of the summer, though, you thought that going to an onsen for your anniversary wasn’t exactly the best idea; but Tamaki convinced you because he found a cute, secluded ryokan for the two of you to stay at for the week, and the plus to the reservation was that it came with the private onsen that you didn’t have to use if you didn’t want to, but he certainly wanted to. He loved long baths. With how much he worked, stressing himself out and tiring his body, it was no surprise that he took those quiet evenings in the water to relax with you while recovering from his long days— So how could you deny him a whole week of sleeping all day and slipping into the onsen whenever he wanted? Once he got in, you knew you had to join him. The water was warm— But not so hot that you were dying in the summer; and the scents from the candles made Tamaki melt in your arms.

You kissed his cheek as you wrapped your arms around him so that his back was pressed tightly against your chest. “Feeling better, baby?”

He nodded with a happy hum.

“I’m glad.”

Ten minutes of holding him, running your hands through his hair, and tickling his sensitive chest and stomach was all it took before he started unknowingly grinding upwards in search of your hands on his growing erection. The second you gave in, he was a goner. Tamaki went stiff and his eyes were wide open, his fingers digging into your thighs in the water. Come on… It was your anniversary, and he’d gone all out, spending so much of his hard earned Pro Hero money on taking you out to the middle of nowhere so that you had all the privacy in the world… How could you not use him? He was laying in your arms— He looked so fucking adorable and innocent. Oh, how you could die of happiness whenever he blushed. The second he felt you take his entire length in the palm of your hand, he got so embarrassed his cheeks turned a bright red, and he tried so hard to hide his face from you so that you couldn’t make fun of him for it like you always did; but you knew him better than anyone else. He knew that you loved how shy he was and how easily you were able to corrupt him. Meanwhile, you loved that he tried to keep how much he loved your teasing and torture a secret from you. His body just always betrayed him. If you asked if he liked being degraded, he would shake his head, yet his body would quake and he’d beg you to fuck him harder. If you asked if he liked the painful clamps and floggers, he’d insist that he could never enjoy something like that, yet every time you had him tied up with his skin beet red, he was as hard as a rock. Your cute little Tamaki.

“Please,” he begged quietly, “I’m close.”

You bit on his ear lobe. “That’s not how you ask for permission, dumb boy.”

“Please, please, please let me cum.”

“No.”

He hunched forward while you continued to jerk him off despite the fact that he hadn’t been given permission to cum. You wanted him to hold it back like a good boy. You’d trained him well enough to listen to you, now the two of you were on the most difficult part of making him the perfect sub: Actually getting him to cooperate. What he wanted vs. what his body did were always two different things. He so badly wanted to obey every single one of your orders, but the pleasure was too good, you knew it. Maybe it was cruel of you to do it on your anniversary, but you couldn’t help but force him to cum.

Poor thing tried his absolute best. His fingernails were digging harder into your thighs, his head was thrown back against your shoulder so that he could stare at the ceiling to focus on literally anything besides your touch, and his hips were squirming like crazy in the water in an attempt to get away from you before he could break your biggest rule: No cumming without permission.

“Stop, stop— Stop— Fuck— I’m cumming— No, no, no, stop—”

“Don’t cum.”

Before you could even really stop him, Tamaki lifted his hips out of the water suddenly as he came with a loud, pathetic whimper that made you nearly faint with happiness.

“Bad boy,” you huffed as you stopped touching him, his cock visibly throbbing at the neglect. “You got the bath all dirty. How are you gonna explain this to the staff?”

He couldn’t reply, he was too flustered.

You grabbed his chin roughly so that he was forced to look at you over his shoulder. “Are you so dumbed-out already that you can’t answer my questions?”

There wasn’t a single thought behind those eyes and flushed face. Poor thing. He didn’t want to cum, you could see the regret flooding him as the euphoria from his orgasm slowly washed away. He wanted to be good for you. He was your good boy. You were just so mean sometimes, and it was all on purpose of course because now that he’d broken your most important rule, you had every excuse to punish him.

Slowly, you wiped his long hair out of his face. “You know what I have to do now, don’t you?”

He pouted. “I’m sorry—”

“I know, baby. Do me a favor?”

He nodded.

“Tap my leg if I go too far?”

His eyes widened. Before he could react, you got a good grip in his hair so that you could push him forward until his head was dunked under the water. Tamaki’s hands grabbed your thighs, but he didn’t tap out. The water splashed around a bit as he fought back and you simultaneously adjusted to sit on your knees so that you had a better angle to keep him down until you were content. After counting to five, you lifted him up. He panted, trying to catch his breath frantically while you wiped his wet hair out of his face so that he could see you as something to ground himself back to reality.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, hmm? I could be a lot worse, you know that.”

Tamaki pouted at you, “I’m sorry—”

You’d heard it before, so you decided to dunk him back down. Again, he fought you, but you didn’t let up until ten seconds had gone by. After he was back up to catch his breath, you used your free hand to reach between his legs.

“Still sensitive down here from the orgasm you weren’t allowed to have?”

Sure enough, he was semi-hard, and the second you began jerking him for a second time, Tamaki made an attempt to pull your hand out of his hair and away from his cock so that he could escape you— Stupid boy, he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Deep breath for me.”

He didn’t have time to realize what you said. You pushed him back under the water for another ten seconds. In the past, when the two of you had fucked around like this, he was able to go for about a minute— Something about his old days of hero training that had him ready for it— so you were only just getting started. If he wanted you to stop, he would’ve warned you the first time you put him under the water. He would never in a million years admit it, but he liked this. He liked that he had to give up all control to you and your sadistic punishments because they got him off, yeah, but also because he trusted you to take care of him. You weren’t going to hurt him. Nothing bad was going to happen while your hand was in his hair to pull him back up to the surface where you’d give him time to recuperate.

“You sure you’re sorry?” you asked, palming his sensitive tip.

“Stop— Stop— Too much—”

“Tap my leg then.”

When he didn’t, you continued to torture him until he was surely hard again. Twenty seconds under the water. You waited and waited for a tap, but nothing came, so you smiled. He was just as much a masochist as you were a sadist. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you loved him more than anything in the whole world.

“You’re up to twenty seconds now, darling boy,” you praised him once he came back up.

He slumped against you completely, even ignoring how fast you were getting him off. All of his focus was on his breath and trying not to cum at the same time.

“The first thing we agreed on when we started dating was that I’m the one who gets to decide when and how you cum. Do you remember that?”

He nodded shyly.

“So why’d you cum?”

“Y-y-you—” He hiccuped. “You did it… did it on pur… purpose…”

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No—”

You pushed him under for twenty-five seconds.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned you the second he was out of the water.

Just as soon as he said it, you pulled your hand away, watching as his entire body twitched in reaction to the harsh edge. You cooed at him sweetly. He was a breathless mess between the water play and the edging, so you gave him another few seconds to bounce back as you kissed his neck and pinched his nipples. He melted into you so quickly. It was like he forgot what you were doing to him because you were suddenly being so kind and caring.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Tamaki got smart this time around. The second he felt you tightening your grip in his hair, he took a deep breath right before he was pushed under the water. Since you weren’t able to catch him off guard, it meant that he could go longer like he always did at home whenever you had him bent over the edge of the tub while you were fucking into him; or when you two were in bed and you had your hands wrapped around his neck. You dared to leave him there for forty-five seconds. Towards the end, his chest started moving, like he was trying his best not to open his mouth to let any water in.

“Hold it… You can do it… Come on, baby…”

Though he likely couldn’t have heard you underwater and with all the splashing going on, you were cheering him on to make it the entire forty-five seconds.

“Good boy…”

He gasped deeply when he sat up straight. “C-c-cumming—”

“Don’t you dare.”

He squeezed his eyes shut tight after you pulled your hand away for the second edge that nearly made him lose it altogether. “Meanie.”

“Deep breath, baby, ‘cause you get a minute for that.”

“No, wait—”

It wasn’t a full minute, to be fair. Counting in your head meant that you went faster than the clock on the wall, even though you could have obeyed by the clicking seconds if you wanted to. What should have been a minute was still more like forty seconds— But Tamaki couldn’t tell the difference while fighting to resurface the entire time. Ten seconds? Thirty seconds? Five fucking minutes? Who could tell the difference when they had someone preventing them from breathing and simultaneously edging them as a cruel punishment for something they had no control over in the first place? If it had been anyone other than Tamaki in that onsen with you, you probably never would have gotten away with kinky shit like this. Not in a million years. But the fact that it was Tamaki of all people made it that much better.

“Such a good boy for me,” you cooed in his ear once he was done. “What’ve you learned?”

“N-no—” He hiccuped again. “No t-t-talking ba-back…”

“And?”

“No cum… No cumming…”

You nodded. “See? You’re such a smart boy!” You patted him on the head so that his hair could have a break from all the pulling. “And who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“And what about your orgasms?”

“They're yours…”

You chuckled wickedly, biting down on his earlobe. “Good boy.” You swiped your thumb over his tip. “If you can do a full minute, I’ll let you cum. Think you can do that?”

He nodded eagerly.

“What do you do if it’s too much?”

“Tap your leg.”

“Oh, my smart boy, you’re such a good listener.”

All the praise was getting to his head after being tortured and degraded the entire time. He was a bright color of red that had nothing to do with the fact that he was still trying to catch his breath a bit— It had everything to do with the fact that he was madly in love with the way you complimented him, even though you were really just being condescending.

“One minute. Deep breath in for me…”

He inhaled deeply.

“And out…”

His chest fell as he exhaled.

“Hold it.”

And then you pushed him back under, this time watching the clock carefully for the minute mark. Tamaki was trying his best to hold still so that he didn’t waste any energy on his futile attempts to stop you, because all of his focus had to be on holding his breath for the full minute. Making it up to you was all he wanted. If taking the whole minute meant that he could get your permission to solve the whole issue, he was going to fight like hell to make it happen.

“Three… two… one…”

There wasn’t a single struggle out of him, not a pant out of him, not a thrash, not a tap on your thigh. He was still squeezing on tight which was the only way you knew that he hadn’t passed out; He was just so focused down there and wasn’t keeping track of the time that he thought he still had longer to go. Could he really do it? Fuck, you were gonna be so proud of him if he could. So to reward him for it, you ran your hand up and down his length as fast as you could while occasionally stopping to play with his tip. Whenever Tamaki got close to cumming, you could tell by the way his whole body would react. He’d get stiff, his toes would curl, his legs would go straight, and he would cling onto for dear life. Still underwater, you saw Tamaki get right at the edge, and the panic settled in.

You pulled him up briefly to say, “Cum for me,” right before you pushed him back under.

Part of him was trying his best to fight you now that he didn’t have to focus on surviving the entire minute, and the fact that you’d hardly given him any break; but his body was betraying him again by going as stiff as a board right when his orgasm hit.

There was a tap on your leg that made you let go of his hair and grab him by the chest instead as you lifted him upright so that he could rest against your chest.

“Breathe. I’m here.” You went to hug him, but he grabbed your hand to force you to keep jerking him off. In fact, you didn’t move at all, Tamaki simply held onto your wrist for dear life while moving you the way he wanted. “You want a third one?”

He nodded as desperately as humanly possible.

“Cum for me, my sweet boy. You deserve it.”

Tamaki moaned your name as another orgasm hit him hard, sending his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “T-thank you— Fuck— Thank you…”

His body jolted a couple of times as you slowly stopped touching him, bringing your hands up to his face to keep his hair out of it. The way he put all of his body weight on you, you knew that there was no chance he was walking out of that onsen by himself within the next few minutes.

“You were so good for me, Aki.”

He whimpered at the nickname— One that only you were allowed to call him.

“I’m so, so proud of you.”

He stretched to turn slightly so that he could kiss you weakly. “I love you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pushed him away gently. “Catch your breath.”

He slumped, inhaling deeply as his eyes shut again so that he could rest.

Maybe the two of you could make trips to private onsens a more common occurrence if this was going to happen.

[thydungeongal]

First day of Adventuring

Our intrepid heroes, Jimothy, Montgormery, Theophany, Chuckles, Theodore, and Stevelyn (introduced in a previous post) arrive in the village of Balaz's Wish in the Empire of Irazor.

Irazor is ruled by necromancer Lucien of Irazor, a level 12 Magic-user. He has well-brushed brown hair, glowing black eyes and a nose ring (Uncomfortable). In the pocket: a dirty handkerchief, 3 sp and 2 gp.

The village of Balaz's Wish is a simple village nestled between two mountains. As the party arrive, they immediately head to the local drinking hole, "The Lost Torch Tavern," to check the local bulletin board for leads.

Help requested! A heirloom of sentimental value was stolen from me. I will reward anyone who is kind enough to get it back. Yours, Kyranthia of Akaana Heading to Hammering? Payment guaranteed to a trusty courier. Ask for Berwin Lacy

Montgormery, who has named himself party leader, decides that a simple delivery quest is unbecoming of a man of his noble stature and his retinue, so he leads the party on a visit to this Kyranthia of Akaana!

Kyranthia of Akaana. She has bulging red eyes, delicate features and gap teeth (Exhausted). In the pocket: a quill and 3 sp. Her Decorated Sword is lost (or so claimed). Finder's rewards is 230 gp.

The party then goes to gather some rumors at the tavern while having some drinks, overhearing the following:

Kyranthia of Akaana’s decorated sword (actually Sword +1, Locate Objects) is somewhere in the Hideout of the Feared Hopes Avoid going to Nightmare Wetlands. There’s a Giant Leech there. Safia of Atali is very secretive recently.

A quirk of Hexroll is that once I reveal the first rumor it also revealed the secret about Kyranthia's sword. Well, regardless, the party now has an approximate direction to which to head: while the exact location of the dungeon is still a mystery, they know it is due East-Northeast.

Deciding that they are much better off heading North via the road instead of trying to cut straight Northeast through the mountains, they follow the road and chance upon a peculiar sight in the woods.

There's a stream of clear water here, flowing gently between the woods, over the smooth rock ground. When exploring this area, a giant triangular artifact made of polished iron, with large pointy spears attached, can be found wedged near a water stream. There's a 1-in-6 chance to find a secret door leading inside the artifact and a successful INT check will allow using a contraption inside it. If used, the object will magically levitate and will travel 1d6 hexes in a matter of minutes before crashing into the ground again, dealing 1d6 damage to anyone inside.

No one in the party (even Montgormery) is stupid enough to try and mess with a UFO. Regaining their bearings, they decide to head Northeast, into the woods.

And find a tavern at the bend of a river.

"The Baker's Torch Tavern" is welcoming travellers and adventurers near a water stream.

The party decides to call it a night at this point. They dine on some local delicacies and have some ale, and then go to bed. (At this point the generator kind of fucked up imo: the tavern only has two rooms available. Instead I had everyone pay the prize of the roof and bench.)

Here's a quick look at the menu:

Stewed slices of chicken, glazed with garlic and wine and served with baked potatoes for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of fish, glazed with red wine and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of chicken, marinated in honey and herbs and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp

And here's a look at the map (I have accidentally been pressing here and there and everywhere, so it's actually showing much more than it should):

What I have omitted from the above description: checks for random encounters (since they didn't yield anything interesting) and the roll for getting lost (the party didn't get lost so they have their bearings for now).

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Shine a Light on the Cave Salamander

The cave salamander, also known as the spotted salamander (Eurycea lucifuga) is a species of salamander found throughout the eastern United States, particularly in the Appalachian mountains. As the name implies, they are most common in caves with exposed limestone or other calcifying rocks. However, they may also occur under rocks or logs, or in streams in deciduous forests; anywhere that's dark and moist.

The spotted salamander spends almost its entire life in these 'twilight zones'. Mating is believed to occur in summer or early fall, when male salamanders begin to seek out females by tracking their pheromones. Once a male finds a potential mate, he nudges her and rubs his chin on her head until she indicates she's receptive. At that point she straddles his tail while the two walk in tandem. The male then drops a spermatophore-- a sack full of sperm-- on the ground, and the female picks it up with her cloaca. The female lays a clutch of 5 to 120 eggs, but not until several months after fertilization between September and February.

The eggs take about 20 days to hatch, and larvae entirely aquatic, complete with gills and webbed fingers. Individuals can take anywhere from 6 to 18 months to fully develop, at which point they leave the water and become fully nocturnal. However, most individuals don't stray far from their original spawning territory, and adults do not maintain or defend set territories.

Despite their reclusive lifestyle, cave salamanders are quite striking. Adults are bright orange or red with black spots, and can be anywhere from 10 to 20 cm (4 to 8 in) in length. Over half of that length is taken up by the tail, and males have a longer tail than females. As lungless salamanders, E. lucifuga breathes through its skin and the tissues around its mouth-- while useful for an aquatic animal, this type of respiration makes it essential that the cave salamander remains in a wet environment.

Both larvae and adults are insectivorous, consuming a number of invertebrates including spiders, snails, beetles, earthworms, and ticks. Potential predators of the spotted salamander include bats, shrews, racoons, and snakes, though few specifics are known about the species' ecology. To deter these predators, E. lucifuga adopts a defensive posture in which they coil their body and wave their tail over their head. In addition, they secrete a foul-tasting substance from their skin, and their bright coloration likely warns potential predators that they won't make a good meal.

Conservation status: The IUCN has classified the cave salamander as Least Concern, although they are listed as Endangered in several of the American states in which they occur. The greatest threat to the species is thought to be human disturbance or habitat degredation from pollution of the water systems which flow through the caves where E. lucifuga resides.

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Photos

Todd Pierson

Michael Graziano

[pocketjoong]

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆noctem⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 〘act 1, chapter 1〙

〘Synopsis〙『Your hatred of dragons is a hate born of witnessing their flames consume your village, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The worst of all is the beast that haunts your dreams, the very dragon whose memory fuels a burning desire for revenge within you. But life has a way of unsettling even the most steadfast convictions. And when you stumble upon a truth that shatters the boundaries of your understanding, you begin to question the very essence of the world you live in.』

〘Pairing〙『Night Fury!Seonghwa x afab!Reader』

〘Genre〙『FANTASY, ACTION, SMUT』

〘Word Count〙『2.1k』

〘Chapter-specific Warnings〙『Based on How To Train Your Dragon. Canon-compliant violence. Mention of injuries. Mentions of dragons attacking the mc's village. MDNI.』

〘Banner Credits〙『@playmetheclassics』

please note: there will be NO taglist for this series

With your heart pounding in your throat, you duck beneath the low-hanging arch of a weathered stone walkway, pressing yourself against the rough surface. Jagged rocks dig into your spine, but the momentary discomfort is nothing compared to the fire raining down from above. Bright orange flames dance in the sky, casting eerie shadows on the cobbled streets of your town.

Pulling the collar of your cloak closer, you try to shield yourself from the fiery onslaught, but even that is not enough to entirely dodge the few sparks that rain down on you, singeing the tips of your hair. At least it’s better than becoming a human shish-kebab, you think wryly.

In the distance, urgent shouts pierced through the roar of the conflagration, and you feel the tendrils of dread coil around your heart. You dare to peek out from your hiding place, only to see children and the villagers who are not fighting the creatures, scrambling to put out the fire that has engulfed the roof of one of the buildings. They pour buckets upon buckets of water to douse the flames, sending a few droplets raining down on you. You welcome the cold relief brought by the icy liquid amidst the heated air, thanks to the fires raging as far as the eye can see.

It’s not a new sight, definitely not one that scares you anymore; it merely sharpens your senses and steels your determination. But in your heart, you worry for the safety of your fellow villagers. The fortnightly attacks by dragons have been a grim routine, much like the twinkling stars in the night sky that had guided your ancestors to the beautiful land of Amberdale. It was named after the waters that would turn the colour of liquid gold every sunrise and sunset, a place where serenity met grandeur. But dark legends whispered only in secret tell of a day that the waters would turn red and spell your village’s doom. 

Amberdale is a sanctuary of sorts, surrounded by water on three sides and imposing mountains on the other. It is a haven, a space safe from the threat of other clans, a paradise marred only by the fire-breathing pests that have made life a living hell for the occupants of the town for centuries.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a shadow descending from the sky, signalling the arrival of another winged menace. Realising that no one is around to help, you take a deep breath as your fingers tighten around the trigger of the meticulously laid dragon trap. The mechanism springs to life, and the air crackles as a net shoots towards the beast. The colossal creature crashes to the ground under the crushing weight of the entangling mesh.

As some villagers haul the ensnared dragon away, your gaze locks with the eyes of the dragon. The intelligence in its eyes and the silent plea for help send a shiver down your spine. Shakily, you look away, not wanting to think about the creature anymore.

“Move to the upper defences. We’ll counteract their attacks with the catapults!” Your brother’s command cuts through the cacophony of battle as he rallies the warriors to their positions. He appears beside you under the arch, eyes mirroring the tempest swirling within. The storm in his gaze briefly yields to surprise and concern when he meets your eyes. It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting you to be outside during an attack.

He scans you from head to toe, his sweaty and soot-stained face softening in relief when he sees that you’re unhurt. “Why are you outside? Did something happen at the infirmary?”

“We ran out of supplies, so I had to run all the way across the village to restock,” you inform him grimly, pointing at the bag dangling from your shoulder that is filled to the brim with supplies. “We really should move the warehouse closer to the infirmary, Yunho. Or better yet, expand the infirmary itself to accommodate the supplies. Not only will it save the healers from making unnecessary trips when the village is under attack, but it will also keep the medical supplies safer since the sick bay is the only fireproof building in the entire village.”

“I truly am sorry, Y/N,” your brother dips his head in a gesture of genuine regret, but you catch the weight of responsibility etched on his face. “I know you’ve raised this issue multiple times throughout the years, and I promise you it has been on our to-do list for a while, but…” he trails off with a sigh, shrugging helplessly.

You understand the cause of the delay; you truly do. There are more important things to do, like rebuilding structures destroyed in the attacks, preparing for storm week that arrives every three months, ensuring the safety of everyone during the attacks, forging more weapons and installing catapults around the cliffs, training people how to fight dragons and conducting research on the various species of the beasts that haunt your existence. There is so much to do, leaving little room to address the nagging issue of relocating a warehouse or expanding the infirmary.

“I understand we have more pressing matters to attend to,” you offer him an impish grin, taking the opportunity to nudge your brother’s shoulder with your own playfully. But the joke on your tongue dies down when a whistle-like sound you’ve come to associate with danger pierces the night sky. Instinctively, your gaze darts upward as you try to spot the source of the sound. 

Objectively, you know that you should find cover to escape the inevitable attack that is to follow. Still, your fascination with this particular beast outweighs any and all sense of self-preservation. Your eyes scan the skies, hunting for any sign of the approaching peril, but, as usual, there’s nothing. There’s no telltale movement, not even a blur, that would allow you to pinpoint the location of the elusive beast.

“Night Fury,” the whisper leaves your lips at the same time as a pair of strong arms wrap around your shoulders before the person tugs you to bring you into a crouch. The abrupt movement sends a jolt through you, and you come crashing down on your knees.

“Duck!” Wooyoung’s urgent shout tears through the chaos, piercing through the clamour of battle. He shields you with his body just as a ball of fire collides with the catapult installed on the cliffs looming above you. The impact shatters the contraception and sends a cascade of stone and wood raining down upon all of you. 

After what feels like an eternity, the onslaught finally stops, and you cautiously sit up, eyes scanning the debris-strewn landscape. Your first instinct is to fuss over Wooyoung since he had covered you with his body to shield you from the debris. The ringing in your ears and the reverberations of your pounding heart are momentarily drowned out by your concern for his well-being.

“Your stitches,” you frown at the red-haired male, reaching out towards where towards him. However, the male is quick to intercept your hands with his own, covering them protectively as he shakes his head.

“I’m fine. I took care to protect my injured side,” he assures you, a smile playing on his lips. His words ease some of the panic coursing through you. The moment you turn to check on Yunho, you find him already crawling closer.

“Are you two okay?” He asks, concern etched across his features as he gazes at the two of you.

“Dandy,” you mutter darkly, brushing off the debris from your cloak and cursing the blasted dragons under your breath. Now that you’re sure both males are relatively unhurt, you turn to Wooyoung with a grateful smile. “Thanks for that, Woo.”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “Someone has to look out for you when you're not paying attention to your surroundings. We can’t afford to have our best healer getting hurt, now, can we?”

Yunho grins at his friend’s words but shifts his attention to you as you prepare to resume your journey back to the sick bay. “Do you need an escort to the infirmary?”

“Yunho, they’ll probably need you at the ballista. The other dragons we can deal with, but that menace is what we need to hunt down as soon as possible,” Wooyoung tells the taller male, regarding him with pleading eyes. Now that the Night Fury has appeared, every hunter is a crucial asset, and your brother happens to be the best in the entire village.

Yunho, caught in the dilemma of divided priorities, purses his lips. The familiar struggle between his duty to protect the village versus the instinct to ensure your safety is evident on his face. You know your brother well enough to recognise that he would drop everything in a heartbeat to ensure your safety first and foremost.

“I’ll escort her if that makes you feel better,” sensing the conflict on Yunho’s face, Wooyoung steps in to break the silence that hangs heavy between the three of you. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say, sighing when both of them stare at you with concerned expressions that cause a pang in your heart. “The two of you are the most gifted warriors we have, and there’s no point in either of you sticking around to escort me to a building that's practically a stone’s throw away from here.”

“But—”

You shut Yunho down with a firm look, your voice cutting through any protest. “I’ll be fine, Yun. I’ve done this hundreds of times. Just promise me you won’t come back injured. If there is one thing I can’t bear, it’s you getting hurt.”

Yunho’s tough exterior softens at your words, and he nods in agreement, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful.”

Convinced, you turn to narrow your eyes at Wooyoung, catching him off guard. He gulps at your sudden change in expression. “And you. Don’t you dare reopen those stitches, young man. It took me an hour to do these, and I will not be gentle if you mess them up. You’re almost healed, and redoing the stitches will unnecessarily delay your healing.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Wooyoung responds with a salute, straightening his posture to stand at his full height. “I promise to be careful as well.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving?” Your brother tightens his grip on the handle of the sword that’s strapped to his side. “Wooyoung can escort you. He’s not fully healed anyways, and no one would mind him sitting out of the battle for once.”

“I’d feel much better if I knew the two of you are together,” you confess, averting your gaze from both of them to take in the chaotic scene unfolding around you. Despite your efforts to seem nonchalant, you can feel both males regarding your features with probing scrutiny and worry.

Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something, but a familiar, piercing whistle cuts through the air—the unmistakable herald of the Night Fury’s return. The dragon has circled back around the mountain peak to descend upon the village once more. The noise snaps you into action, and you shove both males towards the path that leads to the cliffs. “Go.”

Yunho releases a sigh, his shoulders slumping in a resigned acceptance, and he nods. Before he and Wooyoung dash toward the mounted ballista—the only weapon that would give the village a shot against the looming beast—Yunho's hand finds yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. YOu nod back at him and watch them run towards the ballista.

“Your sister is downright terrifying when she wants to be!” Wooyoung’s voice carries back to you.  His whiny tone is met with an involuntary laugh from you, mingling with Yunho’s echoing laughter, which is followed by more whining from the other male that you can’t make sense of now that they’re much farther away.

Before you step into the infirmary to prepare for the inevitable influx of injured villagers, you’re unable to resist the urge to scan the skies once more. Your gaze lingers on the moonless sky as you search for the elusive Night Fury, the dragon that no one has ever seen. 

You hope that Yunho and Wooyoung can hunt it down, for even though the Night Fury doesn’t pillage like its brethren, it acts as a guardian to the other dragons. It is always there to help them to attack the village and steal livestock and supplies. Removing the dragon from the equation would undoubtedly make the task of defending your village much easier.

[dairy-farmer]

Okay but... I just made myself giggle, so I have to share this.

You know what's REALLY reasonable to assume? That if you get yeeted into the Literally Endless Mutiverse, land in an alternate Reality, and are working to find a way home... once you FIND a way home?

You will LITERALLY never seen ANYONE from this dimension, ever again.

You can kinda assume that, right?

Your Revolutionary 5th century French Alt-Self isn't gonna show up at the local coffee shop and strike up awkward conversation. That Beastman you punched, isn't gonna run into you at the corner store. You go home. Never see them again.

Sad to lose new friends? Yeah, always.

But! *cough* :Y if..... say....

You were to Action Movie Slut It Up, while "abroad"? Maybe fuck a steam punk captain in his office. Do unspeakable things to that Sci-Fi Detective as the city burns around you? Etc etc? Because your young, your mentor is a hard-ass, your brother will MURDER anyone who tries to sleep with you, and maybe you are just? Unbearably horny?

......t-there's no way that could come back to bite you right?

EXCEPT?

You have been ROCKING these poor bastards WORLDS. Are THE, Singular, "One Who Got Away(tm)". Because you did NOT hold back and ABSOLUTELY let your freak flag fly. They THOUGHT they knew Passion, but after you? They realized they were FOOLS.

Then you just... pulled your pants on, left them changed men, ruined for anyone else, and FUCKED OFF to another universe.

God damn power move. (You magnificent bastard.)

But do they REMEMBER you? Yeah. Yeah, they fuckin have a SHRINE to you. They remember.

All this to say? The Bats, JLA, and Tim's teammates LEARN some shit about what he gets up to when sucked into other realities. Because like HALF the grizzled BAMFs that appear, when some asshole BREAKS THE MULTIVERSE and they have to work together to fix it? Take ONE(1!) look at Red Robin and go varies versions of:

"Babe~♡! Darling! My fuckable little delight! How are you~♡? :D "

And just? Oh. Oh no. Tim can FEEL the other Bats slooooowly turning to look at him, the Demand For Answers BURNING in their eyes. But what's WORSE? Is the BAMFs HEARD each other. And immediately turned on each other.

Because OBVIOUSLY, one of THESE fuckers must have been the bastard who SEDUCED Robin away from them. (Incorrect. He was using them for passing companionship and mostly their bodies. Also their tech. Space ship. Strategic castle location. Again, mostly their bodies.)

Just? Tim Drake, Secret Slutty Homme Fatale of the Multiverse. Bruce and Dick are gonna chain him up in bubble wrap in a BUNKER after this, if those idiots keep talking about his "passionate embrace". But he can't STOP them because Kon has a hand on his shoulder about as easy to move as your average mountain range.

Kon has QUESTIONS. :) Buddy, Bro, dear friend of his.

Bart stop laughing at him and help.

He's gonna die. Fuckless. Don't do this to him, bro. Bart, please.

-🐼🐼🐼

all i can think about is tim as this sonic meme 😂

[sherlockggrian]

tried my hand at writing a little secret life. I've had this scene in my head for a few days, and I just wanted to establish how I see Grian and Scott's characters this season. A heart is just a heart. (heavy on the desert duo). Enjoy.

This was stupid. Grian winced against the stinging pain in his shoulder from where the arrow had whizzed past. Barely a scratch, and still he cringed at the fact that it wouldn’t heal until the next time he visited the secret keeper. And it was right under where the leather strap crossed his shoulder, and he was stupid for leaving the safety of his lit-up hill at all. He gathered his breath, keeping the shield close up against him as he panted behind the tree. He felt the thunk of another arrow hitting the trunk, and took a deep breath before whirling around, squinting in the darkness. He managed to dart forward and cut down the skeleton, which withered on the ground beneath him. Grian grunted, kicking the bones amongst the rocks. He rubbed the scratch on his shoulder, feeling where the fabric was ripped and he was bleeding slightly. It was fine. He’d just have to watch it for infection. Bandages were a damn commodity, he thought, feeling slightly dizzy at the prospect of having to visit Scar’s stupid trading hut for supplies. Because of course he got everything from the Secret Keepers.

Grian readjusted his shield, shivering slightly in the cool night air, before turning back toward the distant glow of his base. As he was about to step forward, something shook in the bushes behind him, and Grian whirled around, instantly brandishing his sword. Metal clanged in the air as he crashed into something, and whatever it was stumbled back, shaken.

“Jesus Christ, Grian”, rasped Scott, whose startled face was now illuminated by Grian’s lantern.

Grian lowered his sword, sighing. “Don’t jump me like that, Scott,” he grumbled.

“Relax, nobody’s red yet,” said Scott lowly. He was wrapped in thick dark blue cloth, his wavy hair falling in parts around his elf ears. His unnatural green eyes blinked slowly in the darkness.

Grian shoved his sword back into its sheath. “What are you doing all the way out here at night? You know it’s dangerous. I thought you were across the river, with Gem and Impulse.” Grian motioned vaguely into the copse of forest, where mountains rose in the distance.

“I could ask you the same question”.

“My base is just up the hill,” muttered Grian.

Scott sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. But I don’t mean to interrupt your nightly walk, either. I’ll be on my way.”

Grian glanced down at Scott. Upon further observation, he was clutching his left arm tightly, and Grian could see dark blood soaking through the cloth. “You’d better bandage that,” he remarked.

“It was stupid. Spider jumped me from above, I wasn’t even thinking, I can’t believe I-”

“Come on,” Grian muttered, motioning for Scott to follow him up the hill. He picked his way up the red rocks, feeling the dry, seeding grass brush against his legs as he climbed. “There’s no point in wandering around like that.”

Mist shrouded the dark valley below them, with the glow of Scar’s hut and the distant village cutting through the darkness. Grian was sort of glad he could see Scar so easily from the hill. That was partly what had made him choose this place. That and the rocky, red hills behind him provided a little shelter from the cold nights that were beginning to descend on the world.

Scott shivered, and Grian dumped down the bundle of firewood he’d been collecting. “It’s too fucking cold at night,” he muttered, and Scott hummed in agreement, already tenderly unwrapping the cut on his arm.

Grian ducked into the small lean-to he’d built against the trees on the hill, and pulled out a roll of bandages. He tossed it to Scott, then bent down the arrange the fire. It was the least he could do, he supposed. They were all still green, after all, except for Martyn, though Grian hadn’t seen much of Martyn recently. Which was usually for the better.

“You’re on your own this time.” Scott cut into the silence after a while.

“So,” said Grian. “It’s better off that way. This always ends in chaos, anyway.”

Scott grinned “Only cause you’re here.”

Grian cringed a little, unsure if it was supposed to be a joke. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. “I’m better at picking apples than pretending to be loyal to somebody”.

Scott sighed. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think.”

It wasn’t a question. Grian went silent for a bit, scanning the edges of the darkness around them. A prickle of unease had crept up on him, like the feeling he got when he knew there was a creeper behind him, but couldn’t react in time. Scott was studying him with that look he always had, like he could read everyone like a book. Then again Scott had always been able to see through exactly what Grian was.

“The tasks are easy now,” muttered Grian, fiddling with the flint and steel in his hands, “but wait until we turn red. They feed off of negativity. They’ll have us at each other’s throats eventually. It always ends that way”. He made a point of pronouncing the they, avoiding the inevitable we that he refused to speak into existence.

Scott grimaced. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t have to. I was thinking, what if it’s different this time. What if-”

“It’ll never be different, Scott, you and I both know that.” Grian turned to look at Scott, who was standing in a hunched position, still wary of his surroundings.

They were silent for a few moments, green eyes looking into green, perched within a tense energy that cut through the cold. Grian felt a little guilty, but then again, he felt that most of the time these days.

Scott broke his gaze, turning to look over the valley. His eyes landed on Scar’s small glowing shack. “You’re still watching him.”

Grian sparked the flint and steel a little more aggressively than he meant to. “So? It’s better than teaming with him. We both know what happens. What’s happened. We’re just gonna end up killing each other. I’d rather not get attached this time.”

Scott laughed, which both annoyed and comforted Grian slightly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “But it still feels…pointless, like, what are we fighting for?”

Grian lowered his gaze. “You know you can’t beat them.” Scott’s voice went darker. “You’d say that, wouldn’t you.”

Grian tensed, sensing Scott’s hand slide over the handle of his sword. He realized that Scott remembered more than the others - being a previous winner, he had clearer memories of the past games that the other players could only allude to. And there had always been something up with Scott anyways. Something Grian couldn’t describe.

“I would have teamed with you, you know,” Scott went on. “I thought we’d agreed, that we would find a way to stop this. But you’ve just given in. You give them everything they want. You’re not even supposed to be here. We could do something, this time could be different, we could stay together, we could-”

“Don’t act like you know what you’re talking about,” hissed Grian, staring into the fire that was starting to crackle and pop in his face.

“I’m just wondering why you’re even here.” A few rocks tumbled down the hill behind Scott. “You have the power to stop them and yet you-”

Grian flew to his feet, and in a few seconds he had his knife pressed against Scott’s neck, breathing hard into the elf’s look of surprise. “You really fucking think I want to be here? You think I want to see my friends keep dying, over and over? You think I can just snap my fucking fingers and they’ll listen to me?”

Scott let out a careful, steady breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

Grian lowered the knife a little, still tense. “They hate me just as much as they hate you, Scott.”

Scott didn’t seem to know what to say. He paused for a moment, glancing at the cold, dark desert behind them, and the warmth of the fire. “We’re on green, Grian. It’s alright. I don’t want to kill you.”

Grian sighed. “I know,” he muttered, and the knife clattered as it landed on the rocks at his feet. He turned back, looking at the moon that glittered coldy above the distance mountain that seemed to hum on the edges of the world, and some darker part in Grian fluttered. He choked it back. He had been hearing their voices in his head a little more recently. “I just want to protect my friends,” he admitted. “And I can’t, not really, but I can try. You and I both know the only way out of this world is to die. If I wanted out I would have killed myself the moment this started. But I don’t want them to do this alone.”

Scott released his grip on his sword, and ran his hand over the wound on his arm. “I…I know.”

A puff of smoke rose from Scar’s chimney. Grian wondered if he was awake.

“You broke the rules for him, though. You always do it for him. Even though you pretend not to.”

Grian winced, knowing the words were true. “I just…I don’t want to know what would happen if they saw him,” he admitted. He knew Scott knew what they were talking about. He knew Scott knew the word watcher, knew Scott had come looking for him last time, had told him of Martyn’s dreams and threats, had screamed at him for answers, had looked into Pearl’s eyes as he’d blown himself up, had faced the watchers himself, at the end, when he’d won, all those years ago. Scott and his endless optimism, his sense of righteousness, his refusal to follow the watcher’s rules that made him such a target of them, that made them torture him, over and over. If it was anything, Grian saw himself in Scott, himself before the watchers had given him the ultimate punishment.

“What happens if you fail a task?” asked Scott.

“I don’t know,” sighed Grian. “Nothing good.” He remembered the look in Jimmy’s eyes as the Secret Keeper's face had flashed red for a moment, locked in a world only he could see. And the change in his temperament afterwards. “I just don’t want them to find him. I don’t want them to find out how much he-” means to me.

Scott nodded.

“I’ve kept him safe this long,” Grian went on, fear tugging at the bottom of his stomach. “I learned, after the first time, it’s better to do that from a ways away. You know I- last time, when he was- he had 10 seconds left, and I couldn’t let him run out of time, I knew if he ran out, that he’d see them, so I-” Grian gulped, remembering the way his sword had run through Scar’s chest, the way his eyes had slowly faded from red to hazel before his body fell to the ground and lightning crashed overhead, and a handful of sand had slowly appeared in Grian’s hourglass. The panic in his mind at the thought of Scar’s hourglass running out on his own, and Scar being forced to come face to face with the watchers. The only way out of this world is to die.

Scott took a seat beside the fire. He stared at the flickering flames, pulling Grian out of his unpleasant memory. “I’m worried about Gem,” he admitted. “I don’t even know how she got here. But I wanted to keep her safe,” he went on. “And I- I’m worried about Jimmy.”

Grian let out a long breath.

“You never bothered protecting him, did you?”

Silence. Grian wanted to eat glass. He cringed, flashes of Jimmy on the end of his sword flickering in the back of his mind. “Jimmy and I couldn’t be more different.”

“He’s your brother.”

“That was a long time ago.”

The fire popped and sparks fluttered up into the night air.

Grian changed the topic, turning over a log. “You know you came to me last time,” he breathed. “You wanted to do the same thing. To fight them. But it didn’t work. It never works. You believed in Martyn, and they still took him, just like Pearl, just like Jimmy. He promised you he’d fight them with you, together, and he lied. The red takes everybody. It’s better to die with your allies than to make it to the end, and have to watch what’s bound to happen. To have to face them. In fact it’s better not to have allies at all.”

Something unreadable passed over Scott’s face, and deep down, Grian wondered if what he’d just said was really true.

He remembered what it had felt like when Scar had given him the heart, earlier that week. A gentle flutter in his chest, a warm feeling, something completely opposite to the cold, tumbling darkness that settled in his stomach. It was like a breath of sun on a cloudy day, a shred of warmth in the autumn cold. Scar was all of those things. Scar was laughter, the gold that still lingered in the trees and shrubs, the pounding heat of the desert and the quiet grip of nightfall. Scar would bicker with him, and Grian would play along, and they would reach some sort of agreement eventually, which would usually end with Scar selling him something. Still, Grian knew how the story went. He would probably end up with a knife in Scar’s chest, only because Scar would never kill Grian, he could never - Grian would never let him.

“Good luck, Grian,” whispered Scott, after a long pause of staring into the fire. “You’ll need it.”

Grian wrenched his eyes away from the smoke in the distance and glanced at Scott, who was wrapping himself back up in the thick cloak. He tossed him a chunk of bread that he’d been gnawing on. “I’ll see you around.”

Scott’s green eyes flickered for a moment, but he only nodded, turning away from the fire. “You were always good at keeping secrets.”

Grian watched him go, wondering absentmindedly what task the watchers had set him on, to have him wandering the world alone, at night. Or maybe Scott was breaking his own rules, too, off to find Jimmy, wherever he was.

The smoke from Scar’s hut had all but dissipated, and all that remained was the dark hum of the secret keeper, the statue that rose into the night. Grian tore his eyes away from it, but the image remained, and he winced in sudden pain as the familiar words echoed in his mind.

YOU WERE ONLY MEANT TO WATCH.

He replaced it with thoughts of Scar, remembering how they’d trained for this, far far away in a world that perched on the edges of Grian’s conscious memory. He felt Scar’s heart beating inside his chest, and the distant taste of a kiss, and what it felt like to fly.

The fire flickered on into the sky, and the edges of the desert frosted over, and the world turned. Stars glimmered above, and Scott’s shadow vanished into the darkness. The scratch on Grian’s shoulder still stung.

A heart was just a heart, after all. He was bound to lose it soon enough.

[thorsenmark]

End of Trail by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: An exhibit or sign posted in this forested setting along the Fay Canyon Trail. While my thought and composing this image was to initially just capture an image of the sign, I decided to pull back on the focal length and include more of the surrounding setting. Metering the image was a little more difficult as I knew the areas caught in sunlight would be quite bright compared to the more shadowed areas amongst the trees. I later worked with control points in DxO PhotoLab 4 and then made some adjustments to bring out the contrast, saturation and brightness I wanted for the final image.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Alright, I took a quick nap and Ive decided that I wanna get the UTM reenactment over with as quickly as possible so Im reading chapter 42 and then I'll reward myself with some pain au chocolats and not thinking about this book for the rest of the day and watching the 2002 takarazuka flower troupe production of elisabeth instead. lets go

Chapter 42

here we fucking go with the illyrian wingspan-dicksize correlation, how would Amren even know that isnt she above sex or something. Honestly, I think Cassian would know wayyyyy more about that. on account of all the gay sex hes having i mean. I thought of that joke and then I realized that you could interpret it to mean that he knows about that because hes illyrian and has a dick, but I want to make it very clear that this is a gay sex joke

how come wings are so sensitive that just barely stroking them makes you moan and shudder but you can still fly with them in harsh winds with no issue. My headcanon is that wings arent actually that sensitive, Rhysand and Cassian are just weirdos with a specific kink

This conversation Feyre and Rhys are having about his wings is so weird, its like dirty and yet uncomfortably clinical

oh Rhysand is quicker than death just fucking kill me, im getting so angry again

Syphons are called 'Trichtersteine' ['funnel stones' or 'funnel gems'] in german which is more accurate to how we're actually told they work imo but it sounds pretty lame

Is it just me or is Rhysand being kinda weirdly paranoid rn. I mean granted, they did just get attacked with ash arrows so maybe hes actually doing a good job for once and Im just biased against him

Okay so we finally get some night court fae wearing white, but of course its not for moon symbolism its so they can blend in with the rock of the mountain because this series does nothing but disappoint me

The Hewn City actually sounds really cool, why couldnt this have been the secret city where we spend most of our time, you couldve made it a whole thing about Feyre healing from her trauma UTM through like, exposure therapy or something idk. That wouldve been neat and dramatic, her healing from her UTM trauma in the place that inspired it with the person that inflicted it. I mean, maybe that would be less healthy and even more controversial than Feysand already is but then you could atleast lean into the dark romance of it

I mightve said this already but you knowwww sjm is NOT a painter and consulted ZERO painters because Ive never heard of anyone think about creating art the way feyre does

and Mor is wearing red AGAIN why would you make this a trigger for Feyre just go back and edit it out its not like it matters

God, the description of her outfit is so deeply discomfortingl like it literally is exactly what she wore while she was being drugged assaulted but atleast they left the bodypaint out this time

"[Keir] looked at my face, then my body. I had thought that he would stare and drool greedily but... there was nothing. No emotion. Just ice cold. Shaking internally, - from anger and revulsion - I followed Mor." Im sorry, is she mad that Keir doesnt find her hot????

Theres something uncomfortable about Feyre referring to Rhysand as 'Mor's Lord' especially when we just had a whole paragraph describing her as a proud and empowered queen

"Usually, one Syphon was enough for an Illyrian to to able to steer his urge to kill down the right path." what???

Now shes describing Azriel as dark and beautiful as death and oughhhhhh i knoww im the only who cares about this and its for a pretty stupid reason but I care a lot and it makes me very angry

Feyre referring to a 19 year old Mor as 'barely more than a child' is weirdddddd

of COURSE hes wearing a black tunic for this, I cant believe this is the guy that the fandom has designated the fashion lover when he has two (2) outfits

Feyre describing Rhysand as sooooo powerful and beautiful with a face of nightmares and dreams makes me want to vomit, but more importantly, it makes me yearn to rewatch the 1996 takarazuka star troupe production of Elisabeth with Asaji Saki as Death who unirionically fits all of Feyres descriptors 1000 times better

Not Rhysand using Feyres Cursebreaker title while hes thoroughly humiliating her

Now Feyre is calling him a god, bro youre not gonna be able to have sex if you jack him off this hard hes gonna be all sore

Imagine being a hewn city noble and you all get together because your high lord wants something from you and youre kinda scared because hes the worst, and then you just have to watch him finger some random lady. and you cant leave because then he'll just kill you

I dont like that this is framed as empowering to Feyre, i think its one thing to write a female character who sexualises herself in order to empower herself but the fact that Feyre is doing this at the behest of Rhys automatically renders it non-empowering to me. Like yeah, she obviously consented to this but it wasnt her idea but this was not her idea and this is not something she usually does, the only times shes been sexualized like this is because it was part of some plan that Rhysand came up with

"[Keir] apparently clung to the power. But Rhys was the power." i hate that that sentence made me think of Keir/Rhysand as a ship why am I so goddamn yaoi-brained. And yeah, i know theyre related but according to Rhys himself, he and Mor are only cousins in the most distant sense, so. Man, that would make the IC dynamics so much more fucked up but also so much funnier

Theyre trying so hard to make this hot n sexy but its just so unappealing and dragged out. Granted, sorry if this is TMI, but I did just jerk off so Im all out of horniness for the next little while so maybe I just dont like this because Im not in the mood but idk. theres something so annoying about this, i think its how over-the-top and artificial Rhysands hotness feels, not to mention the fact that he is absolutely not my type

Imagine being Keir rn, just trying to do your job and tell your high lord everything that he needs to know, meanwhile his high lord is sitting in front of him fondling his new sex slave and you just have to keep a straight face. i mean, he sucks ass so i guess he deserves it but man

Presented to you with no further comment: "My breasts became heavy and full, longing, desiring, just like my crotch."

goddamnit, Rhysand just said that he put Feyre on his leash and then Keir made a kinda slutshame-y remark about her clothes and then I thought Rhys was like "maybe I'll put you on a leash too" but it was Feyre who said that. another loss for big gay incest

"He liked this as little as I did" uhhhhh no offense girlie but you actually seem to be having a pretty great time rn

I dont even know what to say about this part where Feyre is like, detaching herself from her thoughts that are calling her a traitor a liar and a whore ?? I think thats whats happening here?? Like, its trying so hard to be sexy but its invoking the imagery of Feyre's (and even Rhysand's) trauma and its just very strange

It took Rhys a fucking eternity to actually touch her pussy

What if Keir developed a voyerism kink because of this. would that be fucked up or what

Its so weird how Feyre thinks about how maybe Rhysand doesnt like sex or being desirable anymore because of amarantha and that certainly sounds like a trauma response he should have but instead it just never matters

"I had been tortured and tormented but my pain was nothing compared to his." YOU DIED

Oh man I cant believe I completely forgot about the absolutely iconic part where Rhysand gets so mad Keir for calling the woman he introduced as a whore a whore that he telepathically breaks his hand about it

what was the point of doing that, Feyre didnt even seem to like it that much

[miasmaghoul]

what about mountain and dew high together and dew gets the courage to top mountain. but mountain thinks it's adorable (but he doesn't let dew know that) and he let's dew top him

oh hell yeah

(this is maybe not exactly what you asked for but uhhhh just go with it lmao)

Cozy.

That's the word Mountain would use to describe his current state. Sprawled on the floor of the greenhouse, high as a kite and basking in the scent of turned earth and humid air. Watching early spring rain pour over the angled glass roof, accompanied by the low rumble of distant thunder and the rare flash of lightning. His favorite sort of weather.

The press of a small body on top of his own has him purring, and it's loud enough to drown out the thunder.

"You're so high," comes a light voice from above him, and Mountain chuckles.

"Like you aren't," he murmurs, sluggishly lifting his head. Dew is definitely at least as stoned as he is, red-eyed and twirling a lock of silver hair around an elegant finger. It's a good look for him.

"Maaaaybe," the little ghoul sing-songs, resting his chin on Mountain's chest and giving him a goofy grin. "You complaining?"

"Never," Mountain rumbles, wrapping long arms around Dew and giving him a squeeze. It wrings a chirp from those pretty pink lips, a sweet sound that hits Mountain in all the right places.

They've been here for a while now, long before the rain started. Dew is a frequent visitor in the spring, happy to finally be outside again without the wintery chill biting into his flesh. The hazards of being a water ghoul, Mountain supposes. Dew is a different person in the greenhouse - soft and quiet, tapping into his power to help him mist the plants and re-pot overgrown foliage. They fall into a routine, and it's the only time Mountain has ever seen Dew content to attend to something like a chore.

Maybe that has something to do with what always happens after they finish work. When Mountain breaks out his secret stash of the good shit and they end up in just this spot, loose and comfortable and lost in a decidedly purple haze.

Mountain drags broad palms over Dew's back and the little ghoul hums his appreciation, mirroring the motion along Mountain's sides. Casual touches, the pair of them tactile and blissfully caught up in simple sensation. Mountain watches Dew's face as they feel one another, watches his eyes darken and his smile gain a lascivious tilt. He licks his lips, and Mountain's stomach gives a delightful little swoop.

"Come here," he says, and Dew needs no further invitation.

He shimmies up just enough to catch Mountain in a languid kiss, slow and decadent in a way Dew only gets when he's stoned. His long fingers thread into Mountain's hair at the same time Dew licks into his mouth, thumbs grazing the tender place where his horns meet his skin, and Mountain can't hold back his groan.

His own hands stroke over the little ghoul's back, rippling his already wrinkled shirt and tracing the ridge of his spine. Subtly lifting it, exposing the soft skin of Dew's lower back to his wandering fingertips. Mountain drags them along Dew's waistband while Dew busies himself sucking on his tongue, and the sound he makes when Mountain's callused digits sneak into his jeans is simply divine.

"Grabby," he accuses, tugging at Mountain's lower lip with playful fangs. "Lookin' for somethin'?" Mountain hums, leaning up to lick a drop of saliva from the corner of Dew's mouth.

"Could ask you the same thing," he replies, pressing against Dew's ass. It forces the little ghoul to rut against his stomach, and the press of his stiff little dick into his belly has them both groaning. Not that he's alone there, Mountain's been chubbed up against his zipper since Dew took up residence on his chest.

Dew catches him in another kiss then, but there's a new hunger in it. An eagerness matched by the way the little ghoul rocks his hips, grinding into the slight softness of Mountain's belly. He can feel the wet spot on Dew's jeans already, the sea-sweet aroma of his arousal mixing with the heady floral scent surrounding them. If Mountain slipped curious fingers between his cheeks, he knows Dew would be all wet there too.

But when he tries to do just that, Dew chitters and pulls away.

"Wait, wait," he huffs, resting his forehead against Mountain's and giving him a perfect view of bloodshot seafoam eyes and pink cheeks.

"Something wrong, droplet?" He gets both hands on Dew's ass, gives it a solid squeeze. "I can tell you want it." He tugs those slim hips against him once more and relishing the little shiver Dew gives in return.

"Yeah," he breathes, low, "yeah, but not - I don't -"

He fiddles with Mountain's hair, carding his fingers through think auburn strands while he stumbles over his words. Mountain rubs his nose against the little ghoul's, affectionate and encouraging. It's interesting to see Dew hesitant, he's not usually one that has trouble saying what he wants.

"What is it, angelfish? Is there -"

"I wanna fuck you."

He says it in all in a rush, and Mountain's words catch in his throat. His hands still as the gears in his head turn, processing Dew's request. The little ghoul searches his face for a moment before he leans back down, nuzzling Mountain's jaw and giving his earlobe a nibble. He sighs, stretching his neck as Dew starts to kiss his way down it. Wet and filthy.

"You...you what?"

"Wanna give it to you," Dew mutters, the words soft but insistent. "Wanna...wanna stick it in, can I?"

The way he asks could almost be called innocent, but the nasty little hump he gives Mountain's stomach is anything but. It makes his head spin, makes his cock throb where it's trapped against his hip. It's something Dew has never asked for, something he didn't even know the little ghoul would want. It's rare that anyone asks Mountain if they can fuck him, and Dew being so blunt about it is doing funny things to his insides.

Or maybe that's just the cool slide of that skilled tongue along his pulse point. Hard to say.

Either way, he knows the answer.

"Yeah," Mountain says with a sigh, hands slipping up Dew's shirt to hold him close. "Fuck, yeah you can."

Any slowness gets thrown out the window the moment the words are out, Dew wriggling out of Mountain's grasp and sliding down to kneel between his legs. It only takes a moment for the little ghoul to divest Mountain of his pants, and even less time for Dew to wrap his lips around the ruddy head of his cock and give it a firm suck.

"Oh, oh -" Mountain gasps as Dew takes him deeper, reaching down to lace his fingers into long, silver hair. "D-Dew, shit..."

The little ghoul works him purposefully, bobbing his head over the first few inches of Mountain's thick cock, one hand working the rest while his other fumbles with his own belt. Mountain groans low in his throat while he watches the show - watches Dew drool down his shaft and dip down to lick at his balls, watches him kick off his own jeans and boxers. Watches him pull back to kneel between his spread thighs, that hand still wrapped around the base of his wet length, lips slick and swollen.

Dew's own cock juts out from his lap, pink and shiny and so hard it's curved up towards his stomach. Mountain's mouth waters at the sight of it, and when he licks his lips he has the pleasure of watching it spit a blob of pre that dribbles down his short, slender shaft. If he were in a teasing mood he'd call it cute, but the look Dew gives him - starved and needy - helps him keep the thought to himself.

Dew gives him one last tug, long and slow, rubbing over the frenulum long enough to make him hiss before letting go. It falls against Mountain's shirt with a wet slap, makes him grunt, but all his attention is focused on Dew. On the hungry look in his eye, the flush of his cheeks and the tension threaded through his slim form. He grips Mountain's thighs, spreads them wide, and when the rough tips of two fingers graze his hole Mountain shudders.

"Good?"

"S'nice," Mountain slurs, his own hands idly running over his own chest. Fiddling with his nipples through his shirt for something to do. "Keep going. Get me ready."

Truthfully, Dew could probably fuck him with no prep. Could slide that sweet little stiffy of his right inside with no trouble. Sure, it might sting for a second, but beyond that?

But saying it is worth it for the moan Dew gives him, tight and pained and paired with a strong kick of that small cock. Makes it hit his t-shirt, leaving a cute little wet spot behind. He gets a hand on himself immediately, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Hold your legs," Dew says, shaky and thick. "Lemme see it, wanna see it."

His voice cracks at the end, and Mountain obliges. Hooks his hands behind his knees and pulls those long legs to his chest. Holds himself open, exposes the most secret part of himself in a way that would have him blushing if he were even a little bit more sober.

Now, though? Now he's too caught up in the way Dew's brow furrows at the sight. In the way he sucks his lower lip between his fangs when Mountain clenches.

"Pretty," Dew breathes, wiggling a fingertip over wrinkled skin just enough to tickle. To make it wink against the pad of his finger. Dew's slight shoulders hunch with it, he makes a strangled sound, and Mountain leaks onto his own shirt.

"Gonna stretch it out?" He feels breathless already, and he really doesnt know why. Must have something to so with the stunned look Dew wears. "Fill me up?"

"Uh huh," Dew says, slack jawed and staring at the way his hole twitches. He sounds so adorably stupid like this, and Mountain can't resist pushing just a little bit further.

"Gonna make me take it?"

The little ghoul's face crumples as he gives a frantic nod, and then he's moving. Pulling back the hand that was teasing Mountain's hole and using two fingers to polish the sticky head of his cock. Smearing pre over the digits and getting them nice and slick. There's always so much of it, a leaky tap thanks to his water ghoul nature. Mountain rarely has to use lube when he carves a place for himself in that tiny body, and he's ever so pleased to see that it works both ways.

Dew spreads the mess over his entrance, presses a spidery finger inside, and oh it's good. Better that it should be for how little stimulation there is, helped along no doubt by the high and the anticipation. By the way Dew's already panting as he pumps that single digit in and out, crooking it on each slide in until he finds the spot that makes Mountain's thighs quiver.

"Yeah, right there," he groans, letting his head thump back against the floor while Dew massages him just right. Presses against his prostate and makes his cock spit more fluid onto his already damp shirt.

"More?"

Dew sounds lost, somehow. Like he can't believe this is happening. Mountain grunts his assent and Dew pulls his finger back, sliding in with two this time. It's enough of a stretch to really feel now, a tingly burn that lights up Mountain's nerves and has him moaning deep in his chest.

Dew whimpers at the feel of him clenching around his fingers, hunting again for that sweet spot. He finds it quicker this time, and when he puts blessed pressure on it Mountain goes boneless on the greenhouse floor.

"Dew, oh fuck, Dew -"

"Is it...good?" Poor thing sounds so unsure. So needy for reassurance. Who is Mountain to deny him?

"So good," he mutters, rocking his hips in an effort to take those wonderful fingers even deeper. "You're doing so good, don't stop, oh -"

His back arches when Dew curls his fingers just right, and he can hear the moment the little ghoul loses his patience. It comes in the form of a stuttered whine and Dew's other hand flying to Mountain's thigh. Holding on for dear life. The one inside him goes still, and Dew's breathing is so harsh you'd think he'd been running a marathon.

"Mount...Mount, can I?" He pulls those talented fingers back, lining himself up and nudging the flared head against that hole instead. Prodding at it. "Please, I gotta - gotta feel you, please -"

He wants to watch. To see the undoubtedly shocked look on Dew's face when he finally pushes that slippery little dick of his into the hot clutch of his body. Wants to drink down the hurt cries of pleasure that he can already imagine filling the room, to lose himself in the filthy slap of skin on skin.

But he can't. Can't lift his head. Can't take his eyes off the sheets of rain washing over the roof. Can't focus on anything but the ache in balls and the gentle press of Dew's cock at his entrance. Waiting for permission.

He'll have to be less high next time they do this.

"Go on," he encourages, hitching his knees higher, "put it in. Give it to me."

Dew digs his claws into Mountain's thighs, presses forward, and Mountain doesn't know which of them is louder. He slides in so easily, so smoothly, further and further until their hips meet and they're both left gasping.

Dew's babbling, he can hear it, but there's no sense to the words. A reaction to sheer overwhelm, to heat and pressure and the newness of it all. His hands stroke feverishly over Mountain's skin, from his ass to the backs of his knees. Self soothing more than anything else. Mountain can feel him pulsing inside, so very hard, and to his utter delight that little cock is just long enough to nudge perfectly at his prostate.

"You feel so good," he sighs, and Dew throbs. Mountain clamps down around him, and Dew sobs. He forces himself to look then, and it's enough to have the knot of pleasure in his stomach tightening.

Dew looks beautiful, flushed right down his throat. If he didn't have a shirt on, Mountain knows he'd be painted pink right down to the nipples he can see poking though thin cotton. He's sweaty at his hairline, silver strands plastered to his cheeks and forehead. His top lip is curled back, exposing the chipped, crowded fangs that everyone finds so charming. His chin shines, slick with drool that has dripped down to soak into his shirt. He's wrecked already, and Mountain can't resist clenching again just to see him wince.

"C'mon, droplet," he coos, "be a good boy and fuck me like you mean it."

[succubus-interactivefiction]

It’s been six years since the horror you experienced while camping with your friends just after college graduation. Six years since a maniac tore through the campground killing everyone they encountered and in the end only you and one other remained. You don’t remember what exactly happened towards the end, your therapist says that you blocked it all out, but when the authorities finally arrived they found you and your girlfriend barricaded in one of the small cabins half starved and huddled together to fight the cold.

It took years of therapy before you managed to finally put the worst of it behind you and move on. Unfortunately your girlfriend was not able to manage the same and was sent to a psychiatric hospital after she attempted to kill her neighbor. Since then you have not heard anything from her being blocked from seeing or speaking to her for both your sakes.

Now, six years later, you have moved to a small town hidden away deep in the mountains after acing the interview of a lifetime. Your new employer has big plans for the small town of Rock Gate and it is up to you as one of the new locations heads of staff to help see it through. For almost four years you have helped to oversee the massive expansion into the area, but it’s starting again. People are dying.

Overnight the town is cut off from the outside world, the murder rate skyrockets, and the town panics. Friends and neighbors turn on each other as they seek someone to blame. The residents see danger in every shadow and everything spirals out of control. While everyone around you panics, something inside you solidifies and you realize that you are not afraid, you have survived before, and you will again.

Play as a Cis or Trans woman, with full customization over your physical appearance, your wardrobe, which kind of vehicle you drive, and even what kind of weapon you use to survive.

Explore a town driven to darkness by a killer and try to survive the chaos.

Discover the supernatural world hidden beneath the skin of civilization as the madness drives its inhabitants from the shadows.

Find romance amidst the insanity with one of several ROs.

Learn the truth about what happened six years ago.

Fight, Kill, Survive

Jannie Smith | Your Ex 🚩 The only other survivor of the massacre six years ago, you haven’t seen Jannie in five years, not since she was locked away from the world after attempting to kill her neighbor during a flashback. So when she shows up in Rock Gate working as a barista it comes as the shock of a lifetime. Despite the time apart she seems to still be infatuated with you and you quickly learn that despite her pleasant exterior something much darker is lurking within her soul, something that may be your undoing. Appearance: Jannie is rather tall for a woman coming in at 6’5” and now has an athletic physique, whereas she was very lanky six years ago. Naturally dark blond she prefers to keep her waist length hair dyed a deep, almost blood red. Her green eyes always seem to twinkle when she sees you, but remain dead when she has to interact with others, and you only ever see her smile when you are close, her strangely long canines prominently visible when she does. Tropes: Second Chance, Bad Girl, I Have a Secret, Red Flag

Kory Kane | Your Boss Rigid, cold, and uncompromising, your boss is regarded with fear at best, and hatred at worst, by most of your co-workers. Kory never has a nice thing to say for a job well done, expecting every employee to simply do their job. She tends to keep her life outside of work private from everyone else but after a chance run-in with her outside of the bounds of your job you learn that she is a caring, if somewhat restrained individual. Appearance: Coming in at a diminutive 5’2” Kory is easily the shortest of your co-workers, which probably contributes to her workplace attitude. Her make-up is always perfect, her shoulder length salt and pepper hair is always immaculate and held in a tight bun when at work, and she always wears perfectly fitted suits on the job. Her beautiful hazel eyes rarely show any emotion but when she gets the chance to talk about her hobbies they seem to light up the room. Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Fucking the Boss, Forbidden Love

Devon Low | Your Co-worker The bane of your existence, your worst enemy, a never ending nightmare. Devon Low has been nothing but trouble for you since the new office opened. It seems like she hated you from the very moment you met and has done little to change that impression in the four years the site has been operating. Normally a sweet, good natured woman when interacting with everyone other than yourself her attitude turns completely frosty as soon as she notices you in the room. Appearance: With her curvy build, bright smile, and hip length pink hair Devon is the office darling. Her deep, ocean blue eyes seem to take in far more than others can see and she sometimes appears distracted by things you can not witness. Devon tends to wear more casual attire that hugs her 5’11” body and despite your bosses repeated attempts to have her appear more professional Devon has resisted every attempt. Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Opposites Attract, Childhood Sweethearts

Laura Kingston | Your Neighbor 🚩 Born and raised in Rock Gate, Laura has been your neighbor since you moved to town for work. From the moment she showed up at your door with a smile and freshly baked cookies the two of you have been the best of friends, spending nearly every free moment together. It’s not uncommon for one of you to simply walk into the other's home without knocking, or to pick the other up from work for lunch. You have yet to tell Laura about what happened to you six years ago but she has witnessed several of your issues with PTSD and has guessed that something happened, but has yet to ask. Appearance: Laura is one of the more unique people you know with her pin-up sense of style, odd eyes, tiny frame, and pointed ears. Standing at 5’7” Laura is always ready with a smile and a kind word to cheer you up. Her heterochromatic purple and blue eyes seem to be constantly twinkling with mischief from behind the fringe of her bright blue pin-up hairstyle. Laura has more tattoos and piercings than anyone else in town which sets her apart even more. Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Forbidden Romance, Paranormal Romance