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politemenacephd · 9 months

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Arachnophilia: (Part Ten)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Fluff and bonding, Monster/human relationship, Miguel is rutting, Reader goes into heat, Rough PinV sex, Spontaneous outdoor sex, Slight voyuerism/exhibitionism, Mouth covering, Rough biting, Creampie & web sealing, Little bit of angst at the end? CW: Mentions of & brief depiction of deer hunting.

Word count: 6060

One Week Later

‘Are you ready, arañita?’

Miguel’s voice drifted up and into the nest, turning your head towards the entrance. You were halfway through getting dressed and the distraction nearly toppled you to the floor.

‘AH- Yeah! Yeah, I’m- almost ready! Just a minute!’

You struggled into your new outfit; a suit made entirely of silk which Miguel had painstakingly crafted for you. It was super soft and strangely warm, but it clung to the contours of your body a little more than you’d have liked. You kept wondering if Miguel had consciously or perhaps unconsciously made it so form-fitting. After all, this was your third suit of its kind, as he’d ripped the other two to shreds during extremely passionate and wet sex.

You felt your face grow warm at the memory and physically shook it away. No, no time for that. If you slipped back into the heat again you’d never get to go on the trip, and you were excited to go.

As you rose to your feet you took a moment to admire how the nest was coming along. The first thing you’d done was make it homely by adding a window and doors, with the entrance now covered by a crude cut oaken circle that swung outward on a hinge and the walls now adorned with little wooden shuttered holes.

You admired the half-made fireplace in the centre of the room, next to the DIY wooden table and the slowly burgeoning food prep area, before turning to the bed.

The mattress was completely drowning in silken blankets and silken pillows, and the floor beside it was now adorned with the pelt of a stag he’d killed. You knew autumn was approaching and it would only get colder, hence the focus on conserving heat, and while you didn’t want to jinx the relationship you enjoyed planning for the future.

You did feel a little bad since almost all these changes were only for your benefit. You had to preserve heat in this empty forest, but Miguel with his soft fluffy abdomen could remain shirtless all year round.

Your eyes softened affectionately at just the thought. Such a beautiful creature. He was a sight to behold when he stepped out into the cold dawn, where the heat of his muscles created a misty sheen of steam and his white breath curling around his fangs.

‘Arañita!’

You jumped in place as Miguel’s voice echoed from below for a second time. Shit, you’d been daydreaming about him so much you’d forgotten to go down. With fumbling hands you grabbed your bag and rushed out the open door.

‘COMING!’

Where once there was only a short sticky rope to descend from his home there was now a generous ladder, allowing you to easily clamber down to the floor.

Miguel was waiting, patient as ever, his legs gently tapping on the dirt as you approached.

‘Alright! I’m here, sorry. Had some- difficulty with the suit’ you called.

‘Ah, arañita. There you are.’ The joy that lit up his face every time he saw you never failed to make your legs weak.

‘Yep! Here I am.’

‘You look wonderful in that suit, by the way’ he noted as you rushed to his side. You took the time to scoff as you grabbed handfuls of his fur, using it as leverage to drag your body onto his back. His fluff was soft where it brushed your skin, and he smelled like grass dew and wet hair.

‘Oh my god- I knew it, you designed the suit to be too tight on me, didn’t you?’

‘I- well, yes. Is that an issue? Is it uncomfortable?’

You landed on his abdomen with an ‘oomph’ and shuffled forward, settling on his back like a great horse. Your hands wrapped themselves tight around his broad waist.

‘No, but- come on. Little bit pervy.’

‘I thought that was the nature of our relationship’ he argued. He tried desperately to catch your eye but in doing so began spinning in little circles, chasing his back as you continuously ducked out of the way. You took great pleasure in making him spin. ‘I like to look at you, yes. I get great physical joy from admiring your form. You are my mate. I thought this was normal. Is that not normal?’

‘Oh my god Mig—alright, come on! No more wasting daylight hours! Go! Go! Git!’

You gently and playfully kicked his side, urging him onward like a horse, but a firm glare from his bloody red eyes quickly brought you down into an apologetic cower.

‘Sorry! Sorry, uh- shall we, shall we go, darling? At your own discretion?’

He gave a curt nod and began strolling upward into the forest.

Today, he was finally taking you hunting.

The woods, once terrifying and unknowable to you, were slowly becoming a comforting norm. You gazed up at the dizzyingly high pines as Miguel walked upward to where the trees grew sparse and wide.

The early morning daylight trickled down in thin rays, their glow highlighting the tiny specks of dust and flitting little bugs as they passed you by.

This place felt old, untouched. It was cool beneath the heavy canopy above. You could hear nothing but the distant chirps of birds and the occasional creaking of an old tree. As you passed beneath those silent giants you clutched Miguel a little tighter.

‘You were talking in your sleep last night’ you whispered. Mig jumped. You’d been walking for almost ten minutes now in abject silence, so your voice was a surprise.

‘Ah- what was that, mi tesoro?’ he whispered back once he’d regained his composure. You bit down the urge to giggle.

‘Oh, sorry, um- you were talking in your sleep last night. That’s all I said.’

‘I was?’

‘Mhm. It’s very cute. You kept kicking your legs, kicking them and grunting, then you said something like don’t run so fast little one or wait for me and um- I think then you just kinda settled and went back to sleep. Like I said, very cute.’

Miguel rolled his shoulders as he continued strolling onward. You couldn’t tell from here what he was thinking.

‘Mm. I don’t- remember my dreams anymore, but, I know that they’re vivid. I remember the feelings but not the events. So- huh. I wonder what I dreamed about?’

‘I should stay up and keep an eye on you, try and sus it out’ you teased. He managed a breathy little snort of a laugh in response.

‘Ah, I’m not sure about that. What if I say something in my dreams that I shouldn’t?’

‘Oh, pft- like what? You gonna say someone else’s name? you don’t know anyone else, well except Miguel maybe, and if you said his name my first thought wouldn’t be that.’

‘I could still- imply something embarrassing’ he said with a shrug. You’d broached the top of the hills by this point and behind you the view was extraordinary, with small windows in the canopy giving you a perfect view of the city in the distance. Mig paused to turn and look at it with you mid conversation.

‘I could- I don’t know, admit some, sexual fetish I hadn’t even realized yet, some- deep interest in the back of my mind.’

You sighed as you rested on his bicep. With your arms still tight around his waist you gave him an affirming little squeeze. ‘You idiot’ you teasingly chided, ‘you admit everything to me anyway. This morning you immediately confessed that you designed my clothes for your own delight, and- wait, yeah, literally the FIRST day you started rutting you sat me down and told me in great detail your sexual fantasy. You are too honest to be worried about this.’

Another guttural choke escaped his throat, his strange little laugh that now filled you with joy to hear. ‘You are right, as always, my tesoro. I suppose it’s just my anxiety. I- suppose I’m just not used to anyone else being around when I sleep. It’s strangely vulnerable, no?’

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s weird, but, It’s nice though, right?’

You felt his fur bristle beneath you, the strands brushing your leg. Oh, you thought, that meant he was upset about something, right? But, why?

‘Is it?’ he murmured.

You turned and leaned around his torso to try and see his face more clearly, but right as you did so he turned himself and began walking deeper.

‘Hey, is something up?’ you gently pushed.

‘Ah, it… Sometimes- you pull away, at night, when we’re… cuddling.’ The way his voice dipped on the word cuddling, like he was embarrassed to be saying it in front of you. God, he was so sweet. ‘You shuffle away and I wake up without you. I- was worried you were uncomfortable with me.’

‘Oh, I love cuddling Mig! But doesn’t it bother you when you’re trying to sleep? I keep waking myself up because when I roll in my sleep you’re there and I keep thinking I’ll wake you up too.’

He let out a soft ‘humpf’ sound in response, clearly surprised by your response. ‘Ah- I don’t believe so. I haven’t slept any worse since you arrived, except, occasionally waking to check you’re okay.’

‘Oh. Huh. Well, you are… Big? I suppose is the best word? Big ol’ guy, you probably don’t feel me as much. But, like I was saying, I’m just not used to feeling something beside me when I sleep. I’m adjusting my brain to it, that’s all. it doesn’t mean I dislike you or dislike cuddling. We’re just uh- finding boundaries, now we live together.’

He seemed to perk up at the reminder that you were, technically, living together. Living together as partners, a concept he thought he would only ever dream out. He did a little rustle before bounding through the trees.

‘Alright, well, we’re almost there. Let me get you something to eat, mi arañita’

True to his word Mig became utterly focused on the hunt from that point onward.

He bayed you to settle down in the roots of a tree while he got into position, somewhere far enough to dampen your scent but close enough that you could see. He seemed desperate to have you witness him being productive, and you were curious enough to go along with his whims.

In this part of the forest the trees were sparser, allowing more vegetation to cover the dry earth. Miguel had said this gave him more cover for ambush, but you were still stumped as to how this giant man was supposed to hide himself even in the thickest growth. Even when pressed to the floor he was huge, as wide as he was long, covered in bright red and black fur.

Surely a deer would see that, right? Curiosity got the better of you, and you settled down in the roots to watch.

Mig started by feeling the vibrations in the dirt. He tapped at the floor, shuffling back and forth as he listened for something far beyond the scope of your own senses. You saw his eyes widen a few times, indicating that he’d felt something in the distance, and once he seemed sure he began the next unusual stage of this dance.

He dug. He dug into the earth with his enormous legs, filling out a small burrow in which his body could just about fit. He used his legs to drag foliage over his head, masking his scent and his body, until even you could barely see him at all.

And there, he waited. He waited, and waited, as clouds came to cover the sun. He waited in the gloom while you picked at your nails, waiting with a patience that frankly scared you to your core, until you both heard it.

A snap. A twig breaking.

A stag had entered the woods. Immediately you shuffled downward, lying as still as possible in the roots. Mig didn’t move an inch.

The stag was sniffing at the ground as it approached. You were certain that it would smell the enormous spider lying in wait, but somehow it just kept drifting closer and closer. You could see its head dipping to push through the grass, its snout flexing and snorting. Its breath condensed hard in the cool air.

Every muscle in your body tensed. You watched, your heart racing, as the stag went to sniff right over Migs head.

CRACK.

You jumped in your skin as he pounced.

It was terrifying. It was pure, primal, a spectacle of undiluted power. He moved with a speed that seemed impossible for something of his size, so large and yet so nimble, as his legs propelled him out of the dirt and onto the beast. It tried to run but his claws caught its neck.

With the sheer weight of his body he brought the bleating giant down. You saw a flash of his eyes, blood red with a single white pupil, right before he clamped his jaws on its neck.

It was over in seconds. The moment the deer stopped moving you scrambled out of the roots to join him.

‘Holy- shit, you’re so fast!’

Mig unclamped the catch with a soft grunt. You could see the blood on his jaw and neck which he immediately smeared with the back of his hand before facing you. He had such a strangely shy smile on his face.

‘Oh- you saw! You saw it. What did you think?’

‘It was… terrifying! Wow! You are- so, strong!’ you said with an awkward laugh. You left out how weirdly enjoyable it was to see him at full strength, to have witnessed the power and carnage he was capable of.

His grin widened as he took your comment at face value. ‘Thank you, arañita. That- makes me happy. I like showing you that I can be of use.’

‘Oh, Mig you idiot.’

You leaned in and affectionately touched his hair, gently brushing back the thick curls. He almost purred at the touch. ‘Now- jesus, let’s get you cleaned up and get home.’

You used a strip of silk from your back to try and clear his face, though he kept nestling into your hand which made it difficult to finish. Something about hunting for you seemed to make him especially soft. He would tap his feet for attention and rustle against you, and you would tut at him while secretly enjoying his touch.

That peaceful downtime did not last long though. As you were brushing yourself down, preparing to head back down, you noticed that Mig had stopped pacing. When you turned to check on him his eyes were wide.

‘Mig?’ you said softly. He didn’t move. You watched with ever growing curiosity as he began to dart his gaze across the forest line, almost as if he was looking for something. You followed his line of sight but could see nothing yourself.

It was only then, on the cusp of your lips parting to question Mig on what he was doing, that your senses picked up the same thing he had.

Your eyes locked in a moment of shared terror.

Footsteps. Distant footsteps, growing closer with every step. Idle chit chat that echoed in the trees, something about being lost and forgetting the map. You sensed a flask on an overstuffed backpack slowly clinking against a metal keychain.

‘Hikers’ you hissed. Mig gave a silent nod.

No, no, no. This was bad, you thought. What were people doing this far out? Why today of all days?

You didn’t want to risk a run in with civilians. You knew Mig was safe, but you also remembered how you’d acted the first time you saw him, and more importantly you remembered his distress at being seen.

Without another word you jumped into action, hopping his back in one fell swoop while he grabbed the kill by the nape of its hide. He lifted it as easily as a cat carrying a kitten, a feat you barely had time to appreciate, as he broke into a canter the moment you were mounted.

In silence you hurried back down the way you’d come.

For about half the way down it seemed to be smooth sailing. Mig made easy progress through the woods, his eight legs silently tapping back and forth on the mulchy earth as you descended to home. Your senses could feel the hikers getting further and further away.

In no time at all you saw the glade appear at the bottom of the hill, a tiny little circle in a sea of evergreen pines slowly sinking downward. You let out a contented sigh.

But then you felt it.

You felt It.

That foreboding tug in your gut. The gentle throbbing that sank down through your insides, the pulsing of blood as your heart sped up. The yearning, the need, the subconscious addictive pleading for satisfaction.

No, no, no, NO. You couldn’t stop here, right? The hikers weren’t far enough away yet.

You shuffled, trying to secretly suppress it, when Miguel abrupted stumbled to a halt himself. You heard him drop the stag with a thump.

Shit. You could smell it. It was heavy in the air, a smell you couldn’t describe with words but which you felt in your loins. He was rutting too.

Your eyes rolled. Oh that smell, it gave you goosebumps. That smell alone dragged you to him like a magnetic force.

‘Arañita?’

His words were soft as he spoke. Those were dangerous words, hungry words.

‘Mig?’

You felt so small on his back as his shoulders arched. You had to tilt your head to see his face, to see the bright glow of his eyes as his head instinctively tilted sideways. You balked. Those eyes were fucking starving.

‘Mig’ you breathed.

His abdomen vibrated softly, rustling against your skin in a way that sent pleasurable shivers through your thighs and spine. You shuddered against him. ‘Mig, don’t—careful—’

He breathed out hard, his breath condensing in the air. ‘Ah… Arañita …’

It curled like smoke around his bloody maw. His full lips parted and he breathed in through the mouth, releasing a dark and foreboding growl. ‘Ah…’

‘Mig—we need to get back—’

He was breathing heavier now. You could see his enormous spider legs quivering as he fought the urge slowly infecting his mind. The urge to pin, to fill, to penetrate, to feel. The urge to claim. The urge to see your pretty form, naked and sweating and shaking as you struggled to take him, as you were fucked to the brim with his very being.

When he huffed smoke for a second time a breathy moan escaped his throat. It was a mating call, plain and simple, echoing through the trees.

‘Mig… Mig…’

It was pitiful; your pleading had gone from genuine concern to depraved praise as you whispered his name over and over again. While you pleaded Mig struggled to focus on his senses. His body was begging, screaming even, to take you now, but he could just feel the hikers still approaching their location.

‘We need- to get back- to the nest’ he panted. You didn’t even respond.

At this point you were broken, involuntarily grinding your hips into his fur for any semblance of relief. Your body was burning to the point that sweat was sticking your suit to the contours of your skin, highlighting every little dip and curve.

‘Miggy—’

‘Arañita!’

His bark of an order made you mewl.

‘We need- to get back—’

‘O-Okay’ you whined. Slowly, painfully, Miguel began to continue his walk down the hillside towards the glade.

It was agony. You’d gotten so used to instant gratification that pushing through the need was now hellish, especially combined with the need to run.

It was an itchy heat, a prickling heat, and as your blood began to pump you felt your insides begin to pulsate. Throb after throb, each harder than the last, as every muscle inside you twitched and tensed around a cock that wasn’t there.

You could feel his body beneath you. You could sense him, feel him in every part of your body. All you could think about was feeling more, tasting more, as that desperate curdling need to feel his cock inside you flooded all of your senses. It was physically unbearable.

‘Don’t’ your mind screamed as you pulled at his fur.

‘Don’t do it’ his mind pleaded as he forced himself forward.

But you were no match for each other’s potent smell. No risk, not even death, felt important compared to that burning ache.

You collapsed from his body and into the dirt with a low moan, unable to maintain yourself any longer. Miguel descended on you in seconds.

You squeaked and squirmed as he gripped you in his claws. He pounced like you were prey. He flipped and thrust your body down onto its back, his gruff hands immediately pinning your arms to the floor. The frail little bones in your wrists screamed out at the pressure.

‘Mig!’

He hissed and flexed his teeth on your neck, hot breath cascading over your skin as the smell of musky hormones and blood filled your nose.

‘I can’t- wait—’ he panted. You could already feel his abdomen rubbing and grinding on you, his slit unable to contain his erection any longer. You could feel the thick, warm shaft smearing your new suit with his thick, pearly pre-cum. ‘I need- you, please- I need it- it hurts—’

You knew it was dangerous, but your brain was a melted pot of red hot lust. You couldn’t fight it anymore. With a soft whine you lay back and turned your head to the side, frantically nodding for him to continue.

‘Okay, fuck—I can’t wait, fuck—just, be quick, please’ you panted.

He didn’t even bother to fully undress you. With a hiss he bent and ripped a hole in your suit with his mouth, a dangerous tactic as his teeth brushed your pussy lips as he tore the silk aside. He took one deep sniff of your pheremones before physically dragging your body into position.

He forced your legs into a mating press, his hefty torso straining the muscles in your thighs to bend to his will. He rustled slightly as he pushed into position, roughly edging his bulbous member against your slit, and as you felt the first inch spreading you open you knew it was over.

‘Okay, okay’ he panted, ‘shh- sh, stay still for me arañita, let me just—fill you—’

He thrust, hard, and with one excruciatingly tight stretch he was inside you again.

‘M-MM--!’ Your hips bucked and tensed, rocking from side to side as you struggled to adjust. Miguel gasped like he’d just avoided drowning.

‘Ah—ahh—that’s it, that’s it. I’ll be- quick, just- stay still, mi tesoro, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

The moment he entered you he started to frantically rut to completion, his abdomen jerking back and forth as he fucked you into the dirt. Your fingers dug into his arms.

‘MM--!’ It was painful to hold back your screams. You had to bite your tongue until it bled, until the taste of iron filled your mouth and nose, all in a vain attempt to not be caught. He was so fucking rough.

‘Sweet little spider’ he whined. You felt him thrust a little deeper and squirmed with joy at the familiar mixture of ache and pleasure.

‘It’s… ‘S so good’ you whispered in a needy, whiney breath. ‘So—good…’

Desperate now to finish quickly, Miguel angled himself a little further back. He needed the one thing that he couldn’t resist, his most primal indulgence. He wanted to see it. Your small, soft, sweet human body, perfectly impaled on his enormous shaft. The sight sent full body shivers through his spine.

‘So… tight…’

He looked utterly pussy drunk, mesmerised almost. He watched your slick coat his cock as he drew back, those translucent sticky strings hanging between his abdominal fur and your pretty little slit. They made his black veins glisten as they pulsed against your swollen cunt.

‘Mi… aranita…’

He stared, unblinking, as he moved his hand and began touching the spot where he’d entered you. He brushed his thumb down and across your swollen clit, those wet and messy folds, until it came to rest where his shaft was splitting you open. He watched you swallow him whole.

‘Pretty, pretty little spider’ he whispered. ‘F-fuck…’

He watched your hips jolt as he gave a few short pumps about halfway in, fixated on the way you stretched and wriggled with pleasure. His previous seed was now oozing out at the sides as he pumped in and out, just adding to the absolute mess you were making.

‘So, so… pretty…’

You felt his claws suddenly hit your neck, pressing you down until you were forced to be still. He continued to watch with wide and unblinking eyes as his thick rod squished back and forth, back and forth, filling you until you bulged before slowly slipping out with a wet pop.

‘Mm- mm—’

He was grunting hard as he moved.

‘So, fucking, pretty—’

‘Is it this way?’

Your whole body went rigid at the sound of unfamiliar voices, but you didn’t even have time to process your shock, because Miguel didn’t stop.

Even as the voices got louder he continued rutting you into the floor, his breathy grunts just barely audible in the rustling undergrowth.

You silently slapped at his arm but he couldn’t bring himself to pause. He impulsively clamped his hand over your mouth, his eyes deadly and starved as they stared down at your panicked expression.

‘Stay. Quiet’ he mouthed. Despite your fear, you were just as needy. You let him have you.

He bent your legs into your ribs just to slip deeper, his thick shaft eagerly kissing and smearing your cervix with pre-cum. Your breath was hot on his calloused hand as it muffled your desperate moans.

Despite his rational mind knowing that he needed to be quiet, Mig’s carnal desperation was driving him towards risky behaviour. You could hear the clap of his skin between your thighs echo with each wet pop as he pushed in and out, a symphony just as terrifying as it was erotic.

You watched him savor the feel of your body. You watched him as he experienced you.

‘Ah—ahh—ah—’

He flexed his jaw until it hurt trying to suppress his cries of pleasure, and in a second moment of impulse he bent down and sank his fangs into your shoulder. Your squeaks were silenced.

Now clamped by the terrifying power of his maw you were utterly surrendered. You could feel his teeth moving in tandem with his cock, filling and shifting inside you, flooding you with that same potent mixture of pain and pleasure.

You raked your fingers down his back, drawing red lines into his rough scarred skin. He dug his claws into the dirt.

The footsteps got closer, but there was no breaking free. You were trapped together. With a muffled grunt Miguel sped up to completion.

‘MMFF—’

He came inside you silently, with all his gutteral noises muffled by your skin. You felt it all the same. The heavy spurts, the hot seed flooding in and squirting against his soft underside when your cunt ran out of room. You were filled until you bulged.

In the high of that release you were nearly dizzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hormones overpowered any rational fear about being seen. All you could do was lull and whine, relishing the sweet gratification of being filled again.

‘Mig’ you whispered. ‘My Mig. You—’

Snap.

Your eyes shot open.

You tilted your head, slowly, just enough for your eyes to roll and spy the woods behind you. Two hikers were frozen in place, their bodies just barely obscured by the trunk of a pine.

They were staring at you. You, your body pinned beneath the torso of your half spider mate, still fully impaled on his monstrous cock, with your head in his neck and your flesh in his maw.

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. To say you were mortified was an understandment, it felt like your heart might give out. You felt Miguel’s breath steaming against your shoulder as he panted into it. Did he know? Had he realized?

You opened your mouth but no sound spare a painful squeak escaped. Your brain was utterly fried.

The one to break the tension then was Mig, who decided to release your shoulder and stare directly at the two strangers. Mouth bloodied, eyes red, his naked body straining and panting for air.

Their reaction was swift.

‘FUCK!’

The two hikers almost fell over each other as they ran, both frantically fleeing for their lives into the overgrown brush.

‘JESUS- CHRIST, WHAT WAS THAT?!’

‘WAS IT EATING THEM?!’

‘F-Fuck, FUCK! I DON’T KNOW JUST- GO!’

‘We have to call for help—’

‘JUST RUN JUST- FUCKING RUN!!’

As the screams grew distant, you felt Miguel slowly pull out. His hands were quick to plug you up and carefully stitch your suit back together at the crotch, but you were too exhausted to move.

‘Shhiittt.’

It was the only thing you could think to say as you lay back in the mud, your head still a little woozy from the whole experience. Mig just grunted.

‘Shit, shit, shit. Ah…. I’m- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s fine. I- fuck, are you okay Mig?’

He grunted again as he lifted you up into his arms. His spider legs hooked the stag’s carcass and carefully manoeuvred it onto his back, allowing him to begin the short final trek back to the clearing with you still in his arms. The longer he went without saying a word, the more you began to worry.

‘Mig?’

You patted his cheek as he walked, trying in vain to get his attention. His only response was to sigh.

‘It’s okay’ you said, your voice now rather timid. ‘It’s fine, they- we probably won’t ever see them again. And hey, we didn't have to fight them! That's good, right? They just- left.’

‘It’s not that.’

You were surprised when words finally left his mouth, especially when they were delivered so sadly. He was blunt, yes, but not usually this melancholy, especially after sex.

‘What is it then?’ you asked. It took him a few more seconds to reply.

‘They thought… I was eating you’ he murmured. ‘If I’d been anyone else, they wouldn’t have screamed. We would have been- yelled at, perhaps, or chastised for being perverts. Maybe they’d have just, awkwardly moved away. But they would never have assumed I was eating you.’

The sombre reality sank in slowly. Somehow, you’d both forgotten the reality of what this was. What he was. You tried to shrug it off. ‘Wait, that’s what you’re worried about? I mean… If you were just, purely human, they might have still assumed you were murdering me. People can do murder too yanno.’

He managed a small, throaty chuckle at your light teasing, but it was strained. He looked distant, distracted, alone in his own mind. You gently shook his arm to drag him back down to reality.

‘Hey. It’s fine. You’re fine’ you repeated.

‘Does it not, bother you? The way they reacted?’

‘Mig I would have been mortified to be caught like that whether you were fully human or not’ you scoffed. He seemed unconvinced.

‘If they’d- seen us, holding hands’ he said, slowly musing over the theoretical aloud, ‘if they’d seen us… kissing, or even just sitting together, they would have run. They would still be terrified.’

It was hard to maintain a smile in the face of his dour prediction. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to simmer in that pool of despair, and you didn’t want him to wallow in it either.

‘People- when they see something they don’t understand, they, react like animals. Sometimes they run, sometimes they fight. They squash it so you don’t have to think about it. It’s easier.’

That morbid thought made him wince, but you refused to let go. You leaned in and tilted his head back towards you.

‘And it’s horrible. It’s horrible, and it hurts, but then there’s other people. Other people, who- know what it’s like, to be the- scared little spider on the wall. And they know, Mig. They knew. I know. And I’m not scared of you.’

To your joy he managed to shoot you a ghost of a smile, just the barest tilting of his lips. It was enough for you, even if you’d only managed to distract him for a bit.

‘Besides, who do we have to disappoint?’ you said in an attempt to lighten to mood. ‘I don’t have friends to introduce you too, or family, or co-workers. You’re alone. We don’t need to worry about what people think.’

‘You say that now, arañita, but… I don’t know, I don’t feel like that will remain true forever. I also don’t appreciate you indulging my possessive nature.’

‘Awh, what? How, what did I do?’

‘Implying we’re all we’ve got’ he said softly. ‘It makes me- happy, but on some level, I know it shouldn’t.’

‘Well, hey! You know it shouldn’t, so- you know, that’s a start.’

Mig ducked his head beneath a row of branches as he re-entered the clearing. In the clear, bright light of the burgeoning sun he looked glorious.

‘Yes, but—I also know that I willingly ignore that fact and, pretend it is acceptable’ he confessed with a slight shrug. ‘Because- well, it comforts me, especially when I’m reminded that we are… different, to put it nicely.’

‘Well, as long as you’re not getting feisty, huh? I’ll just be sure to let you know if it ever gets annoying’ you offered. You pressed your face against his pec, right over his heart, and tapped it like you were making a promise. He gave you that sweet little ghost of a smile.

‘Very well, mi tesoro. I will hold you to that.’

You allowed Mig to drop the kill near the base of the nest before climbing back in with you still in his arms. You lulled a little in the sudden warmth, placated by the warm orange rays of sunlight warming the floor, and the moment he slid you onto the bed you collapsed into it.

‘Mmm… Yanno, that was the first time we were under such pressure from the heat that you didn’t make me orgasm’ you noted with a yawn. It was more a dry observation than a real problem you had, but it immediately caused Mig to bristle in horror.

‘I- oh, no you’re right. You poor little spider.’

‘It’s okay! I don’t blame you, it—HEY!’

You squealed with delight as he dove onto the mattress, his weight flinging your body a few feet into the air before landing back into his already outstretched arms.

‘Let me fix that’ he purred, his breath brushing your ear. ‘Please, mi aranita, let me taste you again.’

With an eager grunt his lips met yours, his abdomen rustling with excitement as his tongue went down your throat. You were smothered in seconds.

You gave in to his whining need to please and relished in the chance to scream again, your wet lips quivering his name with each breath as he tore your third new suit to pieces for just a lick of your cunt.

You were too focused on his mouth to notice anything as you tossed every item of clothing to the floor. Between his whiny moans and your own panting, you couldn’t have possibly heard anything else.

You certainly couldn’t have heard your society watch as it buzzed against the fur rug, the name ‘Jess’ highlighted in clear orange light. It was left to ring to voicemail instead, with neither of you aware it’d even gone off. Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #drider #smut #smut with plot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #read on ao3 #spider man 2099 #monster human relationship #miguel o'hara smut #miguel fluff

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annabelle--cane · 5 months

Text

mag 03 across the street relisten number [loud sound of a bus driving by] thoughts:

I think about this every time: who threw amy into the street? why? was the not-them trying to engineer a situation where she would become obsessed with graham and watch him get replaced?

there's a nice little bit of foreshadowing in the first appearance of the web table. we're led to believe it's spiral-affiliated for a while because it's described as having a fractal design, but it's first description goes: "It was an ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre." weaving, babey.

rip graham and whatever the fuck was wrong with him. he was gay he was weird his parents died his diet was just pizza and notebooks.

people have speculated about jon's fanon design and ethnicity a lot, and I wonder if any of it subconsciously comes from this episode? amy is 100% a fledgling beholding avatar of the "obsessive and nosy but also extremely paranoid" strain, and also she's (presumably) indian. I just wonder if people at all associate her with jon.

I've seen a bunch of people over time say that fans exaggerate tim's flirting with people for information and that it's only mentioned one time, and I would like to gently push against that, as he does it in this episode, too. if he's mentioned to do it twice over a fairly long period then I think it's safe to assume this is a regular tactic of his.

as always, this statement's dates remain completely incompatible with the dates in oliver's mag 11 statement. I 💖 the incoherent tma timelines.

#tma #marina marvels at life

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trancylovecraft · 5 months

Text

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 2 OF 8: Amaimon

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: heres amaimons part!! :D GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"[F/N], If you could just think about it for a second.." The counsellor said, Resetting the devil-horn glasses upon her face.

The hum of the fluorescent lights above her droned into [F/N]'s ear like a cicada, The equally annoying rotations of the fan not doing much to soothe her headache either. It wasn't just the noise too but also the uncomfortably designed office chair that she lazed on, Digging into her back.

She was sat within the office of the youth centre's counsellor's office. A room with cool grey walls decorated with motivational posters with smiling faces and overly-positive quotes, Sunlight shining through the shutters onto the polished wooden floorings being the only lighting in here.

The counsellor herself was a rather dim looking woman with dark hair tied into a tidy bun, One that was as clean cut as the tailored grey suit she wore. Her posture straightened and perfect, Green eyes staring at her from behind the red rims of her pointed glasses.

A caring woman, One that meant the best at heart. Not in it for the money but certainly from a place of love and meaning. Though that didn't much to lighten [F/N]'s mood.

She sat lying upon the uncomfortable build of the chair, Much older than she was back then with her legs spread out and her arms folded in. She was sunken into her chair, Like she had just woken up from a nap upon it. Yet her eyes were wide open and rolled at the woman's words.

"I don't want to, No way." [F/N] huffed as she kicked her feet lightly at the desk of the counsellor. Whose red lipstick turned down into a frown as she sat in her office chair, Clicking her pen.

"There are families out there who want to adopt you, [F/N]. This couple seems to be a really good pick, High income and already have children of their own. They're interested in taking you in, Dear." The counsellor said, Sliding over a pamphlet towards [F/N].

[F/N] picked it up but she barely looked at it, Running her eyes over the information put down before huffing and pushing it back down.

"Yeah they seem lovely. But I don't care, I don't want to be adopted. I've got stuff to do here and it said there that they live all the way in Nagano." [F/N] explained, Almost exasperated as if it was the thousandth time she'd explained it. Tossing her head to the side and folding her arms once more.

The counsellor sighed, Looking down towards the top of her desk.

"[F/N].. I understand how you feel. Tetsuya's death was hard on all of us, But you need to understand that it was a wil-"

"IT WASN'T A WILD ANIMAL!" [F/N] slammed her fists down onto the table, Finally leaning up from her chair and staring daggers into the startled counsellor.

It stood for what seemed like minutes, Eyes connected to each other. The fire burning in [F/N]'s eyes however shook when she suddenly sighed, Then slumped over back into her chair.

The counsellor gulped, Making sure her glasses were in place before speaking once more.

"..I apologise, I shouldn't of brought it up.." She started, Shaking her head. "But I worry about you, [F/N]. You keep going out into those woods and barely spend any time here anymore, Not to mention your ramblings to your peers.."

[F/N] tossed her head to the side in a rather juvenile display, Her nose scrunched up in disgust at what she said.

"No one ever believes me.. It wasn't a wild animal.. It just wasn't. You seen the autopsy, You can't say that it was some starving bear!" [F/N] exclaimed, Raising her arms into the air before flopping them back down to emphasise her point.

"There isn't any other explanation for it. Those woods do tend to be bursting with all sorts of animals and besides, What else could it be?" The counsellor said, Brushing off the shoulder-pads.

[F/N]'s face hardened, A solemn look washing across her face as she leaned over on her chair. Eyes dead-set on the eyes of the woman opposite of her as she spoke.

"A demon. A demon killed Tetsuya." She whispered as quiet as the morning wind. Her eyes furious and determined, A kind of fire burning through them as her stone-cold face mumbled those words.

The counsellor sighed, Nodding as if she had heard those words a thousand times before. She shuffled as few papers on her desk, Aligning them well before setting them beside her in finality.

"..There is no such thing as demons, [F/N]." She spoke quietly. "What you saw out there was traumatising, Yes.. But blaming it on some imaginary creatures won't do you any good." The counsellor said, Seeming to put a firmer foot down as she leaned over to meet [F/N] face to face.

[F/N]'s jaw clenched shut, Leaning back over into her chair with a rigid back. Her clenched fists shook, Trying her best not to act on what she was so tempted to do.

She mumbled something under her breath. The counsellor blinked, Leaning forward.

"What was that?" She asked, Tilting her head.

"DEMONS EXIST AND THEY KILLED TETSUYA! WHY WON'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?!" [F/N] screamed suddenly, Jerking up from her seat and snapping at the woman's face. The counsellor yelped, Jolting back into her office chair.

[F/N] got up from her chair, Not even bothering to look at the startled woman as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to storm out of the room. An angry march as the counsellor recomposed herself.

"[F/N]! Where are you going..?!" She called out, Watching as the girl didn't even falter as she walked off towards the door. [F/N] didn't turn back to face her, Only gripped the fake gold of the door handle.

"I'm getting out of here, Can't breathe clear in this stupid place.." She hissed lowly before yanking the door open and marching out of the counsellors office. Door slamming shut with a thump.

And then, She was alone.

[F/N] stood dead within the empty hall, After storming out and slamming the door she didn't really have a destination to go to. So she stayed put, Looking at the sunlight pouring in through the windows lining the long hall, Almost appreciating it.

She couldn't go back to her room, That was a pigsty. It was always infested with insects crawling about and no matter how much bug spray she used, They never seemed to leave her in peace. So that was a no go.

The playrooms, The little library, The kitchens or the TV room where she spent countless days in front of the screens. None of them seemed appealing anymore. What use to be the apple in Eden was nothing but a rotting core now, So disgusting and unappetizing.

It was suppose to be a leisure, A relaxation.

But it never was anymore, It just couldn't be.

Not without Tetsuya.

[F/N] clicked her tongue, Sighing a short breath. The air here was too stuffy, Too suffocating to be called oxygen. She needed to go somewhere that's fresher, Somewhere she could properly think.

So her legs drove her forward. Through the long winding corridors, Past all the colourful fliers pinned up on the corkboard, All the doors with pleasantries and laughing hiding behind them were discarded in favour of the reception.

The dreary old woman sitting at the desk didn't even look up from her trashy magazine as [F/N] stormed by, Not even bothering to take a glance at who was leaving through the double glass doors. The little bell chiming above not helping her case.

As soon as she was out, [F/N] was hit with the brisk brush of the air against her skin. Her hair lifting lightly at the sensation as she was met with the mid-day sun, The celestial body shining down at her so happily from it's cobalt throne.

[F/N] couldn't feel the same as her shoes tapped against the stone tiles leading up to the youth centre doors. There wasn't anyone else about apart from the insects crawling about in the bushes or the tiles lining the centre's perimeter.

She reached the point where the stone tiles met the bare pavement, Splitting off into three streams. Though instead of travelling down one she made her way to the rickety old bench lining one of the pavements, Plopping down with the wood creaking at her weight.

"Finally.." [F/N] mumbled to herself as she was finally blessed with the fresh atmosphere. A relief as she took in the invigorating air, A moment of solitude rarely found in her everyday life and one she wanted to take in for a moment.

It was quiet too, This street wasn't as busy since it wasn't as close to the city centre. Few cars passed by to cause any noise, The only sound coming from the fenced off park parallel from the youth centre, The sound of children laughing playing basketball her only white noise.

That was good, There wasn't anyone about to see her next act.

[F/N] hummed as she shoved her hand in her side bag, Fishing around the abundance of objects stored inside before she felt the soft touch of a pretty pink pouch grace her fingers. [F/N] smiled, Pulling it out.

"Better have some left.." [F/N] muttered, And she thought she did. As she unlaced the string that opened the pouch she was met with the face of several cigarettes, A stolen item she had snuck from one of the staff's lockers.

All of them were coloured differently, Rolled in vivid paper.

Watermelon, Grape, Candy Floss and Bubble-gum were only a few of their flavours. They were cool, That's what she thought anyways. Even though she didn't watch TV that much anymore, All the super-cool adults on there always had one of these hanging from their mouth.

Well, Not the flavoured ones like she had. But she didn't like the taste of tobacco, So the taste of sugar and sweetness would have to do.

"Three.. Two.. One.." [F/N] counted down, The cold lighter on her other hand sparking up with a rasping ember. The cigarette in her other, A favoured watermelon flavour, Blitzed up at the end.

With two fingers she placed it in her mouth, Careful to make sure she got the right end this time. Sweet smell of smoke drifting up in the air, She watched it rise from the burning end and as she breathed it back in.

Tetsuya. No one would ever believe her about what happened to him, No one. From the police officers and paramedic's that were present that day, They had all written it off as just some little kids ramblings.

The counsellors, The psychiatrists and the priests. All of them, Every single one had done the same. But [F/N] knew better, [F/N] knew what she had saw that day, She knew that it wasn't something of her world that done it to him.

But it was only her. [F/N]'s lips parted from the cigarette for only a second, Blowing out the sugared smoke from her throat. She'd never be able to convince anyone of the existence of demons, Not without evidence, That is.

She tossed the cigarette onto the pavement. Her sneakers raising then stomping down on the sugar-stick, Mushing out the flame on the stone to nothing but dying smoke.

[F/N] would find evidence, She'd make sure of it. She'd find who killed Tetsuya even if it meant she had to follow him to the next life, She would know the culprit.

Her hand absentmindedly wandered down to the open pouch, The candy coloured silk splayed open on the bench as she searched for the candy scented cigars.

But her hand didn't connect with the bristle of cigarette paper or the shroves of tobacco that should've been there. Her eyes widened for a second, Her head jerking round to meet the open pouch.

It was empty, Completely and utterly empty.

"What the.." [F/N]'s jaw dropped. There had been at least a dozen cigarettes laying atop the paper, All of them had been there since she sat down. She had made sure of it, So why were they missing?

Could she have knocked them over on accident? [F/N] leaned back to look at the muddy grass below the timbered bench, She came up with nothing but worms and weeds growing underneath.

Her hands slapped the pockets of her sweater, Feeling around to see if she misplaced them yet she came up empty. Where could they have gone? To the sides of the bench, On the pavement or perhaps she was sitting on them?

No, Even as she felt underneath her she felt no trace of those sweet little cigarettes.

It was only once she was shifting through the contents of her bag did she find a clue, One that seemed just under her nose.

Or above it in this case. [F/N] suddenly felt the bursting itch of the tiniest particles hitting the bridge of her nose. [F/N] jolted, The sensation amplified by the fact she didn't expect it in the slightest.

She stopped searching through her bag for just a moment, Hand jerking to her nose and rubbing at the irritating itch. But when she brought her hand back, Her eyes narrowed in on the small speck of her hand.

It was a shrove of tobacco.

[F/N] stared at it for a solid moment, Eyes locked in on the target. It seemed like it had came down from the heavens themselves, Like it had just floated down like snowfall on a December morning.

Then another, [F/N]'s eyes darted up to another shrove of tobacco floating down right in front of her vision. Another and another, It seemed to grow in numbers as every second passed by.

"What the hell is this.." [F/N] drawled out, Her hand extended to catch the snowflakes of cigar ash drifting down onto her palm. They were growing into a small bush, A small puddle of candy-smelling shroves coupled within her hands.

But where could they be coming from?

[F/N]'s head turned upwards, Neck craning to get a good look up at the sapphire sky above her. Blinking once she was only met with the wisping clouds floating about the atmosphere, Sun shining down at her.

But her eyes caught onto something else, Something metallic.

It was the streetlamp, One of the dozens lining the concrete pavement for miles but the only one that was standing above her. Still daytime it was off, But the streetlamp wasn't what she was focusing on.

Instead it was the boy hanging from it.

[F/N] jolted at the sight of him, Near falling off the bench as she realised his presence.

The boy was older than her, In his teen years and not in his tween's like [F/N] was. He was hunched over with horrid posture, Panda pouches under his golden eyes to match hers. He was strangely dressed too, A torn-at-the-tail overcoat drooping down from where he hung.

He was hanging like a bat from a cave spike, Legs locked around the branch of the streetlamp so loosely that he could fall at any moment. It was a wonder how he was still hanging on, But [F/N] was more interested in what he was doing.

His mouth was stuffed to the brim like a hamster, His hands grabbing clutches of tobacco and mashing it into his mouth. [F/N] stood there befuddled as she finally saw the clump of coloured cigar paper stuffed in his jacket pocket.

[F/N] gawked, Absolutely stunned.

"This candy sure is weird." The boy said to himself with a blank face, Seemingly not noticing [F/N] standing beneath him in shock. He shovelled another bush into his mouth, Watermelon flavoured to match the swamp green of his hair.

[F/N] gulped.

"How the.. W-Who the hell are you?! Why're you taking my bloody cigarettes?!" [F/N] exclaimed. It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment, Words flowing out of her mouth without a single thought behind them.

But it was the only thing she could say as the boy's sickly yellow eyes darted over to her, Seeming to finally notice her presence.

[F/N] couldn't help but shiver, For some reason feeling disturbed. Like a lion eyeing the lamb grazing in the field.

"Oh. They're mine now, They were laying out so I took them." He stated through a mouthful of her tobacco. An empty expression as he stared down at her, No regard for the fact that he had stolen her cigarettes.

Well they were stolen by her in the first place, But the sheer disregard of guilt for what he had did just made [F/N] all the more angry. Who did this guy think he is? Whoever he was he was weird as hell.

Hanging from the streetlamp? Chewing her tobacco? Not to mention that weird spike sitting atop his head, That to his toes he was dressed so strangely as if he had tossed on anything given to him without regard to colour or weather.

[F/N] gritted her teeth, What a nutjob.

"What kind of philosophy gets you to think that?! Give them back, You bastard!" [F/N] snapped at him with the best face pre-teen her could pull. Teeth wide and bared, Arms crossed in frustration.

The boy just hung there, Not reacting to what she said though he did stop chewing momentarily. Then he shrugged, The cigarettes he was clutching in his hand let go, Making them fall down onto the pavement which [F/N] scrambled to pick up.

"Whatever. They taste disgusting so you can have them." The boy said, Watching her as she fell to her knees collecting her fallen cigarettes with apathy. [F/N] grabbed the last of them, Shoving them into her bag with a furious scowl as she looked back at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I barely have any tobacco left cause you chewed it all! What are you even doing up there, You prick!" [F/N] bit as she held the leftovers of whatever little snuff she had left in her palms.

The boy rolled his eyes. And in a move [F/N] didn't expect she watched him pull back, All before the legs locked around the streetlamp branch let go making him fall towards the ground.

[F/N] yelped, Stumbling back. The boy's feet slammed against the concrete pavement, His elvish shoes clacking against the side as he stood up to his full height with no apparent damage at all.

She stumbled back, Blinking as if to see if it was a hallucination or not with an open maw.

How the hell could he have dropped from the streetlamp to the pavement without any damage? The boy stood there, He was older than her and in his teen years so whatever kind of parkour training he must've had was very impressive for his age.

But [F/N] bit back a shiver, Could a boy in his teens really pull that off?

"You humans are really weird, Your candy is nasty and you don't even know who you're talking to. Though I suppose you don't know any better." The boy shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat.

[F/N] gawked. First he had hell of some acrobatic skills, The next he had some real annoying superiority complex. Who even gave him it in the first place? Didn't matter, Didn't stop [F/N] from balling up her fists either.

"First of all, This isn't candy. These are cigarettes you dum-"

"-If they aren't candy, Then why do they smell like candy?" The boy butted in rather rudely, Sleep deprived eyes burning into her own without any sense of remorse.

[F/N] groaned.

"Because these are flavoured, Idiot. You don't chew the tobacco, You roll it up and you smoke it for the flavour. Ever heard what a cigarette is?" [F/N] chided as she reached into her bag to present a cigarette to him sarcastically.

The boy blinked.

"No." He replied.

His response caught [F/N] off guard. It was so honestly spoken and genuine that she couldn't help but drop her shoulders and guard along with them. Did he seriously not know what a cigarette was..?

"Well.. Ehm.. It's kind of this thing that you roll up with the.. The tobacco-" [F/N] stumbled over her words, Not sure how to explain to someone older than her what a cigarette was "You know what? Let me show you."

The boy didn't have any time to react as the end of a cigarette was shoved into his mouth.

His eyes widened, Not registering how [F/N] had marched up to him and done it so bluntly to him. Him of all people! Were all humans really as rude as this one was? She was starting to get on his nerves.

"Okay, Now that you have it in your mouth you just light it up at the end. You good with smoking?" [F/N] prompted, Not knowing why she was doing this but asking anyways. The boy looked back at her, Before rolling his eyes and letting out an okay with the cigarette in his mouth.

"Good" [F/N] said, Pulling out the lighter from her sweater and holding it up to the end of the cigarette, One rolled in cherry pink paper and tasting like it looked. "Okay.. Three, Two, One.."

The lighter sparked up, A few faulty clicks before the burst of an ember lit up at the tip. It caught onto the cigarette rather quickly, The burn of the snuff starting to flicker and burst out into a flame of its own.

[F/N] moved the lighter away, Lowering it down to her side.

"Alright, Now purse your lips like you're whistling but suck it in instead. Make sure to support it!" [F/N] said, Her hand snapping up to hold the cigarette with two fingers as it near fell out of his mouth.

The boy huffed but ultimately did what she had said, Watching as his lips pursed like he was whistling then his lungs inflate. [F/N] let a small grin slip as she watched his face light up slightly, The light in her fingers lowering from his mouth.

"Good, Huh?" [F/N] asked as she watched his lungs shrink in his puffed out chest, The vaguely pink smoke erupting from his lips and drifting off into the midday air. Sizzling out in the brisk of the day.

He looked down at her, Apathy more of an aftertaste now as the light finally returned to his eyes in an interested glimmer.

"I want more, Give me more, Now." The boy demanded, Taking a determined step closer to her with a hand already stretched out. [F/N] huffed, Dropping the cigarette astringent with cherry into his open palm.

"Tasty, Right?" [F/N] commented as she walked back towards the bench, Plopping back onto the rickety wood and lazily crossing her legs. The boy raised the cigarette back up to his lips, Repeating her instructions to the t.

The boy blew out another burst of cherry scented smoke, Tongue licking his lips as it went.

"It tastes like cherries, I want more of it. Where can I get it?" The boy asked, Turning to her as she lazed around on the bench, Relaxing against the back. [F/N] shrugged, Shuffling a single hand around in her bag before fishing out another cancerette.

"I dunno, I didn't really buy these myself and I don't know where the adults get 'em. So.. You'll need to ask someone else" [F/N] replied as she pulled out the lighter and struck up another flame on her green apple cigar.

The boy only hummed, The spark on the cancerette burning out in finality. No more smoke being produced, Leaving it to only be tossed away on the concrete pavement beside him as he sauntered over to the bench's direction.

"What's your name anyways? Seems awkward not to know it." [F/N] asked, The words leaving her lips with the scented smoke following only moments after.

"I'm Amaimon, It's nice to meet you." He said with a shrug. Though his words were polite his visage still showed that same resting face, Deep eyebags and all as he crouched down beside the old bench. She huffed, What a strange name.

"Mine's [F/N], It's cool to meet you too." She replied as tossed him another cigarette from her bag, Amaimon catching it mid-air. Another flavour, Another one to light as he held it up his snuff to her lighter.

It flicked on and just like that it was back to silence once more. The rustle of the leaves in the tree's was all that could be heard, Along with the faraway laughter of the kids in the park and the occasional car that passed by.

[F/N]'s eyes couldn't help but wander over to the boy crouched down beside the bench. It was a weird position, Only held up by his tippy-toes as he smoked out the saccharine cigar. His own golden eyes targeting nowhere.

[F/N] looked away, The wind still dancing through her hair as they sat in a somewhat comfortable silence. He was odd, Odder than the other teenagers she had met. She wasn't even thirteen yet she wondered if he was as strange to her as others his age.

He seemed so. With such fashion and behaviour she'd certainly think as such.

"So, Why were you hanging from a streetlamp? How'd you even get up there anyways" [F/N] asked, Blowing out a puff of smoke as her lips finally spoke of the elephant in the room.

Amaimon looked up at her, Licking his lips as if to taste the smoke.

"It's fun, I like the wind. The air here in Assiah is much fresher than the air in Gehenna, I climbed up there with my claws." Amaimon said as if it made any sense at all. [F/N] raised a brow.

"Assiah? Gehenna? Claws..?" She queried.

"Yeah. I'm a demon." Amaimon replied as he crushed the finished cancerette within his fist, Tossing it away on the ground as he was unaware of the expression on the girl's face.

[F/N]'s cheeks were puffed up, Lips squeezed together and her nails digging into the edge of the bench. She snorted, A noise that made Amaimon's head jerk over to her, Watching as she tried to supress a laugh.

"Why are you making that face? What wa-"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" [F/N] let out a howl of laughter, One so loud that she near keeled over on the bench. Amaimon watched as her free hand clutched her chest, The biggest grin showing as tears started to water at her eyes.

Amaimon's dotted brows knitted together, The razors of his teeth starting to bare from his maw.

"You're laughing at me, Why.. Are you making fun of me?!" Amaimon snapped as his back arched up, Unseen clawed hands starting to dig into the concrete of the pavement as he watched her hysterical laughing fit.

[F/N]'s laughter died down into a giggle, Wiping away the tears from her eyes.

"No-! No.. I'm not making fun of you, It's just I understand now, You know-" [F/N] chortled as she pointed to all of him, Smiling as she watched him look at the rest of himself for whatever she could be pointing at.

"You must be one of those gothic people I use to see on the TV, The one's that call themselves demons." [F/N] said, Relaxing back into the bench as she tossed her used cigarette away.

Amaimon tilted a head.

"..What?" Amaimon asked.

"I don't wanna be offensive! You do you, Just.. They actually exist, You know?" [F/N] explained to him. Amaimon just looked back at her with a blank expression, Seemingly confused.

"..Yes, I am a demon. See? Look at my teeth, They're not like yours" Amaimon said as he raised a finger to pull back his lips, Baring his teeth to [F/N] as his face grew closer to hers.

[F/N] blinked. Apart from the obvious fact that he needed a tic-tac and a good floss, His teeth really weren't different from hers at all. The canines he was pointing to were just like hers, No deviation.

"Yeah, Right. I have those kinds of teeth too, Dude. Demons aren't even humanoid, They have claws and horns and are beast-like. You don't have those." [F/N] said, Looking at his overgrown and dirtied nails along with his swampish hair. No demonic traits to be found.

Amaimon closed his mouth, Eyes drooping back down to their original shape.

"Oh.. You can't see it, You don't have a temptaint." Amaimon said, Turning away back towards the road. Dropped shoulders and all as he went back to staring into nowhere whatsoever.

[F/N] shook her head.

"Whatever you say dude, Whatever makes you happy." [F/N] shrugged as she closed her eyes, Taking the sunlight into her skin. Feeling the air on the back of the neck, Her hoodie really didn't do it justice.

Back to uncomfortable silence it was, He had no response after hers as he went back to staring off into space. [F/N] breathed out with no cancerette in her mouth this time, Only the slight wisps of cold vapour leaving her mouth.

"Why are you still here anyways? Don't you have teens your own age to hang out with and not some random child you met in the street?" [F/N] asked to him.

Amaimon's eyes darted back up to hers, Seemingly now only noticing the age difference between each other. Especially the height.

"Other humans my vessel's age are all too weak to play with.. They're boring after only a minute." Amaimon answered, Though now turning fully over to [F/N] "But you're not currently boring, Even though I haven't played with you yet.."

[F/N] snorted slightly as she watched his expression trail off into something more interested, One of his overgrown fingernails entering his mouth to be chewed on.

"You're not too bad yourself, Amaimon. You're weird, I like that." [F/N] giggled as her hand managed to wander itself over to the top of his head, Her fingers weaving their way into the swamp green of his hair as she ruffled it mockingly.

Though he froze, Just as her fingertips touched his locks.

"Huh..?" Amaimon muttered as he finished chewing on his fingernail, Body rigid as if he didn't know what was happening. [F/N]'s grin shortened, Fingers leaving the strands of his hair.

"Oh.. Sorry, Should've asked.." [F/N] mumbled as her arm retracted to her side, Though it didn't stop the petrified stance Amaimon sat in. Still staring off into space with his eyes widening further and further every second.

THUMP!

There it was again.

THUMP!

And again, Some strange thumping inside of his chest.

His ribcage rattled in its place, Almost like it would burst out from his vessels flesh. His hand grasped at the right of it's chest, Teeth gritting at the strange sensation. One he had never felt in his entire existance.

"Amaimon..? You good..?"

He jolted up, Eyes snapping back into focus at her words.

"Do it again!" Amaimon ordered. Hand still grasping a cluster of his striped shirt, The thumping continued on. Cheeks heating up into a warm pink.

[F/N]'s lips turned into a frown. Her guard that was down before started to raise, Rebuilding itself into what it was before. This was still a stranger, She hadn't even known him an hour. What was she doing?

"Eh.. I think I should get going now.. I need to do-"

"Again! Now!" Amaimon cut in. Voice raising in a crescendo as he grew closer and closer to her on the bench, One she slid further back on to try get away. But his hands lunged out to her wrist, Entrapping her in place.

[F/N] yelped as his palms tugged her towards him.

"A-Are you insane?! I- Fine, Okay! Just let go!" [F/N] cried as she was near pulled off of the bench, Soles of her shoes digging into the pavement in an attempt to keep her stable.

Though his grip was let go. Amaimon pushed himself up on the bench, So close to her now that his burning breath was felt in the pores of her skin. She could see his too now as her hand went to massage her aching wrist.

"Do it!" Amaimon urged, An unspoken threat.

[F/N] gulped, Not hesitating to do as he said as she slipped her fingers in-between the folds of his hair. He was taller, Older than her. Athletic by how he hung from the streetlamp and the chill she got when looking into his eyes was all the convincing she needed to comply.

Amaimon shuddered, Face lowering down from hers as he felt the unsure ruffles of his hair. His head rested against the bench beside her, Feeling the frigid fir against his cheek. So cold but strangely warm and comforting.

[F/N] swallowed down what little saliva was in her dry mouth, Sweat starting to grow and infest her palms as she played with his hair.

She was terrified, Shaking as she did so. [F/N] needed to get out of here, This wasn't right. She had thought of herself so mature before, So adult and cool with the cigarettes she smoked on the daily.

But as she raked her fingers through his hair, She knew very well that she was still the little kid who cried not to follow her friend into the depths of the woods.

"How are you doing this..? Are you a demon? A witch..?" Amaimon mumbled, Near melting into the lumber of the bench. What he had figured out was his heart started to beat faster and faster, A machine churning out some.. Human feeling inside of him.

[F/N] sniffled slightly, She wished she never took those cigarettes in the first place.

"It doesn't matter.. This must be it, This must be what you humans talk about when you say you love your family. I've never understood it.. You humans are just animals. Not like us demon's but.." Amaimon trailed off, Turning his head to face hers.

"You're not like the other humans, You're different.." Amaimon muttered. Hand lunging out to grasp her wrist once more as her movements slowed down, Both in fear and terror as she yelped out. Staring into his eyes.

"You're fun." He whispered.

[F/N] felt the tears prickling in her eyes start to drip, Start to fall down her cheeks. He wasn't acting like this before, He wasn't so.. So terrifying. He was just a strange boy she smoked with!

But she needed to get away, She needed to tell someone-

But her train of thought was cut off by the biggest of grins spreading across his face, One that seemed so unnatural upon the apathetic usual of his face. It was contorted, So visceral that she could never look away.

[F/N] stared at it and the tears streaming down her face only grew.

"Let's go have fun! I wanna go play! Big brother told me to learn more about Japan and it's becoming boring, But having you around will be fun! Come on!" Amaimon urged, Starting to tug on her even harder. Pulling her off the bench as her behind hit the hard concrete pavement.

"L-LET ME GO!" [F/N] cried out.

"I'll introduce you to my Behemoth, He's my pet! Big brother also said that I couldn't bring him out with us on his business meeting, So you'll need to come with me now so I can show you to him." Amaimon tugged even harder, His strength herculean and pulling her along easily as he started to lug her upwards.

[F/N] wailed. Her free arms raising and flailing against Amaimon in a desperate attempt to escape, Feet kicking at his shins and her shrill voice calling out for anyone that could hear her.

But there was no one around, No one except her smiling assailant dragging her along with him.

Though his grin dropped slightly as he looked at her face.

"Why are you leaking from your eyes? You should be smiling right now." He asked, His noise pushing into her face to examine the foreign substance coming from her ducts. He blinked, Tilting his head to the side.

[F/N] cried out, Sniffling hard.

"I'M NOT SMILING CAUSE YOU'RE KIDNAPPING M-"

HONK!

The distinct sound of a car horn came barrelling down the street. The grip on her wrist was freed, Amaimon's hand letting it slip from his grasp.

[F/N] stumbled back, Near tripping over the bench before she fell back onto it. She whined out, Examining the redness of her wrist and the pain on her skin. No injury luckily, But was still stinging.

"Y-You bastard.. How can you.." [F/N] sniffled, Looking up at him. But he wasn't looking at her, Instead he was looking far off down the road with a surprised expression plastered on his face.

HONK!

[F/N]'s eyes expanded, Matching Amaimon's as her head snapped over to the roadside. The car horn was louder now and the tune of which it hummed was unmistakable. Her mouth went dry, There was no way.

But as the hot pink limo sped down the suburban streets, The sound of the chipper horn playing out once more, [F/N] realised she was in hot shit. That horn was famous across Japan, That car was famous.

It was Johann Faust V's car, The wealthy foreign socialite and the headmaster of True Cross Academy. He was renowned for both the school's rich reputation and the flair for his projects, Namely the biggest theme park in the country!

But how could he be here?! This was some middle-class part of town, He was known to reside in True Cross Town. The chances of him being here right now were slim to none, But not if..

"No way.. This is your brother?!" [F/N] gawked, Jumping up from the rigid bench to an even more rigid stance. Eyes glued to the limo slowing a few feet down from the pavement, Watching it like a hawk.

Amaimon only bit the fingernail in his mouth a little harder.

"I wasn't suppose to be out this long.. I was suppose to return but I got side-tracked.." Amaimon muttered to himself as the limo finally parked a bit away from where they stood, He turned to look at her.

"But Big Brother will understand when he sees you. He'll like you just like I do, I know he will. Then I can keep you. This fraternal feeling is nice, Isn't it nice for you too?" Amaimon asked, Ignoring the shaking of her body and the redness in her eyes.

[F/N] shook her head, Backing away.

"I.. I, Uhm.. I don't.." [F/N] trailed off, At a complete loss for words. "It is nice isn't it, Little sister? I'll go talk to Big brother and see if I can keep you, Stay put and I'll be back." Amaimon said, Turning and running towards the limo down the street. The window already rolled down as he skittered to a halt in front of it.

[F/N] gulped, Still shaking as she wiped away her tears.

Whatever the hell that was, [F/N] wasn't ready to stay around and find out as her hand pounced at the straps of her bag. She lugged it over her shoulder, Eyes never leaving Amaimon's turned back as she started to sprint away.

If he was associated with Johann Faust then she didn't want to be apart of it. She didn't want to deal with whatever lawsuit that could be put against her, Especially if Amaimon told him that they were smoking, She was lucky she shoved all the other cigarettes away in her bag.

But she ran past the youth centre doors, Passing without batting a single eye.

She didn't want them to find out she was living there, That would be easy for them to torch her out. So as she ran, Rubber burning off her soles she knew she had to hide out for a little while.

Somewhere in the plaza or the shopping streets, Somewhere with a lot of people. Just for a few hours while this all cools down, So the staff don't find out she stole any cigs or was communicating with Johann Faust's bizarre younger brother.

So she ran and she ran, Sprinting further down the streets. The youth centre got smaller and smaller behind her, The arguing speck of Amaimon and the limo became only more miniscule as she ran.

All of this just for a few hours, Just so this crazy dream would all be over.

68 notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 6 months

Text

IN THE ARMS OF YOUR ENEMY

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF SERIES/AU'S | CATALOGUE Wanda Maximoff x GN/Female/Male Werewolf!Reader ☾ PHASES COLLECTION FIRST EDITION 2024, ISSUE NO.#2/8

WARNINGS❕ ↳ SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI — light bondage — MxF version pairing — FxF version pairing — unprotected sex — P in V sex — profanity — pet name "Lamb" — usage of the term "slut" amidst sex — light/alluded breeding kink — reader receiving (male and female variants) — bit of excessive cum — mention of marking — possessive reader — slight stalkerish reader — Hydra agent! reader — enemies/lovers with benefits — I think that's it? SUMMARY ↳ Once again, Wanda will find that she can't exactly keep the wolf out, and she'll find herself back in your arms; no matter how much she detests the idea you're an agent of Hydra.

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@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

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II. Any wolf can forego the hunt of its prey. It takes a particular beast to continue hunting the single lamb that escaped it once. A sickening delight in the torment it brings upon the victim. And no matter what, the lamb’s scent only draws the wolf closer.

New locks, new keys to accompany those new locks, new means of security. Whatever she could get her hands on. Was she wrong to leave the compound, in search of a place of independence?

It’s grown quiet the past two weeks, going on three. She can hope, and only hope, that this means she is finally free. But she has plenty of reasons to doubt.

Keys in hand she plugs it into the lock and twists, entering her apartment. Simple, the floorplan didn’t mess around in trying to make the space something it’s not. Cosy but simple and within budget. Immediately to her right is the open concept kitchen, an L shaped counter anchored to the wall, the basic appliances with it and an island countertop at its centre, completing the design.

To her left, the curtains are almost drawn to the close, leaving only a spying gap open above the small dining table and beige coloured booth seats. Ahead of her is a wooden beamed door frame, twice the size of her front one. It enters the modest lounge room, where a boxed fireplace sits idly in the corner, unlit until the nearing winter begins to settle in. For her piece of mind, a TV sits on a dark cherry wooden cabinet, a box of old, collected sitcom discs and a dvd player go hand in hand together.

She’d taken to making the space truly her own. Here, she isn’t the experimented girl Hydra made her to be. Here, she isn’t a woman who’s feared for her abilities. In this apartment, she is just Wanda Maximoff. A normal, young woman who enjoys cooking heritage meals for dinner - with a recent habit of having takeout at least once a fortnight - going out shopping towards the weekend with Natasha and watching her favourite sitcoms.

But over the last few months, this spot has also attracted something far more sinister. Something that stalks her from the dark alleyways and winding streets. A monster who she knows to be the enemy of the Avengers. Her enemy. An agent of Hydra.

Still… she found herself in your arms again and again. She recalls the reverberting moans trapped within the confines of these very walls. The lengths of pleasurable extortion you’d go to for her to reveal secrets and confidential information.

And in turn, you kept her out of Hydra’s reach, away from getting their hands on her again. Under your protection, her freedom remained intact.

Wanda strips herself of her coat and bag, eyes scanning the lounge room and catching an obscured form occupying the armchair.

“Hey Nat,” she greets, tone calm and unaltered by concern. Natasha had mentioned she was going to stop by for a visit sometime that week.

“Hey, Wanda,” Natasha’s voice replies, voice slightly tuned with a friendly purr.

“What you been up to?” Wanda asks. She grabs the bag of groceries and places them on the island, caught in her own world until the colour in her cheeks drains, the warmth grows cold and in her stomach grows an ominous pit.

“Been watching– you.”

Wanda feels as though the floor will swallow her at any moment, and at this point, that would be a relief. Her eyes land back on the mistaken identity’s form, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm, a small device sits in the palm of a gloved hand. Your gloved hand.

With a roll of your thumb, you click the device off and let your arm drop, manoeuvring yourself to shift in your place.

Wanda finds the hellish pits of amber that reside brightly in her dark lounge room, the day itself looming with stormy clouds. Now with the late evening, darkness settled in far more quickly.

Your lips stretch wide, almost ear to ear like the cheeky cheshire, but Wanda is not amused one bit by your visit in particular. Anyone else would have been fine. Just not you.

“Been ignoring my calls, little Lamb. Just came by to… check in,” you purr, voice deeply seated in its obsessive fever.

“U–uh huh…”

Your chin turns on its axis, brows knitting in your faux confusion. “You sound concerned.”

“Wishful thinking is all.” The words came out before she could even process them. Her hand claps over her mouth, taken aback with a gasp.

Your tongue clicks to the roof of your mouth as you pull yourself from the chair, height now towering over Wanda, even at a distance. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried. It’s as though you’ve been trying to keep me out.”

Wanda offers in showing kind a pearly smile, flustered and seemingly dumbfounded by the absurdity of your question. As if she was trying to keep you out… she can’t let you catch on.

“Keep you out? What?" Her arms fold over her chest. A nervous tactic, one she often defects to whenever she’s plagued by doubt or fear. You duck your chin in indication towards her front door.

“New locks,” you scoff with a shake of your head, “if you’re really going through these measures, at least amuse me by making it just a little bit hard.”

Wanda’s jaw grows slack, eyes bearing into yours with that radiant flare of fear. The trait one that often arouses you. She portrays it well. Makes the hunt more fun for you.

“I… I don’t…” She cannot bring a single reason to mouth, her tongue tied with the thread of deceit so easily discernible, it shouldn’t be as funny as you find it.

With little else, her fingers move, taut and rigid in their slow, methodical dance but you catch on far too quickly than she can begin to halt.

Hand loosening the cord of your leather belt, you swiftly disarm her crafty hands before she could work to send you flying back.

You scold her with a haughty tut, “Ah, ah, ah!” You grin widely as you bind her hands above her head and force her back against the front door with a booming thud.

“I’ll be the one using my hand, little Lamb.” Your coo is a sickening coil of sinister delight, taken away in your sheer excitement of the hunt she has become accustomed to seeing in the reflective glint of your eyes.

With one hand, you continue to pin her tied wrists over her, your other raises towards your mouth where your fanged canines nip teasingly at the leathery texture, stripping your bare hand free, you toss the glove onto the countertop.

“So I wanna know,” you sigh deeply, “what’s this all about? Hm?”

With every movement of your fingers, she feels her pants loosen, the button and zip to her jeans failing to keep your touch out of reach, soon enough you’re snaking beneath her panties. She moans when your coarse thumb pad drags over her clit, excitement fills her blood and heat brims under her skin.

Her cheeks grow flushed and her folds slicken in the tormenting delight you bring her. The dangerous allure she finds herself drawn to. Back in the arms of her enemy. Incapable to be free of.

She squirms against the door when you roll her clit in slow, firm circles, growling against the shell of her ear.

“If you want to cum, you’ll need to answer a few questions for me.”

Her hips jerk forward suddenly, instinctively, buckling under the coursing pleasure flowing through her body. Unable to deny the flood of desire you bring her to. She moans lowly. “I… I just wanted– to keep you out.”

“Why?”

“Because–” she hisses as your fingers run the line of her aroused, wet folds. “Because you’re my enemy.”

You hum lowly at her answer. “And this concerns you now?”

“The Avengers will catch on. We can’t—”

She freezes instantly at the baring of your teeth, throat coiled with a deep, throaty snarl. “If anyone thinks they’ll come between us, I’ll fucking kill them.”

“Please…” Her voice is shattered by her broken resolve to remain strong and defiant to the effects of your carnal activity, fingers drawing your sharpened claws from their nail beds, you drag them slowly over the lips of her soaking entrance. She pushes her hips forward again with her simple plea.

“Ah, ah,” you hiss coldly, “you’ve been ignoring my calls and messages, Lamb. Very foolish of you.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

You scoff now and your thumb stops in toying with her sensitive bulb, bringing her to whine loudly, giving away just how needy she was.

“I think you can do better than that.”

“I can, I can.” Her words are breathlessly urgent in their tone, it almost takes you by surprise by the way her green eyes traverse downwards between you. Yet her eyes don’t plead her case to continue getting her off; the lustful glaze in her eyes offer to get you off.

FEMALE

Wanda sinks to her knees, her arms raised high above her and still in your hold, she stares up at you with anticipation. She’s hellbent on this little mission of hers. Amused, you chuckle and with expert navigation, you unbuckle the front of your pants and tug down enough to reveal your cunt. Wanda aches her head forward, her tongue balances the line of anticipation that leaves you in its wake.

With a soft, melodic noise, she moves her tongue to curl and lick at your clit, your muscles tense and your core tightens, uttering curses under your breath, it takes everything in you not to pull her head forward and bury her between your strong legs. Still, your hand curls tightly around the leather strap of your belt in warning and restraint.

“Better get that mouth working, Lamb,” you growl deeply, the sound causing a shiver to wrack her spine visibly and she bows her head forward more. Her lips and tongue work in tandem to each other, sliding over the aroused slickness of your folds, clit tormented pleasantly by her mouth, every so often her warm beth beats against your pussy.

“Fuck, girl,” you rasp to hide the otherwise pitiful whine clawing its way up your throat. “C’mon, give it to me like the good slut you are.”

She mewls against your cunt. She’s teasing you, just easing her tongue along the sliver of your entrance but not delving any further than that, overall she pays more attention to your clit, every so often her nose nuzzling it playfully.

Any other time, you’d enjoy and be amused by her little game, but right now she’s fucking toying with you.

You buck your hips aggressively with a sharp hiss as her teeth nip dangerously close. “Oh, you want to go about it that way?” you rumble and she coos, tone innocent despite the eyes saying something else. Spelling mischief.

You hoist her up by the tied juncture of her hands and drag her over to the lonesome kitchen island.

If she was going to play games then so were you. It’s effortless the way you slam her atop the counter, her body squirming and writhing, but you pin her down and she freezes, breath ceasing to exist in her lungs.

“You cornered yourself, Lamb. Now you gotta lie down and take it. And I won’t be kind.”

You can feel in the way her throat bobs that she swallows both pride and realisation, to come to the new revelation and the error of her ways. If only she’d been a little kinder. A little bit more merciful. Because she knew you were never one of true mercy.

She breathes deeply as you seize hold of her legging and rip them down, panties along with them and drop them to the floor. She won’t be needing them anytime soon.

“W-wait,” she gasps only for her words to die on her begging tongue, her back arcs up, body coiling to the ignition of your touch, fingers rough against the cove between her thighs, she moans for more.

But much like her, you refuse to give her exactly what she wants. Her clit is the subject of your torture, thumb rolling in slower circles you’d used before and your other fingers trace the moist line of her pussy that clenches with excitement; with hope of them sinking into her depths.

She says your name then, your attention drawn to the pronunciation of it and you groan with a twisted smirk.

“Please, d-don’t do this,” she sighs lowly, “I-I need you. Badly…”

“Mm, should have thought about that before you decided to be a cheeky lil’ slut.”

You slip your middle finger into her without warning, her face contorted in brutal pleasure, she arches further and bounces her hips, breath growing hot and quicker. “Y–es! Yes!” You add a second finger and then your ring finger, each one touching her spongy walls and stretching her. Each touch stokes the fire of her growing orgasm and she chases it with everything she has; however you’re not going to allow her to revel in the sweetened high of her release.

If she wants to cum around your fingers, she’s going to have to really, really beg for it this time. She curses you and praises you, your name a sultry chant playing on repeat and its a song you will never tire of hearing. If her hands weren’t restrained by your belt, she’d be digging her fingers into your arms like a cat clawing a scratching post, her legs spread further for your touch to exceed beyond the bounds they reach now.

“Right there, r-right there! O–oh fuck!” She’s crying out, streams of tears pave the way to her euphoric torture.

You know she’s getting close. Her body, each a telltale sign, she thinks you’re going to let her cum.

“You wanna cum, Lamb?”

“Yes… yes, yes…”

Your teeth graze the curve of her neck and elicit a shocked gasp from her throat, though her hips keep rocking to the motion of your thrusting fingers, claws scraping the length of her hot, tight walls.

“Then let me mark you, Sweetheart.”

“Wh-what?”

You groan at this, eyes rolling with a snarl. “C’mon, I know you want to. Quit being a fucking tease and let me have one bite.”

Her voice is weak, wheezing on the teetering of her arousal and shock.

“We can’t— fuck, Wolf! L-let me cum!”

Pushing her body further into your fingers, you pull your hand away, fingers on the verge of retracting completely and your thumb flicks her clit until she yelps.

“I don’t think you’re being very fair, Wanda Maximoff,” you growl, amber eyes burning with the intensity of a third degree.

It’s little wonder why you feel this dark seed of possessiveness fester inside your soul. At first, you thought it naught but Hydra’s doing that fucked up the natural wiring of your brain, scrappng way the wolf’s more tame and pack orientated habits, only to leave the rabid nature to maim and kill.

But now you’re so that those natural instincts are there still. Fried and seriously altered into some twisted version, but still there.

You came to recognise that your little obsession was more in depth than you originally predicted. Wanda Maximoff, Hydra’s once experiment and now enemy, is your fated mate. A wild night of desperately relieving yourself over and over again, like a drug had poisoned your body, all you could think about was Wanda.

Now she wasn’t giving you what you wanted. To mark her, to show that whoever fucked around would find out. That if anyone touched her, they were dead.

You withdraw your thrusting fingers right as she is about to be delivered to her sweet release, denied, she almost screams in protest.

“I was… I was so close,” she seethes, “Why’d you stop?”

With a wolfish huff, you push your fingers inside her to a still and she swears you drag her down the counter.

“If you refuse to let me mark you, Lamb, then I’ll find a way for you to have my pups. And you’ll have no choice but be sent into the arms of your enemy.”

MALE

Wanda sinks to her knees, her arms raised high above her and still in your hold, she stares up at you with anticipation. She’s hellbent on this little mission of hers. Amused, you chuckle and with expert navigation, you loosen the constraining pressure around your hardened cock, letting it spring free. Already, your beady tip grazes across her plump lips, swollen with your feverish need, you hoarsely grunt. “Get to it, Lamb.”

Her tongue brushes the underside of your cock and you groan, eyes screwing tightly together the further along her breath comes over you, slowly sinking your length between her parted lips. Her cheeks hollow to accommodate your girth, moaning a muffled sound.

She pauses halfway, throat tightening around your intruding tip and your hips stutter, the force of willpower to not cum down her throat right then bringing a pleasured grimace to form over your face. “Look at you,” you grin widely, “on your knees like a go little slut.”

She moans louder, the sound bouncing your cock in her mouth. You sink deeper until she’s taken all she can, almost swallowing your entire cock. In her eyes, the brimming of tears well into a glossy curtain that spill over at the first thrust, slow but hard, she chokes around your size.

“That’s right– fuck! Take it, fucking hell, you’re mouth is hot.” You’re panting heavily as your thrusts grow in punctuated speed, hand coiling around her bound wrists tightly, your other finds itself around her throat, feeling each time your cock delve down the tunnel of her throat.

She mewls, either in protest or plea, her thighs clench together in her position, tearful eyes blurred between complete darkness and the illuminated view of your hips driving forward, your cock moving up and down her throat with rapid succession as you chase your high.

“S-s-so b-big…” Her words come out muffled, barely audible as she gulps around your length, moans growing higher in pitch into whines.

“Yeah,” you rasp, “fucking so big, you’re choking ‘round me.”

She nods eagerly and groans when you piston your hips harder, the swelling in your balls giving away that the fun is almost over.

With a grunt you withdraw from Wanda’s mouth, lips parted wide and strings of saliva and precum coat the edges of her mouth. Her eyes find yours burning a thousand degrees hotter into her soul, scorching it with such intensity, it took everything in her not to squirm beneath you with need.

“As much as I’d love to see you swallow my load, I’d rather have your cunt do that.”

You can smell the sweet nectar between her legs, her core undoubtedly soaked, you pull her up by the leather instrument around her wrists. You push her legging and panties down her legs until they pool at her ankles, ushering her to kick away the unnecessary clothing.

She shivers, voice hoarse as you back her against the door again, the whisper of your name is softened by the feathery texture of her lust. She’s fucking drenching you tip that lines her awaiting entrance, greedily, she squeezes around nothing and pouts, whining for you to hurry up, to fuck her hard and raw until she’s dripping with your cum.

“Shh, Lamb,” you coo through a bite of clenching teeth, pushing inside her pussy with a relieved sigh, for a second time, you have to fight to keep yourself from blowing your load.

She moans deeply into the side of your neck. Looping her arms around your neck, she’s caged between you and the door, and you begin to eagerly rut your hips.

The modest apartment’s four walls once again are the cells containing your time of ecstasy together, moans bouncing off the balls and heavy bouts of panted breath and slapping skin drive you each to the edge of your own insanity.

There Is only the need for more. None of you want to stop this arrangement no matter how conflicting it can be to your respective parties. The Avengers and Hydra can war and raise fire with one another all they want, you’re just taking what’s yours at this point.

And if this is the end of your time, you’re going to fucking enjoy every bit of it that’s Wanda before you’re put six feet under.

“Fuck- f-fuck, don’t stop,” Wanda breathlessly chants, “right there, oh shit— don’t–”

You moa deeply and pick up the pace behind your thrusts that ruthlessly rut Wanda back against the door with loud patterns of thumps.

“Fuck, Baby– you’re so tight…”

“I’m so close!” she mewls lousy in her announcement, her head tilted to the side and the juncture of her neck exposed. Your teeth graze it and she gasps.

“C’mon, I know you want to,” you growl with a jerk of your hips, your tip kissing her cervix roughly to press the air from her lungs.

“But–” She’s cut off by the new, brutal angle you choose, viciously you rock her hips upwards until she’s practically sliding up and down against the door, her nails bite into the leather of the belt and her legs encircle your waist, momentarily losing balance and following the pace of your movement.

“Wolf, please!”

“Shit, cum for me, Wanda, cum for me.”

She breaks for your command and cries out in a flurry of stringed curses, her orgasm a crashing flood that engulfs and squeezes around your cock. “That’s it, Sweetheart… that’s it.”

She relaxes against you while you aid her in riding out her high, eyes dazed in her post-orgasmic state, she hiccups and gasps with each wave of thrusts that continue to surge through her.

Again, you tease her, teeth bared against the flesh of her exposed neck. “One little bite…”

“W-we can’t—”

Groaning lowly, you retort, “You’re such a fucking tease.”

But now you’re so that those natural instincts are there still. Fried and seriously altered into some twisted version, but still there.

Now she wasn’t giving you what you wanted. To mark her, to show that whoever fucked around would find out. That if anyone touched her, they were dead.

Your thrusts grew sloppy, the rhythm lost to your desperation to the swelling knot as your release came upon you, you whine lowly. The tip of your cock erupts violently with spurted rivers of your cum, far exceeding that of the average, human male, Wanda’s womb becomes heavy with your seed.

“Sh–shit!” Wanda moans quietly with a hiccup when your knot ties against her entrance, locking you in place inside her tight cunt.

“If you refuse to let me mark you, Lamb, then you’ll mother my pups. And you’ll have no choice but be sent into the arms of your enemy.”

#headlinesxcomics publishing #phases collection 2024 #werewolf reader #marvel #gn reader #female reader #male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader smut #mcu #hydra! reader #scarlet witch

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eruscreaminginthedistance · 3 months

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Okay so. I've been sitting on my full first impressions of the game until after the gameplay reveal, cos I know shit can get twisted in marketing.

I was NOT a fan of the trailer. The vibe was off; I cringed a lot; it gave a off very bog-standard hero team saves the day kind of vibe which I inherently dislike because it seems like Dragon Age has just given up on giving you the freedom to be a bastard, or any kind of character that isn't on rails to be everyone's favourite boy. It also failed to bring any dark fantasy to the table. BUT I know from experience, namely the DA2 trailer (not the CGI one. the other one), that marketing is intent on making Dragon Age look like the goofiest shit possible to appeal to the dregs of society (normies). I watched it. Hated it. Moved on to life stuff.

Now with the gameplay reveal out of the way, I have some more solid takes on everything we now know about the game overall.

Things I liked:

The companions all look pretty cool; I've been excited for Devrin for years now, and seeing that he's a Dalish Elf as well as a Warden is quite exciting to see; everyone else are also not only well designed but don't feel like rehashes of our previous companions (apart from Harding)

The return of multiple weapon sets. Thank fucking god. This may even make archer a viable build again. Also I noted that you only have a set number of arrows which the UI tracks, which I'm a huge fan of

The look and style of Minrathous. I like that Bioware is showing their hard work in coming up with a unique area based entirely around magic-tech and I think the result looks great; I am really intrigued by the dark panopticon vibes and hope that becomes a major theme going forward

Different demon designs. I hope there's a bit more variation as the game progresses, but I liked little details like the Pride demons having some kind of armour aesthetic

Dialogue wheel. No notes; she's here, still the same comforting presence as ever. Praying with fingers crossed that it doesn't turn into a super bland protagonist situation like Inquisition

Choosing a faction in character creation that isn't locked to one's race; this one is a really cool idea and if origins don't come back it can be a decent alternative if the reactivity to your choice is the same as in the prologue

Things I didn't like:

Action wheel. Like. I'm a PC person, so I have no idea what the final UI will actually look like for me. But Bioware hasn't elaborated on their UI style at all and if Inquisition is anything to go by, I'm stuck with shitty console-centred UI for the whole game. I would rather just have the ability bar back, for my sanity.

The two-person companion limit. It automatically restricts people into a specific party build depending on their class and I hate that

The Mass Effect-style gameplay. Party tactics was a HUGE draw to the DA series for me, and is what got me into retro RPGs in the first place. Seeing it replaced completely to the point where we can no longer manually manage our party is a huge disappointment. I am willing to keep an open mind, just because I love Mass Effect that much, but it hurts knowing for a certainty I'm never gonna engage with Veilguard like I did with Origins or 2 as a result

The voice acting. Was this an out of date take, or did everyone sound super flat to anyone else? Especially Neve, who didn't seem to know what she was reacting to, just really wooden. It was disappointing, cos I love her voice overall. Wasn't a fan of Rook's voice but I don't plan to play a man anyway

The breaking pots method of looting. This is gonna feel like such a nitpick but I immediately pulled a face seeing that cos I could TELL some suit somewhere asked the Bioware team to "make it more like breath of the wild" and now for some reason it's not dynamic enough to just click on a crate and choose what loot to take; now Tevinters are storing exactly one (1) random health potion in decorative clay jars around the city (more likely than you think!)

The aesthetic of the veil and spirit stuff so far; it's just all a bit bright and noisy, doesn't really grab me as something fun to explore or fight (again, I'm an Origins girly so I'm biased)

Harding coming back. I know she's cool and everyone likes her and I like her too. In Inquisition. This is just a preference, but if I'm gonna start a new game as a new person I don't want to be inheriting pre-bought friends from the last protagonist ://

Things I HATE:

Why does everyone look like play-doh; it's disconcerting.

Like guys I know DA2 is having a renaissance but I don't think anyone was getting nostalgic over everyone's pudding faces.

Everything put out so far has basically crushed any hope I had for this becoming Dwarf age :/ No new dwarf characters, no mention of Kal-Sharok, Harding being the only dwarf companion basically confirms that dwarves will be unromanceable AGAIN. not a fan

TLDR: This is still definitely not a day-one buy for me. The series has just strayed completely from the genre and format that I loved about the previous games into a full action RPG derivative of games from four years ago. Without the focus on party tactics and the low-tech, dark and gritty worldbuilding from the first two games it just fails to excite me. It looks too much like other games for me to really register it as a Dragon Age game.

I love the story and the world of Dragon Age though, so I do still intend to buy it when it goes on sale, but this is definitely a "wait and see the reviews" situation for me, which is a first when it comes to this series :/

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #da:v #dragon age: veilguard #bioware

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mischieffoal · 1 year

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Rosie, Frodo and Sam, Now and for Always

Here it comes: Cici’s chaotic “review” of Lord of the Rings: a Musical Tale

(Spoilers for the musical: go and see it (it's running until mid-October 2023) and then read this)

“My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell in the park.

5 stars.”

Nothing like a bracing sprint through Reading station to forge fine friendships over somehow managing to get to Newbury and the Windmill Theatre in time. We unite with our friends, get a group photo in the designated Instagram spot and, most importantly, confirm that there will be ice cream in the interval.

It’s Mr. Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday, didn’t you know? The hobbits make sure we are well informed, and someone on our picnic table is accosted by Fatty Bolger and made to play whack the rat. They all look lovely, waistcoats and sandals abounding, and some watching fauntlings are very gently introduced to hoopla. In general, if you are LARP-positive, sit at the left hand end - we were in the prime spot. Bilbo complimented my cloak and I derided my companions once again for being the only cloaked representative of our smial. Then, someone else approaches - she asks us if Mr. Bilbo said anything odd. Nothing odd at all, we reply, all a perfectly normal party. I think he’s planning something, she says. I’m worried about my spoons. I gasp. “Madam, may I ask, are you perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?” “I am!” “Madam it is an honour! I am honoured to be in your presence!” She shakes my hand. My life is complete.

Soon enough, the actual musical begins, narrated by partying Hobbits. Now and for Always had stuck in my head just from the soundtrack on YouTube, and it’s a worthy start to the show as Mr. Bilbo tells the same old stories that he always does. Hobbits sing and dance and every one of them plays an instrument. Someone has a piccolo, someone else has a lute. Bilbo has a harmonica and an accordion. Every single Hobbit has an unspecified country accent. The Brandybucks are loud, the Proudfoots are Proudfeet and Fatty Bolger moans at me about it. R says he knows who’s playing Gollum, because he’s bald. Frodo is very sweet, but I catch Lobelia’s eye across the garden and commiserate with her at her ill fortune. Sam asks Rosie to dance, and I fall in love with them (Sam is Sri Lankan, and sounds it, and Rosie has Afro hair, and they make me very happy). Bilbo gives his speech, “magically disappears”, and 17 years pass as we all get up and troop into the theatre proper.

We’re on the side of the balcony, in a wonderful wooden interior that J guesses might have been a church at some point. We return to the action with Frodo, Sam and Rosie, greeting each other with a little two step jump that I want to do with all my friends. Frodo sends them off to the Ivy Bush, because there seems to be some kind of trade mark problem with the Green Dragon. Gandalf enters bombastically, and Frodo and Sam leave as soon as they know their task, because they know that the show is only three hours long, including an interval.

The singing begins! Walking fast, singing and playing as they go - The Road does indeed Go On, the centre stage rotates as they dance-walk around it. Merry and Pippin assail them in a projected cornfield, because they’re his cousins and they’re not letting him do anything dangerous alone. Frodo is very put upon. Merry plays the cello, hanging round his neck, Pippin has a fiddle, and Sam a guitar. Also, Pippin is a girl, not just played by one. Good for you, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She’s also terrified of trees (Merry knows a less Tree-ish route and the Old Forest is resoundingly ignored.)

(Photo Pamela Raith)

And then! Elves! Gildor and Earendil sung with a Y! All the elves are wearing lovely blue tabards. Dark is the road ahead for Frodo, and danger follows their path. That’s nice and cheery.

(Speaking of costume, Gandalf and Saruman have very nice robes. Saruman is played by the bald one R assures me will be playing Gollum. They have a fun little stand off across the rotating stage, and Saruman isn’t hiding any of his schemes - army included. Uh oh.)

In the Prancing Pony, K says she’s going to play “spot the Strider” but Strider is in fact very very bad at being inconspicuous, as the only one wearing a hoody.

Strider makes himself known, and so does Pippin, and Frodo’s brilliant distraction plan is to sing a song. He’s not at all prepared for this and walks like a puppet, but the Brandybuck and Took contingent are raring to go with the Cat and the Moon, and soon Frodo is having a lovely time dancing on tables and all. Let’s pretend that Frodo’s smile will never fade.

The Ring goes on. Mari Lwyd black riders appear. Frodo looks like he’s underwater and it’s very funny. Stabbing ensues (no time for Weathertop today). Run! Run for Rivendell! (Costuming side note: Strider has a banging undercut and goatee situation going on). Arwen enters playing a harp, singing a Song of Hope in a bunch of elvish with no subtitles. Tolkien would approve. “The weary traveller returning… home.” It’s Strider, and we learn that this is the first time he’s returned since disappearing to be a ranger. He’s grown a lot, Arwen says. Strider mumbles something about not wanting any bigger destiny than her. Then Frodo wakes up and it turns out they’ve been having this lovely romantic discussion is his hospital wing. Ah, good, says Frodo, we successfully completed our adventure! Merry is very excited at the amount of books and maps, also did you know that Arwen is a half-elf, technically, and did you see the way she looked at Aragorn, and did you know that she’s thousands of years older than him?

(Photo Pamela Raith)

The council is called, Saruman the bald is also playing Elrond the bald, and is generally an old wise man. All of the elves are obsessed with hand gestures, and their hands are never below their waists. Everyone has so many problems, but Boromir (with another very cool undercut) wastes no time telling everyone Gondor has it worst. The steward is asleep, you say? And you had a dream and followed it here? But the sword that was broken is as lost as the One Ring. (Boromir has great dramatic timing.) Frodo will take the Ring to Mordor, though he don’t know the way. Gimli will go with him, and so will Legolas and Gandalf and Strider. (The Elf and Dwarf are Iranian and Black, and it really stands out amongst the otherwise white Men - I like it a lot). Strider asks Boromir nicely and Boromir says fine, he’ll come too. The fellowship of the ring! A rousing ensemble number with Earendil with a Y! Boromir is playing the trombone and singing at the same time and it’s the best!

Saruman learns of the Fellowship from his useless gas-mask orc minions. He deals with it himself - with menacing flute music. He flutes up a storm on Caradhras, and the Fellowship must go through Moria. Gimli reverently takes a guitar, and sings them a song of his people, as the fellowship and the audience have a chance for a rest. Then drums start in the deep, a balrog is come, and Gandalf is gone. They must continue - to Lothlorien. That horn player is a different elf now, you can tell because their tabard is gold this time!

They arrive blindfolded as Legolas waxes lyrical about the elves of the golden wood, and it turns out he’s not in love with Galadriel he’s just really patriotic. Galadriel tells Frodo they will both share a great loss, and also sings a power ballad.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Everything falls apart after Lorien, as we all know. Boromir dances with the hobbits before the orcs get him - Strider appears seconds too late, and Boromir tells him he’s failed, the Fellowship and his people. Strider shows him his broken sword (he’ll show you his if you show him yours) and finally claims his birthright. Boromir begs him to save “our people” and Aragorn really can’t deal with that, especially when Boromir dies in his arms. Aragorn is the best actor in all of this and it’s mainly in degrees of how much he cannot deal with this. The three hunters reunite, honour Boromir, and finally pick themselves up for the road ahead - Aragorn can see the hobbits’ footprints…

In the interval we theorise on how they’re going to fit two whole books into a second act shorter than the first one. Are they just going to cut the entirety of Rohan? That’s the bit of the book I can never understand. The ice cream is very nice.

As the lights go up, Sam races after Frodo and berates his idiot upper-class master who thought he could do anything without him. They set out on their long journey, and from the other side of the stage, Pippin and Merry come charging in. They’ve already escaped from the orcs, as we really don’t have time for that. Pippin is confronted with her fear of trees. Entish is a very musical language which was beautiful to experience, and I think a far better rendition of trees talking than any realism could give. Musicians stood around the auditorium and plucked and strummed their discussion (Gimli was behind us drumming the plumbing).

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Saruman, meanwhile, directs a cool break dance number from the orcs. They’re going to crush Minas Tirith, and then Sauron will surely think Saruman is an ally, a massive victory for the Light.

The rest of the cliffhangers from act one get resolved in the next ten minutes. The three hunters can tell from the footprints that the hobbits are safe, so they race the breakdancing orcs to Minas Tirith. (No Rohan, I whisper to K). Aragorn demands an entrance to see the Steward (played by Bilbo, this company has one old wise man and one old father figure). The Steward is under Saruman’s spell! They call him Denethor but he’s serving Theoden’s role, with considerably less drama as it only takes Aragorn revealing himself as King to wake him up from the curse.

They agree to fight together to defeat Saruman! It’s another ensemble song and dance! Gandalf the White returns, and doesn’t come alone! The trees are marching! And Boromir’s actor is playing the trombone behind Denethor as he fights to defend their people, and that made me very emotional.

It’s Gollum time. Nearly naked bald man with full body dirt makeup scrambles around theatre and balcony, more news at 7. R seems unable to comprehend a theatre company having two bald men in it. This actor was so physical, my director brain was terrified of the risk assessments that must have been required for him to run along the balcony barrier.

Victory at the Pelennor Fields! TheoDenethor is slain, but the free peoples have won. They ride to Isengard. Saruman enters, and in a very dramatic and tense moment, I thought he greeted them with “Sup”. (Sadly it was actually “So”). Gandalf is sure that this will not be the end of Saruman’s mischief…

Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) are carrying on, but it’s hard going. They reminisce on the stories they used to listen to, and Sam gets out his guitar as they wonder what kind of story they’re in. Sam sings to Frodo, a reprise of Now and for Always from Mr. Bilbo, and his master tiredly joins in. He hasn’t smiled for days. “Tell us a story, of Frodo and the Ring”. Sam falls asleep, and it’s Frodo turn to sing about him - “no finer friend, now and for always”. Frodo doesn’t quite manage to finish the chorus before he falls asleep beside his Sam - but Gollum takes over in a horrifying corruption of their duet. It took me a while to realise it, but this Gollum’s voice reminds me of Voldemort from A Very Potter Musical - not at all a bad thing, but a specific niche of “very creepy and also pathetic”.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Aragorn is crowned, and receives the reforged sword. Together, the representatives of the free peoples plan to storm the Black Gates, in a hopeless battle - for Frodo. Smeagol/Gollum finally decides to lead them to Shelob, and Frodo trusts him. “Well,” Sam says, “let’s walk into Mordor.” Cackles from very small pockets of the audience.

Shelob is a REALLY COOL PUPPET. Sam manages to stab her with the LED Sting as he is seconds away from his doom. Galadriel empowers them with ballads from afar, but Frodo can barely walk. Sam takes the ring to try and relieve his burden, and Frodo doesn’t even notice. Gollum returns and swears he knew nothing about the giant spider, what giant spider? She wasn’t there last week!

Aragorn, in the B-plot of the musical (we realised afterwards that in the books, destroying the Ring and saving the world is the B-plot), gives a rousing speech to get everyone gearing up for a battle they’re all going to lose. Arwen (I think, or is it Galadriel, I’m writing this the day after and I’ve slightly lost the plot) calls to Aragorn and starts off the ensemble number "out of grief, joy".

Meanwhile, tension is rising in the Frodo-Sam-Gollum-Smeagol polycule. Everything will change, when they destroy the ring. “The elves, Sam, they’ll disappear - all of the magic will be gone out of the world. But if I take the ring!” No one can resist the ring. Gollum and Frodo speak and move as one as they condemn Sam as a traitor and a thief. At some point in all of this Frodo gets the Ring back, Sam runs away, Gollum attacks Frodo, Sam protects him, and Frodo wakes up enough to cast Gollum out instead. I’m very tired and can’t remember when this all happens, but it was all very emotional.

The free peoples fight, and they all dance and stand so differently you can tell which peoples they all are even without the height differences. Legolas shoots from on high, Gimli is rooted to the ground with wheeling axes, Aragorn just stabs so many orcs. Merry has his cello and uses the bow to attack, and Pippin has her accordion. We love Pippin. She’s here for moral support.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Sam and Frodo reach the top of Mount Doom and wrench open the backdrop doors. Sam can’t take another step and collapses behind Frodo as he tries once more to take it for himself - before Gollum appears. Gollum’s fall was beautiful and slow - he’s caught by black clad actors on a darkened stage and they gently let him down into the fire. And then it’s done.

The ensemble sings as Gandalf the White comes to save the two hobbits, and they reunite with their friends as Aragorn bows to the Shirefolk (and holds Frodo’s head so close that he re-awakened my inner Frodo/Aragorn shipper). Gandalf inexplicably says he’s off to have a chat with Tom Bombadil, who we had been ignoring, but that he’ll see Frodo again.

The hobbits return to the Shire, and Lobelia tells us Saruman has been there. We all have to work together to restore the Shire, including the audience - up you get, get outside and get LARPing again. We help the hobbits restore the battered garden to its former glory, and Rosie and Sam are married! Frodo never can return to the cheer he had at the beginning of this adventure. The actor had literally added eye bag makeup, I winced in sympathy when I saw him. Gandalf and the many elves of Middle Earth reach the Shire. They are going into the West. Frodo gives Sam the book in which to write their story. The hobbits do a very sad little dance jump greeting and Frodo hugs Sam tight, before he goes on his way towards the sails of the Grey Havens.

(Photo Watermill Theatre)

Rapturous applause! Everybody’s back on stage for a rousing final Cat and the Moon! Don’t worry about Frodo’s depression, we’ve got to sing a musical number for us all to go home to! My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell on my way through the park.

5 stars.

#lotr #lotr musical #lord of the rings #lord of the rings musical #watermill theatre #lotr fanart #tolkien #tolkien fanart

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randomisedgaming · 8 months

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More information on the new Tomb Raider Trilogy remaster

With more information becoming available on Aspyr remaster of the classic Core Design first three games in the Tomb Raider series. Which as it includes the original has the best game in the franchise, as the series only dropped in quality after the first one. The less said about Crystal Dynamics treatment of the series, the better, but shoehorning Lara Croft into an unreleased horror game and releasing it as a Tomb Raider was a big mistake.

We started to see some interesting comparison between the old and new graphics. With the game being pitched as a budget title it's fair to say it's surprising to see all the new art being added. This is starting to show with the quality of the new graphics not matching the original that closely at all.

Let's have a quick rundown of issues we can see in the above picture, left classic right new:

1. The lighting adds a rather bright yellow bloom to start with to the whole scene, which takes out a lot of the original colour as the yellow dominates the picture and looks less natural as a result.

2. The wooden texture on the ceiling is missing the beam ends on the higher ones, the texture also adds an odd green stain to it, compared to the rotten look it had originally.

3. The wooden ceiling and table beams had different colours originally, lighter ceiling and darker table, now looks the same.

On the wall behind Lara you have at least five clear errors.

4. The top section which links to the ceiling has a clear snake line pattern linking the image all together, replaced by a generic design.

5. The second row from the top has a faded design on the blue and yellow blocks, this is missing and the pattern in between the block doesn't look much like the original.

6. Third row down design is again very different, you had a white and red almost flower design that is clear at either end of the pattern instead. Instead a new design has the white and red shape in the centre.

7. The fourth row down has a faded and worn white pattern in the blue row, this is missing in the new version.

8. The top of the stone brick wall looks like it is crumbling and worn down at the top near the blue pattern, this is all missing.

9. Much of the original design has a clear faded and worn look, to give the impression it looks old, the new graphic give it an almost brand new look by contrast.

Has any A.I. been involved here? Doesn't look great for the new graphics at all. This might all be work in progress, but with the game releasing in less than a month, it likely will have already passed cert testing and rating by now. Still on the plus side you can change between odd and new graphics at any point if you don't like the new graphics.

Will be picking it up on day one to see what it like, hopefully the port for all games is solid, but all the PC expansion content is very welcome, seeing as console owners never got to play those stages.

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#Tomb Raider #Lara Croft

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pecanwriter · 9 months

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Lord of Lard part 3 (WG story)

Themes: magic-induced weight gain, fantasy-setting, weight-related spells

Words: 2815

Part: 3/?

The part of the castle in which Dosian stayed was much nicer than Kersev’s prison tower. In fact, it was lavish. The floor was made of perfectly polished grey marble, the walls were painted in intricate, elaborate flower designs, the hallway through which the guard was leading Kersev was wide and spacious, every door they passed had complicated, well-made wood carvings on it and was painted in white and gold.

They stood in front of a double-winged door, as elaborate as all the rest but with a massive gold locking mechanism keeping it shut. The mechanism resembled a clockface but with a multitude of smaller and bigger circular gears. It was opened by a surprisingly tiny key which the guard turned twice setting the mechanism in motion, all the gears shifting and grinding against each other.

With an ominous creak, the doors opened.

“Inside!” The Guard jabbed Kersev in the back and as soon as he waddled inside, the door shut firmly behind him.

Kersev found himself in a large, richly decorated room. Everything was in shades of pink, gold and white. Like a room for the Queen’s beloved Poodle, Kersev couldn’t help thinking. There was a large fireplace in front of which stood an enormous bathtub, almost as large as a small pool. There was a wide, sturdy-looking couch stacked high with pillows and in front of it an enormous low table, filled to the brim with fruit, all types of beautiful, mouth-watering desserts and cakes drizzled in chocolate and stacked high with heavy whipped cream. Dosian’s favourite white cream cake with exotic fruit stood in the centre, enormous and so overfilled with cream it was a marvel to Kersev that it was still standing up.

There was a chaise longue next to which stood a beautiful white harp and a lyre rested against one of the pillows. Next to the window stood an easel with an unfinished painting of flowers on it, Kersev recognised Dosian’s brush immediately. In front of the easel stood a wide wooden bench.

There was an enormous wardrobe, undoubtedly filled to the brim with outlandish, revealing garments suited well for the Dark Lord’s favourite pet.

The last thing in the room was a truly gigantic bed with a gauzy, delicate canopy. There were steps leading up to it, despite it being a regular height for a bed.

Under the canopy, resting against a thousand pillows laid, or rather half-sat Dosian. It’s been months since Kersev saw him and he could tell Dosian was even fatter than before. His gargantuan, swollen legs were spread wide to accommodate for the unbelievable mass of his belly spilling in front of him, taking up a significant portion of the bed. Everything on him seemed bigger, more overstuffed with lard, softer, fuller… His arms, his neck, his chest, even his beautiful face. It was all being swallowed by new fat folds and bulges.

Kersev waddled to the bed. Dosian seemed to have been asleep, or at least dozing, his eyes closed and his chest moving slowly.

“My love…” He whispered, laboriously climbing the few stairs to get to the bed.

Dosian opened his eyes almost immediately, pure shock registering on his beautiful face before his eyes filled with tears.

“My Prince…” Dosian croaked, turning his face away “Please look not upon me in such a state…”

“Cease the formalities, Dosian! Look at me!” Kersev shook Dosian’s arm making his entire body jiggle, he didn’t stop until Dosian looked up at him, his alabaster skin flushed and his emerald eyes filled with tears. “There you are…” Kersev stroked Dosian’s soft cheek gently “By the Spirits, I believed you dead for over five years…”

“I wish I were dead, My Prince…”

“Never” Kersev’s voice was hard as steel “Say that again. Ever. I could not be happier that you’re alive.”

“Look at me…” Dosian almost whined, grabbing a handful of his side roll and shaking it “I’m enormous….”

“That doesn’t matter.” Kersev managed to sit next to Dosian, the massive bed somehow accommodating both of their hefty frames. “Look at me, I’m not the Prince you left behind either, am I?” He shook his own gut and watched it jiggle with a sick fascination, still hardly believing it was his body.

“He’s an evil, twisted thing…” Dosian whispered, “I will never forgive him for doing this to you.”

“If he didn’t do this to me, I would’ve never been able to see you again.” Kersev kissed Dosian.

Their fat bodies felt unfamiliar with each other, even their fat faces felt different. But the touch of Dosian’s lips, his fresh, sweet meadow smell felt as familiar as if they were never parted at all.

“I’m sorry I was too weak to escape…” Dosian pleaded, resting his head against Kersev’s chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, my beloved.” Kersev stroked Dosian’s pale hair “You’re an artist, a musician, a dancer, not a Knight Mage! Not even a regular knight! How could you possibly stand against someone like Him? No, my love, the fault is mine. I should’ve known he was too wicked to just kill you without a devious plan at hand. I should’ve looked for you until I succeeded. Instead, I wasted five years on training and dreaming of revenge just to be defeated immediately and have this damnable collar put on me.” Kersev punched the collar against his neck angrily. Truthfully, it was not the same collar, he was way too fat for the first one now. But that only made it worse; the knowledge that while he was deep in another food coma someone removed his collar to replace it. He’d become so fat and sluggish that he wasted such a perfect opportunity to escape.

Dosian looked at his own wrists where two heavy, ornamental bracelets were digging into his fat forearms. Even through his magic-dimming collar, Kersev could sense they served the same function.

Kersev’s training was telling him that he should use every opportunity to plot their escape, but even that rational part of himself was helpless against his starved heart that more than anything yearned to be with his lover.

“Do many people come here?” Kersev asked, reaching behind Dosian to play with his thick braid; a habit he’d assumed to be long lost.

“Not really. They fill the table in the morning and I have to clean it out by the next morning, otherwise, they will punish me, but other than that they let me be. Unless He wants me, then someone comes to take me to him, He doesn’t come here.”

“What happens when he wants you…?”

“Usually it’s to feed new slaves, to scare them by how big I am…” Dosian croaked, absent-mindedly smoothing out the delicate, sheer fabric that covered his massive belly. “But sometimes he wants me for himself.”

“And then what happens…?” Kersev asked calmly, feeling anything but calm.

“Usually he wants me to feed him, or he wants to feed me. Sometimes he wants me to sing. He used to make me dance for him but I’m too big now… And sometimes he wants me to pleasure him…”

Kersev clutched his fists so tight his knuckles cracked.

“But he never touches me!” Dosian rushed to explain, his eyes pleading “He never wants to enter me, he just wants me to touch him. I’m nobody’s but yours, My Prince.”

“Oh Dosian, my love, I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you.” He kissed Dosian’s warm forehead “I’m mad, furious, at Him. And myself.”

“You needn’t be angry with yourself, you came to me, My Prince…” Dosian bowed his head low, reverently taking Kersev’s pudgy hand in both of his and kissing the knuckles gently. “I missed you so. Not a day has passed when I didn’t think about you when I didn’t dream about us being together again…”

“Would you allow me to make love to you, my sweet darling…?” Kersev kissed the corner of Dosian’s mouth gently.

Dosian’s face took on a look of terror, he looked down at himself, smoothed out the sheer fabric again, looked away.

“But I’m…”

Kersev cupped both of Dosian’s cheeks and forced him to once again look Kersev in the eye.

“You’re perfect, my love.”

“But…”

“I lost you for over five years. I’m not losing you for a moment longer.”

A single tear rolled down Dosian’s flushed face and Kersev kissed it away.

“But how…?” Dosian asked, looking between their two bodies, Kersev’s massive body that was still somehow clinging to its mobility and his own that was probably only months if not weeks away from being too massive to ever move again unless aided by magic.

“Do you think you can turn face down and bend your knees?”

Dosian looked hesitant but he nodded. The Duke took a deep breath and started rocking his enormous bulk to the left. The folds upon folds of fat began to sway from side to side with the movement. Dosian tried throwing himself to the side, but he didn’t build up enough momentum for his body to move. He let out a soft, but obviously frustrated groan and began rocking again. This time, when he threw himself to the side Kersev grabbed him, pushing as hard as he could, his fat-encased muscles straining against the enormous bulk. Together, they managed to flop Dosian onto his belly, revealing the fat rolls covering his soft, pale back and his wide, unbelievably hefty ass.

Kersev kissed Dosian’s head as he panted with effort. His belly was so enormous that when he laid on it Dosian’s ass was pretty much up in the air already. Kersev’s heart clenched as seeing how exhausted Dosian was just after changing positions when once upon a time he could dance at the King’s Court from dusk till dawn to the delight of every guest and then still have enough energy to make passionate love with Kersev in the pale hours of the morning.

“I missed you, my beloved Duke, I missed you so…” Kersev spoke as he shuffled around the bed to kneel behind Dosian.

Kersev run his swollen fingers across the immense globes of Dosian’s ass, he squeezed his sides, peppered kisses across his back... Kersev worshipped his lover as best as their overfed bodies would allow them. It was different, it would probably never be how it was before, but what mattered was that his Duke, the true and only love of his heart was still alive.

When Kersev entered Dorian they both gasped, struck speechless by the familiarity, by the connection they thought they’d never feel again.

“More…” Dosian pleaded. He shifted from laying face down to resting on his elbows, bobbing his head and swaying his enormous body slightly.

And Kersev gave him more, his grunts and Dosian’s little panting noises filled the room. Kersev was almost at his climax when suddenly, out of nowhere something changed.

“Ah, young love reunited. How wonderful.” The Dark Lord let out a sigh. He lay sprawled on Dosian’s pink chaise longue, eating a chocolate-drizzled pastry.

Kersev wanted to move, to cover Dosian, to do something. Only, he couldn’t.

In fact, he couldn’t move at all.

“Release us!” He spat, relieved to find at least his head wasn’t under the spell.

“I think not.” The Dark Lord said matter-of-factly, getting up from his seat and walking over to the bed with a devilish smile, his obscenely tight garments showing every bounce and jiggle of his fat flesh. “Your beautiful love warms my cold heart, I wouldn’t want to let it go so quickly.” He brushed a long nail along Dosian’s cheek and smiled even wider when Kersev growled.

“Worry not, dear Prince, I wouldn’t hurt my favourite pet.” He scratched Dosian’s double chin as if scratching a cat “I do worry, however. You’re making him burn all that fuel I so graciously put into him, he will waste away, the poor thing!”

Kersev’s blood ran cold as he watched their captor bring the entire massive table closer to the bed with one mindless wave of his hand. He reached for a palm-sized pastry stacked high with whipped cream and sugar-glazed strawberries.

“Open wide, my sweet boy.” The Dark Lord said, his yellow eyes glinting as he stuffed the entire thing in Dosian’s mouth, smearing sugar glaze and whipped cream around his lips and on his fat chin.

“Leave him alone!” Kersev yelled, still unable to move, still deep inside his lover. He was so overcome with rage and humiliation that it surprised even him. He’d have thought that it was impossible to be more humiliated and degraded than he’d been in all these months of captivity. But once again, he underestimated The Dark Lord.

“Oh, do you feel left out, Your Highness?” The Dark Lord reached for another pastry, stuffed with caramel and creamed that oozed out of it. He stuffed it into Kersev’s mouth almost violently, all the while smiling almost sweetly.

“No, please, feed me, My Lord…” Dosian pleaded desperately. Kersev could only see the side of his face, but still, it made his heart clench. There was cream on his fat cheeks and tears in his green eyes. His Dosian, overfed almost to the point of immobility, his soft flesh so overstuffed with fat it didn’t even resemble him anymore… His Dosian, begging to be fed more to spare Kersev’s pathetic life. The life which he already lost when he got captured, the life which he didn’t deserve.

“What do we have to do for you to release the spell?!” Kersev demanded, his own eyes stinging with tears.

“Why, clear the table, of course.” “T-that’s…. Impossible!” Kersev stared at the table overflowing with food.

“Oh, you underestimate your new body, my dear Prince.” The Dark Lord smiled, grabbing Kersev’s fat gut and giving it a solid shake. “And you definitely underestimate my favourite pet. This beautiful body didn’t come from nothing.” the Lord ran an appreciative hand over Dosian’s massive ass and along his back. He reached for a platted with an entire vanilla cake on it. Not even bothering with cutting it into pieces, he took a spoon and began stuffing it into Dosian’s face at an alarming rate. To Kersev’s surprise, his sweet Dosian was keeping up admirably, swallowing as soon as the Lord stuffed it into his face. Within seconds, it seemed, the entire cake fit for a party of twelve was gone, the only remnants of it the cream smeared on Dosian’s face.

“See? He’s such a good, sweet boy.” The Dark Lord patted Dosian’s fat cheek, slowly turning his devilish gaze on Kersev “Now, your turn.”

He took a metal pitcher of something off the table and grabbing Kersev by the hair pulled his head back. “Open wide, Your Highness.” He sing-sang, pressing the pitcher to Kersev’s lips and tilting it.

It was overpoweringly sweet and at first, Kersev thought it was honeymeed, but soon he realised it was much thicker than that. It was just… Honey. The Dark Lord poured an entire pitcher of fresh, liquid honey down his throat. And Kersev swallowed every last drop if it only meant it was one less thing The Dark Lord would feed his Dosian.

The Dark Lord kept stuffing more and more sugary sweets and cakes into them. Soon, Kersev’s stomach was so stuffed that he nearly forgot about the fact he was still naked and inside of Dosian. It seemed a small discomfort compared to how tight and bloated his stomach became.

“Here you go.” The Dark Lord put a pastry against his lips but Kersev shook his head.

“I can’t…. I can’t…” He panted, finding even speaking painful with how stuffed he was.

“Give it to me, My Lord! I’m not even satiated yet.” Dosian urged, even though he’d probably eaten more in the past hour than an entire family of four ate in a week.

“I trained you well, sweet boy.” The Dark Lord’s eyes burned with magical power as he stuffed an entire handful of cake into Dosian’s mouth, not bothering with utensils anymore.

Kersev panted, his stomach so full he was unable to think of anything else but the pain and the slow, simmering anger as he watched The Dark Lord slowly kill his beloved in a way much more cruel than simply killing him with weapons.

“Last bite” The Dark Lord sang, stuffing one last handful of chocolate cake into Dosian’s mouth.

As soon as he swallowed the spell released them and Kersev slid out of Dosian, falling to the bed, his enormous, swollen belly sticking up in the air. He panted, tears streaming down his face.

“My Lord, can we have a bath?” Dosian asked in a perfect, docile pet voice.

“Of course my sweet, you’re all filthy!”

And with that, he was gone. And so was the last shred of Kersev’s dignity.

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cakesandtea · 1 year

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In the heart of the Shire, nestled amidst rolling hills and vibrantly flowering gardens, lies a cosy hobbit library. This haven of knowledge, affectionately known as the Greenleaf Library, invites visitors and locals alike into a world of literary treasures and intellectual exploration.

Just before you go inside you are greeted by a quaint stone statue of a taller than average Hobbit, ivy covering their feet and ankles. They look familiar but you're struggling to place just where you've seen them before. The circular wooden door, weathered by time, creaks open to reveal a warm and inviting interior. Soft sunlight filters through the windows, casting a gentle glow upon rows of meticulously organized shelves.

The scent of aged parchment and ink fills the air. Wooden floors creak ever so slightly underfoot, whispering tales of countless hobbits who have tread upon them in pursuit of knowledge and adventure.

The shelves, overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes, create a symphony of colors and textures. Leather-bound tomes, their spines embossed with intricate designs, share space with well-loved paperbacks and handwritten manuscripts. The collection spans generations, offering a treasure trove of stories, histories, and wisdom.

In cosy, intimate reading nooks scattered throughout the library, plush armchairs beckon visitors to sink into their embrace. The crackling fireplace casts a warm glow, providing the perfect ambiance for leisurely reading or engaging conversations among hobbit scholars. As long as they can avoid the occasional tiny spitting embers.

A large ancient oak table stands proudly in the centre, straining with scattered open books, piles of battered tomes and ink stained quills. It is here that hobbits gather for lively discussions, sharing their insights and discoveries over cups of steaming, sweet black tea. The walls are littered with intricate maps and sketches, capturing the essence of Middle-earth and inspiring the imaginations of those who enter.

Greenleaf is more than just a repository of books. It is a sanctuary; a place where hobbits embark on intellectual journeys, broadening horizons while deepening their love for stories and learning. It is a testament to the rich tapestry of hobbit culture and their appreciation for the written word. All are welcome here.

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #hobbit fanfiction #cosy mood #cosy vibes #cosy library #cozycore #cozy vibes #cozy aesthetic #hobbit culture #hobbit posting #middle earth #hobbit hole #hobbit imagine #bilbo baggins #hobbit

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wootique-furniture · 4 months

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Buy Custom Wooden Centre Table from Wootique

Designing bespoke wooden centre tables entails a meticulous process, harmonizing functionality with artistic flair. These versatile pieces serve as both practical surfaces and captivating focal points in various settings, including living rooms, lounges, or even offices.

#custom wooden centre table #wooden centre table #centre table #table #wooden furniture #wood furniture #wootique furnitures #furniture design #wootique

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pigeonwhumps · 1 year

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Signing up

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3

Eloise signs up to be a pet.

2.5k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non-sexual), collar, minor whump (Eloise is about 14/15)

Eloise swallows as she looks at the white brick with its shiny brass plaque gleaming in the morning sunlight. It's a beautiful day. She wishes she could stay out here forever.

Her stomach growls loudly, as if to remind her why that isn't an option. She has, quite literally, nothing.

She walks up to the door and presses the bell, heart in her throat. Her dress is the best she has, the only one she has, but it's frayed and faded, more patch than fabric. It might not be enough to gain her entry into society, even as a plaything. If they don't accept her... well, then she really does have nowhere to go.

The door opens to reveal a stern-looking man in a suit.

"Yes?"

"This the WRU offices?" she asks, hoping she hasn't got lost.

"Yes."

"Great. I'm 'ere to apply to be a pet."

The man looks her over with new interest. "Right this way, miss."

He leads her through a waiting area to a wooden door, knocks, and opens it. She waits until he gestures for her to enter before heading inside.

The office is very luxurious, with a large desk in the centre, covered with neatly-organised papers and a few decorative glass and copper paperweights. A globe stands on a side-table. There's nowhere for her to sit, so she stands somewhat to attention in front of the imposing man examining her from behind the desk. The door shuts with a snick, and she swallows. No backing out now.

"So. You're here to become a pet."

"Yes, sir."

He smiles slightly at that. "Good start. What's your name?"

"Eloise, sir. I dunno me last name."

"That's no problem. So tell me, why do you want to be a pet? No nonsense about this being your first choice of job or anything, I want to hear the truth."

Well, that makes it easier. She's never been as good with words as she'd like, but she can tell the truth.

"I got nowhere to go, sir. This is me last option. I 'eard I can get food every day 'ere, an' a roof over me 'ead. It's a secure job, sir, that's what the bloke at 'yde Park Corner said, an' it's for life. I need summat, sir, I ain't got nuffin else if I don't get this."

The man nods. "Sounds like you're just the type of girl we're looking for. My name is Mr Bridgers, but you can carry on addressing me as sir if you like. That's what you'll address me by if you're employed by us, anyway. Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?"

"Tea, please, sir."

"Very well." He rings a small bell and after a moment a pet enters. She's plainly dressed in a blouse and knee-length skirt, no shoes, a thick leather collar around her neck. The tattoos denoting her status are plainly visible on her forearm. She bows to Mr Bridgers, barely sparing a glance for Eloise, and sets a tray on the desk.

"Thank you, Jane. Would you like milk or sugar, Eloise?"

"No thank you, sir."

Mr Bridgers fills a teacup, then hands it to Eloise, placing a saucer at the edge of the desk. He pours some for himself before settling back into his chair and waving Jane out.

"Go on, drink. Now, I'm going to explain a bit more about what being a pet will entail. You can walk out of here at any time until the collar's around your neck, at which point you're ours for life. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. The first step of the process will be to tattoo you with our logo and your number, which you will be referred by until your new owner gives you a name. You'll also be injected with a drug designed to induce amnesia. It might not work completely, it's still experimental long-term, but we find it makes pets more compliant and easy to work with. Before all this, though, you'll receive a collar and be measured for a uniform. Your own clothes will be taken off you. The collar won't be removed by us unless it's absolutely necessary, and training can take several months so you should get used to it. In my experience most owners don't remove their pet's collar either. You won't really want them to, because that means there's a reason for it. You've seen the uniform on Jane, it's a skirt and blouse, and a neat enough hairstyle, typically one meant for young girls. People like their pets looking innocent. Do you understand? There's no flexibility here."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, you'll be training in the flat upstairs from here. Pets are housed in cages at night, ten to a room. You'll eat once a day, enough to fill you up, and your behaviour will be subject to strict rules, with punishments for breaking them. Tomorrow, you will undergo a series of tests to determine what you can offer to a potential buyer, and then you will be on the market."

"I can't read or write at all, sir," interjects Eloise worriedly. Is she about to lose this?

Mr Bridgers chuckles good-naturedly. "Not those sort of tests, girl. We're looking for obedience, affection, household skills, that kind of thing."

Eloise flushes. "Yes, sir."

"Now, once you're on the market, we'll recommend you to potential buyers. They might want to view you before making a decision, that's perfectly normal, but that will only happen if our trainers deem you obedient enough. You seem to me to be a good girl, so although every pet goes through the basics I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. And then once you're bought, you'll be trained to your new owner's specifications. Any questions?"

Eloise nods. "What're the rules an' punishments like, sir? Jus' so I know what to expect."

"Nothing strenuous on the rules front. Don't speak without being spoken to, obey unquestioningly, address all staff by sir or ma'am, etc. Punishments usually involve stress positions or a light caning on the soles of your feet. Sometimes they're more severe if what you've done is a danger to yourself or others. Anything else?"

"What 'appens if me owner dies, sir?"

"Typically, you'll either be passed down in their will or resold. I can't tell you for certain though, it's down to your owner."

Eloise nods. It makes sense, she supposes. She'll be property after this.

"I don't 'ave any more questions, sir."

Mr Bridgers sits back upright and opens the largest notebook, dipping his quill into a pot of ink. He writes something down. "Right. I just have a couple of questions for you then, if you still want to become a pet."

"Yes, sir."

"Firstly, how do you feel about doing anything sexual? We'll take your preferences into account when deciding on owners."

Eloise shudders. "I'd rather not, sir, if it's all the same to you."

"Very well. Do you have any allergies?"

"No, sir."

"Is there a chance you could be pregnant?"

"No, sir."

"Do you have anyone you need to notify about your decision, any belongings to pass on?"

Eloise blinks rapidly, refusing to acknowledge the memories of her long-dead family rushing up. "No, sir."

"Final question. How old are you?"

"I ain't sure, sir."

Mr Bridgers sighs. "You have to be eighteen to be a pet, Eloise. So I'll ask again. How old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir." Eloise has to lie, she has to, even if she doesn't like lying.

"Okay then. If you're willing to sign up as a pet for life, kneel in front of my desk so I can put your collar on."

Eloise swallows hard. This is it. Her last action as a free woman. She has reservations about this, but she has to do it. She has no other options. Carefully, heart pounding hard enough that she's sure it'll explode out of her chest, she gathers up her skirt hem in her hands and kneels on the hard wood floor, head bowed. She hears Mr Bridgers round the desk, sees his polished black boots come into view as he approaches.

He crouches down in front of her, cups her hair in one hand in a strange imitation of tenderness. "From the moment I put this on you, you will be known as 95, and I will expect unquestioning obedience."

Eloise feels sick. She can't bring herself to look at the strip of leather that's sure to be in the man's hands. He drags his hand down her cheek and tilts her chin up, wrapping a thick band of leather around her neck and buckling it at the back.

Eloise gags as it's fastened. Oh, God, what's she doing here, she can barely breathe, this was foolish. The collar's choking her. She tries to claw at it, get more air in, but someone catches her hands.

Mr Bridgers catches her hands.

"Hey, hey, calm, 95. Breathe. I haven't seen anyone react so strongly in a while. You can handle this."

Eloise forces herself to take breaths, one after the other, just to prove that she still can.

"Sorry, sir," she whispers.

"It's fine. We won't move to the full tightness just yet. I'll give you a chance to get used to your collar first."

Tighter? It's going to be tighter? She whimpers. It's so restrictive already, so heavy against her collarbone. And he's going to make it tighter?

"95!" Mr Bridgers shouts, and she freezes. "I've given you leniency, now pull yourself together before you earn yourself a punishment. Right now."

Eloise breathes and forces herself to look up. Mr Bridgers nods approvingly.

"Good girl. As you know, your number is now 95, that will be all you'll be addressed by here and I don't want to hear you call yourself anything else either. Address the staff and any other people you may encounter as sir or ma'am unless otherwise indicated, and don't speak unless you're told to. I don't want a sound out of you without permission. No making eye contact with people either. You are no longer a person, you are a pet, with the same status as animals, and you will be treated accordingly. You will treat people as they deserve to be treated, beings far above you. Your life is no longer your own. I expect and will have unquestioning obedience, to me and to the rest of this organisation. Is that clear?"

Eloise bows her head, looking away from Mr Bridgers. His harsh tone makes her shiver, so different to how he spoke to her earlier. It feels like a lashing.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now let me take a look at you." She stays completely still as he lifts her chin again, tilting her head from side to side, then circling her. "You're very cute. I reckon you'll be sold as a lapdog. Performing pets are popular too, if you can pick up skills. Now strip and head through that door to the adjoining room. Once you're there, kneel in the appointed spot. Someone will be there to take your measurements and prepare you shortly. Think of this as a test of your ability to kneel. You should always kneel when you're staying in one place with your owner, you'll receive further training on that later. Go."

Eloise takes off her old dress as quickly as possible and heads into the adjoining room, leaving her dress where it is – she didn't get any instructions on that, after all.

The room is warm, whitewashed brick with a large window that lets in the sunlight, and she proceeds to a large square on the floorboards marked out with white paint. There's a ring embedded at roughly head-height in the wall and she kneels down beside it nervously, trying not to think about what it might be for. They're tattooing her today, and she needs to prepare herself for the pain. She stares out of the window at the tiled rooftops, ignoring the rest of the room, trying not to think about anything else.

It doesn't work.

She's not free anymore. She's owned, a pet, the lowest rung of society. Even lower than she was previously. She doesn't have control over anything in her life. Not even her own body.

Her life as a free person is over. She needs to forget about that. This is her new life now, everything that matters.

Grief wells up unexpectedly, large and lumpy and wet, sitting heavily in her throat. She didn't think she'd feel anything about leaving her old life, it's not like there was much to it, but now she finds herself missing the dirty streets and leaf-strewn gutters, even the children that used to bully her and the adults that used to shout. But at least she could make the decision to leave or fight them.

At least she has a chance at a meal here. It's been a while since she last had one. Even if the trade-off is the choking sensation around her neck, and the loss of free will forever.

The door opens and Eloise keeps her head lowered as footsteps enter.

"Right. 95, is it? On your feet." Eloise obeys and a woman stops in front of her, attaching a chain leash to a loop on her collar and then to the ring on the wall. "I'm here to measure you, clean you up, and sort out your injection and tattoos. Once you're prepared someone will take you to the kennels, where you'll stay until your tests begin. I won't tolerate any hesitation or sound, if you think the pain is going to make you cry out tell me now and I'll fetch you a gag. Do you think you'll need one? It's a one-time only offer, and you won't be given it after today either. If you say no and then make a sound, you'll be punished."

Eloise doesn't have a choice. She's always been squeamish, and the size of those tattoos...

"Yes, ma'am."

"Right." The woman's footsteps cross the room and then she's back, folding a strip of cloth between Eloise's teeth and tying it behind her head. "I'll remove it to clean your face and hair, but you can wear it until then. I'm going to measure you now. Stay perfectly still."

Eloise obeys, terrified by the woman's clipped, almost angry tone, like she's annoyed at Eloise just for existing. Mr Bridgers was almost the same.

Will her new owner be like this? Will they be kind, or will they be harsh and sharp and horrible? Some people have animal pets they treat well, after all, but control over people... She swallows. Those who crave control over others tend to not be so nice.

She's starting to regret it. She forces the feeling down though, forces down the utter terror at what she imagines she might go through. She can't afford to feel that. If she didn't really have a choice earlier she certainly doesn't have one now.

Or ever again.

#whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #lady whump #whumpee and whumper #pet whump #historical whump #dehumanisation #collar #minor whump #pets of the silver screen #eloise stanbury

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mikem-dawnm-japan · 4 months

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Saturday 18th May - Day 12

This morning we visited three UNESCO World Heritage Sites, all of which were temples. Having visited a number of countries with very many temples I expected today to become ‘templed out’! However, happily each temple was very different to the others the main downside of today was that it was Saturday and so many local families were also visiting the sites, everywhere was very busy. The month of May is also extremely popular for school trips and we are certainly finding this to be so!

Kinkaku-Ji Temple was our first stop, this site is also known as the Golden Pavilion, this richly decorated temple is beautiful. This site is a zen-Buddhist temple close to Kyoto, it was originally designated as a holiday villa for the shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitzu in 1397. The temple has three levels, the first is the noble peoples style, it is open in style, the second is in the samurai style and the top is in the Buddhist style. The second and third stories are covered in 200,000 gold leaves. The gardens are very beautiful, in the centre and surrounding the temple is the Kyoko-chi pond also called the mirror pond.

Our second visit was to the rock garden of the Ryoanji Temple. Originally the temple was an aristocrats villa which was converted into a Zen temple in 1450. The rock garden is a piece of cultural heritage, the deceptively simple garden consists of 15 rocks spread out on white sand. The rocks are supposed to be arranged so that at no point can you see all 15 rocks at the same time, however it is possible to view them all in one go, if you look carefully!

The final site was the Kiyomizu-Dera Temple. Founded in AD778, the most famous feature of the temple is its wooden veranda, standing 13 metres above the ground. From the veranda there is a good view of the many maple and cherry trees which look stunning in their autumn colours. It is also known as the Pure Water Temple and was founded on the site of the Otowa Waterfall in the wooded hills in the east of Kyoto. Due to the 15 minute uphill walk in the heat we decided not to visit this site but instead to remain around the shops and restaurants. We took the time to enjoy some local food, stick tempura in the following flavours; pumpkin & sweet potato, cuttlefish & cheese … they were interesting! We followed these with a delicious chocolate ice cream .. they do ice cream very well here and then a beer to wash it down.

Back on the bus and we headed for a traditional tea ceremony, something that most of us were looking forward to although with some apprehension about having the matcha tea. The tea house was enormous and was the most beautiful wooden building with very pretty, traditional gardens. Inside the tea house was a large shrine and low tables and chairs were set out for us all along with the tea making equipment, we had, of course removed our shoes before entering the building. We were introduced to our host and another lady who would be the guest for the ceremony, they guided us through the ceremony, which can take up to 3 or 4 hours, there is a strict procedure to be carried out and it takes a number of years to learn how to conduct these ceremonies correctly. Once we had observed and tasted their tea it was time to make our own, which we all did and tried to follow the procedure. Some people enjoyed the taste but I think that the majority found it too bitter for their tastes. However, it was an interesting experience to learn about. We drove on to Gion, the geisha district of Kyoto and walked the streets to see the traditional houses. The temperature today was 29 degrees, so a long and busy day, along with the heat wiped us all out but there would be no time to rest!

Back to the hotel for a very quick turnaround before 10 of us headed out for an optional excursion of a Japanese BBQ. Well, what an evening! 90 minutes in which we could cook, eat and drink as much as we could. We sat on cushions on the floor but there were pits below the table to put your legs into, so more comfortable than just sitting on the floor. Two braziers were already heating up and the table was laden with platters of different cuts of meat and vegetables, there were sauces and cooking utensils so we set to work cooking our supper. Kas was able to order drinks and more food on the app so she was kept busy ordering extras including octopus and scallops, salads more meat, more drinks whilst the rest of us cooked for the whole group. It was a very sociable evening, helped along by a copious supply of plum wine, beer and red wine. Once our time was up we headed for the hotel and some went to the bar for a nightcap.

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wingsthatshimmer · 1 year

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The Night After the Battle

Summary:

Takes place right after the battle in Finale. This is Nora's first time sleeping with Patch. I wanted to make it romantic, playful, and light. Let me know what you think!

It was about 4:00pm when we finally reached a secluded double story house near Delphic. I dwelt on the evergrowing to-do list in my mind with gathering dread. Of course, I had a lot to answer for. Patch had made a stop at my school to prevent them from recording my absence and notifying my mother. I was against the idea of using mind control powers for personal gain, but I reasoned that there wasn’t much else I could do in this instance. Besides, how many more times would I have to take a day off school to lead an army of Nephilim into a holy war? Hopefully, just once.

I tried to draw my attention back to the problem at hand. Ok. No pressure, you’re just spending the night with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who can now feel your touch. Every time the thought of spending the night with Patch crossed my mind my whole body became warm with excitement.

Patch opened the car door for me. “Welcome home, Angel”.

He laughed when he saw my expression. I was staring, wide eyed, jaw dropped, at the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. Initially, I hadn’t noticed how magnificent it was due to the fence that circled the property. The house was surrounded by a lush garden that beamed with colourful flowers, hanging vines and a small water fountain at its centre. The house itself, although modern, was clearly cottage inspired with large windows and a cream-coloured exterior. The jewel of the house was its wide balcony. The iron railings were meticulously crafted with a lace design. Red flowers hung over the railing and contrasted beautifully against the crème paint. I was in awe.

Patch held my hand and walked me towards the house. Without his guidance, I would’ve remained glued in place by shock.

“Tell me this isn’t yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s ours. I’ve kept it hidden and ready in the hopes that one day, after the war, we could have a place to call home.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. You wouldn’t happen to have a whole property portfolio dedicated to magical looking real estate, would you?”

He laughed as we reached the door, “Not yet. But if that’s a requirement for you, I’m sure I can work something out.”

We entered the house and somehow, the interior was even more impressive. The rooms were enormous yet there was a cosy quality about them. Rows upon rows of bookshelves adorned the walls of the room to my left while the room to my right appeared to be a dining area. Patch and I were standing in the hallway which looked as though it ended at a wooden staircase near the back of the house. The afternoon light beamed through the windows and lit up the whole house. For me, this home was a paradise of peace.

I turned to Patch, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

He drew me into his arms and kissed me, “Just wait ‘till you see the shower.” He stopped and smirked, “You know, soap, shampoo, hot water…”

I laughed at the shared memory, “Naked. I know the drill.”

***

I now stood in the empty hall; before me was the bedroom door, and I stopped, slightly intimidated by the prospect of what might happen and feverishly trembling from the cold. I glanced down to study myself. I was fresh out of the shower and the towel I was wearing did an absurdly poor job of covering my body. It wasn’t exactly my idea of sexy, but it wasn’t as though I had another option. Well. This is as good as it’s going to get. I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back and opened the door. The room was dark: a large candle burnt on the table: Patch stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless.

He turned to face me when I walked in. For a moment he looked at me with what I guessed was astonishment. His lips parted as he looked over me and I felt my cheeks flush. For the first time, he looked truly undone.

“Do you feel as if you should sleep, Angel?” asked Patch rather softly.

My blood ran warm. I looked down, aware of how ridiculous I must’ve looked to him.

“No, not really.” I said under my breath. Still looking away from him, a singular notion dawned upon me: I had no idea what to do. I had often thought about how my first time would play out and it excited me. Now, however, the excitement was drowned out by fear; I was firmly in the grips of ignorance and discomfort.

I let my eyes roam over his body. He was lithe, almost wiry yet muscular. He was perfect. I flushed when I met his gaze and realised that he was staring at me.

I looked away, “Sorry,” I stammered. “I’m not really sure what to say. Or what to do.” I tugged nervously on the hem of my towel.

“Let me help you…” he began coyly. “You could always start by listing all the things you find sexy about me.”

As he laughed, my breath left my chest in a grateful rush at the sound. “Is this a test? Or does your ego just need stroking?” I replied.

He took a step closer, and then I was gliding into the circle of his arms. His embrace was like a sanctuary. It was Patch, I trusted him.

“You’re trembling, Angel” Patch stepped back and looked at me with concern. Seeing him like this, uncertain and worried – it nearly made my heart shatter into pieces.

“No thanks to your horrible taste in towels.” I replied only half-jokingly.

He laughed and drew me back safely into his arms, “My apologies. From now on, you can be in charge of all matters towel related.”

As soon as he held me close, the fear melted away – for both of us. His hands travelled up and down soothingly over my back. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, “Fine. But my towel expertise is highly coveted and valuable. I’ll have to bill you for my services.”

I could feel him laugh at that. “I am perfectly happy to oblige. Please advise me on what form of payment you prefer most.”

I looked up at him to respond but my attention strayed to his lips and stayed there. I was barely able to get my reply out, “A kiss would do for now”.

Patch tensed against me. Desire flashed across his face. He placed a light kiss on my forehead and grinned wildly. There, I’ve paid my due.

I returned his smile; you’re going to have to do better than that.

His grin widened.

Instead of replying, Patch lifted me into his arms and walked me to the bed before laying me down gently. As soon as my body hit the mattress, I let out a sigh of bliss and sunk into the comfort of the silk sheets. “You might be lousy at towels but your taste in bed sheets has always been immaculate.”

Patch chuckled as he sat down beside me and pulled me into his lap, “I remember how happy you were the first time you slept over at my place. You loved the sheets. I wanted to make sure you were just as comfortable here.”

“Mission accomplished. I’m never leaving.” I suddenly became aware that I was in my boyfriend’s bed wearing nothing but a towel. My insecurities flared up again. I sought out his shoulder and rested my head against it for a sense of comfort. As though he could tell how I was feeling, Patch drew my body closer to his and wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace. He held me; more tenderly than I had ever been held. As before, the nerves dissolved.

Hooking one finger under my chin, he lifted my mouth towards his lips and whispered under his breath, “I love you, Nora”. Before I had the chance to respond, his mouth was on mine. I immediately sunk into him, taking in his familiar scent of fresh mint. His lips were soft, and the kiss was slow and gentle. It was the kind of kiss that was filled with adoration. His gentle kisses told me I was loved, they told me I was safe.

Slowly, I let go of the towel. Patch stopped me and whispered under his breath, “Angel, are you sure this is what you want?”

I nodded, “I trust you.” And even though I meant it, my voice came out slightly shaky.

A look of worry flashed across his face, “We’ll take it slow. If you feel even the slightest bit unsure, we’ll stop.” And then he let my towel fall off my body. I felt my temperature soar as his eyes raked me. His gaze shifted over my body and back to my face. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the concern he had for me.

“I’m ok.” I said firmly, taking his hands into mine. “Kiss me.”

He pulled me underneath him and sheltered my body with his own. I wrapped my legs around his hips. When I tightened my grip, I felt his body get hot and his breath ragged. Slowly, he started placing kisses all over my body as I gasped, moaned, and twisted under him. He kissed my lips, down my throat, over my breasts and my stomach; they were tender kisses that told me I was loved; passionate kisses that told me I was desired; soft kisses that told me I was cherished. Both of us pressed as hard as we could to get closer.

Every time he removed an article of clothing from his body, he would stop and ask if it was ok. When there was nothing separating us except skin, he leaned over me slowly and when our bodies finally made contact, I felt him suck in his breath. As if it was too much for him, he leaned back. His hands slid over my hips and landed on the inside of my thighs. I shuddered at the contact. He looked up at me as I stretched my body out. His eyes darkened at the sight. They were filled with hunger – hot and devouring - as he stared at me. I let myself fully take in the sight of his body for the first time. Although I had seen him shirtless many times, I was still in awe of his body: the build of his shoulders, the curve of his biceps, the muscles that lined his abdomen…and, when I shifted my gaze lower, there was something else; an unfamiliar sight. Without meaning to, I started to giggle. I quickly stopped; my own reaction startled me.

Patch laughed at this, “If you’re trying to humble me, it’s working.”

“No! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You look great.” I said trying and failing to bury a chuckle.

“You don’t sound too convincing, Angel. Maybe I’ll stop.” His feigned sadness made me laugh harder. I placed my arms around his shoulders and pulled him hard against me. As our bodies scraped together, I could feel his pulse jump. He laughed, a low, dark rasp before pressing another kiss to my lips.

Every time he pressed his lips against mine, I felt explosions going off inside my body. His soft kisses gradually became the hard, hot, driving kind. We were glued together, a heady mix of damp skin and body heat. I felt inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protection and security, each time he would stop and look up at me with the question of is this ok?

“Are you ready?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yes but - ” I said, and broke off. “Do you want me to stay still? Or, I don’t know, change my position?” My voice came out shy and unsteady.

I could see a smile curling his lips, “That is the very last thing I’d have you do. I want to see you. Is that ok?”

I nodded my reply.

He aligned his body with mine before whispering, “I’ll be gentle.”

I flinched as the pain flooded through me.

He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, “should I stop?”

“No,” I gasped. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

A look of worry flashed across his face as he paused.

“You’re tense, Angel.” He whispered, concerned. “We’ll stop until your body adjusts and relaxes.”

“Great idea.” I gasped.

I looked up to find him staring at me with awe, “I just want to look at you forever.” He mused.

I laughed underneath him.

“Am I not allowed to admire you?” Patch replied with a light chuckle. He was tracing his fingers through my hair.

“Fine. I’ll allow it for now. Just while we’re waiting for my body to adjust and relax.” I said, making fun of him.

“I’ll admit, out of all the ways I thought you’d react to our first time together, making jokes was at the bottom of my list of predictions.”

“Me too. But as it turns out, there’s plenty of material to poke fun at.”

“Angel, please leave the poking to me.” He smiled coyly.

“Only if you leave the jokes to me.” I replied. We were both laughing by this point.

We stayed like that, laughing and kissing for a while until I felt comfortable to continue. Each time the pain became too much, we would stop to rest. Patch continued to plant soft kisses all over my body while making me moan, laugh and writhe beneath him. His hands were quick and skilled on my body, light touches that made me want more and more while I pressed him to go on. I wrapped myself around his body and didn’t let him go.

When it was over, we lay side by side in each other’s arms. Moonlight streamed into the room and subtly illuminated Patch’s face, at peace and staring back at me with adoration.

“I love you,” he said, his hands in my hair. “I love you.”

I buried my face in his neck and whispered, “I love you too.”

I fell asleep in his arms.

#hush hush series #hush hush #hush hush saga #patch cipriano #jev cipriano #nora x patch #nora grey #patch and nora fanfic #becca fitzpatrick #fallen angel #fallen angels

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