#blunt to the dome

[canadianwiffleball]

shoutout post because i'm proud of my favorite twinkhon boymoder for being such a chillpilled coolcel @superduperdrakeandjosh

[arieswritez]

yandere mark nsfw alphabet😳😳 loved the idea

cw; DARK CONTENT! MDNI!!! rape, breeding/baby trapping, dacryphilia, asphyxiation, abusive 'relationships', edging, predator/prey dynamics, nipple play, kidnapping, food tampering, mentions of suicidal ideation, threats of violence, implied death, manipulation, victim blaming, branding, mentions of incapacitation.

about; nsfw alphabet ft. cray cray mark x gn! reader xx a/n; a couple of u asked for this so here it is :D not edited & straight off the dome so excuse any grammatical errors. will edit if necessary xx

A= Aftercare

'aftercare' with yandere mark is patronizing and condescending. a lot of shushing, wiping your tears, and asking why you're so upset. you asked for this with all your fucking cock teasing. it couldn't have been that bad, i mean, he did make you cum! why can't you just let good things happen to you? ;(

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

mark loves your eyes <3 it's the first thing he's noticed from you. how they seemed to gleam and widen while you gave him your undivided attention. he can't count the amounts of times he had to excuse himself and jack off in the bathroom: imagining how your eyes would water with his cock stuck down your throat. or the way your eyebrows would furrow while he jack hammered into you.

C= Cum

yan mark definitely likes marking you with his cum. he likes to see it dripping off your face, along your belly, your thighs, but most importantly, he loves it when he watches it drip out of you. whether you can get pregnant or not - and good luck if you can - there's just something primal about cumming inside of you. marking you in and out.

D= Dirty secret

he's a masochist just as much as he's a sadist. his little obsession with you caused him to get a tattoo of your name <3 right at his adonis belt 🥺 so everytime he's in too deep,, your hands desperately try to hold his hips back,, and your blunt nails dig into the curved lines of your name. it never fails to make his eyes roll into the back of his head 🫶🏽🤭

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

canon typical mark is (was) a blushy lil virgin but yan!mark has a tad bit more experience. he's attractive, he's funny, he knows how to play into the slightly awkward charm that got you to lower your defenses. so it's safe to say it isn't hard to find random hookups every now and then.

it's not all about his experience. he just knows what you like.

you may not know it, but he's. . done his research. and by that i mean, he's logged into your computer or your phone and looked through your browser history. he knows what kind of porn you like. and some of those things are borderline freaky. here you are, acting all innocent, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. or high and mighty like no one would ever dare snuff out your flame.

who would've known you were such a desperate slut?

but that's okay! because he's willing to do anything to satisfy you. . or humiliate you by making you cum. he feels it takes you down a peg, when he pins you down and makes you cum even though you don't want to. even though your mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to hold your climax back while he plays with your clit/cock.

unbeknownst to you, he's watched you masturbate. knows the right amount of pressure & speed that gets your toes curling. he knows you so well & he can't wait to learn more about you 💕

F= Favorite position

mark loves watching you squirm beneath him. most importantly, he loves taking you down. he might even make you think you can get away. the chase, the constant cat and mouse you'd subject him to used to be torture. your teasing, the occasional sliver of skin as you stretched, the way you'd lay your head on his lap as the two of you watched television, the way you'd grin when he blushed. . and the wrestling. god, the play wrestling.

he used to let you win. but now. . now this is real. there's real consequences. so he makes you think you can kick him off while you flail. maybe even lets you get up and run. your elbows are all scuffed during the struggle and he's given you a busted lip, but he lets you think you've won.

god knows he'll catch up eventually.

the games he'd play made you cocky. you thought you were stronger than him instead of considering that it was just him playing nice. so he loves to watch the look of defeat, of deception, anger, and disappointment towards yourself when it's revealed he could've had his way with you all along.

he loves to be on top.

but sometimes,

sometimes,

he likes it when you're on top. some things never change. and lets just say he didn't always let you win play wrestling just because he was trying to be a gentleman. but because he liked the way your weight felt on top of him as you grinned triumphantly, pinning his wrists down.

now, of course, things have changed. he can't let you have all the control. pity. but he forces you to ride him: his hand wrapped around your throat. he could really hurt you if he so much as wanted to. . something he hisses into your ear whenever your pace so much as falters. he makes you work for it. and it takes longer to make him cum when you ride him. fear makes you clumsy, makes your legs shake more, and you're sore and achy and tired, which makes it all the more fun.

so i think his fave is when he forces you to be on top :)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

yan!mark teases you a lot. comments on how many times he's made you cum, pinches your nipples just to hear you squeal. he's only ever quiet and serious when he's in a bad mood.

H= Hair

mark's trimmed but not necessarily shaved.

you, on the other hand, have to be shaved. not because he finds it unattractive (if anything, it makes him feral. makes him feel like you're something meant to be conquered, something to be domesticated. controlled.)

hence his decision to have you shaved at all times. it's about control.

he forces you into the bath tub and watches as you shave, making sure you're all pretty for him. no, you don't get a say in the matter. you're his little doll. he'll do whatever he wants to you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

mark is rough. depending on the situation, he may start off slower, softer, easing into you while his words are pure venom. he's grinding into you, making you hiccup, because this type of 'love making' should be reserved for couples. not whatever the two of you have got going on. but of course, he speeds up. roughing you up the more into it he gets.

he's rough regardless of who the object of his affection is, but he's definitely rougher if you're on the masculine side. yan!mark doesn't like to be challenged. he doesn't like talk back. he doesn't like you running around thinking you're big and bad. so he has to knock you down a peg. force you to understand he's stronger than you.

he chokes you out, squeezing your throat until your vision spots. he likes to watch your face change colors. and when your mouth opens, desperately trying to suck in air, he spits onto your tongue 💗

likes it when you - confident, and tough, walking like nothing can ever hurt you - beg him to let you go. beg him not to kill you.

because, sometimes, you fear he just might.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he does! but when he gets you, there's really no need for that <3

when he hadn't kidnapped you, he'd masturbate all the time. it was the only way to relieve himself. like i rambled about before, he'd steal your underwear and cum into them, use them as tissues to wipe his abdomen clean.

secretly takes pictures of you - upskirts if you wear 'em,, or just candids. cums to your most mundane selfies.

if the two of you were close before he kidnapped you, debbie would send you all types of homemade treats. sweet or savory, whatever it was; you loved debbie's cooking. what you didn't know was that mark would add a little bit of his own . . twist to them. when you'd steal bites of his food, you always wondered why his tasted differently to yours.

and the way he'd stare at you as you ate, jesus.

you thought he just liked the way you'd wolf down whatever his mom cooked. turns out he just liked watching you eat his cum.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

BREEDING!!! whether you can get pregnant or not, he loves the idea of claiming you for a lifetime. of changing your life and forcing you to carry his child. watching you grow round and hormonal. he knows he'd have to keep you on a tight leash; lest you do something you'll regret in order to escape your fate. but it'll be worth it. because after nine months, you'll have another life to look after. you'll be on edge all the time, protecting a fragile, little life, because you can't trust mark to do it.

after all, if you're really bad, he can always get rid of it. start all over again. and you wouldn't want that, would you~?

dacryphilia.

there's nothing like watching you cry. when you'd confide in him about your troubles, when you'd cry on his shoulder, seek solace in his company for whatever reason, and cry. . it'd be really hard to hide his erection. the first time you let yourself cry in front of him was a day he'd never forget. he couldn't stop thinking about it since. wonders if you tear up when someone fucks you. (you do. you will)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

mark doesn't care where he takes you as long as he's got you. it can be in public or not, just as long as he takes you to the secondary location he'll keep you prisoner in. if it's in the au where nolan & him team up, there will be a compound with all the rebels. you'd be at the top floor in a comfy little penthouse. a gilded cage overlooking the remains of your burned city.

i think he'll first want to fuck you in a place where there'll be no interruptions. if it isn't in the au where him & nolan conquer earth, he knows how to play his role. doesn't want to risk being found raping you. he'll most likely fuck you in a place you hold dear to your heart. your bedroom, could be an example.

because wherever that safe space may be, you won't be able to stand being there without thinking about him.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

he likes it when you act so sure of yourself. when someone's a bit cocky and bossy. it's nice to break you.

it is a whole lot easier when someone's shyer, though. wallflowers always blend into the background.

no one misses them when they go missing.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

there's almost nothing mark won't do to you, sorry ;( even if he doesn't like it. . even if you both don't like it. . he'll always find a way to humiliate you if you've been bad. so it's advised you be on your best behavior if you really don't want him to do some fucked up shit to you. & believe him: it hurts him more than it hurts you!!

all he's ever wanted was to own you.

you were meant for him.

so why fight?

you both know you're not getting out of this alive

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

mark doesn't always give head unless it's to put you in your place. just to show you that he can make you cum and theres nothing you can do about it.

but he makes you choke on him all the time. he's impatient, forcing your head down and hiking his hips up to meet your face. if you've pissed him off, he'll pinch your nose and hold you down. loves to feel your nails dig into the bulk of his thigh. sometimes, you'll make him bleed. he doesn't care.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

mark doesn’t last very long BUT he’s got a very short refractory period and can go for countless rounds. by the time you cum once, he’s already cum like three times and he’s ready for more. by then, he’s already fucked dumb. so your next orgasms will be forced out of you, roughed up and overstimulated as his cum leaks out of you, his cum acting as lube and making the slide intoxicatingly easy.

Q= Quickie

basically non-existent. he loves giving you his undivided attention. and he never stops after one round ;(

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves trying new things with you. he's spent so much time fantasizing about you that he doesn't even know where to start the first time he gets his hands on you. he'll most likely force fuck you more than once in a day the first time he gets the chance to.

S= Stamina

(see pace <3)

T= Toys

loves using toys on you. if you’ve used them before him, he’ll force you to use them in front of him. it doesn’t take long before he takes control: grabbing them and fucking you with them. edging you. if you cum, then it’s only fair he cums, too, right? and you don’t really like that much ;( so best hold it in <3

U= Unfair (how do they tease? edge?)

mark loves to tease and edge you.

you say you hate him. you can't stand him touching you.

you bite and you snarl, kick and punch, yet when he has you pinned, edging you for hours on end. . you end up breaking. begging him to make you cum. of course, he coaches you through it. tells you he'll leave you alone once you cum, he promises. yet he drags it out for so long. hearing you ask to cum instead of asking him to stop is music to his ears.

except, mark is a liar. you shouldn't trust him.

he just ends up overstimulating you after you cum😒

V= Volume

lots of whispering and hissing, talks very quietly and carefully. you'd think he'd be loud. . but he's not. and despite the fact that he may say vile, disgusting things to you, he whispers them to you so nicely. . if he were saying anything else it'd be sweet. he's so patronizing ;( whimpers in your ear when he's close.

W= Wild card

really into pain.

since he's got his powers, it's not very often that he feels pain. sure, there are some fights with villains - while he's out playing the perfect hero in the mean time - that give him a few flashes of pain. but that's once a blue moon.

nothing compares to you.

you fight him like you're afraid he might kill you. and he might. but it's never his intention ;( he knows what kills and what doesn't (trust him) &, believe it or not, he doesn't want to lose you. but you fight him with such intensity he has to manhandle you more than he'd like.

your hits are surprisingly hard. you claw at him and punch and kick, and he's thought about breaking your legs more times than he can count - he still might if you catch him on a bad day - but then that'd leave you completely immobilized and that's really no fun. because he likes it when you make him bleed. he likes it when your hands slap against his face and when your nails try to claw his eyes out. he wears the bruises and the cuts you give him like badges of honor and he loves to bite his busted lip when he's close to cumming.

he loves it when you hurt him. and he loves it when he ends up winning, anyway.

X= X-ray (size)

5-6in & THICK. really pretty w/ plump balls. he cums SO much.

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

he's got a HIGH sex drive.

you've teased him for so long he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you. and there's nothing you can do to stop him. if the two of you weren't close - if the two of you weren't friends, etc. - there's nothing you can do to lay low. you'll catch his attention sooner or later and he'll weasel his way into your life before you even realize it. his intentions would appear pure at first. he'd be so caring, wondering if you're doing okay, and protective; who were you talking to? i don't think they're good for you~

and you listened. because it's mark you're talking about. but if you truly knew him, you'd realize his accusations were actually projections.

Z= Zzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

falls asleep fairly quickly after he's wrung himself dry. but that's only IF he's already taken you hostage. if he so happens to assault you while the two of you aren't where he'd like to keep you, he takes you there, first. coupled with his strange idea of aftercare, he is fairly affectionate. or as affectionate as you'd expect him to be, anyway. always with a hint of menace: he'd hold you tight against him, an arm around your waist and the other wrapped around your throat. making sure you don't so much as think about straying away from him 💗💗

[ddarker-dreams]

Worthy Motivator.

Blade x Reader.

Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Author notes are at the end of the story!

Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.

Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.

While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone. 

Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…” 

You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line. 

You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it. 

His eyes sear through your being. 

“You’re going to Illij.” 

You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking. 

With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.” 

Ah. 

A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind. 

“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.” 

You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.” 

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. 

“Permission, huh?” 

The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness. 

Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.” 

Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm. 

He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling. 

It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion. 

Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth. 

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?” 

It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit: 

“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”

Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!” 

Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.” 

His response is immediate. “I can’t.”

“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter. 

“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’” 

Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering. 

His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.” 

You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger? 

A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:

reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.

as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.

ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.

illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.

[fawnpires]

hi! if the requests are open could you please do sex pollen with Simon Riley? if you don't write smut, that's fine. thank you for your time and I wanted to say that ur blog is rlly pretty<3

LUST FOR LIFE — SIMON RILEY.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: sex pollen, car sex, porn with some plot, tit-fucking, size kink, manhandling, praise, unprotected sex, loads of dirty talk, missionary position, eye contact, cum play.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ notes: omg i've done a sex pollen fic with simon before and it was literally so fun to write for, i would def write for it again. (and tysm angel! you’re literally the sweetest, ty again for requesting. <3)

The assigned mission had gone in several directions — one being the fact that a majority of your team had split up directly after being ambushed by the enemy with smoke grenades filled up with this sour yet saccharine-smelling powdery substance which had not yet been identified by the general public. For seconds, you had somehow ended up slumped in the cramped backseat of a hijacked pickup truck on the outskirts of a well-camouflaged forest right alongside your brooding, composed lieutenant who had unfortunately been impacted with that same substance a great number of your other team members had been affected with too — including yourself.

And you don't know how, but somehow you ended up with your military uniform torn off of you and discarded onto the flattened floor of the truck with only the white lace of your panties encompassing around the curves of your anatomy — laying on your back against the plush of the backseat's leather while your head rested against one of the locked, closed truck doors. Your skin was clammy, head overcrowded with incoherent clouds of thoughts while that swirling aroma of that substance lingered within your nostrils and never seemed to vanish away despite being impacted so many hours ago. Those doe eyes of yours were angled upwards, taking in the rare sight of your lieutenant's naked and brawny statuesque frame towering right above your more vulnerable figure.

"You're drivin' me fuckin' crazy, doll. Keep those pretty eyes on me now." he pants out between heavy breaths spilling past his parted lips, his body now slanted over you which caused his shadow to envelop you in its entirety.

Those tactical jeans of his were left to be undone and forgotten at his ankles alongside the cloth of his boxers while the softness of your bare breasts engulfed the pulsating, girthy length of his kept cock as it thrusted between the flesh. His hands and arms of exposure, now bulging of some veins and hardened muscles, kept a firm yet gentle grip at your breasts — kneading them in calloused palms enhanced of faded scars, some new and some fresh; most hard to recognize beneath the provided lighting of the truck's dimmed dome light. Aroused sighs and moans of contentment were drawn from the deep backs of your throat, flowing out in undetermined intervals. Your thighs were pushed and rubbing together as it creating some sort of friction and a distraction from the substance's strangely arousing side effects while you were basically getting off on the sight of his cock fucking right amid the valley of your breasts.

Your eyes never wanted to leave his, something about them was so entrancing in the moment. Each thrust at the flesh left you in a puddle of a needy mess, the blunt head of his cock peaking out between the tops of your breasts while his thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy to reach his initial high. Suppressed grunts were pronounced from past the darkened black fabric of his balaclava, the corners of his eyes twitching as he threw his head back; large hands continuing to maintain a hold on your breasts, tweaking your nipples while he fucked them with a ferocity that left him panting like a dog in heat. Slick began to drool past your panties, running down your inner thighs in a line of fluid while your jaw hung open to discharge those sounds of ecstasy. The atmosphere of the truck smelled of sex, the panes of the windows beginning to fog up in a hazy mist.

"Gonna cover these pretty lil' tits all full of my cum, lovie. I can't believe I've never given this pretty body a chance. " he gets out while a loud groan comes from him, the more he desperately moved his hips through the sensual simulation your breasts provided him — the more his climax got onto the verge of spilling out of him.

"Lieutenant, please..." your voice had the slightest hint of a whine to it, almost pleading him in a more high-pitched tone of voice.

"You sound so good f'me right now, sweet girl. Just hold on a little longer for me, baby. Almost there."

With that, he gives one last and particularly vigorous thrust between the mounds of your softened breasts; his hands traveling down to either sides at your waist, fingers depressing upon the skin as his head slanted a little more further back in pleasure with satisfied groans no longer being held in. His seed jetted out in fervent pulses onto the smooth stretch of your chest, adorning the skin in a sheet of pure and sticky fluid. As his head slanted forwards again back in regular position, his pupils appeared to be more dilated — giving him the look of some sort of rabid animal, seeking out for a way to quench his hungering lust. (In this case, using your body would be that designated method for appeasing that hunger - thanks to the substance's effects on the man.)

In a craving manner, you find Ghost briskly pulling up the lower edge of that skull balaclava he almost always sports on the physical features of his face; head lowering towards the supple flesh while his tongue eagerly laps at the liquid, brushing over either one of your nipples periodically — drawing one of those needy and pent-up whines from you. A hand is felt dragging down between your thighs, parting them from each other as his index and middle finger formed circular motions at your pantie-clad cunt, your body slightly shuddering at the contact towards your wet and sensitive area.

"God, you look even better with my cum all over your tits," Ghost chuckles lowly against your breasts, suckling and licking at them with his exposed lips. "Didn't know you were this desperate to be touched like this by a superior."

"Can't take it, Ghost, please. I need you inside me already."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just a little bit more, I promise. Acting like a needy lil' thing, aren't you?" he responses in a breathless vocal tone, his accent more accented with each gravelly word spoken.

His fingers slip around the waistband of your panties, the wet article of clothing worn around your curves before it was yanked down your legs and left to be abandoned with the rest of your uniform. Ghost lets out a deep grunt at the sight of your naked figure, his lips granting both of your breasts subtle little kisses before straightening himself back up and imposing right over you. He was moderately leaned over you, his hands adjusting your legs to rest on top his shoulders before drifting down to settle at both sides of your waist. His now solid cock rests at your lower abdomen, kisses being pressed into your right calf while his body slowly grinds against the perspired surface of your exterior skin.

The precise, kept movement of his raw hips had your head rolling back against the door of the vehicle — right in a state of an almost overwhelming, yet such raw ecstasy — in addition to more sweat trickling and trickling down onto the leather beneath where you laid at. His mouth stayed attached to your calf, advancing and pressing those gentle kisses of his onto the clammy limb, (Despite his rough, cold-blooded presence out of the field; he was the most gentle towards you, almost in resemblance to a lover.) Your teeth bit into the flesh of your lower lip, gnawing feebly at it while your cunt throbbed excessively in unrhythmic patterns. His teasings were going straight to your aching head as the aftermath of the substance, now well-acknowledged to be running through the course of your veins, only seemed to worsen without relief.

Fortunately, he took notice of your practically pleading exterior on display just for him; causing him to lean back a few inches from your body before steadying himself over you, eyes never faltering from yours as his cock angled right at the entrance of your sopping cunt as he slowly inched himself inside the warmth of your walls accompanied with a squelch audible throughout the vehicle. His free hand was left to press up against the fogged pane of nearest window, a prominent cast of his palm being left there. His other hand held at your hip, beads of sweat outlining at his cloth-wrapped forehead while it trickled down past the visible eye area of his balaclava — combining with that black, smeared eye-paint gracing around those dulled brown eyes. A distinct grunt came from him at the sensation of your cunt engulfing him, and a whimper of a reached relief sourced from the initial contact of his hips pressed against yours.

"There you go. Such a good girl, taking me in so well." the lieutenant cooes from above you, his voice hoarse and slightly strained while his hips sustained a pleasant rhythm.

"Mmm— fuck, Ghost... feels so good." you moan out, eyes nearly closing to fully indulge in the sensation.

"And your pussy feels like damn heaven, Jesus." his words were spoken through a grunt, his hand at the window smudging at the fog. "Keep those eyes on me, want you to look me in the eye — know who's fucking you, making you feel this good."

The smallest smirk is held at one corner of his lips at your words of praise, his hand at your hip using the thumb to gently stroke at the skin while his thrusts increased in speed. Shamelessly, soft moans and various noises of pleasure were being pulled out of you now as his each pump of his hips into you was shaped into the interiors of your cunt. Your nails dug into leather below you, legs trembling out of bliss on-top of his sturdy and muscled shoulders tensing from the vast mass of euphoric feelings the both of you were undergoing. With each passing thrust within you, his motions quickened up through you, the head of his cock kissing right at your cervix repeatedly without stop.

Arousal was the only thing, the only emotion that your body could be running on at this exact moment — your inner thighs stained with your slick, leaving a small pool of fluid under you; evidence to how good he really made you feel when fucking right into you. Resonates of skin-against-skin and more noises of sexual matter filled up the once silent truck, the windows nearly curtained and blocked off with fog sourcing from the both of your bodies continually pressing up against each other. His hips angled in different kinds of ways, just to aim his cock right against the spots that would cause your back to arch off the seat and your hips to slightly raise in the air. More sweat began to form at your skin, glistening underneath the dim lights.

Your legs were more spread apart, nevertheless still perched on his shoulders as the positioned of your body arched off the seat raised body gave him a better approach to pound into you. His sweat mixed in with yours, cock drilling into your pussy at an pace that could be almost considered violent by the looks of it. He had his hand pushing down a little more into your hip, his build tilted over your own. Moans of his title — of his military title — were being moaned out from you in a head full of rapture where you saw stars in your vision, which fueled that arousal just about leading to his climax once he heard that angelic tone of yours speaking his name.

"You fuck me so good, sir." you whimpered in a fragile voice, that built-up tension in your stomach almost at its high.

Those words of yours were almost enough to drive him over the edge, but his composure was held onto just for a little longer.

"That's right, lovie. I'm the only man who can fuck you like this, nobody else, yeah?" he pants out, the violent pace of his beginning to stutter just at the slightest. His composure was slipping off now, without a doubt. "Can feel you squeezing me — shit, — let go for me, angel, come on."

With his words basically giving you the permission, your body stiffens while a series of whimpers and moans are mainly heard from a clear volume. Your cunt clenches around his cock while it remains still up against your cervix as he gives into a climax the same time as you do, his near-animalistic groans merging with your much softer moans. Ghost gives a single, last thrust before hot waves of pleasure spill from him as he fills your cunt to the brim with the warmth of his seed. Heavy breaths of almost exhaustion come from him for a few moments longer before he slowly pulls out of you, your weakened body vaguely at the feeling of it. His eyes sweep down from your eyes, to the rise and fall of your breasts, to the perspective of his seed spilling out from the puffy lips of your cunt and onto the splattered material of the seats.

By now, the influence of the substance has sufficiently gone down considering the quantities of alleviation that you and Ghost had managed to release off of each other. (In the most intimate, non-expected way possible — and during a full-on mission.) He cautiously lowers his hand at your hip to dip between your soaking thighs, the heel of his palm rubbing at your raw, delicate flesh dripping of both of your sticky releases. Your mind finally goes conscious for the first time since both you and him had temporarily hid out in this truck; a faint flush coming to rise at your cheeks once the realization hits you — you fucked a superior, your literal lieutenant.

It’s not like the either of you were to blame, you think.

He then leans down to you, palm still rubbing at your folds as you shakily sigh out, a kiss being pressed into your forehead. It was abnormally sweet, especially coming from someone like him. But you weren’t complaining, — as long as he wasn’t pissed about fucking a subordinate, such as yourself, or had any regrets about doing any of this with you; drug’s influence or not. You can’t help but allow your face to flush lightly at the kiss, a small blush blossoming around your cheeks. He then wholly lowers back the edge of his pushed-up balaclava, his full face now concealed like always.

“You regret any of this?” you asked quietly, not out shame or sadness, but a genuine curiosity to hear from his side. Your breaths were still coming out shaky from his rubbing palm.

It’s dead silence coming from him, before he then speaks up with a slight unpredicted chuckle.

“Regret this?” Ghost repeats back to you, his head cocked to the side as his eyes find yours once more. He looks at you as if you told some kind of joke to him — or just said something really stupid. “No way in hell would I regret doing something like this with a girl that has your looks, or your sweetness, sweetheart.”

“Good, but you better not be saying that because of the stuff we got hit with.” your said more teasingly.

“Nah. I only speak truth from my cold, dead heart, love.” his deep voice responds back to you, the corners of his black-smudged eyes crinkled in an indication of a grin.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

43 / 800 words / Nikto and honeypot reader (or a double agent a la red sparrow)

...

When Nikto comes home--appears in the kitchen doorway, duffel bag pitched over one shoulder and boots dripping mud--you’re not ready. You’re certain he can sense it with the way his eyes cut into you.

You straighten up and pull a grocery list nearby across the counter to cover your notebook without breaking eye contact. “You’re home early.”

“Short deployment.” His bag thuds to the floor. He walks to you with heavy footsteps. When he reaches you, he towers over you, cold eyes looking you up and down. Examining the state of his woman. “Perhaps you were hoping for a few more days away from me.”

You look up at him, plastering an overly saccharine, obviously fake smile on your face. "Perhaps I was."

Nikto chuckles. “A mouth like that will get you in trouble.” He grabs your face in one of his large hands as he looks you in the eye, forcing you to keep that fake smile trained on him. “You ought to close your mouth and keep that pretty smile on your face. It’s your best feature.” He's in a good mood, but that won't stop him from reminding you of your place.

Your fake smile turns sharp. "Anything for my darling husband."

He pulls you in by his grip on your jaw, bringing you close enough to smell the lingering gunpowder on his skin--the smell of blunt death that hangs on the edges of his clothes.

“Your attitude is making me want to do things to you that would be too rough for you to handle, doll,” he purrs, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks.

"It'll have to wait if you want dinner."

“I can think of several other things you can do to prove your usefulness besides making my dinner.”

"After," you reply. You need to hear the details of his assignment, but he's always more pliant when he's spent. And it's easier to get him spent when he's full. Makes him docile.

Nikto can't help the grin that stretches across his scarred face at your words. His cold eyes smolder and he releases your face, his hands moving to your hips. “You are learning to be a good little wife for me. I’m impressed.” He leans in to kiss you. His hand slips down to your thigh and caresses the flesh underneath your skirt. “And how do I know you're not planning to ply me with food and liquor so I fall asleep before I have my way with you again?"

"Mm." You loosen the first button on your neckline, then the next, gratified when his eyes snap down to watch. You make sure he can see the lingerie you're wearing under your perfect housewife’s dress. "You’re never so early that I’m not ready to welcome you home, darling."

Nikto's eyes burn as he watches you pop open another button, drinking in the sight of you. A low groan rises in his chest at the barest, most teasing glimpse of the lacy number underneath. His fingers flex around your thigh. “You expect me to wait until bedtime before having you?”

"Of course. What kind of wife would I be to serve you dessert before dinner?"

“Make me wait too long and you’ll be sorry,” he says. “I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. I expect you to spoil me rotten.”

"I intend to. Now, out of my kitchen." You smack his hand off you with your wooden spoon the way a teacher might smack a grabby student's hand with a ruler. "Out."

Nikto scoffs. He hates being teased and he hates being denied, but he likes your fire. And he can do as you ask if it means getting what he wants.

He grabs one of the cookies in the glass display dome on the counter and takes a bite. “Temper, doll,” he rumbles as he leaves the kitchen. “Don’t make me put you over my knee."

You watch him leave and return to your work, sliding the grocery list off your mission notebook along with the ingredients you need for dinner. You'll get the details you need for the dead drop tomorrow by giving your darling husband a full belly and as much sex as he needs to loosen his lips. As long as you pretend to be uninterested in his work and interested in his advances instead, you get what you need.

Still, you can't deny the way your heart beats faster in your chest when you remember the way he drank you in.

...

more kortac / masterlist

[esoteriamaya]

ASTROLOGY QUESTIONS

Hey! A quick engagement post for you all. I've been wanting to have wide discussions on these topics lately and wanted anyone who felt called to answer to express their feelings on any of the questions i have below! Please dont feel the need to hesitate, its all fun and just exploring each others minds lol.

Neptune 12th housers - Do you ever feel silenced in your voice? Like the words you speak, the dreams you carry, people dont bother to listen? They just feel like its noise and dont participate in exploring who you are as an individual. It just feels lonesome.

Venus in the 1st - Do people have high standards and expectations on you? Especially on what you should be like in their own minds view? Ever had to deal with petty arguments that came from out of the blue, just to find out its cause they were secretly envious or had a crush on you?

Mars/Pluto Conjunction - Feel rageful often? How do you use this energy to bring attention to your emotions? Do you have a special outlet for this rage you carry?

Lilith in the 1st - Tired of people looking at you strange? Do you ever feel that you're 'odd looking'? Have others made you feel gross in your own skin? How often do you go to lakes and forests to clear your head?

Moon in Cancer in the 4th - Do you feel alluded or subjected to family issues more often than you should? Does family ever come around and make you feel lonesome, tiresome, and exhausting? like i mean all that you do for them is lovely, they just find it overbearing?

Moon in Taurus - Ever feel like your wants and desires are but a dream? People close the door on you when you express yourself, and only ever do they listen when your mad, bored, or tired? They only feel wanted when your not yourself, is that right?

Scorpio Venus - Is your love life boring? Like.. i got ask this lol. or was it boring BEFORE? At some point did you ever just do something so taboo and adventurous , it almost cost you your life? your past life.

did you get up one day and just figured you make the most of it? so it doesn't matter how much you express your 'lovin' (wink ;) lmao) to others as long as you got it out...?

Mercury in Aries - Does your blunt mouth get you in trouble? Do you ever just go off the dome and speak your ideas, feelings, and desires out loud it makes others think your crazy? Do people ever feel like telling you to have more 'tact' or grace in your speech? How often do you tell someone to fuck off? serious question.

Last one!!

Sun in Gemini - How many masks do you honestly keep up with? Do you ever show your true self to people? And i dont mean just one version just the whole spectrum of being a complex human.

How many secrets have you gotten out of others just by sitting quiet and observing? The spoken and unspoken ones i mean. People dont believe me when i say this, but i always say geminis are just scorpios who are very talkative lol.

None of these were to be shady, btw. I just wanted to converse and have fun with the topics lol.

Let me know in your replies babes!!!!

[closetextrovert]

Rewatching episode 2 of Never Stop Blowing Up... everyone has such fantastic wild great moments here but I just keep thinking about Dang Lightfoot as the James Bond expy.

Neurodivergent slacker finding himself in the body and role of a suave secret agent, an anonymous blunt instrument of a government agency, and thriving in it because he's been given a role, a purpose, and it's something that both he and others KNOW he's able to achieve despite the high stakes and danger.

"I think it's the idea that, whoever that guy at the other end of the phone was, he didn't think you were a shithead. There was trust there... you were capable of doing it, and it felt fucking AWESOME."

Yeah I'm totally rooting for Dang, y'all. Can't wait to see more of Jacob gets up to in the dome this season.

[sherewrytes]

Lost cause

Sukuna x reader

Sukuna and Y/n has been distant for some time. Talks and time spent together become less and less.

genre. fluff to angst (idk), established but toxic relationship, 18+

tags/warnings. boyfriend! sukuna, profanity, smoking, alcohol/intoxication, talks of depression. minors dni.

notes: This is just straight off the dome, unedited. I just had a plot and rain with it. Hope it doesn't make you cry.

You were tired

It was 8:51pm, you hadn't heard from Sukuna in two weeks really. The last messages you got was him saying

Bro stop spamming my messages. We will talk soon I thank you for checking in but I'm not in the right headspace rn, I'll talk to you soon

Thank God you can see notifications on your screen so you won't have to open his messages. You left it unopened. This is how things were between you two right now. You'd barely speak then hang out once a month, talk a bit then he's MIA again. You knew Sukuna had shit hard. Family passed, taking on a lot of responsibilities that aint his own. You knew that somewhere deep down he cared, or maybe you wanted to believe he still cared.

The I love yous over the months were less and less, you went from babe and baby to just a simple bro. You felt iced out of his life. You kept your promise to be there for him but it's like he was failing on his.

You laid in bed contemplating calling him but knew he most likely won't pick up. You contemplate smoking a blunt or just drinking altogether to ease the pain you felt but you thought "what's the point." You wondered if to pray for some sign he still wanted this and much as you did.

Your mind played on a conversation you guys had last month where he told you he still wants this relationship and still wants you. He said, "I stay away when things are hard with me mentally cause I don't wanna bring that shit to you." You laid in bed replaying old voice notes to hear his voice. You closed your laptop and turned off your wifi on your phone just so you won't be tempted to call him.

You remember the moments you'd talk for hours on end. He would always show up when you needed him most but these days it felt like you were showing up for yourself more than he was. Some days you felt tempted to end things other days you felt the love come back.

You remember another conversation you had with him after an argument you had over something, and he said he's worried that you're losing feelings for him. You didn't confirm or deny it.

It's now 11pm

You already texted Sukuna for the night, and there was no answer. Your messages were unread. You saw a text message came in. It was Sukuna it was just a voice note saying

"Hey there, good night. Still not in a good space mentally but as you know when things get tough you gotta keep going"

You listened to it, missing the sound of voice so much, it almost moved you to tears. You felt like confused on whether you should keep trying with him and being patient or just end it. You simply responded

"Thanks for the motivational pep talk and you're happy to see he's a bit better."

After that, it was back to radio silence with Sukuna again. You felt like your world was falling apart. He was the one who chose you. He pursued you, so why was he acting like this. He kept saying he cared, but he's never around. The stuff you know about his personal life is tough and you get why things are a certain way.

You were tired of always feeling like you were putting in more than you were getting, wondering if you were just being played or used. Tired of conversations so you decided to just live your life and whatever happened between you and Sukuna happened.

He was tired

Sukuna was tired of always making you feel like you meant nothing. There was no one else for him but you. His feelings for you overwhelmed him. All he could think about was you. He needed a moment to clear his head and all it made want was you. He won't deny the time away from you helped him. He was scared to come back around. He knew you weren't one to tolerate shit. He wants to be better not only for himself but for you. He hoped this time away helped you as much as it helped him.

He saw your texts, your missed calls. He was avoiding it, fuck, he was avoiding you. Maybe he was avoiding the emotions you made him feel. He still remembers how your lips felt when you first kissed him. How soft your hands were in his. How the shade of baby blue on your nails when you first met warmed his heart.

He was scared to lose you. He felt like you were done with him. He wasn't done with you. He wants to be better. He hates pushing you away. He knows it's his trauma and his pain from his fucked up life.

He hates that it's ruining everything he wants. He wants you, only you. You're the only one he gets emotional with. You're the only one he talks to on a deep level. He knew from the moment he heard you in the background some months ago when he called Toji. Your voice alone, let him know you were his.

He wants to fix things but he feels like you're done. He sees the signs. He knows he should be doing more but right now, his life and his mind is overwhelmed. He still loves you but he isn't sure if you still love him.

Sukuna finds himself outside your apartment, dreading this moment. He decided to try to fix things. He runs his hand through his hair then knocks on your door.

Your door opens and it's Sukuna. You were shocked to see him there. It's 10pm. You sigh and said "Oh you suddenly remember me?"

Sukuna face paled just a little then he sighed. " y/n, can we talk...please."

You study his face expression, you want to hear him out but decided against it. You told him frankly "Sukuna it's late. I think you should just head home." Sukuna felt tears sting the back of his eyes. There was no love or anything he remembered in your eyes. He panicked " y/n please, I just wanna explain what's been going on with me."

You sigh and close the door in his face. Sukuna was shocked he never got that reaction from you ever.

Were you done with him for real Did he not matter to you anymore Did he spend to much time away Did someone get into your head

All these thoughts were racing through his mind. He fished out his pack of cigarette from his pocket and lit one up. He stood at your door for as long as it took him to smoke three cigarettes back-to-back before he realised he should just leave.

He headed down your complex's car park and hoped on his bike and headed home. He walked into the usual. Mom and Step dad on the their phones. His little sister on his laptop. His twin brother studying trying to use education as a way out of this hell hole they all lived in.

He sat alone in his room, thinking about how he fucked up, the one thing that was good for him. He found himself outside sitting on the wall in his family back yard scrolling through old messages between you two. He saw how his I love yous became less, how you'd express how him being hot and cold upset you. He saw everything. He saw you lashing out on him cause of your own issues as well. It made him feel sick.

He approached you first and he couldn't be consistent. He started hating his life. he mumbled to himself " If shit wasn't so fucked him in my life I'd have her. I'd give her everything she wants."

he remembered an issue you both had where a former friend/ fling of yours was trying to get with you. He remembered you showing him the messages and the emotion seething through him. He remembered the fear that he might lose you to someone else. How can a guy say he knows you better than him, knows what you like what you love. That's his role. He begged you for the guys handle to have a word him with him. The guy paid Sukuna no mind.

Sukuna realized he has no pictures of you and him together. NONE. all he can do is look at the pics you sent him randomly and feel sick. Why the hell was he doing this.

He found himself back in your messages sending a long voice note.

You were pissed off at Sukuna having the audacity to show up at your door. It's been almost a month of almost little to no contact. You decided to send him home and get back to your own devices. You were scrolling on Tik Tok when you saw a message from Sukuna. You clicked on it, planning to leave him on read and saw it was a voice note. 7 minutes.

You were curious so you pressed play. The first thing you noticed was the lick of his lighter and the usual inhale. His voice sounded a bit shaky y/n. You...You, there's shit I've done that I didn't mean to do. I wasn't aware I was doing this shit. I've just been treating you based off my past experiences and that's how I usually am with people. I tried to handle you different, well they way you would want me to..... for the most part. I dont have the type fo conversations we have....had with anyone. I dont sit down one on one and talk to people the way I do with you. You heard him flick his lighter again and inhale then exhale. then he continued People around see me different than how you see me. They see me as positive and serious. The way Im with you. I don't be like that with anyone. If you get what I mean. I won't lie y/n you're difficult to deal with, fuck even Im difficult to deal with. I know you're way more sensitive and I can't deal with you, the way I deal with others in my life. Dealing with you sometimes, it's complicated for me, highly so but it's also new and different. Im still trying to learn you in that way. I've never had anyone like you before y/n. I can only do so much from what I know and try to understand your old world and how things are from your perspective. Im being honest it is difficult for me. Sometimes I need to take a step back to try to understand and if I can't, you make me understand. You heard Sukuna sigh then he continued on again.

Me working on myself and bettering myself for you and like my future with you would be an amazing thing. I understand that you gotta work hard and grind to get that shit as well but everything I do is for a reason. I don't do shit to spite anyone or hurt anyone especially not intentionally. I may be rough at times but I got my reasons. Im only human. Im always....Im used to thinking people are attacking me and I always push people away. Idk why I do. I don't know if it's ptsd, I don't know if it's self harm. I don't know if there is something I don't like about myself that causes me to act this way and push people away. I don't know if it's just that I can't accept certain things about people and certain things about myself. I try to understand a lot more every day and that's one of the reasons why I wanted some time to myself.

I wanted time for you for yourself as well to think. I wanted time for me to think. You told me when we met, I met you at an awkward time and from there everything was like a rush. I just wanted to take a breather. I wanted to live in the moment of life. hopefully this mini break which was partially intentional. I wont say it was fully intentional only partially. I felt like I didn't have a choice. I mean in a way I did and I didn't because I know couldve gotten help but at the same time y/n I didn't wanna use the time I had to just drop everything and come online and be around when I wanted to just grind and try to get shit together. I just needed that space for myself to think and comprehend things and I hoped it worked for you as well. I didn't do any of this to like really..... I won't say it's all your fault. I wanted some time to recuperate my mind. you know, there is multiple reasons why. That's why I came overI wanted to have a talk with you. I'll you sometime...if you want that and we could discuss a lot of things. Im only human.. I dont know if anything I said made sense to you y/n....

The voice note ended. You didn't know how to respond to him

He then sent you a gif with the caption this be us fr

You just stared at your screen not knowing what to say. Sukuna's words confused you. You decided to at least sleep on it and think.

[lilyrizzy]

continuation of this silly little fic...have more silly maxiel hunger games au fic bc I recently read the new book and got obsessed again, oops. cw: everything you'd expect with a hunger games au, death, torture & forced prostitution mentions.

Alex stares down at his meal. Lumpy porridge sprinkled with what District Thirteen likes to call ‘nutritional powder,’ orange juice, and an apple that looks far too green to have been grown underground. In three weeks, he hasn’t seen sunshine, real or otherwise.

“You aren’t going to get anything else,” George reminds him, and in front of where he’s shovelling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his tray is already three-quarters empty. Gone is the good boy routine, vanished along with the Capitol cameras the moment Charles blew up the dome sky of the arena with a good shot and the reel of wire Seb spent all games carrying around.

Alex hasn’t seen either of them since that moment, Charles dead the moment the sky lit up, and Seb still in District Thirteen’s medical wing. There are rumours he’ll never walk again.

Max, who fought off the Capitol mutts in an attempt to keep the rest of them alive that night is their only other living ally. Right now he’s sat at the next table alone, his food tray also full. He’s drawing patterns in the sludge with his spoon, and mumbling to himself the way he used to, in the games. Talking to ghosts, or talking to his- To Daniel, maybe. By now, that probably means the same thing.

“Are you going to-“ George interrupts his thoughts, gesturing to Alex’s tray. He shoves it towards him, standing as he does.

“Go wild, Georgie,” he half mutters, meaning to walk back to his room, or to Toto’s to beg for something, anything to do to help him stop thinking.

Instead, he finds himself standing over Max, only with no real plan of what to say. Hello, I’m sorry your boyfriend is probably dead, but so is my girlfriend. Want to talk rebellion strategy? Yeah, right. Alex has a feeling that Max is as much an unwilling participant in this uprising as he is, or at the very least an accidental one.

You fucking promised me, you- You swore he’d be okay, that you’d protect him, you promised.

Alex had watched Max howl it all at Horner in the hovercraft as it took them thousands of miles away from the remains of the arena. Right before Max punched Horner in the face and ended up sedated for the remainder of the journey. The yellow-orange traces of the shiner Max gave him still give Alex a strange sense of satisfaction to see every time Horner calls him to the command room to ask him to star in more propaganda videos.

“Hi,” is all he says to Max now, shifting from foot to foot in front of him, as Max continues to mumble into his food.

“I’d need a gun for that, or at least a knife. Of course, these are too blunt, and-“

“Max,” Alex tries again, and that gets his head snapping up, as though woken from a trance. His eyes dart around before settling all the way on Alex.

“Oh,” he says like he’s assessing a threat and finding there to be none, “it’s you. What do you want, twelve?”

In the arena, Max had called him Alex. Maybe, like George’s gentlemen act, it had been something designed to please the cameras, or more likely, to forge allies. Allies they apparently needed to get this show on the road. Toto had explained this to him, that it was important to have as many districts as possible represented in the uprising victors. That way, their homes would have a reason to believe that they too can rebel.

“Nothing,” Alex says hastily, putting up his hands. “Nothing, I- I wondered if you wanted some company.”

Max glances from Alex to the side, where he can no doubt see George still filling his belly with Alex’s unfinished meal.

“Pretty boy is winding you up already?” Max asks, something almost teasing on his lips.

Alex flushes. There was no way Max could know about the night before, George’s warm body slipping into his bed, and his warmer hands finding Alex’s skin under the scratchy, military issue blankets. Clinging onto each other, the only piece of home they’d likely see again. Except, maybe Max can know all about it, maybe that was how he’d found his way to Daniel.

Max raises his eyebrows, and Alex choses to believe he’s just expecting an answer rather than recognising Alex's guilt. Even though Lily was likely killed right after his unconscious body was airlifted from the arena as a warning to any who sympathises or dares to love a rebel, there was still a small voice in him that warned that if she had survived, he would always have betrayed her.

“A little,” he says, half the truth and half a total lie. If he didn’t have George, he’d be like Max. Alone, and half mad.

Max smirks, but gestures to the bench opposite him. Alex sits, trying to think of something else to say.

“What, uh. What are you talking about?” It’s all he can come up with, and internally he groans. He doesn’t need to get roped into Max’s crazy. He cocks his head at Alex, like he doesn’t know what he is talking about, only affirming Alex’s belief that he's securely in cuckoo land, but it’s too late to go back now. “The guns, or the- The knife?”

“Oh,” Max says, nodding like this is perfectly sane. “I am trying to think of some way to the Capitol.”

“The Capitol?” Alex repeats, dumbfounded, because that is where they’ve just been rescued from. But- Realisation dawns on him, slow and then all at once, like the sun he used to get to see every morning.

“It’s where Daniel will be, probably,” Max confirms.

Alex tries to nod earnestly like this isn’t the worst idea he’s ever heard.

“Of course, Christian promises me that they are going to rescue them, but only when it is safe,” Max is continuing, hands suddenly animated in front of him. It’s the liveliest Alex has seen him since the games. “I cannot wait until it is safe, because what if it never is? What if they are- I can’t leave him there. I need to get to him.”

Alex tries to listen, but his brain stalls on one word, making the rest almost obsolete.

Them.

“Who else are the Capitol holding?” He asks, knowing as he does that the spark of hope Max’s answer lights might be the thing to tip him over the deep end too. Max’s answering look tells Alex that he thinks his question is very stupid.

“Well,” he says with a bitter laugh, “I did not exactly get the list, but I would imagine it includes yours and Georgie’s families-“ He waves his spoon in George’s direction- “along with maybe the rest of the victors. Your girlfriend, your childhood best friend. Fuck, maybe someone you sat next to in math class, Alex. Anyone they think they can use against you.”

Alex's head begins to spin. Of all the propaganda videos from the Capitol that had made their way to them here in Thirteen, Daniel and Lily hadn’t been mentioned or seen once. Alex had assumed this meant they were long gone, but what if they were only waiting for the right time to reveal their captives? Max is right, after all, they’d be more use to the Capitol alive. As bait, or maybe just to torture them with the idea of ‘what if.’

He thinks back to Daniel’s screams in the arena, calling for Max over and over to help him. Max curled on the ground like a child, his fingers stuffed into his ears.

“What about your family?” Alex asks, stomach turning at the thought of how much blood he would have on his hands at the end of all this. “What-“

“Daniel is my family,” Max interrupts him bluntly. Then, maybe because he senses the cold coil of fear his words help to settle in Alex’s stomach, he continues. “I had a sister when this all- But I told her to run. She had two small babies, and I couldn’t- There was nothing I could do to protect them if they stayed.”

Alex’s eyes widen. Running was almost unheard of. Growing up, he’d only known two people to try it, the wife and child of a rebel who had been hanged the day before. Peacekeepers put a round of bullets into their bodies just five miles past the fence.

“Did they-“ He asks, and Max shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I like to think that because I never heard, it means-“ He shrugs.

Alex would want to think that as well, but the chances of Max’s sister running around the wilderness of Panem with two little kids, not only undetected but thriving, is- It’s hard to believe. To be kind, he nods like it’s not.

“I wish I’d told Lily to run,” he practically whispers because even though he doesn’t think she’d have made it either, it would likely be a quicker death than whatever the Capitol have in store for her now. Like Max, he doesn’t have much faith in Horner’s plans to rescue whoever they may still have, and unlike Max, there’s no way he has faith in himself either to make up for that shortcoming.

Max nods, his mouth a wonky line that in any other circumstances might be considered a smile. He reaches across the table and shocks Alex by touching his shoulder gently.

“If I make it there, to Daniel-“ He looks to the side, like his mind is still halfway elsewhere, formulating his plan- “I promise I will look for her, also.”

Alex closes his eyes, startled by the sudden compassion in Max’s voice.

“Thank you,” he whispers, but to be honest, Max’s words do very little to bring him any comfort.

Toto had made Alex promises too, like Horner to Max. It seemed this war was built upon the breaking of them.

—

“Tell me something about Daniel.”

Max looks up at Alex from where he’d been staring down at the same photograph Alex has seen stuck on his bunkroom wall. Something he must have grabbed when the bombing siren started to sound, before they all filed down into the shelter. In it, Alex can see Daniel’s curly hair, his well fitted suit. A Capitol propaganda photo, likely, that Max had swipped from some magazine.

The moment Horner and Toto called them into the control room to detail their scheme- sneak a craft out during the next air strike on Thirteen, when the Capitol is distracted to retrieve the hostages- the fight Alex was used to seeing in Max had almost completely diminished. Looking at him now, he looks- Well, a little pathetic.

Come on, Max, he thinks but doesn’t say, weren’t you supposed to be some bloody murderer?

Max is the deadliest victor in Panem’s history, a reputation that had followed him into his post-games life as a victor. Seb had told Alex stories in the arena, of how the people of the Capitol requested for Max to sit in cages at the edges of their dinner parties, the ultimate display of power.

“Why?” Is all that same man asks now, and it’s as if he’s too weak to even seem guarded anymore.

Alex sits down on the bed beside him. Around them, the metal frames shake, clanging together in the dimly lit bunker. Dust and dirt fall from the ceiling. Maybe the mission will succeed, only for Daniel and Lily to arrive at District 13 and find them all dead and buried under rubble.

“Because it seems like a better plan than waiting in miserable silence?” Alex offers, tucking his legs up to rest his chin on his knees. “Come on,” he prompts, when Max still seems hesitant, “there must be one thing you love about him that you’re not too stoic to share.”

Max laughs, despite their situation, and mouthes the word, stoic, shaking his head a little. Then-

“Everybody loves his big smile,” Max offers, finger tracing over the shape of Daniel’s lips on the photo, “the tributes we would mentor, the other victors. The people of the Capitol, who paid enough to have it, and much more, thrown in their direction, but- But I like it better when it is smaller. Softer. Just-”

Just for you, Alex thinks, but Max doesn’t finish his sentence.

“What about you?” He asks instead, offering Alex a small smile of his own, “What makes Lily so special?”

Alex laughs, because what doesn’t make her special?

“She’s like, the smartest person ever,” he says, because throughout all this he has wondered over and over what she would do in his place, and tried to follow that course of action. “I keep thinking how she’d have the Districts liberated by now if she was here.”

Max nods, lips quirking upwards again.

“Let’s hope she makes it then,” is all he offers, eyes back on his picture. It’s then Alex notices the expression Daniel is wearing, the soft smile Max was talking about. Maybe not a Capitol promo photo after all.

“Did you two-“ He starts, but stops himself, aware he is treading on shaky ground now. Another explosion sounds somewhere above ground, with the vibration taking a few beats longer to travel to them. Somewhere near them, a baby begins to wail, as the ground both above and beneath their feet trembles.

“Did we what?” Max asks, looking at Alex again.

“Did you, uh. Did you fall in love before or after your games?” It isn’t what he was going to ask.

“That is not what you were going to ask,” Max says. Alex flushes, but Max answers anyway. “For me, yes. For Daniel, he says it was after.” Alex nods. Max’s answer is the only clear confirmation he’s gotten since hearing the jabberjays wail that Daniel and Max are lovers. “Now ask me what you were really going to ask.”

Alex hesitates, but another shockwave of the bombing has him throwing caution to the wind. By morning, they might be dead anyway.

“Did you like, live together and stuff?” He finally asks, and it’s a watered down version, and Max sees through that too.

“You mean, why did we not hide it better, from the Capitol?” He asks, head tilted to one side in a gesture that Alex has since learned means he’s considering how to dumb down a very easy concept to someone he thinks is very stupid.

It’s half of what Alex had wondered, along with how they worked, given the entire country knew the rumours of how Daniel spent his time when he was in the Capitol, how he got so many of the jewels he seemed to proudly wear at every year’s games coverage.

He shrugs.

“We tried,” Max says, “for a while. Of course, people do not like- Well.” Alex feels himself flush again. “But it got very hard.”

“The logistics?” Alex asks, surprised by the flimsy sounding excuse, but Max shakes his head.

“No, the-“ He breaks off to chew his lip, clearly debating how honest he wants to be. One of the cats Max told him Thirteen only had to keep the mice away appears as though from nowhere, winding itself around Max’s legs. Max hunches over with a cautious hand to pet it, and it lets him, where with Alex it would show its teeth and claws. Eventually, he continues.

“My sister, when I came back from the games, she did not look at me the same way,” he explains, tucking the photograph of Daniel carefully back into his pocket. “The Capitol paraded me around like one of their muts, like I was some kind of bedtime terror meant to scare their naughty children, as well as the people from my own home.”

You used to terrify me, Alex agrees internally, but he knows better than to say anything. The cat between Max’s feet begins to pur.

“The only time I really felt like a person anymore was with Daniel,” Max says, like it explains everything and in a way, it does. “It was too hard, to go for such long times feeling like a monster, too easy to start to believe that you are. When we are together, we can just- I can just-“

Max breaks off, putting his head into his hands. As his shoulders start to shake, Alex realises that Max is doing something Alex has never seen him do before.

He’s starting to cry.

[hazelkjt]

"The World Beyond The Storm"

----------

If there was one thing clear about Perseverance from the moment you meet her, it's that she very much lives up to her name. Not wanting to be left behind anymore by Hazel whenever she left Solution Nine, Percy begged and begged for Hazel to take her outside the dome with her. And after a long time thinking it over, along with a short and blunt "Why not?" from Zero, the Auri woman finally agreed.

First leaving to get Percy a new set of clothes so she wouldn't stand out, Hazel and Zero began the trek on foot from Solution Nine to the one exit from the dome, Vanguard. Thankfully none of the surrounding wildlife or malfunctioning machines tried to attack the three, making it a pleasant trip apart from the quick scares Percy had over the flashes of lightning. But if you tried to ask her, she'd claim she wasn't scared! Not one bit!

The tunnel leading from Vanguard to the outside was much longer than Perseverance expected it to be. Even still, she refused Hazel's offer to carry her the last stretch, wanting to see the world outside of where she knew on her own two feet.

And she did, exiting the railroad tunnel to a light so bright, she had to shield her eyes at first. As she adjusted, Percy asked out loud "What is that?" She tried to look right at the ball of light but found it hurting her eyes, forcing her to look away.

Hazel walked up behind the young girl, a gentle smile on her face. "The sun, biggest source of light and warmth on the star."

"Around the star, technically." Zero interjected, coming to a stop next to Perseverance. Hazel simply rolled her eyes at the Voidsent's correction, still smiling.

Zero placed her hands on her hips, a faint smile escaping her lips as well. "Quite the sight to behold, is it not? I felt much the same way my first time seeing it."

Percy tried her best not to stare directly at the shining ball in the sky, but at the same time the glimpses she did catch were...she couldn't quite explain. Soon she found herself smiling as well.

"It's so pretty..."

[acapelladitty]

Omg omg omg Arkham Knight Scarecrow doming ftm reader please!!! Neck bites, t-dick stim and front hole penetration are all encouraged. Go wild with it!!!

Stretched around him as his cock impales you mercilessly, the soft sensation of the sheets pressing into your back is completely overwhelmed by the delicious hell which Crane is inflicting on your shuddering, desperate frame.

His lips close to your ear as he keeps his cock sheathed within you, the blunted end of his cockhead laying flush against your cervix, his words are as familiar yet degrading as ever.

"Handsome boy," Crane growls through his torn mouth, his teeth pressing dangerously into your throat, "but foolish."

His calloused fingers drop to rub roughly at your cock, the overwhelming sensation buckling your knees and drawing a scream from your throat at he continues to bite livid marks into the soft skin where neck meets shoulder. Engorged and overly sensitive, his fingers stroking along your most sensitive nub cause your body to jerk and buck in place as any escape is made impossible by the weight of his thin body pressing your own into the mattress.

[darklyndivinely]

things we don't acknowledge (they matter so very much)

Characters: Lucifer, Satan

Warnings: Alcohol/drug use. Fluff, angst.

Read on AO3 • OM!Masterlist

It’s one of the many things they don’t talk about.

Akin to the inconvenient perch of the trash can underneath his desk. Pushed deep into the corner because Lucifer likes space to stretch his legs, which means that whenever he wants to discard something he must push back his chair and stretch a hand beneath to do so.

Yet there it stands, as it has for years now—conveniently out of his space, inconveniently out of reach—because it is familiar and habitual and it makes him take a break and glance a look at the time.

He could do something about it.

But he doesn't.

He could do something about the link too.

But Satan doesn't bring it up.

So that way it remains: a reminder of their true relationship, a connection between them that bridges any and all psychological and emotional barriers.

If you don't acknowledge or give recognition to something, it's easy to fool yourself into believing that it doesn't exist.

Perhaps it's better that way.

The can of dead worms that feast on your innards can stay there. 

This way they never spill and make a mess.

It's late at night when it happens. His study is lit with candles and moonshine. His laptop sits open and humming, the copy of the conjugated annual report from the circles of hell flipped open beneath him.

Like a breeze through a crack in the windowpane, it flows through him. Gentle. Unfrenzied. It stills the black pen in his hand and pushes a soft exhale out of his lips. He raises the half-empty glass of long-gone-lukewarm Demonus to his lips and reclines, pressing the base of his skull against the unforgiving wood of his chair. The clock above ticks gently with the crackle of the hearth and the low buzz of his laptop. It takes a solid minute to give name to the tender emotion that is not his own, filtered and subdued as it is through the mental link.

It's half past twelve. He's not even halfway done with uploading the report manually to their online cloud databases. There's a stiffness to his fingers that doesn't completely leave even when he cracks all the joints.

Fuck it, he thinks and gets up. He saves his progress and shuts the laptop. A wave of his hand plunges the room into darkness. Lucifer plucks from his liquor cabinet a bottle of Gold Demonus 100 and leaves, discarding with glasses and perfection for tonight.

He moves idly, ditching his power walk for stealth as he navigates the darkened library to the hallway and out. The air is crisp; it ruffles his bangs gently into his eyes and soothes the exposed skin of his face and neck. He hadn't realised how stuffy his study had gotten until he undoes another button of his shirt and feels the cool wind air through the fabric. Caressing the chipped stone of the gargoyles at the entrance with ungloved hands, he descends the steps and walks around the house.

The glass dome of the greenhouse is lit with soft white in the distance, trapped moonlight bouncing around inside to enrich the flora with faster growth. A spot of orange flares to the right, low on the ground, before fading. He makes his way there.

Satan doesn't turn as Lucifer drops down beside him on the perfectly trimmed grass, pants bunched above the knee to ease the strain on the fabric. The fourth-born’s only in his green cashmere sweater, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, an arm behind him supporting his straightened posture. He wordlessly extends the blunt in his hand and accepts the bottle in exchange.

The first drag is always Lucifer’s favourite—the deepest, the most pleasurable. The effect is instantaneous: the shaking off of stress, the loosening of the coil in his sternum. He releases the smoke with a deep exhale; and watches as it swirls and rises, becoming indistinguishable for a moment in the looming shadow of the moon before being swallowed by the night breeze.

There’s a distinct pop as Satan pulls the cork with his teeth. He sets it beside his D.D.D. in the grass and takes a deep swig from the bottle, citrus eyes slipping close to savour the smooth tobacco-tinged alcohol. A slight twitch at the corner of his lips is the only indication that he appreciates the quality of Lucifer’s pick.

They don’t talk.

Somehow it feels like words might sully this night.

Warp and distort the calm that is rare as sunlight here—a perfect stroke of the brush, a flawless rendition in the first attempt.

Lucifer doesn’t give voice to the loneliness he’d felt through their shared link that had brought him here. 

Satan doesn’t mention the bags beneath Lucifer’s eyes that are surely visible even in such darkness. 

For a few stolen moments, they forget the world beyond the night sky and their shared blunt and bottle.

Neither of them acknowledges the fact that they are supposed to despise each other.

Or that both hope that a night like this happens again, soon.

[displacedentities]

N҉E͟W S̸͢͡P͞҉͘͢͠E̛C̴̛Ì̴͜͡Ȩ͟͞S̵͘͘͢͞ Ḑ̷̛̻̱͈̮̔̓͛̕⬤̶̧̪͉͓̑͊͋͘͝ͅ⫷̵̝̳̭̬̣̆̓͗̓͝Ứ̷̧̨̞̫͙̊̈́͘▐̷̛͚͓͕̤͖̓͝͝͝▮̴͔͔̪̭͎̉̂́̋̑▌̸̰̜͖̝́̆͐̈́̈́ͅ█̸̨̗̼̮͊͗͛́̇͜☰̵̧̞͍̗͉̆͒̒̓͌ ̴̧̧̲̼̣̌͊̽͑̓Ṇ̷̨̡̭̙̔̓̽͑̾▀̴͈̼̲͔͎̎͐̈́̉̇█̵̯̱͚̲̪̋̑͗͌͘▀̴̧̢͍̝͈̔̉̒̊̚ ̷̢̘̳̯̪͆̑͒̔͐█̸̪̻̭̦͕̄̍̋̏̚☰̵͓̞͍̰̬̎͛̈́͂͐▟̵̖̣̠̟͓̈́̉̓̐͝

(The following report has been recovered from a corrupted data drive, confiscated from Team Rocket grunts. Some information has been lost, as the hardware was damaged by blunt force, exposure to the elements and saltwater corrosion. The captured individuals are being questioned as to the origin and legitimacy of the data, as it pertains to an ongoing investigation over the sudden disappearance of the Hadal Research Group.)

~~~

Mod: Meet the newest addition to my roster, TANGLE! Tangle is a Mewtwo x Dragalge fusion I purchased from @absolutedream-art, and- I love him, I love him so much. I couldn't come up with a clean fusion name of the two species, so I decided to go ahead and not only give him his own species name, but also a baby AND Mega form >:)c I even made a full blank Fakemon template for this!

Not gonna lie obsessed with these designs now huehuehue~ Tempted to make an askblog for this guy, cuz I kinda wanna tell his story, but only if people are really interested >u<

Gonna put my thoughts, current info and bonus sketches under the ReadMore cut! cx

MEWELP ("Mewtwo"/"Skrelp"/"Mew"/"Whelp") The Kelp Hider Pokemon PSYCHIC/POISON Ability: Poison Point / HA: Adaptability Moves: Camouflage, Confusion, Water Gun, Poison Tail

Mewelp was created in the Hadal Research Group domed undersea facility, where gene therapy was being studied using the DNA of Water type Pokemon such as Corsola, Slowpoke, and Skrelp for their regenerative capabilities. Mewelp prefers to hide over seeking conflict, using its superior camouflaging abilities to mask itself in kelp and undersea detritus to the point it turns completely invisible. When attacked, Mewelp will attempt to angle its venomous back spine and tail towards the assailant. It loves hide-and-seek, and pouncing from total cover on people and Pokemon that it deems friends and family.

Evolves into MIASMALGA at level 48

MIASMALGA ("Mewtwo"/"Dragalge"/"Miasma"/"Alga") The Wreck Ruler Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Pressure / HA: Adaptability Moves: Psystrike, Water Pulse, Dragon Pulse, Gunk Shot

Miasmalga is the "adult" form of Mewelp, having matured enough to evolve the Skrelp portion of their DNA into the full Dragalge DNA sequence. Their thinking and reasoning skills have advanced drastically by the time they reach this evolution, their intelligence on par with a full-blooded Mewtwo. Miasmalga shares the telepathic communication skill of their Legendary genetic donor, and can speak to and understand both humans and Pokemon with fully developed speech and clarity. Their reliance on poisonous self-defense for protection has diminished, instead replaced by great offensive power in the form of psychic and pulse-form attacks. In spite of this, Miasmalga's temperament is typically calm, favoring respect and wisdom over brutality.

Evolves into MEGA MIASMALGA with a Miasmalgite (Root File: C̸̨̺͕̙̤͌̅̀̾͝⬤̴̧̛̭̯̹̹́̔̄͘RR█̷̧̦͖͖̾͆́̐̕͜▄̸̨̛̬̱͕͈̍͌͌͑█̸̥͉͎̯͚́̑̂͋̆P̶̛̪̥̪͖͙̾͒̿̅▀̶͔̌̓͒̈́͝T ̴̳͈̻̅̍̃̈͗ͅED)

MEGA MIASMALGA The Hadal King Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Shifting Strands*** / HA: Justified Moves: Psystrike, Megahorn, Breaking Swipe, Gunk Shot

***Shifting Strands is the Signature Ability of Mega Miasmalga. Tendrils around the user's body move and shift to hide and protect it. Raises evasiveness by one stage at the start of battle, and cuts all incoming physical damage by half.

D̷̻̈A̸̘͋ ̶̺͋▀̷̱̈́█̶͔̐▀̶͑ͅ▞̵̪͐▖̵̟̄ C̶̼͓̯͕̟̭͇̳̗̋̆͆̑́̋͋́̚⬤̸̧̛͉̝͇̬͇̭̊̊̋͗̅̿̕͝ͅͅ ̷̲̜̞̲͕͚͕̝̎́͊̎̇͑͂̉̂ͅ█̵̨̹͓̫̩̭̖͇̍̊̈̿̓̌́̚̚͜▘̷̰̲͇̠̹͚͎̼͌̔̑͑̔̓͂̀͜͠R̵̨̗̹̬͎̭̘̩̫̔̒́̋̎̆̾̏͘█̶̧̡̤̜̻̻̦͈̱͗͒̈́̄̔͊͘̚͝▄̸̦̰̟̫͓͕̫͍̦̈́̅̄͂͆̆̾͛͝█̵̧̘̖̳̙̫͕̭̦̃̉̄̀̀̃̈́̌́P̴̨̢̣̠͙͇̯̞̮͛͗͑̀̍́̾͂̓▀̷̧̢̙̺͈͔̼̲͖͑̊̇́̀͛̋̽̉█̵͇̳̩̲̪̪̭̮͆́͑̊̏̾͋̃͗ͅ▀̶̫͕̠͓̲̯̜̟͖̓͗͒͛̎͌̕̚̕ ̸̨̢̗̞̙̬͕͕͇̓͊̀̒̏̾̀̋͘█̸͚̲͇͙̮͍̱̒̑̏͗̿̄̋̇̆ͅͅ☰̷̡͉̟̺̮̫̗̤̄̌͌͒̓̐̐̚̕ͅ▟̸̠͔̮̼̬̱̝̝̜̇̌͒͛̈́́̍͘͝

~~~

And here's the bonus sketches from my work doodle book, where I was trying to learn how to block out Tangle's face, form and limb function xD

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  4. 'broken / trust.'

She was a veritable tour de force– an absolute nightmare of a woman. Yet, despite what the bards might sing, she was just as human as any other.

-> part I.

-> cw: suggestive themes.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Wait– Gods– I’ll be sick.”

Overindulging in drink and dancing on bloody feet had left a typhoon of a woman clinging to the bark of a pixie apple tree for a semblance of stability.

He halted his stride with a huff and readjusted his grip on their youngest charge to wait with waning patience. He had half-expected to carry one of them home, but not certainly not Ryne, though he heard Alphinaud and Alisaie had met with similar fates. Y’shtola had done him a service and seen to their care, as well as Urianger's-- and must be thankful, for that was one man he did not want to carry across the Crystarium grounds.

That only left their most important cargo to him– how lucky he was-- and if Tsuna did not get ahold of herself, he feared he would soon find himself out of hands. 

He looked on past the treetops, to the early morning sky peeking through the crystal dome to find a moment to wax poetic. “Destroyer of Primals, Lightwarden’s Bane... but a flagon of ale has not ceased to bring the Warrior of Darkness to her knees, I see.”

Tsuna shot a pointed look in his direction. “P-Piss off,” she droned, half-way between a hiss and a whine. "You're making it worse."

All he could do was offer his own exhausted smirk at her expense. 

It was true. Tsuna Wasaishi could fell all manner of beasts with enough willpower and sheer dumb luck, but the stairs to her chambers seemed her most daunting adversary yet.

Ryne had been put to bed, which freed his attention to better escort the stumbling woman into his chambers on the first floor to circumvent the climb.

She fell upon his mattress in a heap, looking at once grateful for sturdy ground.

“Off,” she mumbled. Her knuckles tapped the hard cage of her corset and drew his exhausted sigh. “Please,” she added, weakly. Even at her wits end she still found it pertinent to be cordial, and he had no choice but to oblige.

Tsuna slumped forward for him, pulling her hair loose and tossing it over her clammy shoulder to better offer her laces. The cotton of the cincher was damp to the touch, her skin still shone with sweat. He thumbed the laces, pulling them free from the centre-outward, and as he broke her free from the busk, and immediately she began to breathe easier.

He had to wonder why one woman would put herself through so much for such pain just to numb another.

She offered him a shy look from over her bare shoulder, muttering something so incoherent he could only barely piece it together. “... stay with me?” she asked.

He was struck by the blunt force three words could bring. It was not as if they hadn’t shared a night in the past. Even so, he stood from the bed, only to prostrate himself before her, if only to make her more comfotable.

“I would not leave you in such a sorry state.” It was the truth, though he chuffed to hide from his own trepidation. “It’s all right. You needed this.”

Tsuna closed her eyes agreeably, and nodded, softly humming in perceived content as he fished for her ankle under her dress’ hem. 

“You’re my dearest friend, Thancred. Y'know that, yes?”

His hands paused. He knew. Gods, he knew. They mapped each other's hurts like no one else ever would.

How many times had he found himself wanting to sit outside her door for that very reason?

Slowly, she picked up her skirts before him, and rose them high to aid in his task. Completely unabashed, she revealed to him the shapely, naked length of her legs for a show. His eyes were drawn down to the map of scales hugging her sides, then up– up to the lazy, amused smile curling her lips. She looked down on him, a supplicant, and a familiar heat rushed through him.

“I could tell you anything,” she whispered, softer. “Couldn’t I?”

He bit his cheek, tilting his chin down, trying to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Of course.”

Thancred’s hands smoothed up her firm calves and carefully removed the battered heel from her right foot. Her soles were angry and blistered from her hours of revelry, and so with the same care he removed the left, though it was there that he lingered. The thumb on her calve began to move in easy circles to loosen the band of muscle grown taut with pain and overuse. Tsuna drew in a sharp breath and squirmed in his hands, and the hem rose higher still.

He crept up past her knee, and settled on her lower thigh before he stopped himself. 

He had broken her trust before, and he would not do so again– even if she were more than willing. 

“Keep going.”

Her hand clasped over his own, and drew it upwards, his thumb reaching beneath her skirts, to dip into the crease of her thigh for a tantalizing moment. He knew what she wanted, and he would visit all seven of the Hells if he admitted he wished the same. The Gods only knew how long he had been bereft. 

It took all he had to retract his hand, despite her protests. “I won’t,” he muttered firmly under his breath. “Not like this.”

“Why?" Tsuna sat upright, lips twisted in hurt. "Gods– Warm me.” He looked away, rueful, only managing to raise her frustration. “You said so: I need this–” Her voice fell soft, desperate. Her hands clasped his face, stroking lines across his cheeks in order to pull him in. 

She was looking for another way to drown, and he would not have a part in it.

“It wouldn’t be the first–”

“All the more reason not to make the same mistake twice,” he interrupted, pulling her hands from him. “Another time. Another place.” And he would.

A kiss was pressed to her palm, and she was struck silent.

He used the opportunity to stand, to begin the ritual of shucking his coat to prepare for his own rest, when without so much as a sound, she reached for his now-naked hand, and despite it all– despite everything– his thumb ran careful circles over her knuckle.

She needed something more than just a warm body beside her, and it was something he could not provide.

[worldsewage]

"much to Valentine’s dismay." oohhg can I know more...I got a bowl of rice to offer

Valentine is an Octarian elite who has no interest in abandoning her role as such, she is undyingly loyal to the Octarian Army and excelled in military school and was placed in a school designed for elites, she was constructing weapons for as long as she can remember and has ZERO thoughts of ever abandoning the domes. She has made something of herself here and she has issues with communication and comes off blunt and aggressive at times so she struggles keeping/making friends, so the approval of her superiors and the trust the army puts in her is a love good enough for her.

Until Satua, at least.

Valentine, also, has no idea how they found themself in the metro, she woke up with a sense of urgency and a few strange blank memories that made her piece together— with Craig telling her he needs help— that she (probably) needs to act, and help the people around her in order to save something. She has no idea what, and has a building frustration inside her that she can’t name. She thinks she’s doing something bigger than herself. She acts, for a moment, as a hero— an agent 8 in the metro, she plays into this role and feels angry and needed and vital, then more of her memories come back and she gets hit with the Guilt… feeling like a bystander who is trapped inside their own body, watching themselves do and say things they can’t control as her memories idly return, clueing her into the person she is, or was.

[juneknight]

pls love can I have more Marc getting domed? I love when you make him beg for 🐱

💕💕💕💕

“Are you wanting my attention?” you wonder when Marc chooses to sit on the floor at your feet so that his head can loll against your knee as opposed to beside you.

He looks back over his shoulder at you and gives a distracted smile. “Always.”

“C’me here.”

He turns and lets you shift and coax him between your legs. The pretty little sundress you wore that day feels see-through with the way his eyes take you in. If he was distracted (consumed with his own thoughts, most likely) just moments before, he is laser-focused now, looking up at you with eyes far too expressive and soft.

You spread your legs a little. Lift one to rest it over his shoulder and pull him closer. The breath from his sigh fans hot across your bare thighs, ruffles the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want to be a good boy and eat my pussy, Marc?”

Marc’s jaw tightens. His throat bobs. He nods.

You spread your thighs further, reach down to run your blunt nails up your thighs, up—up—until he can see that you aren’t wearing any underwear. His breaths stutter, eyes glued to that heated place between your legs.

Lightly, you run your fingers across your sex, tracing the outer folds and curves of yourself.

“You want it? Beg for it.”

He lays his cheek on your thigh. “Let me eat your pussy, please.”

You laugh and close your thighs a little.

“No—no, please—I want it,” says Marc, a little more desperate in the face of your denial. He licks his lips and places a sweet kiss to your thigh.

“You don’t sound like you want it.”

He grits his teeth. “I do—been thinking about it all day…dreamed about your pussy last night.”

You roll your eyes for show. “Romantic.”

“I can’t help it,” he groans, hands coming up to grip your thighs and knead the soft flesh. “I’m—I’m a fucking degenerate. All I can think about is you. The way you talk, the way you smile. The way you smell. The sounds your pussy makes when I fuck it with my fingers. The way you taste.

“Please let me be good for you,” he says, voice dipping into something low and rough and needy. He adds one last, emphatic: “Please.”

You hum, as if in thought. As if you were ever going to say no in the first place. At last, you spread your thighs again.

“If you insist…”

If you enjoyed this, please consider tipping/donating to my dog’s end of life care. 💔