#but I wouldn’t think the humidity would be that intense

[miss-floral-thief]

Dad went to go out and said he’d get chicken

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #12

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence and murder.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

The entrance to the hunting cave is nearly invisible. Golden vines twine over the leather door flap, nearly obscuring it from view. 

Sweat drips off your brow. The humidity of the jungle is so different from the dusty deserts of this planet. You find it hard to believe these two eco systems exist so close to each other. 

Drohako removes the saddle bag from Graysi and sets them near the rocky wall of the cave.

Pushing through the saffron colored brush, you notice the sweat on your arms mingling with the blood of the fallen alien attacker. 

You took someone’s life, extinguishing it in a single act. A full fucking grown Volkroth warrior. 

And he fucking deserved it. 

You think about your life before, how you wouldn’t be able to do what you had just done. 

But things are different now. You love an alien barbarian, you’re carrying his child, and you’ve run away from what little civilization exists on this planet. 

You should feel worse about murdering someone, shouldn’t you? 

Drohako’s hand caresses along the messy skin of your arm. 

“Your first kill?” He questions, although you can tell that he already knows the answer when you nod. “You are strong, you protected your family—wear his blood with honor.” 

Our family. 

You push your way through the overgrowth on the door and into the cave. 

As the leather flap snaps free from the grasping vines, dirt sprays and you cough, your lungs assaulted by the dust. 

The hunting cave is even more primitive than you expected. Unlike where you’ve fled from, there are no comforts. No furs line the sleeping space, the fire pit is tiny, and a thick layer of dust coats everything. 

“You don’t get to do much hunting, do you?” You ask with a sarcastic smile. 

“Hunting seasons are short, especially in spawning years,” he shrugs, pushing past you. 

Drohako removes the incubation pod from his satchel as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. His thick fingers struggling to hold the tech just barely bigger than a gallon of milk.

“Hard to think you were ever that small,” you sigh as you flop down and pat your slightly swollen belly. “I feel like I can’t even feel him in there, you know?” 

A panicked look flashes across his purple face. 

“I mean, he’s in there, but I thought it would feel different—like a parasite.” Your alien frowns, and you get that your choice of words has you sounding less than enthused. 

“What I mean is, it doesn’t feel wrong—it feels natural, like it was meant to be.”

When you look back up at my mate’s face, you can see his gaze soften. 

“It’s fate,” He tells you. “Come, the pod needs a blood sample to activate.” 

He reaches his scarred hand out to you, pulling you to standing. When he taps a button along the incubation pod’s side, a robotic arm pops out. 

“It’s strange Volkroth’s births are so high tech, aren’t it? Because, well,” You gesture broadly to your surroundings. The primitive cave isn’t really where you would expect the Volkroth to live after seeing this little space age orb of white metal and glass. 

“We choose to live in the ways of our ancestors—but we’ve adapted to breed without female Volkroth, and it’s mostly thanks to this tech,” He keepings talking even after the little robot arm pokes your finger with a quickly appearing needle. 

“Ouch!” you yelp, as Drohako grabs your hand to prevent it from recoiling from the machine. 

“Still, it’ll be over in a second,” he mutters as he watches the collection tube meet the small droplet of blood welling on your fingertip. With a whoosh, the machine sucks the sanguine fluid away.

As the blood enters the pod, it glows with an orange light. The intensity pulsing like a heartbeat. 

“Done. That wasn’t so bad, now was it my tiny warrior?” His face is filled with pride as he stares down at your still blood covered body.

“Well, no, but—“ he interrupts your words by sucking your finger into his mouth, his rough tongue licking the needle’s wound.

“I promise you pleasure earlier,” he growls as my finger drops from his lips. The sound of his voice is making your pussy quickly slicker, as if on his command. 

When you feel his hand go lower, skirting the hem of your wrap. You grab his wrist. 

“Stop.”

Maybe you’re still full of adrenaline from the attack, or maybe this feeling has always been under the surface–but you want to be in control for the first time in your life. 

“Mate?” His body is frozen, maybe shocked by your command.

“I think I’d like to call the shots this time,” you whisper to your barbarian.

“That’s new,” Drohako cocks an eyebrow. The muscles of his body relax slightly, but his eyes bored into you with a new intensity. “So, what do you want?” 

“I want you to listen, but don’t worry–you’ll enjoy yourself if you do. Will you be a good boy for me?” 

His pupils dilate and he looks like he can taste colors as he looks at you with hooded eyes. 

“If that’s what my mates wants, a good boy is what she’ll get.” 

“I need something comfortable to lie down on,” you say with an unpracticed coolness that surprises you both. 

Drohako swiftly steps past you, pushing the leather flap out of his way, as he grabs the saddle bags from outside. Once back indoors, he kicks some dead leaves and twigs away, clearing a spot on the dirt floor. 

He looks at you with a pleased smile as he unrolls a few of the thick yellow furs from your former home. 

“This will do.” You shrug off your makeshift clothing, already feeling one hundred percent better than before. There’s something so natural about wearing nothing at all around Drohako that makes your heart sing. 

His gaze on your naked body is that of a predator’s, hungry and all-consuming. You lay down slowly, deliberately, spreading your legs so he can take in the view. 

He inhales sharply and pushes the heel of his hand down over his loincloth, onto his quickly hardening bulge. 

“Who said you could touch yourself?” You drawl as my finger traces up your slick lips. “I don’t think I gave you permission.” 

“I thought this was supposed to be fun,” He scowls, clenching his fists at his side. You don’t let the fact that he’s still listening to you go unnoticed. 

“It will be, because the anticipation is part of the pleasure.” 

Whatever’s possessed you to be so bold, you love it. Could it be that letting yourself be used like you’ve always wanted has you finding some new confidence? Have you found my power through being submissive? 

You rub small circles over your clit. The blood of the fallen male mixing with your own slick–Drohako’s breath catches as he watches you work.

“I want you to want me, to feel every pang of desire.” 

You twist your nipple with your free hand, not even attempting to stifle the moan that falls from your lips. 

“Can I touch you, if I can’t touch myself?” His voice is needier than you’ve ever heard it before. 

“Are you uncomfortable? Does my having the control cause you this agony?” You ask him, dipping your fingers into my opening—thrusting deep. “Don’t you wish it was your cock plunging inside me?” 

“Is torture your idea of fun? Does our Volkroth babe fill steel your heart as a barbarian?” Despite his suffering, he smiles. His eyes hold a menacing glint.

“Seeing you squirm is fucking delicious, a reward all in itself.” You pick up your pace, throbbing need ebbs through your core. “Ask me for what you want,” you moan.

Drohako licks his lips, stepping closer. 

“I want to taste you,” he growls. 

“Then crawl and beg me for the honor. Prove to me you want it.”

Drohako, the mighty alien warrior that he is, drops to his knees with a thud. He rakes his nails over the dirt floor, pushing his glorious ass high. Each scrape of his fingers over the ground sends shivers up my spine.

When he finally reaches you, he presses his lips against your trembling skin, worshipping every inch of you with fervent kisses. You moan in ecstasy as he continues to worship at the altar of your pleasure. His tongue laps up your honey, teetering you on the edge of bliss.

You're both consumed by our primal desires, oblivious to the world around you, fueled by an insatiable hunger for each other’s bodies. 

“Make me come, mate,” you hiss as you buck your hips, threading your fingers through his coarse hair and wrapping around his horns.

Drohako probes his fingers into you, spreading you wide with his hands alone. When he sucks on your clit, your core pulses sharply and you shatter.

Your legs attempt the snap shut over his ears, but he pushes them open. His tongue is unrelenting. 

“Stop!” your voice is hoarse as you yell. 

Despite his history of loving your overstimulation, he does. With just one word from you, he immediately ceases his ministrations. He’s under your command, afterall.

“You’ve done such a good job, you deserve a reward—” 

“Serving you, mate, is enough.” He pulls himself until his strong jaw rests on your stomach. His face glistens with your juices. 

He brings his hand to either side of your hips, kissing the small swell on your stomach. He stares adoringly at the pooch, and the promise that lies within.

NEXT

[thecharacterchronicler]

District Girl (2) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Outline: Coriolanus doesn’t like how friendly you are to other men and how much you ignore him on his evening out at the Hob. So he decides to leave you with a lasting impression of him.

Word count: 4’189

Warnings: possessive and obsessive behavior, power imbalance, unprotected s*x and explicit smut.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on making this a series, District Girl was just an attempt to get me out of my writer’s block to finally finish my other Coriolanus Snow series but since a few people requested more, here’s a part 2. Thanks for being so supportive of my writing, it truly means a lot. 🖤

(( Part 1 )) - (( Part 3 ))

They had been running for half an hour in the heavy heat, circling the barracks as their commander yelled orders at them. Coriolanus knew the man was trying to motivate his troops by insulting them, barking at them that they were worthless and useless, that even his grandma would do better at running in such a humid climate but this kind of tactical psychology didn’t seem to work on the young man. The more he heard his superior taunting them, the less he wanted to comply to his orders. He simply hated authority.

When he still was a student at the academy, he only had to show the due respect to his professors and - although the dean was an idiot - none of them had power over his every action and thoughts. Now as a peacekeeper, he was supposed to mindlessly follow orders from people regarded as better than him, even though some of them came from districts that were almost as poor as district 12. It was an aberration. One that Coriolanus would immediately fix if he had his say on how Panem was ruled.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, his pale eyes were burning with such intense sunlight. He felt uneasy. He dropped to his knees, his shirt so wet it was glued to his frame.

“Get up or get out, Snow!” The commander yelled, bringing everyone else’s attention on him. He felt embarrassed. He didn’t want the others to think that he was weaker than them. Especially not when Smiley seemed close to fainting too and Junius was paler than he had ever seen him before.

Coriolanus stood back up, wiping his face with his humid hand. He needed water. He needed to be dry. He needed a lot of things but running wasn’t one of them. So he left, heading back to the barracks under his superior’s disappointed glare.

He immediately went under the shower, letting the cold water wash the sweat and filth from his body. He knew he’d be sweating again the moment he’d step out from under the water and his dry spare uniform wouldn’t stay in this state for more than an hour or two so he took his time, closing his eyes and leaning against the cold bathroom tiles.

His heart was hammering in his chest, from the effort most likely but maybe also because, for the past few days, he hadn’t been able to look at his cock without thinking about your lips closed around it. He didn’t even know your name, you were just a district girl, and yet, you had invaded his every thoughts. Day and night, he kept replaying the events in his head, remembering how good it felt to fuck your mouth and what a lovely sight you were, on your knees in front of him.

He had been taking care of the erection such images gave him as well as he could. Most times, he was able to see you again when he closed his eyes and focused hard enough on recalling your features. He clearly remembered the color of your eyes because he had been mesmerized by them and the way they watered when he was mercilessly thrusting his cock down your throat. But, to his utter despair, he couldn’t quite picture what your body looked like anymore. He knew it was perfect, tailored exactly to his taste, but the images were vanishing from his mind the more days went by.

He turned the shower off, his cock hard and begging for relief again. Fortunately, his bunkmates were still busy being tortured by the commander so his dorm was empty.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning to retrieve a piece of colorful fabric from underneath his pillow. He kept it neatly folded, ready to be used if he needed it. That piece of your skirt proved to be pretty useful in times such as this, when his cock was begging to fill you up again.

He ran the fabric through his fingers, remembering how that skirt hugged your hips. By the time he removed the towel from his waist, his erection was rock hard, practically throbbing with desire.

He closed his hand over it, the soft fabric of your skirt enveloping his sensitive skin as he slowly started to pump. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

A shudder shook his body, his need for relief becoming almost unbearable. The cool textile of your clothing felt nothing like the warmth and wetness he had found in your mouth. He was certain that your pussy wouldn’t be cold either, it probably would feel as unbearably hot and humid as the weather did. He tightened his fingers around his shaft, trying to mimic how tight he imagined you’d feel with his dick buried deep inside you. He increased the speed of his movements, imagining your perfect body bouncing in reaction, your eyes watering again from how brutally he was ramming inside of you and then, he’d spill his release in you. There would be so much that it would stain your panties afterwards. It would drip from your tight cunt. It would be a reminder that he had marked you as his.

Unfortunately, the image of you completely spent and dizzy with pleasure under him faded from his mind, replaced by the cruel reality. An important amount of cum was coating the piece of your skirt, wasted instead of filling you up.

He thought about trying to clean it up, wanting to make this keepsake of you last forever, and in pristine condition if possible. But the noise of the returning peacekeepers forced him to abandon the idea, at least for now. He quickly put his spare uniform on as footsteps were approaching and, just as the door of his dorm opened, he discreetly slipped the fabric stained by his seed inside his pocket.

“Man, training beat my ass today. I think it calls for a beer or two.” Junius told him, as he gathered his towel and soap for the shower. “Let’s go to the hob tonight.”

Music was playing, people were happily chatting and laughing, good spirits filling the old warehouse. Coriolanus only agreed to accompany his colleagues because he was in desperate need of a strong drink to numb his mind, but he didn’t like how the Hob still smelled like coal and sweat, even though it had been abandoned for a while.

The good mood of the residents of district 12, enjoying the music and a drink after a hard day at work, and the apparent excitement of his bunkmates did very little to help lift up his spirits. He had heard better music in the Capitol and clearly, alcohol was far more raffined and tasteful there than here. If anything, the drink he had been served tasted like fermented potatoes. But well, at least it did the job and helped him relax a bit.

But his calmness didn’t last long. His whole body shot up straight and alert when he saw your familiar face among the crowd, smiling at a peacekeeper that wasn’t him. It made sense that, sooner or later, he was going to see you again but he wasn’t expecting you to be the kind to hang out at the Hob late a night. But then, what did he know ? It wasn’t like he had any idea of what kind of person you were. All he really knew was that you were amazing at sucking his dick… It should have been enough. He should move on and stop thinking about it. About you. But he couldn’t.

“Hey boys, do you need a refill ?” You asked them, startling Coriolanus. He had been lost in his thoughts about you again, so deeply that he hadn’t noticed you approaching him and his cock slowly came alive at the sound of your voice.

Junius handed you his empty cup and you winked at him. Then, you turned around to take a look at Coriolanus’s glass, still fairly full.

“I’ll be right back with a cold beer.” You told Junius, smiling at him but barely acknowledging the other peacekeepers’ presence. Including his.

Coriolanus watched you make your way through the dancing crowd all the way to the bar set up in the corner of the warehouse. You slipped behind the counter, filling up Junius’ cup at the same time as you engaged in another conversation, with another peacekeeper.

“I think she was flirting with me.” Junius said, smugly. Smiley agreed, even clapping a hand on his back as a congratulating gesture but his enthusiasm died down once he noticed the way their friend was glaring at both of them.

He didn’t like you smiling so carelessly at everyone. Surely, many other men were as dumb as Junius and would believe that you were openly flirting with them. They’d probably attempt to flirt back. What if that bothered you ? Or worse, what if you liked it ?

And why were you ignoring him ? Out of everyone else here, he should have been the only one worthy of your smiles, and yet, you had barely even glanced at him. Could you have forgotten him ? Impossible. Not when you were obsessing him day and night, surely you must have felt the same. You probably touched yourself at night while thinking about him just like he did when he thought about you. Right ?

You walked back to their little group, handing a cup overflowing with foam to Junius. He paid for his drink, and you slipped the coin he gave you in the pocket of your apron with an enthusiastic thank you. That was when Coriolanus finally noticed what you were wearing today, the same kind of basic shirt you were wearing the other day and the same skirt, still torn and shorter than what he remembered, covered by a stained beige apron.

“Do you work here ?” Coriolanus asked you, finally managing to catch your attention.

“Yes, do you need anything?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you really didn’t remember him or if you were simply pretending, maybe out of politeness in front of his colleagues. But since he couldn’t interpret the fake smile plastered on your face, he shook his head to answer you and you nodded back at him, leaving his group without another glance at him.

He watched as you talked to other men, smiling and even laughing at one peacekeeper’s joke. His friends didn’t notice, thanks to the alcohol they kept gulping down, but he was growing incredibly irritated by your behavior. You didn’t pay him any attention, doing your job and, even when someone needed you to refill their glass nearby where he was standing, you still wouldn’t look at him.

Was he that forgettable ? Maybe. He could understand that you wouldn’t have cared about pleasuring him that much since you got nothing out of it after all, apart from getting out of trouble. He hadn’t exactly blown you away with his skills so how could you know what you missed ? Perhaps you needed him to show you what he was capable of too. Then you’d obsess over him just as much as he did over you.

Yeah, it was a good plan. He’d be a gentleman, approach you politely and sway you with his charm so that you’ll give him a chance to show you how lucky you were to be the center of his attention.

But there you were again, smiling at Junius as you brought him another cup of foaming beer and, judging by how Smiley clapped his bunkmate’s back again, he was about to make a move on you. How stupid could he be ? As if he could ever be your type.

“You know, I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere more… Quiet ? With me ? You know why.” Junius told you, his wobbly voice betraying how many drinks he had had already. Coriolanus rolled his eyes at his friend’s pathetic attempt to flirt. It was even sadder that he knew Junius would have never dared to even look at you if he hadn’t drank four cups of liquid courage beforehand.

“Maybe later ?” You shrugged, with a smile that made Junius’s eyes go wide in shock. Smiley cheered for his friend because it wasn’t as bad as the refusal they were all expecting, which caused Coriolanus’ blood to boil. What the hell was wrong with you ? “I still have a few hours left in my shift.”

You walked away, leaving both peacekeepers staring in excitement and slight disbelief. Was it a yes ? A promise ? Even Coriolanus wasn’t sure what to make of it but he knew it definitely wasn’t the answer he had hope you’d give his friend.

He downed his cup in frustration - he too in need of a dose of liquid courage after all - and took off after you, following you all the way back to the counter. You didn’t notice him right away, busy filling up a glass for a patron but, when you walked away, he grabbed you by the arm, making you spill the beer over your shirt.

“I need to talk to you.” He said, very aware of a few pairs of eyes staring at him, an array of saviors ready to fly to your rescue if you showed any sign that he was bothering you.

“Crap.” You breathed, trying to clean up the drops that would surely be making your skin sticky later. Coriolanus took the glass out of your hand, placing it on the counter with a thud. You still were ignoring him and he was done being patient.

He dragged you to the door behind the makeshift bar, not knowing where it led but satisfied when he stepped into a supply room, filled with barrels of -most likely illegal - alcohol and a few crates of old bread. He closed the door, feeling instant relief as the music suddenly felt miles away instead of blasting in his ears. You stared at him, crossing your arms over your chest with an expression that made it clear that you weren’t happy with him.

Good, that made two of you.

“Did you suck off every peacekeeper in this District to not even remember me ?”

“I do remember you but I didn’t know we were supposed to be best friends now ?” You replied, your tone impatient. “And what if I did suck everyone off anyway ? Could you really blame me ? Sometimes you’ve got to do what you can to ensure your survival. I’m sure you know what it’s like if you ever knew poverty. Maybe someone in your family had to do the exact same thing. Maybe they’re still doing it, who knows ? That’s just how the world works.”

He had to repress a grimace. He didn’t like to think about what his cousin may have done for their survival… And he liked it even less thinking about you, giving yourself away to all these men for the same reason.

“What do you want ? Another round in exchange of your silence ?” You asked him. It was exactly what he wanted. But now that he knew he was just one out of many others, it didn’t seem that appealing anymore. Not if it meant you’d be able to go on with your life afterwards, without thinking about him while he would stay completely captive of the idea of meeting you again. You looked at him and your eyes suddenly softened, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. “Did you… Did you just want to bring this back to me ? I’m so sorry, I’m so used to other men wanting to take advantage, I assumed you would too.”

Coriolanus was a bit confused by such a change in your behavior, you went from upset with him to relaxed in a matter of seconds and he wasn’t even sure he understood why, until he followed your gaze to the pocket of his uniform, from which the torn piece of your skirt was peeking out. He couldn’t give it back to you. He needed it. And after what he had done to it, he couldn’t even let you touch it. If you did see the dry cum covering the fabric, you’d know how he had lost his mind thinking about you.

“I’m nothing like the others.” Coriolanus stated, a bit vexed that you thought he was.

“I see that now.” You assured him, approaching him with a smile. You were waiting for him to pull the piece of fabric out of his pocket and hand it back to you but he couldn’t. He stayed still, internally panicking and trying to find a way out of it. In front of his silence, your eyes grew weary. “Unless you wanted to ask me something in exchange of it ?”

Dammit. If he didn’t react quickly, you’ll think he’s like the others again. You’ll think he wanted to take advantage of you and now he knew you were far more compliant and friendly when you trusted him to not do that.

“No, of course not.” He said, managing to keep his voice calm and low enough to not betray his panic. “In fact, I came to make sure that we’d be even.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, curious to hear what he had to say. He smiled, glad that he had managed to catch your attention. Adapting his behavior and words in order to seduce the person in front of him was something he usually was good at, even though he didn’t have that many opportunities to practice his talents anymore.

“What do you mean ?”

Instead of answering, he closed the gap between your bodies and pressed his lips on yours for a passionate kiss he had often dreamed about. He hoped it would be good enough to change your mind, make you forget about the piece of your skirt he had discreetly tugged back into his pocket. But, as much as he wanted to make you lose your mind, his own thoughts grew hazy at how badly he wanted you. That kiss, as hungry and wet as it was, got rid of the last of his restraints. His body surged with desire, drawn to yours like a magnet, hungry like you were the only thing that could save him from starvation.

He reached low and cupped your ass in his large hands, hoisting you up in his arms. A surprised sound escaped your lips but you didn’t protest, circling his waist with your legs to steady yourself in his arms. He took a few steps until you felt the wooden table on which a few crates were stacked and you jumped when you heard the noise of them tumbling to the floor, making room for you instead.

Coriolanus sat you on the now empty table, his gaze wandering to your thighs, your skirt pulled almost all the way up. Both of you watched his hand tentatively reach between your legs, bringing your skirt and apron out of the way and revealing your panties. He trailed a finger over the fabric, feeling the warmth and humidity collecting between your folds. It reminded him of how it felt when his cock slided in your mouth, and the thought of what it might feel like to bury himself in your pussy this time almost made him dizzy with desire.

Every time he had thought about you, he had imagined fucking you sensless. Taking your pussy, shooting his release deep inside you and eventually letting you suck his cock clean afterwards. But, after what you had told him and now that he knew that what you wanted was someone who wouldn’t be egoistic enough to take and never give back, he had no choice but to fight against the almost painful strain of his cock aching for you.

It took all of his willpower to not give in when he slowly brought your panties down your legs. You were so ripe and ready to be fucked already. Was it the effect he had on you ? If he could get you this wet with just a kiss on the lips, he had no doubt that you wouldn’t ignore him ever again. Not after what he was about to do to you. To show you just how different he was from the others. And how he should be the only one allowed to touch you from now on.

He fell to his knees in front of you and parted your wet folds with his tongue. You gasped and his cock painfully twitched at the sound. He held your thighs apart with a strong grip on them. His tongue taking a few licks before pausing to fully taste you.

Delicious.

He licked a few more times, without any pattern in mind, just for the pleasure of tasting you on his tongue over and over again but, from the ragged breaths coming out of your mouth, it seemed that you liked it anyway.

When he felt your bud, right there under the tip of his tongue, he brought himself closer so that he could suck on it, causing you to throw your head back with a moan.

Then, his tongue wandered to the hole he so desperately dreamed about filling with his cock. He brought it past your tight entrance, making his nose press against your sensitive clit which got another moan out of you. Your hand found his head, dragging him even closer to you, as if you wanted him to get even deeper. So he did his best, continuing to gently fuck you with his tongue while the friction of his nose between your folds made your body tremble.

He gasped for air, moving away and instantly regretted it. You were leaning back on the table, one hand squeezing your boob, teeth biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself from being too loud. Your thighs were wide open for him, your pussy glistening with his saliva and your own arousal. Your clit was red, almost swollen from his rough sucking and it took every damn inch of himself to not instantly get up and shove his dick inside you. Your body was practically begging for it, so perfect and ready for him, as if you existed solely to be fucked by him.

But no, he wouldn’t give in. As painful as the perspective of taking care of his erection on his own, under the covers of his bed while his friends would be sleeping was, he was determined to leave an everlasting impression on you this time.

He took a deep breath and shoved his face to your pussy once more, making you whine and beg for release. Once his jaw couldn’t quite follow the rythym you needed anymore, he decided to use his fingers instead, pinching your mistreated bud while his other finger passed the tight ring of your entrance, exploring you deeper than his tongue could. He pushed it as far inside you as he could before he started his back and forth motions, mimicking what he would do if it was his cock filling you up.

He went faster. Faster. Faster. Until you gasped in pleasure, your walls tightening and pulsating around his finger. Your whole body contracted, your thighs closing in around his neck. Your mouth opened to let out a cry and once again, Coriolanus had to fight against his very primitive instincts to keep himself from shoving his hard cock in your mouth to silence your cries.

Once finally your body relaxed, he stood back up, a smug grin on his face. Of course, he would have liked being the one to get a bit of relief - he was still so hard and ready for you - but he felt oddly proud at how strongly you had orgasmed because of him. Surely, if his fingers and mouth could do that, you’d be obsessing and fantasizing about his cock for the rest of the week.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead and adjusted your hair and skirt, a lovely crimson blush on your face. You noticed the impressive buldge in Coriolanus’s pants and pressed a hand against it, wanting to thank him properly for the intense pleasure he had given you but he moved your hand away, shaking his head and kissing you instead.

“You’ve got to work and I have some friends to walk back to the barracks before they do something stupid.” He explained, his body violently protesting and wanting to let you give him some relief too but he was determined to follow his plan. “But maybe we could meet again sometime ?”

You nodded, still seeming a bit struck by the intensity of your orgasm. With a grin, he planted one last kiss on your lips before leaving the supply room, the torn piece of your skirt still securely tugged in his pocket.

[whotfletamothhyperfx]

During the winter does Tails get a winter coat? I think he does and most of his friends give him extra long hugs.

I THINK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH PREPARE CAUSE YOU’RE ABOUT TO GET SUCH A LENGTHY RANT BECAUSE IVE WANTED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH, So have a few of my favourite scenarios I came up with a while ago cause I adore the idea of Tails getting his winter coat

To answer the questions about cuddles yes he does get lots everyone absolutely adores when he’s getting his winter coat because it means he’s much more amazing to hug. There as times where tails will be doing work and people will just drop by to hug because he’s so warm and it’s cold outside sonic gets to use tails winter coat to his advantage though because he lives with tails so he can use tails fur to heat himself up whenever he likes

Anyway back to the angst I’ve always have this idea of my head of in the middle of winter they have to go to some sunny and hot place to find a chaos emeralds and of course since tails is the only one who really gets their winter coat they forget to take that into account when going to humid places in the middle of winter.

So yeah I just like to picture these lot hiking through some roasting forest and they’re starting to notice that ‘huh tails is getting weirdly tired and he’s drenched in sweat and is needed more water than usual that’s weird usually he handles the heat so much better’

But they keep going because of tails insistence and tails at this point is just having heatstroke but is trying to hide it so he isn’t some sort of inconvenience (which he isn’t if they knew then they would have had someone stay behind with him so he could rest up until they left, it wouldn’t have been problem) they also don’t notice the way he getting more irritable and confused and is clutching his head. And if they do notice then they just think it’s a bad day

after a while they notice that tails is starting to fall behind until they hear a massive thump on the ground and they all turn around to see at this point the kid has passed out from the heat. So of course they run over to him because in their heads the kids passed out for no reason.

And the second tails comes too he starts to throw up and clutch his head and can barely tell what’s happening because of the confusion. Everytime he tries to speak as well he’s slurring his words and stuttering.

So the groups starting to come to the horrifying realisation that the kid is going through intense heatstroke and they need to get him away from this heat now. They’re also poring their cold water on him while forcing him to drink some of it. Usually tails would protest all of this but at this point he’s too delirious to fight back against them.

At that point by the entire could agreement sonic just gently picks tails up and starts to rush him to the nearest village so he can he someone more cool.

Anyway after that all gets sorted he gets a very lengthy lecture about telling them when he gets too hot

[ash-rigby]

Sampling The Wares (Shark Humanoid) [F/F]

Featured Characters: Female human and a female shark humanoid. Both are adults.

Description: Enid, an adventurer seeking coin, has been tasked with travelling over treacherous waters for the sole purpose of obtaining a powerful aphrodisiac from a monstrous sea witch. Audra has what she seeks, but offers the warrior a chance to test the substance before she leaves. Enid is compelled to oblige.

Contains: Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Mild Nipple Growth, Mild Clit Growth, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral, Tribbing, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms.

Completion Date: July 2nd, 2023

Word Count: 4731

-

The closer Enid got to the island, the more it revealed itself to undeniably be a place of magic. The harsh, whipping winds suddenly dissipated in an instant and the turbulent waters which had threatened her small vessel calmed. The surface was like glass, revealing swirling, pale lights and wholly unique sea creatures. Anywhere that Enid’s skin was bare still stung from the cold, so the warmth that descended—though very humid—was welcome.

She was there on behalf of a man and woman from a town she had been passing through. They were offering substantial coin to anyone who would brave the perpetually tumultuous bay and the individual who presided in it; a witch in alleged possession of a certain magical substance. A powerful aphrodisiac, to be precise. It was an extreme length to go to for some added intensity in the bedroom, but Enid wasn’t about to turn down such a payment.

Her boat was dragged up onto the shore by an unseen force as she approached. A long, dark and slimy tendril emerged from the sand which made her reach for her sword. But it simply acted to tie the ship in place, burbling quietly as it secured itself. She released a breath and disembarked.

Before Enid was a moderately-sized, craggy rock face. A staircase with stone steps and decrepit wooden railings ran up it. It could only lead to the small island’s only dwelling; the home of Audra. Several large insects scurried out of Enid’s way when she walked towards it and began to carefully ascend.

At the top edge of the cliff, she came to a dirt pathway leading up a fog-shrouded knoll to a modest shack a short distance away. She paused to look for any sign of the reportedly monstrous witch. Nothing. The only movement was that of a crow pecking at something on the cabin’s crooked roof. It eyed her curiously as she approached, cocking its head before returning to its repetitive business.

Enid made her way up the three creaking porch steps and to the shack’s door. Beside it was a tarnished bell hanging from a short, haphazardly-installed metal arm.

“Best not to assume I can just barge right in,” Enid thought.

She pulled the bell’s string, startling as it made a horrible squawking noise instead of a ring. Her attention snapped from it and back to the door which opened mere seconds later.

There stood a creature a couple heads shorter than Enid; humanoid in most places, shark-like in others. She had sand-coloured skin, muddy yellow eyes, and a shock of short, unkempt golden hair on her head. Many deadly-looking teeth stuck out from her lips which twitched into an insincere smile as the equally sharp gaze travelled to meet hers.

“Hello, pup,” the creature said in a voice like salt water.

Enid straightened her spine. “Are you Audra?”

“I am she,” the witch said. She briefly looked Enid over, her nostrils wrinkling as she scoffed. “More hired muscle to take out a coward’s perceived threat?”

Her tone wasn’t angry or fearful; more lightly condescending. As if she were speaking to an insect that could be easily crushed should it think large enough of itself to try and sting.

“No,” Enid said, taking her hand away from the hilt of her blade. “I’ve come to purchase…something specific.”

Audra sniffed. “Suppose you wouldn’t have bothered ringing otherwise.”

She turned back towards the inside of her home, the fin of her shark tail audibly brushing the door frame.

“Come in, then,” she said. “Let’s get you sorted.”

Enid followed, finding herself in a dimly lit room full of curios and magical implements. There was a scent in the air. It wasn’t unpleasant, warm in her nose and somewhat spicy. Various ingredients were laid out on a table nearby. Assorted herbs, jars full of liquid too murky to discern the contents, and a strange purple root sitting half-chopped on a cutting board. Enid had clearly caught the witch in the middle of something; she would try and make this quick.

“Now, what might a warrior want of me?” Audra asked, leaning against the work table with her thick arms crossed over her chest; which was bare and carried two matching horizontal scars underneath where her breasts might have once been. She motioned towards the sword at Enid’s hip. “Perhaps to enchant that toothpick you carry?”

Enid gripped the scabbard protectively. “It was left to me by my late father. I would not see it altered.”

“Suit yourself,” Audra said with a shrug of her broad shoulders. She blinked into their brief silence. “Speak. What do you want?”

Enid’s face burned. She had not considered the embarrassment that would come from requesting the item she had come for.

“Courtesan’s Touch,” she said.  "A jar of Courtesan’s Touch.“

A real grin found Audra then, a chuckle shaking her frame and flaring the gills on her neck.

"I haven’t brought any of that to the mainland for a while,” she said thoughtfully. “You must be desperate to come this far for it, you naughty thing.”

“It’s not for me,” Enid defended.

“Your loss,” Audra said, her yellow eyes flashing even in the low light as she walked over to a nearby cabinet. “It’s exhilarating. What your client lacks in guts to come themselves, they make up for in taste.”

Enid coughed. “It’s not my job to judge; my client or the product.”

“But of course,” Audra said. She procured one of a collection of clay jars from the cabinet. It had a burlap cloth secured with twine covering the opening. “Though it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Enid asked, finding herself oddly fixated on the way Audra’s large hand cupped the round jar.

“Come now,” Audra said with a smirk. “You’re telling me you aren’t the least bit curious? To ‘sample the wares’, as it were?”

She was not wrong; Enid had speculated multiple times about the substance. What was it about a simple topical ointment that could be worth her journey and pay? It had to be powerful. Images of heated bodies going wild together with pleasure under its influence rose unbidden in her mind.

“None whatsoever,” she said, attempting to dash the lustful thoughts away and keep her pride. “This is a—.”

“Job, yes,” Audra interrupted. “However.”

The witch moved forward into Enid’s space, her voice lowering.

“I’m hard to deceive, pup. This excites you. You may lie, but my nose doesn’t.”

She accompanied her words with an indiscreet glance lower on Enid’s body and then back to her face, her hairless brow raising.

“You…” Enid murmured, taking a half-step back as a further flush slammed into her.

Audra gave a harsh bark of laughter. “I was kidding…but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Enid’s lips pressed tightly together as she looked to the floor, her heart hammering and not just from embarrassment. She watched as Audra returned to the cabinet and procured a second jar that was half the size of the first.

“Your journey was long and you seem tense,” Audra said. She held out the smaller jar. “Why not unwind?”

Enid stared at the offered item, knowing she should refuse but feeling her resolve flaking away. She hadn’t even thought about sex for a while. Not before she had taken that couple up on their request. But surely, it couldn’t be that easy for her to give in to such an indulgent whim.

Audra was pushing. Though it did seem malicious. It wasn’t as if the witch had any reason to poison Enid or some other such wicked deed. Perhaps she was simply trying to sell more of her wares than this transaction intended. And perhaps it was working.

“You may use my bedroom. Completely undisturbed.” Audra continued, gesturing behind her.

At the rear of the shack, there was a room cut off from the home proper by a ragged but effective privacy curtain. Enid looked at it and then back to Audra. She sighed and, against her better judgement, took the jar.

“I…suppose it would be best to know its quality for certain,” she said. “Find out if the stories are just stories.”

Audra grinned. “Of course…that’s all.”

Enid brushed past her and made her way to the bedroom.

“Call if you need anything,” Audra said after her as the curtain was shut.

The room was small, mostly taken up by the bed but still with more than enough walking space around it. Despite being alone, Enid couldn’t help but feel awkward. She could scarcely believe she was doing this. The jar in her hand suddenly felt so volatile. Placing it on the bed, she set about removing her gear and clothes until she was standing topless in the witch’s bedroom.

Enid sat on the edge of the mattress. It was old, but not dirty. She laid herself down against the pillows which were individually flat and stacked to be in any way comfortable. Taking a breath, she then reached for the jar and removed the lid.

The scent of the contents hit her at once; not unlike honey with a hint of something earthy. It flooded her senses and made something pleasantly shiver its way down her spine. Emboldened by rising excitement, she scooped up a bit of the milky-coloured ointment with her fingers. She ignored the need between her legs, not quite ready to go that far with it yet. Instead, she brought it to one of her nipples.

As Enid rubbed it against her quickly perking flesh, it thinned into a liquid that ran in rivulets down the curve of her breast. She did the same with the other before leaving the jar at her side to work the substance in with both hands. A pleased sigh escaped her as she teased herself. It felt good, but nothing more than what was typical.

She added more, making the whole of her tits glisten with it. Arousal flickered to life inside of her; a small, controlled candle flame rather than a blaze. Her thighs began to rub together unconsciously. She was certainly losing herself to this more quickly, but she wondered when the real show would begin. Was this all?

Just as Enid was starting to doubt the witch’s words, she felt a tingling sensation wherever the ointment had touched, concentrated at its highest power on the now-hardened buds on her breasts. She stopped touching herself just to feel it descend upon her with fascination. It was warm and didn’t seem set on fading. Quite the contrary; it was growing more intense by the second.

Enid was helpless to it. She began to pant as sweat sprung up over her heating body. She became aware that the quick heaving of her chest was bringing her pleasure, however subtle the movement it brought to her breasts. Shaking fingers rose once more to her nipples. A loud moan wrenched itself from her as her back snapped into an arch from the intense pleasure.

Her body dropped heavily and she lay in shock for only a moment before she was compelled to continue.

“Fuck…fuck,” she whimpered, rolling a hyper-sensitive nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

Her heart knocked against her ribs. This was it. This was what she had been looking for and more. Any walls she had pointlessly held up shattered and she gave herself over entirely to the Touch.

Enid proceeded to grope herself like she never had before; hard and desperate. Her hands squeezed the mound of her breasts, all but tugged at her nipples. Wetness was gathering in her undergarments the longer she fondled. Shameless noises and curses streamed from her mouth which began to drool from the corners.

She could imagine the sight she made; reduced so quickly to a writhing mess just from touching her own tits. But she wanted more. Needed more.

Enid paused, hands falling to rest at her sides. A glance down her body showed her thoroughly used nipples. She gasped to see them having swollen to twice their original size. They were dark and lightly, but visibly, throbbing.

Enid reached for her belt. She fumbled with it, discovering that her fingers were shaking too much to undo the buckle. Her pussy demanded attention with ardent pulses. The need to please it was enough to bring frustrated tears to Enid’s eyes. Her hands dropped once more, gathering the sheets tightly into her palms.

Biting back a whine, her gaze was drawn back to her chest, slick with a combination of the ointment and her sweat. Her engorged nipples continued to rapidly twitch. She tried to resume teasing them, but a single prod caused a shock of limb-weakening pleasure. It was too much. She couldn’t keep up. The realization struck that she couldn’t finish this herself.

Laying there, set upon by relentless arousal strong enough to bring her a full-body tremble, it was hard to think. But she didn’t have to contemplate long about what to do next. Her mind wandered to sharp teeth and strong arms. To large, undoubtedly skillful hands that would be a balm on this ache. With a voice rising to an embarrassing near-wail, Enid called out in an urgent appeal to the only person for miles.

“Audra!”

Enid waited, praying that the witch hadn’t left the home. But the privacy curtain was soon being pushed aside and Audra strode into the room. Her eyes glinted as they slowly roamed Enid’s body which lay on willing display for her. A dark tongue darted out briefly over her bottom fangs, making Enid swallow hard around her heavy breaths.

Audra hummed in amusement. “My, my, what a state.”

“Please…please, Audra. Please,” Enid pleaded. “I-I need—.”

Shushing her, Audra approached the bed. She chuckled; more fond this time than ridiculing.

“Patience, pup,” she said lowly. “I have you.”

She situated herself on the bed and leaned over Enid, the scent of her heavy and intoxicating. Her hand cupped Enid’s face and she instinctively turned into it, exposing the length of her neck. Warm breath ghosted over her skin as Audra’s tongue traced its way up her throat and up to her ear, teasing at the lobe. Even that simple of an action made her cunt throb; she was done for.

Audra pulled away. “Look at me.”

Enid obeyed, meeting the witch’s thin pupils before being brought into a kiss. Though it was not as much of a kiss as it was Audra slipping her tongue directly into her mouth. She felt her eyes widen as the impossibly long muscle snaked down her throat and she couldn’t deny how arousing it was. Sharp teeth grazed her lips as the tongue explored deeply. Enid moaned around it when a hand finally found her chest.

Audra took one of Enid’s breasts, pressing and rolling the nipple under her thumb. Swollen and straining, it pulsed all the harder under the witch’s touch. She could certainly feel it and that fact should have been mortifying. But Enid couldn’t muster an ounce of care. Not when it was the source of such pleasure.

Cries muffled by the thick tongue laving around in her throat, Enid felt wild. Every brush against her nipple added to the fluttering heat that had overtaken her entire body. She thought she may very well quiver out of her skin.

Audra then retracted her tongue, licking her teeth as Enid gasped for air. Drool glistened on her chin and her gaze had become hungry. Both hands went to Enid’s tits, relentless attention fixed on the sensitive buds upon them. She gave yet another devious chuckle over Enid’s loud moans, her voice slightly rougher as she spoke.

“Look at them throbbing like that,” Audra marveled. “I knew there was a perverted body under that tough exterior. It’s always the uptight ones.”

Enid merely whimpered, ecstasy fighting against any coherent speech.

“Looks tasty,” Audra said and it was the only warning Enid received before that probing tongue descended onto her chest.

It was so much better than a hand, circling over her nipple at alternating paces as Audra let out low, satisfied noises. Like someone devouring a delicious meal. Enid weakly tugged at the sheet, head tossed back against the pillow. Her breasts were slowly wet further with warm saliva as Audra moved her mouthy affections between both. The sensation was filthy, but she revelled in it.

A fever of pleasure wracked her body. Her legs snapped open of their own accord as her ignored pussy dribbled and throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to grind it against something—anything. Her hips writhed with that desire but she could do nothing more.

Yet, somehow, it was enough.

Enid moaned when a familiar feeling, though with an unfamiliar epicentre, surged within her. It was rapidly building to a peak as she was fondled and licked. Her nipples all but pounded with heartbeats of their own; though that was likely the effect of her own racing pulse in her ears. She could barely tell what was what anymore through the haze of impending release.

Audra was unwavering, her pleased vocalizations vibrating against slick, heated skin.

“Audra…I can't—Audra, I’ll cum,” Enid said, frantic and breathless. “I…I—oh, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cu—!”

The words were cut off by a loud, quavering cry. Completely untouched, pleasure radiated from her sweltering cunt. Her back bent into as much as an arch as was allowed by Audra remaining on top of her. The witch teased her through it, prolonging her ecstasy until it was almost unbearable.

Enid’s orgasm dropped her. She lay catching her breath, twitching periodically with aftershocks as her nipples continued to throb. Audra had sat back to seemingly admire her work. An infuriatingly arousing smugness was settled into those shark-like features.

“And that,” Audra said, fangs flashing. “Is Courtesan’s Touch.”

Her hand lighted on Enid’s torso just below her heaving breasts. She trailed her fingers downwards. They came to a stop just before travelling between Enid’s legs, toying with the seam on her pants.

“It does wonders here,” she said, undeniable excitement oozing from her tone. “May I?”

Enid nodded. “Please.”

“Good girl.”

Audra relinquished Enid of the rest of her clothes, gently sliding a single large hand under the small of her back to encourage her to assist by lifting her hips. Enid’s pants and underwear were dropped unceremoniously to the floor and her pussy was exposed to the air. She shivered, watching curiously as Audra took a moment to remove her waist wrappings and even things with her own nudity.

“Let’s not let you have all the fun,” she said.

Remaining standing by the bed, Audra lifted a foot and placed it up on the bed by Enid’s head so that her cunt was on full display. Enid couldn’t help but stare at the enticing folds and prominent clit. She swallowed at the thought of sucking it. The unrelenting heat of the aphrodisiac still raged and quickened her breath as her desirous gaze remained fixed.

Audra reached down to thumb at her clit, eliciting a pleased hum. She gestured with a flick of her head to Enid’s side.

“Hand me that, would you?”

Enid fumbled a little in reaching for the jar and giving it to Audra. The witch took a liberal amount of the ointment, using two of her thick fingers to rub it into her pussy. It quickly left a glistening, wet mess. Audra made a show of it, thrusting lightly into the air above Enid’s face as she played with herself. The scent of her soon-leaking cunt was dizzying.

“Getting a good look, aren’t you?” Audra asked in between heavy breaths. “You like to watch…I can tell.”

“Yes,” Enid admitted, barely suppressing a needy whine at the sight of flushed and dripping folds parting eagerly for tireless fingers. She would kill for that then. Her body cried out in every silent but still insistent way to be teased and fucked. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

Audra paused before any begging could occur. The whole of her pussy twitched as she remained with her foot up on the bed for only a few more moments. Enid could see a slight swelling beginning in her clit, wondering just how much it would be affected by the Touch.

Palming the jar and still breathing slightly erratically, Audra moved to sit back on the bed. Enid’s heart began to pound again in anticipation. Her head lolled against the pillow so she felt more than saw when Audra’s fingers made contact with her neglected pussy. It throbbed hard at the first stroke, sending her hips jolting.

The ointment melted to its liquid state as Audra took up an agonizingly slow pace. Enid moaned all the same, shaking and weak with the relief of finally being touched this way. Every stroke was heavenly, but they stopped all too soon. She felt movement which brought her attention to the witch.

Audra climbed up onto the bed, situating herself on her knees between spread thighs. Giving the warrior a crafty look, she reached out and grabbed Enid’s waist, pulling her forward with unexpected strength. Enid yelped and found herself with her backside resting up on Audra’s legs, her own splayed out on either side of the witch.

Audra smiled at the indignant expression she received but said nothing. She reached for the jar again to gather more ointment—and focus a generous portion entirely on Enid’s clit. The warm, wide pad of Audra’s thumb worked it in with slow circles. Enid’s toes curled from the pleasure. Her lower half trembled, her soaking cunt quivering with every pass over her clit.

She panted as a familiar tingling settled in. She felt it like hot blood rushing rapidly into her clit. Her eyes rolled back with it. This time, she was hyper-aware of the swell. Every heartbeat-like pulse filled out her clit further. The sheer increasing strain of it kept cries spilling from her lips even though the touches had ceased.

Enid knew that Audra had stopped to observe. To watch her grow with that sharp, starving animal look of hers. She could feel those feral eyes on her pussy and it only served to make her clit pound harder. Biting back a sob, she finally looked at Audra, her aroused ideas confirmed.

But more than Audra’s intense staring, Enid was struck by the state of her clit. It had grown to a fair three inches, thick and throbbing as it stood jutting away from her body not unlike a cock. She whimpered, dying to touch it, but unable to stop her mind from whirling enough to put her hand into motion.

Audra let out a low growl, but it was accompanied by a large, toothy grin. She shuffled backwards ungracefully, allowing Enid’s body to drop hard onto the mattress. The motion made Enid’s raging clit bob drastically and stars burst in her wavering vision at the shock of pleasure.

“Stay with me, pup,” Audra said huskily at the same time that Enid felt warm air puff against the skin of her sweat-slick thigh.

The witch was suddenly laying on her stomach between Enid’s legs, her pointed face inching closer to her cunt. That tongue which had enthusiastically explored her throat and teased her nipples slipped once again through deadly fangs. Enid barely had a lucid second to brace herself before it was tracing its way up her folds. A wail shook itself from her as it wrapped around the length of her clit.

Audra bobbed her head, writhing her tongue as she moved. The wet, rhythmic squeeze was exquisite. Her breath was humid against the mound of Enid’s pussy, laced with frequent drops of the saliva glinting off her fangs.  The yellow eyes had glazed over somewhat, a whisper of palpable arousal forming on shark-like features as Audra’s hips began to rut against the mattress.

“Gods…gods,” Enid gasped, finally finding it in herself to return her hands to her still swollen and twitching nipples. Her moans cracked to a higher pitch, sounding in the small space over and over. She bucked into Audra’s face when pleasure would spike. Part of her feared she may lance herself on those sharp teeth, but it was a faint concern fogged by the mounting ecstasy of a fast-approaching release. Enid whined, ready to burst.

The tongue abruptly released her.

Frustration flared, tangling with the need in her voice. “N-no…why—?”

Similarly breathless, Audra crawled forward. She was keeping her typical expression, but desperation still seeped through the cracks. Once their hips aligned, she stopped.

“Like hell am I passing up feeling you cum on mine,” she said huskily.

Looking down, Enid saw Audra’s clit; similarly augmented to a larger size and throbbing hard between her legs. The witch’s cunt was dripping, slick falling onto Enid’s body as she hovered above. Two deeply heated sets of eyes met for only a moment’s silence.

“Fuck me,” Enid breathed. “Fuck me…fuck me.”

Audra grinned and brought their swollen clits together. They moaned in near unison as she initially stilled, straining flesh twitching fervidly against each other. She began thrusting, slowly at first but gaining speed as their combined wetness eased the movement.

Enid’s hands landed on Audra’s thighs. She held on for dear life, her nails digging into muscle-taut skin. The pounding in the length (and it was still strange to apply that word) of her clit worked south, sending both of her holes twitching with pleasure. Her pussy was on fire and soaked the sheets beneath them. She cried out, any words incoherent aside from Audra’s name repeating on her tongue.

Audra was practically snarling, the sounds punching out of her with every forward thrust. She was truly bearing down. The full weight of her descended in deep grinds.

“Take it, pup. Take it,” she growled. “Let’s get off just humping together like this, huh? That’s all we need. We’re just a couple of horny beasts.”

Enid moaned, unstable from Audra’s rough thrusting. “More…more…more! Oh, gods, more!”

“Nothing—hah—nothing else to say that isn’t begging?” Audra asked, playfully proud. “What happened to that smart tongue of yours? Cum yourself stupid on that last one?”

Maybe. But did Enid care? Not in the slightest. She didn’t care that she had let things go this far. She didn’t care that Courtesan’s Touch had made a needy little fuck-toy out of her. Every fibre of her being was alight in ways it never had been before. She readily lost herself to every deep throb in her engorged clit and gushing cunt.

“Harder,” she groaned through grit teeth.

Audra gave a laugh that was aborted in part by a choked moan as she obliged and upped her pace. Their bodies all but thrashed together, clits sliding over one another in a tight, wet press. The thick, heady scent of their fucking was broken only by the occasional sweet whiff of the Touch; a reminder of the simple ointment that had reduced them to this.

Like a shot, Enid found herself cumming. Any movements she was adding to the clash of aroused flesh stilled as she shook and moaned. The ever-present pulsing of her clit reached its apex while Audra continued. But it only took a few more wild, uncoordinated thrusts for the witch to join her.

Enid felt her throbbing and watched as golden eyes rolled back under flickering lids. Contrary to the earlier feral noises and filthy words, Audra was oddly quiet in her release. She seemed to be holding her breath before letting out an audible, gravelly and shaking exhale as she came down from it. Her head remained lowered, hiding her face from Enid while she gathered herself.

With a purposeful inhale, she eventually straightened and looked down at the human pinned underneath her. The corners of her mouth perked.

“So…that meet your standards?” she said, a bead of sweat dripping from her temple and caressing her lower jaw.

When she didn’t receive an answer from a still-panting Enid right away, she moved to dismount. But she was stopped by two hands slapping down onto her thighs. She dropped back down, mild shock finding her face for the first time.

“As I said,” Enid said slowly, heat creeping into her face despite her demanding tone. “More.”

Audra flashed that beastly grin and bent forward to grab the jar.

“You should be wary of what you ask for, pup.”

End

Masterlist

[arealphrooblem]

Terms of Surrender Part 6

Synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates

Part one Here

Part five here:

CW: violence, mentions of blood

A few weeks passed by. The air started to thicken, the summer heat starting to roll in like a fog. The Queen became intensely grateful that propriety no longer dictated the heavy, cloying dresses befitting her former rank. The linen shifts and simple braid kept her cool enough; some days she didn’t even bother changing out of her nightgown, throwing on her lightest housecoat when the Warlord visited.

Such improper dress did nothing to phase him; he responded in kind, showing up some evenings in flowy linen pants and short sleeved shirts. In fact, the heat did not seem to phase him at all. The sun loved him, darkening his tawny skin until it glowed sepia in the setting rays. His hair shone like a raven’s wing.

In the growing humidity it had started to curl and the Queen found her gaze catching on his fingers when he ran his hand through it, wondering how soft his hair might feel. It was one of many distractions and they left her win-loss record in chess in shambles.

“Does something trouble you?” the Warlord asked as he tipped over her king. “You have played rather abysmally as of late. Each of my victories are becoming more and more embarrassing.”

How can she explain that the sight of his bare forearms as he reaches across the board, the elegant grip of his calloused fingers, the errant curl that sticks out above his right ear, is  driving her faintly mad?

“It is the heat,” she said instead. “I don’t see how you remain so unbothered by it.”

He smiled. “This is nothing. It gets much hotter back home.” Then his brow furrowed. “Are you uncomfortable? Is there anything you need?”

“I am the most comfortable prisoner in the world,” she said with a smile and a shake of her head.

“So you say. But I have a feeling you would not tell me if you weren’t.”

The Queen laughed at this. “Are you worried you’re a bad host to a prisoner of war? Everything I have is more than anyone in my position deserves or receives. It’s absurd that you should worry so much for my sake.”

He opened his mouth to retort and then closed it with a pensive look. “You’re right. Yet I seem to worry anyway.”

The warlord’s brow furrowed, as if this thought bothered him. She could only guess at the possible discomfiture at feeling guilty over a necessary imprisonment, the price paid for owning what he took. A potential weakness.

She would not want him to dwell on it, for multiple reasons.

“Do you miss home?” she asked.

He pondered over a rook. “Sometimes. Home is so entwined with my father and his rule that it hasn’t felt like mine. I’ve always been drawn to this place, though, and not just because none of my ancestors managed to successfully capture it before me. It’s a beautiful city, with much to envy. I visited once as a child and could never stop dreaming of it.”

“You came here?” she asked, surprised. “When?”

“I was but a boy — perhaps nine or ten years old. I came with my father and grandfather.”

He is not so much older than her that she wouldn’t remember this. But the past remains vague in her memory. She vaguely recalls such a visit, the peculiarity and anxiety around it, as his country and hers did not often have cordial visits after so much history of war.

“I must have met you but I don’t remember,” she said softly.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “I didn’t either at first, but I do now. We met only once, at the first dinner. You were very shy and I didn’t speak your language so well then.  Your father sent you and your mother away for the rest of my trip. I think we made him nervous.”

The memory began to crystallize in her mind. She could recall a dark-eyed boy in strange clothes sitting across from her.

“Did I . . .help you ask for more water?” she says slowly, trying to grab hold of the memory before it slipped through her fingers again.

“Yes, And a smaller knife.”

She gasped. “I remember that. That was you?”

 It changed things, somehow: that he could have been a familiar face that night in his tent. That he recognized her even now. That she knew him before war had changed him.

“Is that why I’m . . . here?” she asked.

“You’re here for a number of reasons,” he replied. “But I can’t . . .discount that memory as a factor. You have not changed much from the kindness that I remember.”

“It was not kindness so much as common decency,” she pointed out, uncomfortable with the flattery.

He gave her another smile, this one tinged with sorrow. “You are not common. Not in my experience.”

More and more often the Warlord brought her matters of state to gather her advice on. He kept the specifics vague; she often did not know who he was dealing with. But she informed him of past decisions her father and husband had made, how they affected commerce and politics, the successes and failures that she could predict. It flattered her that he valued her insight so much; it also gave her hope that such value would become a guarantee to continue living.

Each morning her fears diminished. She found peace and contentment in the quiet monotony of her days. With no husband to monitor, no divided court to appease, no ever-shifting responsibilities, no appearances to keep up, the Queen experienced true happiness for the first time in her life.

Perhaps that was why she failed to notice the new face among her guards that day, or the way he slipped in her rooms after the maid delivering dinner stepped out.

“Come, my lady. We have little time,” he said, stepping close.

The queen blinked, uncomprehending.  “What?”

“The Warlord is on his way to join you. We must leave before he gets here.”

He took her wrist and tugs her towards the door to her bedroom. She resisted, planting her feet, her other hand gripping the back of the chair.

“Who are you? Where would you take me?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “I’ve been sent by a friend of your husband and we are running out of time. Would you stay in this captivity until he executes you? Or would you have your freedom and take your country back?”

Her freedom. She could almost laugh in his face. What freedom could be found in becoming someone else’s pawn for the throne yet again?

The guard did not wait for her to answer. He gripped her roughly and dragged her across the room. She allowed him to take her as far as the door between her room and the Warlord’s before she threw her entire weight backwards, hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground and breaking his grip.

She scrambled to her feet and dashed back towards the sitting room, but the guard was both stronger and faster than her. His hands closed around the back of her dress and yanked her backwards, the neckline choking her. In an instant he had her pinned against the wall, wrists twisted behind her back, knife at her throat. The blade nicked the skin of her neck.

“You have sat in a gilded cage while your peers have suffered and foreign filth taints our home. You may be content with that, but they are not. I am taking you to the resistance by force or by choice, but I am taking you nonetheless.”

His bruising grip did not lessen as he led her through the Warlord’s chambers, out of the servant door and into an empty hallway. The queen debated fighting again, but she knew these halls more than him. It would do better to wait for a better opportunity to slip away.

That hope dashed to pieces when the guard pulled her into a scullery filled with at least six other men. She could run from one man, but not all six.

“Watch her,” the guard warned as he locked the door behind them. “She has sold her kingdom out for a pretty cage. She will run at the first opportunity to return to it.”

The hopeful expressions of the men disintegrated into something ugly and resentful. They surrounded her on all sides as they led her into the back kitchen gardens. By now the late evening sun had slipped behind the castle walls, keeping the gardens in rapidly growing darkness.

With every step her hope of escape died a little more. The list of men who were both honorable and counted among her husband’s friends was short and full of the deceased. The thought of being turned against the one man who had never seen her as a tool made her sick, and the thought of marrying another power hungry fool made her want to draw blood.

“I think you have something of mine.”

The sound of the Warlord’s voice, soft and quiet, stopped everyone in their tracks. The sounds of swords yanked from their scabbards followed quickly after. Out of the shadows the Warlord stepped forward, almost as if they had borne him.

“She was never yours, you filthy, sand-stained mongrel,” growled the guard who took her, shoving her behind him. “And we will not let your heathen ways taint her any further.”

The Warlord’s eyes flickered to hers. Even in the fading light the coldness of his gaze froze her to the spot.

“Do you feel tainted, my lady?” he asked mildly.

She wanted to scream her denial all the way up to God. She wanted to fight and shove her way to him. But the look in his eyes dried up every word before it could escape.

It was a look of death and ruin.

Countless stories of the Warlord’s terrifying, blood thirsty ways circulated viciously during the war. None of it could compare to seeing it in person. Despite the odds, the dying light, the Warlord cut down each man with brutal, excruciating efficiency. And when they all lay on the ground, he stuck his sword through each of their heads through the eye.

It was over in a matter of seconds. The Warlord stared at her, blood in his hair, dripping down his neck, soaking the front of his shirt and none of it his, and terror quite unlike anything she had never known seized her.

“Explain,” he said.

Fear had stolen her words. She couldn’t piece them together, couldn’t stop shaking.

He took a step forward and she stumbled backwards. Blood coated the blade of his sword.

“I will not ask you again,” he said. His voice shook with barely repressed rage.

“I — I didn’t go willingly,” she said hoarsely. “He came in with — with dinner. He said he was with a friend of my h-husband. He took me. I - I didn’t know how to get away.”

Her voice broke on the last word. And the cold fury of his gaze shattered into heartbreak.

“You are a fool for thinking I would believe that,” he said sadly. “But I am a bigger fool for wanting to.”

He did not take her to the dungeons himself. After his men appeared to collect her, he did not spare her another glance.

Part 7 here

Taglist:

@cesspitoflove@aprilraine@talesofurbania1@sarcasticlittlebook @hasel-anne @weaverofbrokenthreads @prismaticpizza @tantive404

[lovecarisi]

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

Chapter 4: The Earthquake

Weeks and weeks and weeks of Dominick and you. The door slams shut and your body is shoved against the wall in your hallway, or bent over your kitchen island while he pulls off your underwear, hands hungrily finding you wet and ready for him, every time. There is an insatiable desire between hot kisses and you barely manage to pull down his jeans enough to get him out, hard as a rock, dying to bury himself inside of you. Your trembling bodies become one and you moan each other’s names in the dark. It doesn’t last long, but it’s always what both of you want and need. 

Sometimes you make it to the bedroom and then it’s slow and lazy but never any less desperate and intense. Every now and then he kisses you goodbye after and you watch him leave with regret, you can tell he feels it too but quite often he asks to stay and you let him. And when that happens, you regret it just as much. It’s the way you feel his chest rise and fall as he holds you against him, his breath tickling your neck. When all the heat of passion, want, and sex has escaped your body and the night is supposed to be just peaceful and still. How can he just sleep like that while you’re left alone with your thoughts? While your mind is racing, overthinking? Eventually you do fall asleep and most mornings Dominick is gone, only a cup of coffee remaining for you on the nightstand.

You still have the occasional breakfast together and it’s nice, but he has accepted the fact that it might be something he wants, but you feel awkward about. Truth is, you’re not sure how you feel about it. It was sweet when he did it the first time, you think back fondly; you two sitting there eating and laughing. But you’re worried how it would become too homely with him and then it would get too comfortable and well, there’s the rules. The goddamn rules. It’s sort of fucked up that they exist in a vacuum since most of the time when you’re naked together and Dominick’s body feels so good and you whisper those sweet nothings to each other it seems there are no rules. What a hypocrite you are; you demand this closeness, this intimacy, to own him in such a way. Just for this moment, and then it’s over and you send him on his merry way and although you crave him again immediately, you don’t allow yourself to have him permanently. And why? You can’t answer it. All you know is that it wouldn’t work.

________________

‘God, I’m starving.’ you cry as thunder rumbles in the distance and the first light raindrops begin to fall. Finally. It’s been humid all day, the pressure and heat trapped between the buildings of the city.

‘Let’s go out for dinner then.’ Dominick suggests. The two of you on his bed, on your stomachs, chins resting on your forearms, staring out the window. You’re grateful for the cool breeze that comes flooding into his bedroom. 

‘No. I said no dates.’

‘Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. It doesn’t have to be a date. You’re hungry, I’m hungry, let’s just go eat.’

It’s true, he keeps asking. And you keep saying no. Hanging out is cool, going out for dinner together with your friends is cool but you draw the line at him taking you out for dinner. Maybe it’s silly but sitting in a restaurant together is what couples do. Plus, knowing him he would choose a place with a special ambience, not just a diner around the corner. 

‘I’m gonna order us a pizza because that’s what normal people do. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a thunderstorm coming.’ You wrap the bedsheet around yourself and get up, wandering into the kitchen to grab one of the menus from his fridge as well as your phone but he follows you and takes them from you.

‘I can make us something. How about…bruschetta. You’re gonna love it. I promise.’ You know this is his version of a date but you have to give it to him. And you do love bruschetta. And you always love watching him prepare food with these beautiful hands of his. 

‘Okay…’ you give in and pick up your dress from the floor, pulling it over your head and chuckle as he runs back into the bedroom enthusiastically to put on some clothes as well before returning to the kitchen where you have made yourself comfortable on the counter. ‘Show me what you got, chef.’

‘Well calm down, it’s just bruschetta.’ Dominick laughs while getting his cutting board and knife out, then heading over to the fridge to take out the ingredients. 

‘People have been known to fuck up bruschetta. Hell, I once ate this soggy piece of whatever it was in fucking Florence, of all places.’

‘Not on my watch.’ he says with a serious look on his face as he picks the basil leaves and smells them before stacking and gently rolling them. 

‘So, you never told me who taught you how to cook, your mom?’ you ask curiously and he frowns for a second before continuing, cutting the basil carefully. 

‘Umm…no..umm… My grandma actually.’ he pauses and turns his back to you, washing the roma tomatoes in the sink and you get the weird feeling you might have said something wrong because the process seems to be taking way too long. When he finally returns to the cutting board his expression is unreadable. ‘I never really knew my parents.’ 

‘Oh.’ Is all you manage, and you wish you hadn’t asked, a feeling of instant regret in your stomach. 

‘Yeah, umm. They died when I was little, car accident. Drunk driver hit them. So my maternal grandparents raised me.’ He grabs a tomato but leaves it lying there on the board, just staring down at it as momentum makes it roll back and forth.

There’s a lump in your throat as you swallow hard and you join him in staring at the tomato, not quite sure what to say, or even what to do. Fuck. Even though you two had shared a few personal conversations, the topic of your families had never come up before. There had been comments about each other’s childhoods said in passing, yes, but nothing specific, you had never gone into detail. In all honesty, not much talking was involved when you two spent time together unless you were with friends. This is an entirely new situation. You reach out to softly touch his hand and thankfully, he lets you. 

‘Dominick, I’m so sorry. I…I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay, you couldn’t have known. Really. It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s been a long time.’ He looks at you, his thumb caressing your hand.

‘Still….I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.’

‘It’s okay.“ He says again. ‘Like I said, I was really young. But yeah, guess now you know what made me want to become a lawyer.’

‘He got acquitted?’

‘Spoiled kid from a rich family. They just made it go away. Had friends in higher places my grandparents couldn’t match since they couldn’t afford a good lawyer. He basically just told them to take the money and the deal. They didn’t have a choice. They had to think about the future. I can’t blame them. And believe me, I don’t think people should be punished for every mistake they make. But I think there should be accountability. And buying your way out of shit that you created yourself, it shouldn’t be an option. Rich folks should have to face the same consequences everyone else has to face. That’s where the system’s corrupt. It makes me sick. Even then I knew it was wrong.’ he says and you nod in agreement.

‘How old were you?’

‘Three. I’m lucky that the few memories I have of them are happy ones.’

‘They would be so proud of you. And you will be an exceptional lawyer, I have no doubt about that.’ You slip off the counter and hug him; a fierce, heartfelt hug that you keep intensifying by hugging him closer again and again. Dominick sighs, resting his cheek on top of your head, his arms wrapped around you tightly. 

You don’t know how long you two stand like this. It’s only your stomach growling loudly that breaks it up. He laughs and you apologize, your cheeks bright red with embarrassment. 

‘No need. All I want to do right now is make that fucking bruschetta for you.’ He kisses your hair. ‘Thank you.’

And he looks at you adoringly, like no man ever has.

__________________

‘Can I stay with you tonight?’ you ask, after licking your fingers clean. That bruschetta really hit the spot, delicious. 

You sit by the open window, watching the rain fall, the latest crashing thunder has just subsided. It’s really pouring down now. 

‘Well, I wouldn’t send you out in this weather.’ Dominick replies with a smirk, grabbing your plate and walking over to the kitchen to place it in the sink along with his own.

‘Me asking to stay has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the fact that I would like to stay with you tonight.’

If Dominick wants you to admit it then fine, you’re going to admit it. You really want to stay with him. It has nothing to do with not wanting to dread the conditions outside, being too lazy to get on the train, sex, or anything else. You just want to be with him. Perhaps it’s the way he opened up to you about his parents, the way he was so vulnerable for the first time. Of course it was a coincidence that the conversation went in this direction, but he didn’t have to take it that far. However, for some reason he did, for some reason he trusted you, and all screwing each other and being silly together aside, you feel just as close to him in a different way for the first time. And it surprisingly doesn’t scare you. You thought it would. Quite the opposite is the case actually; you want to protect it. Wrap it up in silk so it wouldn’t scratch, put a ribbon around it, then hide it deep within you for safekeeping. Like a sacred token. Even if you’re not sure what to do with it yet. You feel honored to have it, proud. And you are convinced he is aware and there’s a secret understanding between you two now. About this slight shift that has occurred, like tectonic plates after an earthquake, and where you settle isn’t quite clear but that’s okay. As long as you continue to tread carefully.

The smile he displays is nothing short of victorious. ‘If that’s the case…’

And you find yourselves on the couch watching Blade Runner. It’s not romantic because that’s not what you want, but it’s cozy and comfortable. Dominick has his arm around you and you’re leaning against him and for a moment you think, this is what couples do but right now you don’t think twice about it. 

When the movie ends he pulls you up from the couch and you go and brush your teeth together in his bathroom. Dominick gives you one of his shirts to sleep in and smiles when he sees you in it. It’s the strangest feeling when you get into bed together and it’s not with the usual feverish urgency. The one you had already satisfied multiple times earlier anyway when you returned from meeting up with your friends for a drink after work. Still, you had never gotten into bed with him unless you were, well, fucking. So now you’re under the covers with him, face to face and you feel oddly confused, not knowing what to do or say. This is a new version of you two. Here to stay, you’re not sure. All you know is that you love the way you feel wearing his clothes, the way they smell, the soft fabric on your skin, the thrill he obviously gets from sharing them with you. 

Dominick moves closer to you, your legs entangle under the sheets. 

‘What I would give to know what you’re thinking right now.’ he says, his hands resting under his cheek.

‘I don’t even know what I’m thinking right now.’ Now you’re the one moving closer, until your noses touch.

You feel like a walking contradiction with him constantly. Things you never thought you’d do, you’ve done with him. From the start he has managed to elicit from you thoughts and actions you were never capable of before. And he didn’t even have to try. It was just the fact that he existed. Any other guy would have taken advantage, would have used that power maliciously for sure. Not Dominick though. He gave you back that power. It was that fact that made it so good. Nothing made sense with him but everything made sense with him.

______________

You wake up to a rainy Saturday morning, and a new thunderstorm has crept its way in. The clock reads 07:04 and Dominick is still fast asleep, arms wrapped around you protectively while your head is resting on his chest. His heartbeat is steady, his breathing in a deep state of relaxation that could lull you back to sleep but you don’t want to let it. Your hand reaches out to tenderly touch his chest, fingers playing with the soft hairs there and he stirs but doesn’t wake so you continue, drawing small circles on his skin. Next, your lips join. Pressing little kisses where your hands have been and he sighs in his sleep, arms tightening around you while under the sheets you can feel him grow hard. This is what you wanted, and you can’t help but smile. Still, you wonder how long you can manage until he fully wakes. You resume with your kisses on his warm skin; gently, slowly, while breathing in his scent. Pulling down the sheet a little, you move down to his stomach, following that trail of hair downwards with your mouth, tongue sneaking out and it’s then you suddenly hear him sleepily sigh your name. Biting your lip, you look up at him but his eyes are still closed.

‘And what do you think you’re doing, hmm?’ he asks, voice husky.

‘I think you know what I’m doing, and I think you’d like me to continue.’ 

You kiss your way back up to his mouth and your lips meet his for a hungry kiss you withdraw from again immediately, his eyes flutter open, searching yours.

Without giving him time to think or say anything, you kiss him again before letting your mouth wander down his chin and up his jaw. He grabs you, hands already restlessly roaming over your body. Down his neck you go, softly nibbling, and you aim to pay him back for the hickey of that first week, knowing fairly well he doesn‘t mind, that in fact, it turns him on the way it had turned you on. So you sink your teeth into his delicate skin and a low moan escapes his mouth, god, you are so aroused by the sounds he makes, knowing how good you are making him feel. And you move back down to his chest but the truth is you want to get to where he had stopped you a few minutes ago when he had woken up. Down, down you go, over his stomach, and you can feel him tensing up as you get to the waistband of his boxer briefs but you don’t hesitate, you know exactly what you want. 

‘W-wait!’ he tries to stop you but you shush him and pull down his underwear and quickly take his already hard cock into your mouth.

And he tastes wonderful. And for once in your life you actually relish the feeling of doing this for a man. Because he didn’t ask for it. Because he didn’t expect you to do it. Because he didn’t pressure you into doing it in any kind of way. Because you wanted to do it. Because truthfully, the first time you saw Dominick, all you could think about was sucking him off, and you would have, hadn’t he turned the tables on you first. So now you're doing it. Holy shit you are doing it.

He is drawing in a sharp breath, your name escaping his lips almost in a protest but you know he’s just overwhelmed by the sensation of your mouth on him. Dominick looks down at you as your hands wrap around his shaft and your lips close over his tip, trying to get a feel for him. 

‘Oh God.’ Dominick moans, and you can’t help but smile. Having that kind of control over him makes you so wet, not to mention that beautiful cock of his in your face like that. You can’t wait to reduce him to an ecstatic, writhing mess. Oh the power you hold right now makes you feel all sorts of ways. And you’re ready to do everything for him since he deserves it, always looking after you first. Always fucking you to your climax before he cums, and often times, it’s not just once. 

‘I’m gonna be a good girl for you, are you gonna be a good boy for me, baby?’ you ask, flicking your tongue against him and he nods, eyes pressing shut, hands clenching the sheets, oh fuck he’s so hot.   

You trace the thick veins on his dick down to his balls, cupping them with one hand and squeezing softly, making him jerk. You spit on him, spreading your saliva and his pre-cum all over him, beginning to pump him slowly. He looks down at you again as you lick him up and down, your tongue gliding over his skin in slow-motion. Top to bottom you let your mouth glide over his dick, swirling over his sensitive head, your lips curl around him as your eyes meet, and you can tell the sight of you with his dick in your mouth is turning his brain to absolute mush. 

‘Am I doing it right for you baby? Does it feel good?’ You ask and he whines as though you have completely broken him, the tension in his thighs already increasing.

‘You…y-you…have no idea. Holy shit, babe…it feels….fuck!’ He groans, reaching out to run a hand through your hair as you pump him a little faster.

‘You’re so delicious, mmhhmmm.’ You mumble and take him deep into your mouth, as deep as you can and his eyes roll back, he pulls on your hair lightly. It’s the biggest turn-on. 

Slowly and steadily you begin to fuck him with your mouth, every now and then taking him deeper before pulling back to get some air. You tease his delicate tip with your tongue, dipping it into his slit, drawing more pre-cum from him, salty and sweet at the same time and you lap it up thirstily. Again and again you suck him in, letting him hit the back of your throat over and over, hollowing out your cheeks as you look for his reaction in order to find the right amount of suction combined with pressure on his base. He’s so hard, throbbing inside your mouth, as you move your mouth up and down on him faster. The look of pure lust on his face, the noises he is making are telling you you’re doing perfectly, and it’s not long before he is panting your name repeatedly in utter desperation, and you know he’s close already. You love the mess you have turned him into but it’s not like this is leaving you unfazed. You are wild for this man. 

‘Y-you gotta stop.’ he begs breathlessly but you laugh.

‘And why would I do that?’ your mouth wanders down to his balls, sucking there delicately, your thumb keeping pressure on the base of his pulsing cock. You know he‘s ready to explode.

‘B….Because I…I’m gonna c…um.’ his voice is shaking and he tries to wriggle away from you. 

‘I want you to. Please. I want you to cum in my mouth. I want to taste you.’ and you wrap your lips around him again.

At that last sentence a loud moan escapes him and you can’t even believe it yourself, that you said it and had meant it so sincerely. In the past you would have thought of it as dirty. You would have been ashamed. Not now though, not with him. 

Again you take him deep, stroking him a little faster, dying to make him shoot his load into you, dying to taste him. His hand reaches for your free one, your fingers entwining and he squeezes, his muscles tensing as your tongue flicks over his raw tip, swirling one last time, and he finally orgasms, his hot seed filling your mouth while his dick twitches in your mouth and he moans your name. The most beautiful sound. You continue to lick him clean, swallowing every last drop he’s giving you, the salty juice running down your throat. He’s shaking, out of breath, and you giggle, very pleased with yourself. 

‘Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.’ His eyes flutter open and you wipe your mouth, blushing a little and he looks at you, shaking his head. ‘What did you just do? What did you just do? You almost made me pass out.’

‘Well you didn’t. Which means I gotta try harder next time.’ You laugh and he grabs you, pulling you down next to him, kissing you hard. You love that he seems to completely ignore the fact that your mouth was full of his cum only seconds ago. 

‘Please don’t. I might have a heart attack and die.’

‘No, I wouldn’t want that to happen.’ You snuggle up to him, feeling really damn pleased with yourself.

However, it’s hard to ignore the way your panties are absolutely soaked, the way you are trembling with lust for him from sucking him off like that. You try to pull yourself together, burying your face in his shoulder while he is still catching his breath. But he notices. Of course he notices. 

‘Oh you.’ He turns to face you and you continue to try to hide from him, it’s too much, it’s all too much. ‘Let me.’

And his hand slips down between your legs, inside your panties, and he smiles as he feels your wetness, and the contact has you moaning into the pillow.

‘You liked it that much, huh? How sweet. You dirty, dirty girl.’ he whispers, kissing your cheek.

‘I loved it. I loved it, fuck Dominick…’ you confess, falling apart under his touch. 

He begins rubbing your clit tenderly, his fingers dragging between your folds, lingering at your entrance before moving back to your bud, circling there. It drives you insane how he won’t accept you giving him pleasure without him returning it, how he can’t just lay there in his post-orgasmic bliss but instead has to make sure he gets you off too. Oh how comical that he isn’t even your boyfriend because this guy is husband material and you know it. 

It doesn’t take long and he’s hard again, and slips between your legs, spreading you open, sinking inside of you. You need him urgently but he fucks you into the mattress at a painfully slow pace that has you whimpering his name. His lips are at your neck, you hold on to him desperately. Looking back that’s probably the moment when you first acknowledge the battle is lost although it was much sooner. What do you know though? There’s no point in putting down markers. The earth will shake again and again. The aftershocks will rattle you. You will both pick up the pieces, note the numbers on the Richter scale, maybe take some precautions, or not, for the next time. But all in all you will continue like this, staying in your rubble.

And afterwards you sigh and ask ‘Why do we keep doing this?’

Dominick looks at you puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just scared.’ you confess.

‘Scared of what?’ He moves closer, gently moves a strand of your hair behind your ear.

‘Of the day we stop.’

He remains silent for a while before he answers.

‘Then I guess we can never stop.’

But you know that’s not true. You know you will stop. You know eventually it will end. You know he knows it will end. And that the earth will break open and swallow you both.

thank you @starch1ldz for beta-reading this chapter for me :)

[tagsecretsanta]

From @tracybirds

From @tracybirds to @thundergirl007

Tobogganing + John + Things don’t go according to plan

Content Warnings: Discussion of grief and missing people at Christmas.

“I thought you said you’d done this before,” grumbled Penelope as they trudged around the township. “I was led to believe tobogganing involved less wandering around the shops and more sliding down mountains at breakneck speeds and fracturing a leg for your thanks.”

“There aren’t any real mountains around here, Pen,” said John absently. “And I don’t understand why all the sleds we keep seeing are so small.”

“Toboggans.”

“Sleds.”

Penelope sniffed, burrowing her gloved hands deeper into her coat pockets in an effort to keep out the cold. “I just would have thought the ‘sled’ was already available for use if you were planning to invite me to partake in this hare-brained adventure.”

“I don’t set up hare-brained adventures, we’ve just hit a minor bump in the road.”

“You call a missing toboggan on a tobogganing excursion minor?”

“You call a simple hour sledding an adventure?” Penelope pulled a face and John laughed. “How come you’ve never gone anyway?”

“I told you,” said Penelope. “My parents didn’t believe hurtling down mountains trying to get yourself killed was a good source of entertainment. You’ll find we never went skiing either.”

For a moment it was as though the world stopped spinning, leaving him hurtling on with no solid ground beneath his feet.

“Oh,” said Penelope. “Oh, I’m sorry John, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” said John. He felt a million miles away, he felt every square inch of fabric against his skin, and maybe it could be alright if he could just convince his lungs to breathe.

Instinct took over and he turned on his heel, starting to babble his excuses.

“You’re right, this was a waste of time,” he finally choked out and turned on his heel.

“No, John, it’s not, it’s–”

He didn’t hear the rest of her cry, drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers and the blood that was pounding in his ears. His ragged breath caught in his throat and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the pavement in front of him. He knew that if he allowed the world to distract him for even a second, the tears would fall, tears he’d cried a thousand times in his lifetime but that never seemed to run dry.

John hated that they were always there under the surface.

His comm pinged, but he ignored it, not in the mood for clumsy apologies or stammered explanations. He knew he was being over-sensitive, but then it was Christmas and his mother was dead and if there was ever a good reason to be touchy about a subject, this would be it.

Everywhere he looked were families, complete and untouched, with mothers who were alive and fathers who stayed.

And brothers who came home.

His lungs constricted as he tried to breathe through the pain, blindly collapsing onto a bench, assaulted by a new memory, formed only last week when he’d called to say he wouldn’t be going home this year. He’d already known the reaction, knew he would dismay them all with his selfishness, but he couldn’t fly to that humid, tropical island where they’d cut their mom out for good.

At least here, in the snow, he could pretend to be somewhere she loved.

John sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the same as Dad, he told himself. No-one could argue that Oxford terms weren’t intense, that the vacations and half-terms weren’t loaded with assignments and readings and more besides.

Still, Alan had cried.

He pulled out his comm, wincing at the missed call from Penelope. She hadn’t tried again. Instead, he pulled up the photos he’d been sent of their new home, the sparkling blue of the ocean and the verdant green overpowering in each image. The vibrancy nearly hurt to look at in the monochrome street, all whites and greys. In every photo there was life and love, and John felt small and sad and alone.

“He isn’t back yet?”

Penelope’s voice floated out of the crowd and John froze. He half wanted to hide, half desperately wanted to reach out to his friend, but instead he didn’t move, hardly daring to breathe.

“No, Scott, I’m sure, he was heading back to you. Yes. Yes, I know. I checked the usual spots along this route.”

John furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the words. His brother ought to have been asleep on the other side of the planet. Penelope had never held any qualms about approaching him after an upset before; they’d had disagreements and missteps between them plenty of times in the past without needing a mediator.

Penelope sighed.

“I’ll head back to his flat now, then,” she said. “I’ll try calling him again when I get there.”

A few minutes later she walked past him, briefly glancing at him as she walked past the bench. He saw it the moment she realised who she’d seen and raised a hand, mouth twitching into a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“John Tracy, where were you?” she cried, hurrying to his side.

“Just here,” he said, feeling bemused. “I didn’t want to go home.”

Penelope pulled him into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, John, I–”

“Get off, Penny,” he muttered. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine, and both of them knew it, but John couldn’t stand to hear apologies when most of his misery was his own fault.

“I wish I’d gone to island,” he confessed. “I know it’s too late, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” He checked the time. “Christmas will be over by the time I get there.”

“Oh, John,” said Penelope, hugging him once more. “You should have said something.”

“Better late than never, right,” he joked, but the words fell flat between them. He sighed. “It just feels like all Dad wants to do is forget about her. And everyone else is just going along with it.” He scuffed his shoe, listening to the crunch of snow against concrete. “I know it’s what got her killed, but she really did love this stuff. Dad might blame himself, but we’d have never gone if it wasn’t for her.”

“The things that your mother loved about this world isn’t what killed her, John,” said Penelope gently. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not like that’s any better,” snapped John. He bit his tongue, filled with immediate regret. “Sorry, I’m… sorry. I hate that island and I hate that there’s no snow and I hate that she didn’t get any say over any part of it.”

He huffed, drawing his coat tighter around him.

“And worst of all, I know she’d have loved it there. Just as much as anywhere. And my family’s all there, and sure they’ll miss me, but at least they’re together.”

Penelope didn’t say anything and the two sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder and watching the world as it hurried on by, eager to leap from preparation to holiday.

“Come,” said Penelope, dragging John to his feet. “Let’s go back. We can have hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie together. I know it won’t be the same, but at the very least you won’t be alone.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating, Pen,” said John.

“Who’s celebrating? This isn’t a party, it’s a quiet evening in with friends.”

John huffed. “With you, that’s practically an open invitation for a party,” but he smiled all the same.

She caught his hand with hers and dragged his arm over her shoulders, so that they walked together in calming harmony.

By the time he stepped across the threshold, the warmth had begun to flicker once more in his chest, and the evening no longer felt too close around him.

Penelope flung herself onto the couch, flicking through options on the holoprojector, and shooed him into the kitchen.

“Same mug?” he called out to her.

There was no reply.

“Penelope?”

John stuck his head out and frowned. The living room was empty. He called again, this time hearing a scuffle coming from the bedroom.

He rolled his eyes, and strode across the room.

“Pen, what mug do you want?”

“Hmm?” she asked, sounding more flustered than usual. “Oh, the usual will be fine John. Can I borrow this book?”

John looked down. “My textbook on galactic evolution?”

Penelope’s eyes widened as she glanced down. “Oh, uh, I mean you always talk so fondly of the topic.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Penelope?”

“Nothing,” she said automatically, just as there was a loud crash from the bathroom. She closed her eyes, as John looked between her and the closed door, uttering only a single word: “Boys!”

John pulled the door open and stared. Virgil and Gordon were frozen in front of him, looking somewhat like deer in headlights as they collected the hair products that had fallen from the counter. Scott saluted him with a grin from where he lay in the bath tub, and Alan bounded across the room, leaping at him for a hug with a shriek.

“Merry Christmas!”

“What are you all doing here?”

He didn’t get a response as his brothers crowded around him, swapping bits of the story and tales of the long trip, and demanding to know how he’d been, and John couldn’t tell where the questions stopped and the answers started, so he just laughed and hugged them all, too overcome with joy to take it all in.

There was however, one constant that he could make out.

“You did this?” he asked Penelope, who hadn’t stopped beaming at him in nearly five minutes.

She shrugged. “I may have suggested to Scott that you weren’t as bright and perky as normal. I believe he did all the heavy lifting from there.”

“Don’t let Scott take the credit,” piped up Gordon. “Virg overheard the fourth call and told Scott that he needed to learn to read between the lines and book us all a flight.”

He pulled a face. “Course, Virgil also got us caught, so don’t give him any credit either.”

“And what about Dad? Grandma?”

“Booked into a hotel down the street,” said Virgil, smiling. “Where I imagine we’ll all be staying too.”

“I want to stay with John,” protested Alan, and John ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

“You can share my bed,” he assured him. “And the couch is a pull out if anyone else wants to stay.”

“And we can argue over that later,” said Scott with a grin. “I heard you were making hot chocolate?”

John grinned. “I’m on it.”

He swung past Penelope and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,,” he whispered.

She hugged him back.

“Merry Christmas, John.”

[truthwatcher-vez]

For the kiss ask game, 13 and Dalinar/Navani!

For #13—"discreetly".  This fic practically wrote itself during my morning commute.  I hope you enjoy it!

*    *    *

Brightness Navani strolled through the grounds of her family estate.  She held Dalinar Kholin’s arm lightly.  The young brightlord had come to call on her again, and her mother had suggested that the two of them take a walk through the gardens.  It wasn’t proper for an unmarried Alethi woman to be in the company of a man unchaperoned, and so the two of them were trailed by Eili, Navani’s senior ladies’ maid.

The weather had been hot and humid for the past few days, and Navani held a seasilk fan in her safehand, rapidly fanning her face.  The embroidered skirts of her formal havah were long and heavy, uncomfortably warm in the direct sunlight along the walkway.

“Let’s sit a moment,” Navani suggested, tugging at Dalinar’s elbow before steering him towards a stone bench nestled in a shaded alcove of shalebark.  Her maid looked momentarily aggrieved to be left standing out in the sun.  The older woman huffed and turned away, pretending to admire a nearby cluster of pale pink vinebuds.

Dalinar had arrived at the estate alone today.  As she settled onto the cool stone bench, Navani absently wondered if his brother Gavilar knew where he was.

It had been her uncle’s idea to play the two brothers against each other.  He had discussed the matter with her parents, who had agreed.  Competition made for a highly favorable marriage contract, they had told her.  That left Navani in the awkward position of juggling the attentions of two very determined Kholins.

Navani was well aware of which match her family favored.  Gavilar was the one with the influence, the lands, the title.

But Dalinar….

Unlike his older brother, Dalinar Kholin didn’t talk much.  Stiff and formal, he seemed content to listen as she spoke about the engineering book she was reading and her latest fabrial tinkering project.  It was very different from her conversations with Gavilar or her past suitors.  Navani found it a novelty.

Navani knew that the Kholins would gain wealth and status from marrying into her noble house.  Gavilar spoke of it often, attempting to appeal to her logic by describing the benefits of a union between their families.  Suddenly, Navani needed to know if that was all she was to the younger brother who currently sat on the bench beside her—a prize… a means to an end.

“Dalinar,” Navani said softly, “I have a question.”  She lifted her fan, tilting it up to shield her face from the prying eyes of the maid.  Then she leaned forward, as if to whisper something in his ear.  He shifted and leaned towards her obligingly—which was good, because he was so storming tall.  She wouldn’t have been able to reach him, otherwise.

Navani raised her freehand, thrilled by her own daring.  Letting her fingers slide along his strong jawline, his skin rough with a dusting of stubble.  She turned his face towards her own, and visibly puzzled, he allowed it.  Then she stretched past the last few inches that separated them and pressed her lips to his.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flicker of shockspren.  He was far, far stronger than she, and could have broken off the kiss easily.  But he didn’t.  After barely a heartbeat of hesitation, he answered in kind.  Leaning towards her like a parched vinebud reaching out for the first drops of rain.

Oh, she thought, taken aback by the depth of her own response to him.  Oh.  Yes.

The intensity of it drew her in, utterly intoxicating.  Like a man wearing shardplate, there was incredible strength to him, but also a supreme precision and gentleness. 

Dalinar Kholin, Navani thought, growing breathless as the kiss stretched on.  I think I might be falling for you.

Navani began to feel the heat of her maid’s stare beyond the barrier of the fan.  Before the woman could invent an excuse to interrupt them, Navani reluctantly broke away.

Dalinar sat back on the bench.  A boyish grin slowly spread across his face, not quite hiding his bemused expression.  It was utterly endearing. 

“That was… quite a question.”

Navani cleared her throat, folding up the fan and blushing.  “Yes.  Thank you.  You’ve answered it quite eloquently.”

Navani glanced up at him again and felt a sudden pang of sadness.  She knew which of the two brothers her family favored.  Knew that she should let Dalinar go now.  Before she hurt them both.

She knew she should--but found that she just couldn’t do it.  The human heart was not so easily convinced.  Instead, she forced a smile and rose to her feet, and together they resumed their walk through the garden.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 Man, you can't fight it, don't even try 🎶

Antoine and Zelda had been steadfastly ignoring what had happened after their last gig. Only Jo was none the wiser to the tension between them, and she kept booking them to play at every high society party of carnival season.

The moment that Zelda walked through the door she knew that Jo had outdone herself this time. It was Mardi Gras Eve, and somehow they were playing the finest event of the season. The King of Rex was hosting a masked ball for the court of all the Uptown parades, and they were to waltz and then Charleston to the sound of Zelda’s voice.

Zelda and Antoine had arrived early, but the hallways were already growing crowded with masked celebrants waiting for the music to begin. A hush fell over the hall as they entered, Zelda’s intense fascination blinding her to the stares coming from around the room.

The King of Rex greeted them and then led them into the ballroom where they would be playing for the night. Zelda slowed her steps as she entered. The decadence of the space was dizzying, but it was the people that transfixed her completely.

They were scattered about the room, sitting in chairs or talking lazily amongst themselves. Their gazes were so intense that suddenly she could hear the hiss of whispers and the giggles hidden behind lace fans. Their eyes flashed behind masks like hidden jewels, making them seem like ghosts from another era.

Was it judging malice that she saw in those eyes? Belittling mockery? Or did the masks just give them all sinister countenances? The longer that she looked at them the more disoriented she became, and the room seemed to spin until shouts pierced her reverie.

“Bullshit! You knew who you hired, don’t even try to tell me that you didn’t! Who do you think you are trying to shut me off behind a screen like this!”

Zelda ran over to him, trying to grab his arm in an effort to quiet him, “Antoine, stop!”

“No!” He yelled, shaking her off and throwing the chinoiserie screen to the ground, “He doesn’t get to treat me this way!”

Their host stepped forward, his fists balled and his face full of rage, “Someone like you doesn’t even deserve to be in my house in the first place. Now get the hell out of here! And count your lucky stars that you were ever here at all because I’ll make damn sure that you and your little Jezebel never play a high society party ever again.”

Swallowing another curse, Antoine stormed off into the night. Zelda muttered her best apology to the angry man and the shocked spectators then ran after him.

“Antoine,” she pleaded when she finally caught up to him, “Antoine please!”

“No, Zelda! I heard you apologize to that man like we owe him something! If you knew him…if you knew the things that he’s done. But what could you possibly know, huh? With your posh accent and your alabaster skin what could you possibly understand about this place? Just go home, go home to Jo and tell her all about Antoine’s outburst like she knew knew this wouldn’t happen.”

And with that, he stormed off again, leaving Zelda alone in the humid night air, confused and heartbroken once more.

[we-were-meant-to-be-one]

Oddly specific Heathers headcanons!

These just kind of popped into my brain, so I compiled them! They include the Heathers, Ronnie, and J.D.! Enjoy!

Ronnie:

Defo built little mud and stick houses for bugs as a kid.

Owns probably 17 tubes of chapstick because she keeps losing them.

Ex-horse-girl

Had an egyptology phase in 6th grade.

Sharpens her candy canes when she eats them.

Loves those peach gummies.

Hated baths as a kid. The water was either way too hot or way too cold for her. No matter how much it was adjusted.

Basically lives in sweatshirts and sweatpants at home. She likes tank tops in summer. She steals them from J.D. He is not happy about it.

J.D.:

Constantly cracking his bones. Not an intimidation thing, he’s just like that.

Can’t keep the same pencil for more than 3 days. He loses them. Yes he has many deep pockets in his coat. No they don’t have holes. He just doesn’t know where the pencils go.

One of those people who lights his marshmallows on fire until they’re black when making s’mores. Except he will chase people around with the flaming marshmallow.

Doesn’t bite his nails, but he bites his cuticles.

Also sharpens his candy canes when he eats them. He has candy cane sword fights with Ronnie during Christmas.

Only likes the cheap drugstore chocolate. He can’t stand any of the high-end stuff.

He does his own eyebrows. He’s really intense about it. He will pluck and wax them. His favorite part of his face are his brows. Am I saying this solely because I think he has hot eyebrows? Maybe. Shhhhh.

Chandler:

HATES IHOP.

Also an ex-horse-girl.

HATED pink as a kid, but came to terms with it and now loves it.

Kissed her best friend in kindergarten because “that’s what friends do!” It was a sign.

Has a 29,848-step skincare and haircare and nailcare and teethcare and bodycare and eyelashcare routine.

HATES relish.

Only chews pink bubblegum. No other flavors. No other colors.

Has like 5,000,001 pairs of shoes. In fact, she has a whole separate closet for them.

“I’m not gay. I just think women are really really pretty. Wouldn’t it be funny if I kissed a Ronnie? I’m not gay.”

McNamara:

Also also an ex-horse-girl.

Had a pet rat, pet praying mantis, pet tarantula, and pet snake.

Hates plain water.

Prefers butterscotch over cinnamon (iykyk).

She spends ages on her hair, just for it to explode during rain and humidity. She hates bad weather due to this.

Would definitely win Wheel of Fortune.

LOVES mustard. It’s yellow and she thinks it’s tasty.

Duke:

Actually, all of the Heathers were ex-horse-girls.

Chewed on pencil erasers as a kid. Also had those pencil eraser caps.

LOVES glitter gel pens and pretty notes. Y’know those TikToks of people making pretty colorful notes and it pans and the title is “𝐵𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓁 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇” or something? That’s Duke.

Has tons of fake plants. She may like green, but by God she does not have a green thumb.

“Pspspppsspspspsps”’s at every cat she sees.

Thinks she is amazing at baking. She is not. Everyone encourages her. The cycle continues.

[devil-doll13]

Dr. Wu Headcanons ✨🐍

Since this post was structured like an ID it didn’t give much detail on their actual character, so I decided to put the information here.

A workaholic who is married to their job. Does not understand or care for the value of ethics.

Is valuable enough to the organisation that she works for that they are willing to accept their eccentricities and collateral damage for them.

As for ‘The Organisation,’ she has a history there, but not one they will openly speak of. Some have learned the hard way not to mention it to her.

Partial to the colours green, yellow and orange.

About 6,1ft tall, and when they wear heels… Rather imposing, which can be an advantage.

Coffee is their lifeblood. Black, two sugars. She may have a ‘mild’ addiction to caffeine.

Her office is full of greenery and tends to be pretty humid. Actually they love nature, but she spends so much time working that she doesn’t really get the chance to go outside as much. Also owns multiple snakes as pets, fond of looping them around their neck and scaring people.

Goes through icecream like a maniac. It’s her brain food. Matcha is their favourite flavour.

Types ridiculously fast. Walks fast as well. Does everything pretty fast. Has no patience for anyone who is ‘slow’ compared to her.

Garbage tier doctor handwriting. It’s a good thing they don’t even have a medical license 🤗

Raspy voice, on the deeper end. Sounds like a 50 yr old smoker - and they do like a cigarette, but only when extremely stressed and never in the sterile environment of the lab. If you see her with one, you should probably walk the other way.

Unsettling slit-pupil eyes. Even the way she blinks is more reptilian than human. The majority of people - including her colleagues, who are used to such odd sights - tend to avoid looking them in the eyes. It’s instinctive. You wouldn’t want to stare down a crocodile, would you;; ^^

Really into fashion - the artsy abstract kind. Think 2000s/2010s Lady Gaga looks.

Has an intensive hair care routine.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 3. brb x oc

a/n: oh boy I wonder what the next chapter will be. because we are all thirsty

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, Rooster thinks Bea is the sexiest woman alive and he's not wrong, SELF DOUBT ISSUES!

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!! OR REMOVED! i just kept you guys cause you wanted to be in GG so >- > IDK IM SORRY)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13

-

The beach was beautiful even after such an intense downpour that lasted most of the day yesterday. It was hot and humid, perfect for a beach outing and Beatrice didn’t want to waste much time, in fact she didn’t want to waste any time at all in fears the weather would turn and they’d lose the sunlight.

She does put on a light dress on top of her bikini, walking out of the bathroom fully covered much to Roosters disappointment urging him to change as well. He put on the pink palm leaves swim shorts and one of his various Hawaiian shirts without the usual tee shirt underneath, golden skin peeking through the partially open collar as they walked out of their room to the beach.

They managed to find a perfect spot, even got a parasol and beach towels from the hotel, where they could sit down and enjoy the view.

Beatrice being the first one, since Rooster just pulled his shirt off and set it aside, pulling the elastic around his waist with a soft snap, lowering the sunglasses that were on top of his hair with a flick of his finger down his nose. He stood there, looking like Adonis personified with his hands on his hips as he took over the beach curiously. Beatrice had to stop drooling over her husband to eventually change…only to feel a bit self conscious because it was a brand new beach “Roos.” Her soft voice calls and he immediately snaps his head in her direction “Can you…”she gestures for him to step in front as a shield.

And he immediately does so, his broad frame hiding his shy wife’s body from the other beach goers. He hears the soft rustle of clothing, looking down to see she had removed her dress and was now wearing the lilac bikini, gently fixing the strap and panties on her body by sitting on her knees. He was mentally glad for the sunglasses because he didn’t want people to notice he was ogling his wife’s chest from above.

Beatrice was honestly too busy applying sunscreen to notice, at first, but the longer he stood there after she changed signaled that something was off. It took her one look down her chest to figure it out, “Rooster.” She admonishes with a smile, “You are awful.”

“Is it my fault that my wife looks amazing?” He replies, then he sits down next to her as she rubs sunscreen up and down her arms, dabbing little white dots on her face and nose only to repeat the process on her face.  She sighs once the cooling cream is spread over her face, opening her mouth towards Rooster who cuts her off with “I'll absolutely rub it on your back.” 

Bradley grabs the sunscreen bottle, gesturing to her with a little smile to turn around, squirting a generous amount into his palm once she does. He rubs his hands together and then watches as she pulls her hair up in a bun so it wouldn’t stick on the sunscreen once it’s on her back. She feels his hands spread it all over her back, smiling when she feels he’s done with it, his hands were big enough for him to cover her in at least two swipes. 

“There, all nice and protected.” He coos, kissing her cheek.

“Thank you Roos.” She says back, turning her head around to kiss his lips sweetly “Do you want me to put some on you?”

“Do you want me to put some on your ass?”

Both of them ask at the same time and give each other a wide eyed look that only breaks because of the quiet laughing coming from them, followed by Beatrice playfully shoving his shoulder “Later.” He perks up when she replies, letting her grab the sunscreen to cover his back and shoulders, the parts of him he couldn’t reach all the while he looked out at the water with his face neutral.

“You know,” he begins as Beatrice keeps on spreading sunscreen. “I used to be terrified of open waters as a child.”

“You did?” He nods “Why?”

It takes a few seconds but he replies “My dad.”

Her hand stops in the middle of his back, taking in his words and remembering how he explained his father died and his body was in the ocean. “Oh.” She whispers, returning to rubbing her hands over his broad back, chewing her lower lip as he continued.

“Fucking terrified me and we lived close to the beach, you can imagine how shitty that was.” He laughs dryly, then shakes his head “It took me some time to eventually get rid of the fear, the first time I entered the ocean after that I was in high school.”

Beatrice drops her hands from his back, his skin already absorbed the protecting lotion, sitting on her knees and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her chin on the trapezium “Do you want us to leave? I can understand if you do.”

Of course she would, he thought, the angel on earth that she was. “No, I’m fine.” He replies, kissing the back of her hand that was under his chin “As I said I’m a lot better. Plus I’ve never entered the Mediterranean Sea.”

Beatrice’s shoulders relaxed as he said that, the soft sea breeze touching their bodies as they looked to the water.  He was so strong, not only physically, but everything he’s been through…it wasn’t easy, it really wasn’t and he managed to overcome everything. He said he was proud of her every now and again, but she was proud of him too, even voicing it out loud for her husband's confused look “You’ve been through so much, Brad.” She whispers “And you overcame it.”

“After being kicked in the ass a few times.”

“Well,” she shrugs “That’s how you learn things, Brad. No one said dealing with shitty stuff is easy and goes smoothly.”

She had a point because of course she did, Beatrice and her magic of always knowing how to calm him down never ceases to amaze him. He chuckles softly, picking her left hand from under his chin to kiss her ring finger -right on top of her wedding band-  “You are right, of course you are right.”  he then sighs, leaning forward, “I’m going to jump in the water, wanna join me?”

Beatrice ponders for a second, “I think I’m going to sunbathe for a while, I need to stop being this pale, I look like a walking napkin.” he tsks when she says it, but does kiss her cheek before standing to his feet, wiping the sand on the back of his thighs after handing her his sunglasses..

“But I can see you blushing so nicely like that.” and at the very second he says that her cheeks flame up and she looks away from him. Bradley winks, walking backwards to the water as Beatrice watches with a little smile, pulling her knees up to her chest . He really was the tallest man in that place, even if she turned her head away she was sure she’d find him in the crowd.

She inhaled shakily, feeling her rolls touch her thick thighs as she tried to mentally prepare herself. She used a bikini with Rooster, in their house, in their safe space, showing it off on a beach she wasn’t familiar with - and that didn’t have people she knew besides her pilot - was a bit nerve wracking for her. “What the hell.” she whispered, “I’m a married woman now I shouldn’t be so worried.”

And yet, there she was, worried.

Her green eyes turned back to where she could see Rooster submerging into the waters, head popping out so he ran his fingers through his hair and turned to face Beatrice, giving her a brilliant smile. God he still gave her the butterflies. She smiled back, waving at him before slowly lowering her legs, to the beach towels, “I want a suntan and I’ll have a suntan. I’m thirty years old,” she murmured to herself, clenching her eyes when the goblin voice started chittering in the back of her brain, “I can do this.”

And so she carefully laid down onto the beach towel,her eyes watching how the parasol cut half of the sky but still gave her enough sunlight, “This is fine.” she whispered, sliding her sunglasses on, taking another deep breath, “This is super fine.” All she could hear were families laughing, kids screaming around happily and a few seagulls in the distance, but since it was October the beach had fewer people than in the summer months.

Beatrice inhaled the sea air,her own anxieties melting the longer she stayed there, lying on the comfortable beach towel and hearing the sounds around her. When she finally relaxed completely, she smiled, mentally proud of herself for what she was slowly accomplishing. It’s obvious that Rooster’s presence helped her whenever possible, his support was more than welcome, but she was happy that even without him close by she could fight her demons.

The warm Sicilian sun touched her skin like a blanket of warmth, a soft sigh going past her lips as she feels it on her front as she lies her legs down, arms to her sides, smiling peacefully at the feeling, only checking her phone to set the thirty minutes alarm so she could lie on her stomach once she’s done.

Beatrice only looked up after a few minutes of her alarm going off  to see Rooster coming out of the water. Honestly, if there was anyone else on this planet that could look that good while walking out of the water she couldn’t really believe it.

Rooster’s sun kissed skin was glistening, water droplets dripping down his arms and chest, swim trunks glued to his massive thighs and hiding nothing from her view. She pushed herself to her elbows, watching her handsome husband run his fingers through his hair again to push it off his forehead before he wiped his face in the same movement. 

When he noticed her looking he just sped up his step with a grin, avoiding the group of women that were currently ogling him– were they the same ladies from before? Beatrice felt like she knew them somehow.

But she shook it off when he stepped closer, “Hi, how was the water.” she asks while pulling a clean towel from the hotel bag and handing it to him. She loved how his hair got wavier whenever water touched it, almost curling a bit when he dried it off the best he could.

“It’s really great.” he says after dropping the towel to his shoulders with his chest heaving, “The water is so clean, I’ve never seen anything like it.” he thanks her when she hands his sunglasses back, pushing it up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, supporting his arms on his bent knees, “You going in?”

“Well,” she looks down at her skin, it was a bit warmer than before “I still have to suntan the other side.”

He immediately grinned, making a grabby motion to the sunscreen bottle, “Then I came back at the right time, gimme that.” Beatrice just laughed softly, eventually turning to lie on her stomach and supporting her upper body with her elbows, smiling up at him. Her husband however was too busy watching her ass jiggle a little bit as she settled herself, having to be poked to snap back into reality, “Sorry baby.” he isn’t sorry at all, “I got distracted.”

“Of course you did.” she giggles, watching him follow the same movements as before, squirting the lotion in his palms and then spreading all over her back, sometimes paying a lot of attention on her butt, something that Beatrice noticed and looked at him with her brow up, “Roos.”

“I have to make sure it doesn’t get sunburnt.” he chuckles, he could almost see the faint palm print on her left cheek when he rubs it, “I’d hate for you to get hurt because of that, honey.”

Honey.

Beatrice blushes immediately and the suntan does nothing to hide it, biting her lower lip in hopes it’d hide her smile and looking to the side instead. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw the group of women again, not too far from where they were, two of them sending the two a look and only moving their gaze away when they noticed Beatrice was staring right back. “There you go.” he holds back the soft tap he’d give her butt, remembering there were families there and it wouldn’t be a good idea “Now you are done.”

Bea turns her head back to look up at him then curves her neck enough to have a better look at the sunscreen being slowly absorbed by her skin, “Thank you Roos.” she says, trying to forget the odd feeling the group of women gave her “Hopefully I can get out of here with tan lines.”

He inhales when she says that, then purses his lips with a smile, “I hope so too.” He then turns back to watch the ocean, his hair drying with the wind and going back to it’s usual sandy brown curls, “This is a great place.” Beatrice looks up at him with a little smile, “It’s so peaceful and so lively at the same time.”

Beatrice grins, almost proudly, lowering her cheek on top of her folded arms so her back tanned evenly, “It is, we are out of season too, so that also helps.” she took in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering shut, “Can you wake me up after thirty minutes?”

He looks down at her briefly, then smiles, gently touching the side of her face with the back of his knuckles, “Sure, baby. Take your nap.” he smiles wider when he sees she’s already out cold. Bradley hums amusedly, focusing back on the coming waves and the people walking around, some dogs in the distance and a group of surfers that were trying to catch the high waves from afar.

His eyes stop at a little girl, alone in the sand wearing a swimsuit that looked a lot like his own swim trunks, her dark brown hair hidden by a light colored bucket hat - he couldn’t figure out in that distance - playing with a bucket. Bradley smiled, then looked around for a second to check if her parents were close by, he just noticed she wasn’t too far from where he and Beatrice were right now.

He was sure they were close, she wouldn’t be this relaxed if they weren’t, right? After all she was still playing peacefully, not an ounce of fear in her that he could see. When she lifted her head from the sand castle - she looked to be around three years old - she turned to face him and his smile dropped for a second. She looked extremely familiar and yet he couldn’t pinpoint why. With the big green eyes and brown hair peeking from under her bucket hat, she held up her yellow shovel and smiled a few toothed grin towards him.

Bradley smiles back, a bit confused but didn’t want to be impolite to a little child like that. The little girl giggles and the more he looks, the more he feels like he can recognize this little girl. He keeps on staring, only stopping when a lone grain of sand lands on his eye, “Ah!” he immediately drops his sunglasses to rub his eye, “Fuck.”

The sudden swearing snaps Beatrice out of her nap and she sits up on her knees, fully alert, “What? What’s happening?”

“Sand in my eye,” he groans, feeling that tiny grain rub against his inner lid like glass, “I can’t get it out.”

“Okay, okay, lower your hand,” he does and his wife cups his face in her hands, pulling the lower lid down just enough, some of his tears wedding her hand, “Okay, stop moving. I’m going to blow, okay?” He was about to make an innuendo joke, but didn't because the cool air hit his eye and he blinked rapidly, testing to check if it was gone, “So?”

Bradley blinks a bit more, “I think it’s gone.” he rubs his eye just to make sure, “Yeah it’s gone, thanks babe.” he laughs apologetically, “I don’t know how that little shit managed to get in my eye like that.”

Beatrice just smiles, kissing the bridge of his nose, “It’s alright, are you sure you are okay?” he nods, “Okay, let me know if it starts bothering you or anything,I might have something we can wash your eye with.” 

Bradley just thanked her, then turned to face the front again once his eye was no longer tingling with pain, furrowing his eyebrows when the little girl was there, except she wasn’t a brunette girl, she was blonde, a lighter blonde than Bianca with brown eyes and her father was picking her up and taking her away. He could swear she was a brunette with green eyes, “Roos?” he quickly takes his eyes away and towards Beatrice who was still sitting on her knees, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, just thought I saw something.” he shrugs, honestly unsure how to explain, it was probably just a trick of his eyes if he was completely honest. He could be very well mistaken. Beatrice hums but agrees with him before sitting down with her legs folded to her side, grabbing a water bottle and then offering it to him, “Thanks,babe.” 

Beatrice just smiles, then looks down at her bikini strap, gently peeling it off her skin to see if her tanning plans worked and with a delighted gasp, it sure did. She had very faint bikini lines! “It worked!” she laughs, “I’ve always wanted tanlines.”

Rooster, who now no longer was wondering if he was imagining little brunette children, was busy following the lighter colored line on her skin with his eyes as he chugged the water. Some of it eventually dribbled down his chin when he wasn’t paying attention, landing on the towel and a bit on his chest, but he just wiped it away before she could notice, “It looks…” really sexy “Great.”

Her little smile only made his heart flutter, “Well,since that’s already done I think I’m going to jump into the water.” she says sweetly, removing her sunglasses and setting it aside, “I’ll be really quick.” Beatrice just leans down to kiss his pouty lips, before subtly fixing the bottom of her bikini - which in turn showed more of the tanlines and he was about to lose his mind -  “Promise.”

“I know,gorgeous. Have fun,I’ll be right here.” he smiles, leaning on his hand as he watches her walk away, with his eyes dropping to her swaying hips and butt with a slow tilt of his head, “My God, that woman is going to kill me one of these days.” he laughs, closing the water bottle as Beatrice wanders into the water, not too deep but enough for the waves to hit her hips and thighs.

He was so focused on his wife he didn’t notice the group of women staring again, with one of them finally standing up and slowly approaching him. She clears her throat once, then twice, and only on the third attempt does he snap his gaze away from the vision that was his wife. He still has his chin on his hand when he turns his eyes to the woman, his brain cogs turning and letting him know that it was one of the ladies he saw in the hotel as he entered the elevator, “Uh…yes?”

“American?”

“...yes?”

“Oh, I thought I was imagining things,” her accent was clearly British, “It’s so odd to find someone who speaks English around here.” something about her sentence put him off and his eyebrows furrowed, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but, I saw you and your friend over there,” she gestures casually to the water, to where Beatrice currently was enjoying herself - and Rooster was missing it - while leaning forward just a bit, putting her hands on her knees and in turn the movement squished her breasts together “And, well, I was wondering if you could help me apply sunscreen? There are places I can’t reach.”

He didn’t know if there was a prank going on that he didn’t know or if this girl was truly serious. Not only she looked younger than he was, dare he say twenty? Twenty two at best? But she couldn’t not see the wedding band on his finger glinting under the sunlight. His eyes moved behind the sunglasses to the group of women, girls, who were looking over with amused smiles, “...wel, first of all she's not my friend, she’s my wife.” he corrects her, “And secondly, you have friends, you don’t need me.”

“Well,” she laughs softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and being obviously flirty, “Their hands are a bit small.”

He claps his hands once, annoyance slowly rising to the surface as he pulls the towel off his shoulder and stands up, “You know what, I can’t, I gotta be with my wife.” he shrugs with his lips into his mouth in an ‘oh well’ expression, with the girl clearly staring at him with surprise, “And you know, stay close to her, because she’s my wife.”

“Well, you don’t have to stay close to her all the time,right?” she chuckles, “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself.”

His smile immediately drops and his eyebrows furrow by the way she says it. It’s one thing to hear from Beatrice she doesn’t think she’s good enough to be with him because of her body - even though her progress has been more than amazing - but to hear from someone else? Oh, now he was pissed, “...listen.” he begins, “...I don’t know how you can’t see, just by the way I’m standing here,that I’m clearly not interested on what you are offering, but I am also starting to get irritated because of how you are referring to my girl.”

“I’m just saying–”

“I know exactly what you're saying,” his smile is short and sarcastic, “And I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now go back to your friends.” 

He leaves the girl standing there, mouth gaping open and watching him with wide eyes as he walks away with his jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Beatrice still had her back to him so she didn’t see the whole ordeal that happened. What is up with people?? He really couldn’t figure out if people were just bold or stupid…or bold and stupid. This isn’t the first time someone refers to Beatrice as just a random companion to him, as a tagalong that shouldn’t be there in the first place. 

He stepped into the water like he was stomping concrete, approaching Beatrice who turned around just in time, “Hi!” she says sweetly and his anger immediately dissipates, “I was just about to call you in.”

“Were you?” he grins, placing his hands on her hips and leaning down to peck her lips “I missed you.”

“Yeah?” nevermind the distance between them was less than extreme, “I missed you too.”

He chuckles, kissing her lips again, then the tip of her nose, “You look really good.” he whispers on her skin, pulling back to see her big eyes blinking up at him in surprise, “You really look, so good Bea.” and he’d repeat it as many times as necessary, because it was the truth.

His wife was a bit surprised, but the surprise dissipated into amusement and she laughed gently, cupping his face, “Well, you look really good too.” she says, grabbing his hand “I want to go deeper into the water but I don’t want to go alone so–”

“I’ll protect you, gorgeous. Don’t worry.” he smiles more, kissing the top of her head. It when they are wading deeper into the water that his thoughts shift to a sudden realization:

They hadn’t consummated their marriage yet.

[mrspellcaster]

BLUE LIGHT - Steve Harrington x gn bestfriend !reader

summary: reader gets Steve a special gift at a party, what follows is sickeningly sweet , word count: 1.5k

warnings: no spoilers for st 4!!! marijuana usage, party setting, soft Steve, lovesick reader, reader is so adored, high reader and steve, sweet fluffy fluff, kinda sad if you squint and look at it too closely but happy ending. grammar is probably not perfect if that bothers you!

a/n: i havent written anything like this in a while, please be patient and kind. this fic (in my brain) is reminiscent of a cigarettes after sex song, like sweet and kinda sad but still lovely. i adore Steve and this is basically the fictional situation i’ve been imagining to go to sleep. i hope you enjoy :)

Steve is leaning up against the wall in Tommy’s living room, figure stretched too comfortable to pertain to his growing sourness.

The room is bathed in blue light, and maybe more noticeably tonight it’s an ocean of buzzing teenagers. All dancing to some velvety song they don’t know the words too; but no one can ever seem to stop moving. It’s summer, the first week. It always feels the hottest, too warm to move; still everyone finds their way into each other’s basement or backyard or home. No one willing to waste a hot summer night such as this one.

There is a lukewarm beer in Steves hand, his hip cocked, and he seems taller than usual. He picked it out of a cooler when he arrived about half an hour earlier, but the many bodies make the room more humid than it should be. He’s taken five sips. Steve’s eyes have been scanning the room for just long enough he’s frowning, still unable to find what he’s been looking for.

You’re weaving your way through the sea of bodies that seem to move in an impossible rhythm with the music. But your smiling and an even wider grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with Steve through the crowd. A mirror one starts on his face, nonetheless as you finally reach him he feigns annoyance.

You always forget how it feels to be close to him, and it’s never gotten old. A familiar burning, familiar heat.

Steve leans in so you can hear him over the music. “We got here.” A pause as he dramatically checks his watch “36 minutes ago! My surprise better be pretty fucking amazing sweetheart.”

You feel like your melting. Dizzy in a way the heat can’t explain. But your still smiling at him, that sweet fucking smile that makes him unable to keep pretending you could do anything that would upset him, that you could ever do anything wrong.

You’re both smiling, you and Steve. He’s staring down at you, now with unabashed adoration, and you wonder if the way he’s glowing can be explained by the light. How could anyone be so beautiful. You want to touch his face.

His eyebrows raise at your silence and he gets even closer, noting your slightly glassy eyes, the tiny hitch of your breath, how nice you smell, like ripe fruit or flowers or anything beautiful, and a little something greener.

He’s so close to you. There’s a burning in your chest and a warmth in his eyes that unnerves you. So much care, you wouldn’t know what to do with it.

A moment passes, then two. You blink, then quickly fumble to get something out of the pocket of your trousers. He watches you with the same intensity; you can’t help the slight shake of your hands.

You look back up at him, smile as bright as a thousand suns and hold out the better part of a slightly used blunt. For a second hushed laughter fills the small space between you. Then his eyes narrow, still glowing and still with sights set on you. “How come you got to smoke my present before me?” Steve tilts his stupid gorgeous head at you, waiting, expectingly.

You can’t meet his eyes. Steve is leaning over you, you think you want to get impossibly closer to him but instead you are lying to his chest. “Eddie said I smoke too much of his weed for free and I only had enough for this.” You’re speaking too quickly.

The warmth of his hand coming to turn your gaze back up at him shocks you, his big warm hand on your cheek, and in half a second your melting. Looking at Steve is easy, looking into Steve’s eyes is hard. He’s trying not to laugh, and the happiness you see in him is contagious. Of course he knows you’re lying. He knows you.

Knows your perfume down to its base scents. Knows the specific shade you like your nails painted. Knows your shoe size, and how many drinks it takes to get you to sing. Knows he’s past being jealous of most people who get to be around you because you’re undeniably alluring, magnetic. You’re beautiful and sweet and painfully so. Everybody knows it, Steve understands, recognizes, the desire, maybe the slight need to be close to you, sees it in himself.

“Okay,” You breathe out through your nose. “I just wanted to make sure the weed was good. Good enough for us- You.” You’re still smiling at him unconvincingly.

Steve, too smoothly, rolls his eyes and guides you outside with a hand on the back of your neck. You’re unnaturally still, and hoping he won’t notice. You do your best not to think about how big his hand is, how warm, and how safe you feel in his hold. You can’t help but lean back into him slightly and hope he can’t feel you shiver.

The night air makes your shoulders slump, skin still burning. Steve sighs after placing you in-front of him but he’s less than annoyed, could never be bothered with you, “And you just always have to do that don’t you, trouble.”

You bump your hip with his and grab your lighter from your pocket. He tries not to watch too carefully, watch the grace and practice your fingers move with. Watch the focus as you place it gently to your lips, where he’s sure it was just a few minutes ago.

He blinks and you’re holding it out to him. When he reaches out you pull back slightly with a small shake of your head, his hand drops and he swallows when he understands what you want. Steve watches as you tantalizingly hold the joint to his mouth, lets his lips press against your fingers gently, closes his eyes when he sees the dangerous look in yours. You on the other hand have no qualms with watching him and he feels it like lightning on his skin.

To Steve it feels like when he opens his eyes it’s all over all too soon but at the same time too many minutes of a silence and a tension too hazardous to deal with tangibly hung between you. You’re putting out the stub in the ashtray grabbing his hand and leading him back inside. He can’t help but think about how warm your hand is, how soft. Steve feels loose, and maybe like he wants to see how many times he can wrap his arms around you, wrap himself around you.

You’re crouching in-front of the green sofa, saying something softly to a half asleep mumbling robin, making sure her head is supported, asking if she needs anything.

Steve sits on the only open end of the couch, meets your eyes as you try to find a place for yourself with your people, raises a challenge, one he wants you to and at the same time is frightened you’ll meet.

Of course you bite. Just like he knew you would. His grin is cocky for a moment but then you are crowding over him and Steve doesn’t think he’s breathing.

You settle yourself into his lap with what you hope is little difficulty and just as soon nobody’s moving. The only sound is Robins soft snoring and too suddenly both of your short lived bravery is gone.

You can’t stop staring at each other. You think it’s sick how gorgeous Steve looks in this blue light, like a star, like he’s glowing. You wouldn’t be surprised if the moon had found a path through the bodies as you had done, just to shine light on him, just to shine for him.

You look like a dream, you can’t help but think, or rather breathe out loud judging by the slight shift you see in him, and even in this light you know his ears are red. But you can’t stop. You wanna blame your pooling love for him on the spliff like it was secretly a love potion or something like that but there was something undeniably genuine in the air that remained impossible to ignore.

And Steve, Steve feels like he’s flying. You’re so real and warm and beautiful on top of him. He wants to steal the words from your mouth because you look like a dream. Like an angel. Too good to be true. His eyes fall shut when he feels your hands come to hold his face and he’s certain he’s not breathing, that he’s died and went to heaven and he can’t find it in himself to mind.

And you’re tracing his face with your hands, each beauty mark receiving a kiss from your fingertips, the slope of his nose, his brow bone, the stupid perfect square of his jaw. He’s so warm under you. And you’ve wanted to do this for so long. Your fingers find the nape of his neck relishing in the soft sound he lets out when you start playing with his hair. You kiss the crown of his head, still slightly afraid maybe you’ll wake up in the morning to this moment revealed as a dream, and you hold him tighter.

The light is still blue. In the morning you will wake up, still right beside him. A puzzle piece clicked into place.

[nekorenge]

Scavenger Hunt

A Renge x Nekozawa Oneshot

Based on my art “Rainy day shelter”

___

“You’re really not pulling your weight here.” Renge’s cutting remark was not ignored by the tall hooded figure of the Black Magic Club Leader.

“Not pulling my weight? Hehehe.. Pray tell, which one of us was it who at first didn’t even want to participate?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well… whatever, now we’re playing, and you need to put in some EFFORT! I don’t think I’ve seen you check the list even once!-”

“-I don’t need to check the list, I have it memorized. How else do you think I cast such an extensive library of rituals and spells? Memory is integral to the pursuit of the occult!” He retaliated.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s number three, Sherlock?”

“…ah…hm. Charon……?” *

“A ‘HERON’!” She smacked him lightly on the arm.

“If I had known I was going to be partnered with you, I would have brought a flashlight.” She furrowed her brows as she peeked around the bushes of the campus garden, diligent to the search.

“You wouldn’t dare. As it is, I am pleased that the horrid sun is withdrawn today. My incantations must have already taken root.”

He was right, though Renge doubted it was due to any magic. It was a chilly winter day, fog rolling across the landscape and humidity hanging densely in the air. Puffy clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the sun and threatening to rain. Not the best conditions for a scavenger hunt, but the school had planned it in advance. The environment felt drenched in the cool colors of winter, broken only by a pop of yellow by the gazebo- wait. Yellow.

“Hey! Over there!” Renge exclaimed, eagerly pointing towards the gazebo. Before Nekozawa could even react, she was tugging him along towards the gazebo by the end of the long sleeve of his cloak.

And there it was, tangled amongst the vines that creeped onto the opulent white gazebo.

Renge took out her pen and checked off the list with a satisfied smirk.

5. A yellow rose.

“Now that leaves us with 2 more to find. Something soft, and a heron.” She returned the pen to her pocket as she looked towards the rose, still reveling in the little victory.

Nekozawa was distant, but Renge was unable to read whether it was in any helpful way or if he was just caught up in the same subjects he always was.

Eventually, he turned to her and reached out a hand. Her eyes widened. He grasped a corner of the bow she had in her hair.

“Something soft?” He explained uncertainly.

She huffed, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She swatted the hand that lingered on her bow away. “Is that cheating?”

He only offered a shrug. “The rules do not forbid it, do they not?

“Well, if we’re now using the things we have on us, why don’t we use Beelzenef for ‘something soft’?” She made a grab for the hand puppet, but Nekozawa dodged.

“Y-you fiend, you know better than to trifle with such dark power-“ He held the puppet up and away from her grasping hands. He put his other hand out to stop her and she pushed back against it, wrestling past it.

Oddly enough, after a moment, her fingers being clenched in his, she felt his defense relinquish slightly. She used this to her advantage and jumped up, scoring Beelzenef clean off of his hand.

She triumphantly pocketed it, to Nekozawa’s dismay. Was it dismay? It was hard to read, and the long shadow the hood of the cloak was now casting on his face made it even more so.

“You know not what fate you have sealed…”

She shrugged off his ominous speech. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

A flash of light, and the rolling boom of thunder. Both club leaders jolted in surprise. A drop of rain fell from the sky. Then more.

“…Maybe we should call it a day.” Renge reasoned as she watched the pavement increasingly spatter in rain.

“Indeed.” Glad to have the agreement of her scavenger partner, Renge began her walk back to the main building. She wrinkled her nose at the rain, feeling its intensity only pick up as time passed. She squinted her eyes in the wet icy wind and pushed on forward.

Swish.

The rain was gone. The air was… warm. Comfortable. She blinked and looked up.

“Nekozawa?”

He had draped his cloak over her head in order to shelter it from the rain, carefully holding his arm above her head as he carried onward. His eyes looked anywhere but at her, a blush just barely visible under the shadow of his hood. He was silent.

Her face erupted in a red blush. Why was he doing this, being so sweet and gentlemanly to her out of nowhere? What had she been overlooking in him? Her head was spinning. She didn’t realize she had stopped walking until he put his free hand uncertainly on her shoulder, urging her forward.

“Yes, right.” She stammered, looked away and quickly resumed walking.

As they neared the school, a rustling made them turn their heads. Wings flapping as it landed onto a tree branch, a bird with a long, sharp, orange bill and large gray wings began to preen itself.

Renge looked to Nekozawa excitedly, meeting his eyes that had already been looking in her direction. “A heron! The last thing on the list!” She laughed. A small grin grew on his lips. They reached an awning where his cloak retreated from over her head and she pulled out the paper, checking off the last item. She tapped the pen against her lips as she double checked their list.

Something soft.

“Oh! Right.” She pulled Beelzenef out from her pocket, extending it towards Nekozawa. He shyly took it back.

“But what will we use for ‘something soft’?” He questioned.

“We could actually use my bow, I suppose.”

“And… here.” She watched as Nekozawa reached into his cloak, returning with something familiar. Something yellow.

The yellow rose glittered with stray raindrops as he extended it toward her with one uncertain hand. His eyes, though averted, were as soft and powder blue as always, but she was surprised at just how little she had paid attention to them before. The other hand, where Beelzenef had been rightfully returned, tugged nervously at the top of his hood, casting further shadows onto his shy expression. Nervous. Shy. Soft.

To an outside observer, this surely looked like a love confession. But it wasn’t anything more than an exchange for a scavenger hunt….. right? Renge felt that red-hot blush return in full force to her cheeks. Nekozawa? Nekozawa was making her feel this way? It couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be possible that her heart panged when she looked at the small smile on his lips, that her voice had all but fully disappeared from her throat. She felt as if she had switched places with the player character of Uki Doki Memorial. Where could she save her game and return to this moment again and again?

She took the rose, delicately, to avoid the few thorns. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Nekozawa…”

He turned away, likely eager to return to his club room. Twiddling the rose in her hands, she felt herself impulsively call out for him. He turned, curious.

Quick, think of something to say. Something coherent.

“I- uh… we have to think of something new for ‘something soft’.”

“Were you not going to use your hair bow?” He looked slightly puzzled.

“I-I mean… well yeah…” She took a breath and gathered herself.

Looking up at him again, she felt her confidence returning, and she knew just what she wanted to say.

“You know, I think I’ve figured out something else for that prompt.”

“Well?” He stepped forward to face her again.

She stepped forward too, still fidgeting with the rose. She heard his breath hitch as she moved closer and closer.

She kissed his cheek, her lips gentle on his warm skin. When she stepped away, he had an expression she had never seen on him before. Blushing madly, eyes wide and shyly looking away, lips slightly parted in surprise.

Adorable.

“There, something soft.” She smiled brightly and turned to walk away.

*Charon is the ferryman to the Underworld in Greek myth. Nekozawa is way more used to memorizing rituals and stories than he is scavenger hunt lists, so his wires got crossed there.

[amrv-5]

wow had the first genuine like nightmare I can remember in literal years full wake up in a cold sweat style… extremely vivid, tense, narratively cohesive… dream journalling real fast

basically had been for reasons that were clearly unjust and wouldn’t have held up legally (some sort of ‘speech violation’ in private conversation) been sentenced to death, which wasn’t so bad except the slow leadup to the scheduled execution was sooo tense and horribly inevitable-feeling. Totally inescapable… no assistance legally as I tried to bargain and reason for a stay of execution, a retrial, an appeal, etc. but no use. I was given headphones and a phone in the last hour so I could listen to One Last Song (?), apparently picked CSNY’s Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, and then was led to the execution chamber and left alone with the music (total dread, ticking clock, any moment cld be the last).

At which point the ? power went out? and I considered trying to get hold of a lawyer to stay the execution but then thought it was too risky and too close a call. but with the power unlocked the electric locks (?) were down. choice: stay and bank on legal help when down to the wire? or run? …run. I walked out of a bunch of unlocked doors (vividly remember the confusion + relief + feeling of irreversibility as looked at the sidewalk just outside the door. damp w rain… humid, spring day) and started booking it on foot down the highway. jailbreak!

but then I was on the run and hiding in my old hometown neighborhood… sprinting towards the flood control, trying to decide if it was better to ditch the phone to prevent being tracked or to take a risk and call somebody for help… hid in the tall grass on the banks of the flood control under the overpass and called somebody w very terse request for help (address, change of clothes, scissors). Waited there just sort of enjoying the grass + sky + more vividly recalled CSNY tunes (everybody i love youuu etc) until the car pulled up, and I ditched the phone, ran to get in, changed into civilian clothes, cut my hair (too distinctive), endeavored to burn the hair + prison uniform and find somewhere to dispose of the ashes + determined I needed to withdraw my entire bank balance before the accounts froze + exchange the bills by breaking them thru small legitimate cash purchases so the bill #s couldn’t be traced, and then Woke Up stressed and horribly anxious (?)

Which all on paper sounds like mostly a sort of thriller plot and also a successful jailbreak story but really cannot explain HOW intense and horrible the feeling of dread + helplessness in the face of state murder + inescapability and then terror of being caught was… the fraught choice to make a run for it… realization of what it would mean to be pursued / on the run for the rest of my life… the paranoiac planning for evading detection (only calls, no texts, ditchijg the phone; the choice to alter appearance immediately and separate myself from visual/chemical modes of identification; attention to the traceability of currency and best ways to evade, etc.). Weird!!!!!

Nooo clue where to even start w interpreting (nightmare (or at least remembered nightmare) for the first time in years feels significant…? don’t put much stock in the Meaning of Dreams but that level of intense experience w no clear real life antecedent seems important somehow) other than I have been watching maybe too many 1970s political paranoia thrillers lately. intrigued by the anxiety centered on the traceable / identifiable… think the CSNY revue was just transparently cause my subconscious really likes CSNY. weirdly reassuring (?) now in reflection to have such a strong drive to live narrative w such intense emotions come from wherever dreams come from even if it was not very good for relaxing + getting good rest. what’s the jail/execution… what’s the authority exercising power against liberty in my life… why all the running (though running’s a common theme in my dreams it’s never really been away from something… always towards or just aimless)… odd. will think on it over coffee (hence dream journalling). 4am still mostly asleep going back to bed hopefully 🏃➡️🛏️💤