#frosty soap bubble

[dadsbongos]

perfect blue - s.gojo

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection ... warnings - post-star plasma vessel arc (+minor spoilers), sad gojo :( word count - 1.1 K / rating - PG

Satoru lets the water roll down his back. The warmth grounds him. It lets him forget how chilly the nighttime air will be as soon as he shuts off the pipe. Lets him really close his eyes and take his time absorbing each sensation. As the soap bubbles and pins of white hair flatten to his forehead, he treasures every second that his infinity can be lowered, and nobody can say anything about it.

He’s almost tempted to reach out and skim his fingers against the shiny tiles directly in front of him. Just to see if they’re cold. Would they make him shiver and yank his hand back? Or would they be heated and steamed? He wants to feel them. He doesn’t reach out.

Instead, he shuts the water off; the steel knob is neither heated nor cold under his palm. It simply exists. A shape forming around his fingers that he cannot sense for himself. His clothes aren’t soft, nor are they itchy, when he pulls them on. And he cannot feel the gentle breeze prattling over campus as he shuffles back to his and Suguru’s wing of the dorms.

On the way, he passes the girls’ wing. Shared by you and Shoko. And sometimes him, and sometimes Suguru. On the creaky wooden steps is a figure in black. A shadow cast across the hunched form, drenching it in darkness. A bump rises from the pathetic lump, white sclera with frail red veins at the edges poking through the ink. Hands block the face. He knows exactly who it is.

“Thought you went to bed,” his hands are firm in his pockets, eyes hidden behind a velvet sleep mask.

Your hands tense from where they’re coddling your frosty skin, lowering slowly to clench around your bent knees with your chest leaning fully against the meat of your thighs. Your shoulders scrunch up towards your ears. He steps a little closer, observing through heightened sight how your nose crinkles as you think through every potential reply. Your lips form into a pitiful pout. Your eyes don’t rise to meet his porcelain face. You know there’s no point. He still wants you to try.

Satoru comes down beside you; the space between you both is thin. He’d make it even thinner if you asked. He wonders if you would even notice.

You breathe in, chest rising slowly. Your lips part, then close, then split again before you finally croak,

“I don’t think…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I was meant to be a sorcerer.”

“Yeah.”

The way you let ghosts haunt you was particularly bad. He’d watched you pray for curses before; even downright mourning the mean-spirited things you’ve had to exorcize. He stopped asking back when you were first-years.

Something something they didn’t ask to be made something they’re wild animals something something.

He’s known since then that you would drop out.

“Can you help me tell Yaga?”

“Yeah.”

But that doesn’t mean he takes any pleasure in being right.

Not this time.

“Yaga will listen to you,” you murmur.

Because he’s the strongest. Normally, Satoru likes that: knowing he can’t be beaten anymore. Knowing he can harbor everyone that matters while protecting those that don’t. The only thing he could call a flaw is how differently his friends look at him. Not even Yaga scolds him the same. Infinity has made him something more powerful than they know what to do with.

He isn’t Satoru. He’s the strongest.

No longer a boy. Not humble enough to be a man.

“You’ll freeze out here, you know,” Satoru pulls the ends of his sleeves over his hands because Suguru once told him the way he didn’t react to the weather was unsettling.

“Whatever,” you dangle your head until it bumps against your knees, reaching over to swat your friend’s arm.

He laughs at you, standing up and bending his neck to give the illusion of two eyes meeting yours. You look up and feed into it before standing on your own, soon after leaning into Satoru’s chest with a groan. He knows, logically, that vibrations are sent through his oversized sleep shirt. He can’t feel them for himself, but he’s sure they ripple through the cloth. He can see the way the fabric craters around your heavy breath.

Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders like he’s seen Suguru do. He rubs his hand over the plain of your back and rests his cheek against your head.

“Will you keep in touch?” you mutter against him.

“You know my number,” your body isn’t warm against him. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was leaning against a vending machine. He’s so tall he can lean against the dusty top and watch the tops of his friends’ heads float around below. He’s so tall he could pick them all up - pack them in his pockets - take them anywhere he wants.

But he keeps growing.

His eyes are open. Your head is a ball against his chest. A ball he could take in his palm and keep for himself. He could swallow it down like Suguru with his curses. Hot in his belly. Packed away.

One day, he may be too tall to reach you all.

“Yeah, yeah,” your arms tense like you’re squeezing, not that he feels it, “Just making sure you don’t forget about me…”

Suguru has lost weight and won't tell Satoru why.

Shoko's smoking has gotten even worse, and she refuses to acknowledge it.

“I’d never.”

You and Suguru and Shoko are sitting around the vending machines on your own now. Satoru’s so high up his feet don’t touch the ground. He can’t feel your arms around his waist.

“Hmph,” slowly, you pull away. He wonders if you feel warmth from his body. If there’s an illusion of his soft skin and beating heart. If you still find something human beneath his hidden eyes, “I guess I should get to bed,” you look back at the old, crackling steps, “You’re busy tomorrow, right?”

“Shouldn’t take too long,” he wishes that was the assumption you made instead.

The ghost of Riko still clings to the gates he wanders under for every mission.

But the ghosts of his friends - far, far under his feet that don’t touch the ground - are worse. How he can almost imagine feeling the impacts of you and Suguru and Shoko’s writhing arms. How he could palm yours and Shoko’s heads like little balls, roll the both of you up and swallow you down and take you anywhere he wanted. Maybe except the beaches of Okinawa.

He wishes he could ball Suguru up, too. But Suguru’s different now. Like Satoru is.

Suguru has bags under his eyes and won't tell Satoru why.

Satoru tilts his head up as you climb the short steps back to your dorm, pretending to watch through the material of his sleep mask - the softness of which, he cannot feel against his face.

in honor of fuckhead’s birthday he’ll get posted first 🙂 for a character he hates, gege really made gojo the most interesting lmao

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

A Taste of the Bubbly- A Winter One Shot

For @lokisgoodgirl 's Winter Warmers collection! Hope it's a worthy addition!

Pairing: Loki x Reader Word Count: 1.8k Summary: You entice Loki onto the roof on Christmas Eve with something special in mind... Content Warning: smut in a hot tub

You wore a fluffy terry cloth robe in a shade of dense, emerald green (and nothing else underneath) when you stepped onto the roof of the Tower, exposing your bare legs and face to the nippy winter breeze that swept around the roof like a night watch making his rounds.

The chill only took a few minutes for you to adjust to, but you quickly sought out the hot tub that Stark had built into a corner of the roof, under a gazebo with drawable gossamer curtains (to keep prying eyes away from anyone partaking in the new luxury). 

You didn’t think when you invited Loki to join you for a midnight hot tub session in the dark December evening, he would accept. At first, he seemed confused by the idea. 

“Outside? It’s December 21st, and it’s frightfully chilly,” he’d began to reason, before you stopped him and explained. Once you told him that, ideally, you wanted to go in naked, he was instantly sold, which gave you a warm sense of power over him. 

Unfortunately, you’d had to schedule your time wisely, as you were far from the only one who wanted to christen the hot tub (Scott Lang had even been the first to suggest a naked party, which no one aside from Thor agreed to). You had to wait several days for the small pool to be available for a private session for two. Finally, on Christmas Eve, most of the others had either gone off to visit family, or were drinking eggnog downstairs at the office party. You’d sent word for Loki to meet you on the roof at 10:30pm. 

There was a very light snow flurry falling over the city tonight, and it somehow made the buzzing, vibrating city sounds below to seem muffled. The air was as crisp, cold, and clear as the thick, smoggy air of New York could get. 

You’d hoped to be there first, so you could disrobe and figure out the most seductive pose you could bring out for your paramour. You had a small bottle of bubbles ready and waiting (rose-scented) and you were going to add just enough to cover the naughtiest parts of your body. You wanted to make Loki work for his view. 

Naturally, your way was never Loki’s way, and he beat you to the punch, which was evident as soon as you drew the curtains to the gazebo. 

Among the bubbles and misty steam flying off into the wind, Loki was already sitting in the working tub, water jetting and squirting around his chiseled torso, which you could only see about half of above the water line. He had soap dripping all over his body, which shone in the glow of the several large sets of candles he’d lit to set a mood. In his hand was a champagne flute, and another was waiting on a small table by the tub. 

He smiled as you arrived. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

You shook your head. “I said 10:30. It’s 10:29.” 

“Forgive me, pet, I wanted to be on time to see you take that robe off. I wanted to see your delicate breasts shiver under the candlelight, and watch your nipples perk in the frosty air before you submerged yourself.” 

You felt your cheeks go as hot as the water. 

“Must you always out-do me, Laufeyson?” you said with a smirk. “Here I am, planning a holiday surprise for us, and you go and make it your own!” 

Loki chuckled. “Well, are you going to unwrap my gift for me, or will you make me get out and do it myself?”

Almost immediately, an amazing vision came to your mind of a wet, slippery Loki approaching you with a trembling, extended hand, inching to expose you. You thought a moment before deciding against it. As much as you wanted to see him stand up, all of that hot, sudsy water dripping off of him and making his skin shine in the dim, flickering light, you figured the price for the single moment would be shrinkage, and you CERTAINLY didn’t want that. 

You shook your head with a seductive smile and untied your robe, slowly letting it fall to your feet as Loki sat back and observed you with lust. 

“My Snow Queen, you are radiant, your skin glows like the full moon on a winter’s night,” Loki whispered, taking in your fleshy curves as they immediately began shaking in the cold. “Just…just stay there a moment. I want to drink in this image, for it’s already more intoxicating than the champagne.” 

You stood nude before him, fully displaying yourself, and even having the nerve to run your fingers along your profile, emphasizing every part of you that drove Loki wild with need. It was when you brought two tantalizing fingers up to your hardening nipples that Loki had enough. 

“Join me for a drink?” he proposed, raising up his champagne flute and beckoning you. “I can’t properly warm you when you’re standing out there.”

Obeying with your coy smile still painted on your lips, you stepped down into the hot tub, taking your time to allow your skin to adjust to the sharp, bubbling water. You reached for your glass, still waiting beside you as you waded toward Loki, but he shook his head. 

“Mine is all we need,” he said, confusing you for a moment. 

“Oh, what are you planning, Laufeyson?” you asked, ease in your voice. 

Loki shrugged playfully. “Come, sit on me.”

You loved those words coming from Loki so much you wished you could make a song out of them. Wading over, you sank into the water as your body acclimated to the temperature, and you straddled Loki’s thigh, sitting squarely on the solid quadricep. You couldn’t tell if you were already slick from being close to the intense, seductive God of Chaos, or if it was just the soap in the tub reaching into unexpected places.  

Loki purred, his head leaning back in delight. Sweat was beginning to bead on his black brow. “That’s it, my girl. Go ahead and pleasure yourself a little.”

You leaned back, letting your fingers find your clit as you began grinding slowly but heavily on his thigh. Toying with yourself, you switched between leaning back as you found your pleasure spots, and leaning forward, demanding eye contact from your love, which he gladly gave, as your thrusting picked up tempo. 

As you leaned back again, you felt your climax beginning to pulse at the base of your hips, Loki took his champagne glass, and, taking his other hand and scooping it around your back so he was holding you close, took the glass and began slowly dripping the elixir onto your collarbone. It was ice-cold, especially now that your body was growing used to the hot water, and it made you tremble. 

As soon as he let enough champagne drip onto your neck and chest, he leaned forward and began lapping it up like an animal, his masterful, nimble tongue drawing circles, figure-eights, and other sigils against your skin, occasionally using his lips and teeth to suck on your collarbone. He repeated the action, spilling a little more alcohol on the few dry spots of your body that you had yet to submerge, and then drinking it with his lips and tongue off of your skin, until the flute was empty, which he didn’t even bother to replace, dropping it into the water and letting it float off instead. 

You went in for a heavy, deep kiss, and you could still taste the Korbel on his lips, sweet and crisp, and you couldn’t help but thrust your tongue into his mouth, searching every corner for any of that delicious flavor that remained. 

“So eager...so desperate for me…” Loki murmured. 

“I want your cock inside me,” you answered, feeling around under the water for it, and gripping it as soon as you found it. You firmly held it to the outside of your thigh that sat against his crotch. Loki groaned, loud and low, and you moved your palm up and down the shaft, slowly but with a tight, perfect grip. Fingering his tip playfully, you took a moment to watch his face as it twisted and fell apart with pleasure as he got lost in your touch. 

His dick was slippery with the oils in the tub, and it took you a few special maneuvers to bring your slit over the erection, letting the tip peek inside you and slip around for a moment, just to see how wild it would drive the god. 

Loki moaned. “Norns, girl! You play me like a violin!” 

“Which is why I’m going to make you sing for me,” you answered, getting your bearings and slowly, tantalizingly impaling yourself, letting your walls stretch slowly to accommodate the god’s member inch by inch, drawing out each moment. 

He looked at you with absolute hunger and began bucking his pelvis against you, feeling his cock slip up and down your passage, flooded and aching for him. You pounded against his thrusts, and the water began spilling over the sides of the tub as you made choppy, churning waves with your partner, fucking him with all of your strength as your core felt the mounting pressure building like steam in a kettle.

You couldn’t tell if Loki was getting bigger still inside you, but it sure felt like you were close to your fall. Loki took the other glass of champagne from beside him, stopping his rhythm just long enough to command you to lean back again silently, placing a firm hand on your shoulder and pushing you back into position. 

Pouring the champagne over your breasts, Loki greedily bit at one of your nipples, using his tongue to press down on it like a button, bringing all of your senses into a singular place between your legs, where you felt your orgasm explode inside you. 

Hearing your echoing vibrato filling the night with your cries of pleasure was enough to send Loki shuddering from his neck down to his cock as he came, painting your walls with his seed. Two more hard, pounding thrusts, and he fell back against the side of the hot tub to catch his breath. Keeping his cock inside you, all you did was lean over and place your chest on top of his, using a free finger to push back the curly black hair plastered to your lover’s face before nuzzling the space behind his ear with your nose. 

“I’m quite warmed up now,” Loki said quietly, kissing your beaded brow. 

“I am too,” you added. “The water’s very hot tonight.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, pet,” replied Loki. “I meant that I’m quite warmed up now for the long hours of fucking you raw that I have planned for us for the remainder of the holiday.”

[00ops1e]

padriac my prince- pt 1

Ghostsoap angst!! cw: canon-typical violence, boys being gay, character injury, alcohol(next part), medical inaccuracies(next part) if i missed any lmk!

padriac my prince- bright eyes

i had this idea like, a long time ago. originally this was gonna be one part but i’ve decided that it deserves two. also idk i feel like i get the most inspo for fics from songs. and i’m such a slut for angst.

It was an easy mission. Intel said it was a small crew, the target only traveling with a handful of accomplices. The hideout was simple enough, blueprints matching those of all the other residences in the area; they were hiding in plain sight, but not for long. The objective is clear and simple, capture the target and haul them in for questioning.

Simple.

The taskforce headed to the location, Price going back over the intel one last time as the van rolled up to a townhouse.

“House is a bit nice for AQ, innit?” Gaz quips, hopping out and passing a weapon to Soap.

“Bet they thought it’d keep us off their tail eh?” Johnny says, loading his weapon and walking towards the building, “I’ll take point,” he says as they approach the back door.

Suddenly he feels a hand on his broad shoulder, “I’ve got it Johnny,” Ghost says, settling a hand on the door and shifting in front of the other man.

“Alright LT, won’t fight ye for it,” Johnny feels his cheeks pull up into a smile at the interaction, and he doesn’t miss the way the lieutenant’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

Price is on exfil and overwatch outside, sniper ready to pick off any stragglers, “Stay frosty boys, should be quick and easy,” his gruff voice rings out over the comms.

Gaz nods and gives a curt “copy,” nodding at Ghost as he pushes the door open. They clear the first floor quickly and quietly, two tangos in the kitchen, one in the study.

Ghost leads the trio up the stairs and slowly down the hallway, clearing all but one room at the end of the hall. In his head, he recalls the blueprints that were pulled up in the intel, just a square room, there should be two people in here.

They ready their weapons, and go in hot, Ghost entering and shooting one AQ, and Johnny downing the other. Ghost steps forward, looking at the desk for possible intel.

Johnny feels time stop, everything blurs to slow motion. The familiar, sickening crack of a gun barrel meeting skull rings out, echoes through the damp air. Except for this time Johnny doesn't see the perpetrator, he only sees the now lax body of the lieutenant falling towards the floor. The second bang of Simon's head on the tile makes his stomach flip.

There had been what looked like a closet behind the door, perfect size for a soilder, and perfect for lying in wait. especially with the way the door to the room swings open and conceals the spot. This wasn’t in the blueprint of the house. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

What follows is a blur. everything is white hot and over the shrill ringing, he can only hear the crack of skull reverberating between his ears. Johnny is suddenly watching himself beat the light from the eyes of the unlucky man to have touched what he holds so dearly in his heart.

Johnny has straddled the man, grunting with each blow landed to the assailant’s face. He knows he’s dead. He’s not stupid, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the burning anger that was bubbling up in his blood. What mattered was the fact that the sound of his fists landing in the bloody mess of a face drowned out the sound of skull cracking.

“Johnny! It’s done, he’s gone,” Gaz’s voice cuts through the static, he feels tentative hands pulling him away from the corpse he had been engrossed with, “need you to help me carry ‘im,” Gaz says, motioning to Ghost on the floor.

Bile rises to the back of Johnny’s throat when he sees him, the bitter taste nothing in comparison to the way he felt his heart breaking. He sees Kyle speaking into his comms, but he can’t hear it, he can’t hear anything but static as he cradles the Lieutenant's bleeding head in his hands,

“y-you’re gonna be okay LT, everything’s gonna be fine,” he says, half convincing himself as he pushes two fingers to the bigger man’s neck, feeling his pulse. The drumming behind his fingers provides only slight relief.

Johnny positions himself under the man’s arms, while Gaz grabs his legs, “one, two….” and they hoist the man up, hurrying down the stairs and out the front door. well, hurrying as much as they could with 300 pounds of soilder in their arms.

Price is waiting by the door, helping them get Simon into the back of the van. “We’ll go straight to the hospital, ten minutes out.” he says before clapping a hand on Soap’s shoulder.

“You did good son, it’ll be alright,”

Johnny feels that same hand as earlier squeezing his heart, but this time it’s different, this time it feels less angry, more nauseous. This time, it’s guilt.

“I told him I’d take point,” is all he can muster, before forcing himself to bite his tongue. the burning behind his eyes was too much, either everything came out or nothing did, so he stayed quiet. Price gave his shoulder a knowing squeeze, and nodded at Gaz, who was pressing gauze to the gash on Simon’s head, before going to get in the driver’s seat.

The entire drive, Johnny couldn’t rip his eyes from Simon’s face. He held his limp hand, brushing the calloused knuckles with his thumb. It felt like they were in that van for hours, and with every godforsaken moment that passed, Johnny felt a little more sick looking at the man on the cot.

and through the screams of the traffic, voices carried, saying, “i’m sorry….”

[not-close-to-straight]

KARA THE END OF THE NEW CHAPTER OF RISK MADE ME TEAR UP. THAT'S SO HARD TO DO THROUGH READING.

I didn't know if I was going to leave my thoughts on this one because I feel like I've been talking your ear off lately but then you almost made me CRY so here I am.

I'm gonna start at the beginning.

Holla for sleepy morning nekkidness, and shower nekkidness with the flagrant use of too many bubbles. But also, wowowow so toot rottingly sweet, you weren't kidding. I need a dentist. I was grinning into my blanket the whole time.

I love love love Billy getting spoiled. I want him to have all the expensive soaps and never have to wash his own hair again. It's what he deserves. It's what we deserve.

Steve's ridiculous PJs are a great runner and I hope they continue to make their appearances when possible.

I'm so so happy he finally got to fully not feel alone!! But now he feels even lonelier because he KNOWS what he's missing. Ugh!

Let our boys be happy 2k22

The Christmas movies! Christmas is my favorite holiday and I subject my house to All The Movies. The connection to some of the only happy memories Billy has of his childhood being watching Christmas movies with his mom... I'm glad he gets to continue to build new ones.

The gifts!! The blanket accidentally being the most thoughtful gift ever!! The little bit about Steve trying to wash the old one and it falling apart but now he's replaced it with a much better blanket... My heart. Him having his own hoodie now that smells like his alpha!! When my husband and I were dating, we would exchange blankets every so often to always have something that smelled like the other, and that sort of thing fits so well here, ESPECIALLY with these two. Steve doesn't have to be alone anymore.

THE NECKLACE. How dare you bring tears to my eyes! Home isn't California anymore, it's Steve now. UGH!!!! I just!!! Gah!!!

Okay so first of all, it's always so funny to me when you guys use my name in an ask because I always go "oh shit this is serious, they're calling me BY NAME" and idk. That's just funny to me.

Also there's no such thing as "talking my ear off" regarding fics? I regular text some of my readers just to be like OH MY GOD I HAD A THOUGHT and to leave super long voice memos basically rambling about nothing except super tiny details that nobody gives a shit about except for me (like what color Steve's golf shorts would be if he was playing at a summer club while Billy was the landscaper? they would be plaid with pink pinstriping)

Anyway.

I KNEW the chapter would be cavity inducing. I kept drawing out that morning wake up cuddle scene and pre-nakey shower scene and thinking "is this cheesy?" and then just kept writing because it was EXCELLENT.

Idk why I HC that Steve constantly has terrible pajamas. I think its the rich but absent parents thing. Like "oh we didn't know what to get you for your birthday, so here ,have this nice set of pajamas". Instead of getting socks for christmas Steve got pajamas so he has like a dozen pairs of Old Man Pajamas and then the occasional super fuzzy super dorky pair he buys for himself.

Christmas movies are my favorite too! Every year I watch all three Grinch movies (the OG, the Jim Carrey masterpiece and the newer cartoon one), all three Santa Claus movies, the old Rudolph and Frosty animated ones and then Die Hard (its a christmas movie!) on repeat all December long.

This year I found "Santa Jaws" which looks terrible as fuck, but involves a shark wearing a santa hat while terrorizing a local community and that just... that just seems like exactly all my favorite things so I think that's going to work its way into the rotation.

You and your husband sound ridiculously cute, wtf.

And YES Home isn't california anymore. Home is where Steve is. No matter if thats hawkins or cali or anywhere in between. It's literally basically a marriage proposal.

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter VII — Part II

And so, by way of the archangels and the angels and the saints, they came to the humble benefactors, remembering them in the very middle of St. Martin’s summer … And St. Martin played up … But then, Henrietta thought, he would be sure to. That splendid young man who came dashing out of the town on a frosty winter’s night, with his scarlet cloak gleaming in the torchlight like a great dahlia and his horse’s hoofs striking sparks from the stones, was bound to be lavish in the way of weather. Just as he flung the rich folds of his cloak over the beggar who cowered by the roadside so, year after year, did he fling warm sunshine and a final largesse of autumn flowers over Torminster on its great day … A nice man.

And this year it was lovelier than ever. As soon as she woke up Henrietta scurried to the window to inspect the day. A sky of pale milky blue was tenderly arched over a world misted with silvery dew, and so frail and still and shining that it seemed like a blown soap bubble. Henrietta, leaning out of her window, was almost afraid to breathe lest it should break in spray against her face.

And after breakfast, as she helped Grandfather pick flowers in the garden for the Cathedral decorations, she was still afraid, for the flowers they picked were fragile as rainbows. There had been no cold weather yet and there were actually a few pink roses left, their petals transparent and faintly brown at the edges. The Japanese anemones, folded and hanging their heads after a touch of frost, were fairy lanterns of pearl and lilac that might at any moment vanish, and the scarlet leaves of the virginia-creeper fell at a touch like dead butterflies.

“They’ll all come to pieces when we put them on the graves,” mourned Henrietta, laying her spoils tenderly in the basket.

“Never mind,” said Grandfather, “the fallen petals are as precious in God’s sight as the dust of His dead.” He spoke sadly, for he was always depressed by the disintegration of autumn.

“Now, don’t be morbid, Theobald,” said Grandmother, issuing out of the front door in her goloshes. “And don’t stand about on that wet grass in those shoes. You’ve no more sense than a child of two … Here’s Bates with the chrysanthemums … Give them to Mrs. Elphinstone with my compliments, Theobald, and if she wants any more she can have them, but you must fetch them, mind. I won’t have her running about in my garden without a with-your-leave or a by-your-leave, wife of the senior Canon though she may be.”

Bates came out from behind the mulberry-tree with a huge bunch of yellow and red chrysanthemums and their colour and sturdiness, together with Grandmother’s strong-minded remarks, were somehow exhilarating in this dreamlike, vanishing autumn world.

They set off for the Cathedral, Grandfather and Henrietta and Hugh Anthony and Bates and the flowers. Grandmother did not come. She had been decorating churches for festivals for fifty years and had now come to the conclusion that she had had enough of it … Let other women take their turn at keeping the jam-pots from showing and mopping up the water that the clergy kicked over.

Grandfather and Henrietta walked on ahead, talking softly about the angels, and Hugh Anthony and Bates followed behind discussing horticulture.

“Bates, if I was to pour all the water over one plant in a flower-bed would it run along underneath the ground and make the others wet too?” asked Hugh Anthony.

“No, sir, it wouldn’t. If you was to ’ave a drink of beer it wouldn’t do me no good.”

“Bates, if you planted all the bulbs upside down would they come up in Australia?”

“I couldn’t say, sir. I ain’t never done such a thing.”

“Bates, why do peas grow in pods?”

“I couldn’t say, sir, I’m sure. Maybe they’re fond of a bit of company.”

“Bates, do you like radishes for tea?”

“I’m more partial to a kipper, sir. More tasty.”

“Bates, do you believe in God?”

“Yes, sir. I took religion when I started gardening. Wot I say is, ’oo put them peas in them pods and made them flowers so pretty and all?”

[articlesub05]

How To Tell If Your Wood Is Too Wet Or Too Dry To Burn

Despite the availability of modern heating options, many UK households — around 2.5 million, to be more exact — still rely on the good old fireplace-and-wood method. After all, this traditional heating system exudes an unmatched cosy vibe, on top of it being available even without using electricity. To produce cleaner and safer heat, a number of homeowners use firewood that is dried using a log drying kiln. This device, which is designed to dry wood logs and extract moisture from them at controlled temperatures, produces faster output. It also reduces wood shrinkage and enhances dimensional stability. The result of using a wood drying kiln? Wood logs that burn better and are free of insects, eggs, mould, or fungi. But how do you know if your wood is good enough to burn? In particular, how can you tell if it’s too wet or too dry? Identifying Ready-to-Burn Firewood As stated, using a log drying kiln helps you dry top-quality wood. If a piece of wood has an excessive moisture content, it can cause fungi formation that can eventually lead to rotting. According to experts, wet logs should have a 6% to 8% moisture content reduction for them to be considered a good piece of dry wood. Take note that if they’re too dry, they can produce harmful smoke once burned. Additionally, they will leave soot in your chimney, which can be challenging to clean and can be a source of a fire incident. There are many factors that can affect how fast moisture can be extracted from wood. These include: Type of the wood (generally, softwoods have higher moisture content than hardwood, requiring them to have longer drying time) Size of the wood (the smaller the wood, the faster it will dry) Humidity (the bigger the difference between the humidity inside the wood and its surrounding environment, the faster it will dry) The question now is: How do you check if your wood is dry enough to burn? Here are some testing options you can undertake. Visual inspection. Dark hues in wood generally indicate high moisture content. So first off, check if the wood has lightened in colour. It should also have some dry cracks on its ends and visible growth rings — plus, it should be clean and hard. Soap test. Add a minute amount of your regular washing-up soap to one end of the wood log. Next, put your mouth near the opposite end, then blow through it. If bubbles appear, it means that your firewood is dry enough (there’s no significant amount of moisture that can hinder the air from passing through the log when you blow). Sound test. Take two logs and bang them together. If they produce a dull sound, they still have lots of moisture inside. The sound of good firewood is hard and ringing. When doing this test, however, keep in mind the kind of weather that you have. If it’s chilly and frosty, even dried firewood can produce a hard and ringing sound. Wood moisture metre. To be more precise, measuring the moisture level of logs dried via a wood drying kiln (or any other method) pays to have a reliable moisture metre. This device can be used by simply placing it atop your wood surface (with the proper amount of pressure). Make sure that neither the device nor the surface has water on them, as it can affect the accuracy of the reading.

[inkykeiji]

day 4 ❅ let’s go below zero and hide from the sun

i love you forever where we’ll have some fun

day three ❅ day four ❅ day five | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeeeeee meery christmas eve everyone, here’s day four!!!!! day four is my favourite out of the five, so i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3 as always, please pay attention to the warnings n stay safe!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), implied noncon, sub-drop, panic attacks, fingering, cockwarming, car sex, mentioned drug use, generally toxic relationships, size difference, verbal fights, tense family dynamics

words: 8.4k

synopsis:

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

  ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅    

Sunlight streams through the crystal window, tiny dust motes playing hide and seek between the rays, painting golden beams across the smooth skin of Touya’s bare back, his skin almost sparkling in the warm light.

A little whimper slips from between your lips as your eyelids stick together, sealed shut by dry salt, brow furrowing as you finally pry them open. They hurt, dry and tacky and squinting against the too-bright light, spitting a hiss through your teeth.

“Ow,” you whine as you try to roll onto your side, every muscle in your body aching and stuffed full of exhaustion.

You’re sweating—Touya is always way too hot, and this bed is decidedly much too tiny for the both of you—raising a heavy arm to try and shove the sheets down to your waist, only to find that you can’t. It takes your hazy mind a few moments to realize that the sheets are stuck to your skin.

Bleary eyes blink twice, raising your head off of the plush pillow with immense effort and gazing down at your naked body. The muscles in your arms are screeching in protest as stiff, sore fingers fist in the sheets, giving one hard yank and ripping the material from your body, a sharp gasp hitching in your throat.

Hard, dried cum is splattered across your entire torso, wincing a little as you arch your back and watch it crack on your skin. Vibrant petals of indigo and violet have bloomed across your body, growing in places you don’t ever remember them being planted in.

What the hell happened last night?

It’s hard for you to recall, really, eyebrows knitting as you think hard, sifting through all of your recent memories and trying to remember when someone spurted cum all over your body.

Everything from last night is nothing but a tangled mess in your mind, with loops and crisscrosses, certain memories seeming to overlap, to morph together the more you think about them. It’s as if you’re watching an old film through a thick cloud of fog, flickering and stained with sepia as the sound keeps cutting in and out, the projector stopping once in a while, stuttering and repeating frames or burning holes through the filmstock.

It takes every ounce of strength you have to roll your beaten body onto your side, yelping softly from the massive effort. A sudden rush of tears pricks your eyes, burning in your throat as you try desperately to hold them back, to swallow them silently like a good little girl.

But it’s hard, tiny hiccupped sobs attempting to climb up your raw throat, catching painfully in your chest as you strive to suppress them, to gulp them back down, to force them back into the core of your body and stay put. Yet they refuse to cooperate, becoming more and more vicious as they fight against you, causing you to cough and choke on them as they finally escape your lips, and you mentally berate yourself for such a stupid rush of senseless emotions.

Don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. It’s too early—you’re going to wake him and he’s going to be—

“Baby?” Touya croaks, voice deeper than normal, hoarser than normal.

And, God, he sounds so fucking hot in the morning.

“M’fine,” you say, though the words just come out sounding garbled and wet.

“Baby, baby, no,” he’s saying softly as he pushes himself into a sitting position, sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his chest, strong arms hooking under yours as he pulls you up and into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you whine into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly as tears begin to leak from the corners.

“For what, princess?”

You don’t know. You just are. Shaking your head in response, you shove your face against him, letting your tears drip off your jaw and soak into his skin.

“Alright, alright,” a large hand pets your back rhythmically, up and down, up and down, fingers tracing along your spine. “Niichan’s got you,”

“What’s going on?”

The unexpected voice startles you, and you freeze in Touya’s embrace.

“Is she okay?”

It’s groggy and rough, vibrating in his throat, and you nuzzle into Touya’s shoulder, chest hiccupping.

“I don’t—I’m not sure,” Touya responds, and you can hear it, that hint of worry laced in his voice, accompanied by a sprinkling of frustration, but it only makes you cry harder, entire body trembling against him.

The other bed groans as Natsuo slides out of it, bare feet padding against the hardwood, your mattress dipping as he sits on the edge a moment later.

“Aw, poor baby,” Natsuo purrs, a soft, massive hand clamping down on your tense shoulder, thick fingers digging into your muscles. “Was last night too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is so patronizing, and you whimper a little against Touya, who kicks his younger brother’s thigh with his foot.

“Don’t be an asshole,”

“Says you,” Natsuo scoffs. “I’m being serious. It might be sub-drop,” The bed shifts again, and then kisses are being pressed to the column of your spine, down, down, down your back, words murmured sweetly into your skin. “I’m sorry, babygirl,”

“S’wasn’t too much f’me,” you mumble, heat seeping into your cheeks as both men laugh.

“Definitely sub-drop,” Touya says with a sigh, resting a large palm on your head. “I’ll run a bath,”

“I’ll make some tea and eggs,”

Peaking out from Touya’s shoulder, you watch as Natsuo heaves himself off the bed, snatching his shirt up from the floor and slipping it on before exiting your bedroom with nothing but his Frosty the Snowman briefs as bottoms.

Touya gently deposits you on the bed, slipping out from under you and shaking his head with a chuckle when you whine loudly, making little grabby hands for him, muttering Yup, definitely sub-drop under his breath.

Touya pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a nondescript black t-shirt over his head before he returns to the bed, laughing again at the involuntary pout set on your lips.

“C’mon, brat,” he murmurs affectionately, wrapping your naked, cum-stained body in the sheet before he hoists you up, carrying you across the hall to the bathroom and placing you on the counter, still swaddled up.  

“Bubbles?” You ask, voice small as he bends to start running the bath.

“I dunno if we have any, princess,” he says with a small frown as he turns back to face you, sapphire eyes scanning the washroom quickly.

It turns out you do, in a pink bottle with faded Disney princesses on the worn label, hidden behind half-finished cans of old hairspray and expired toothpaste, covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Very fitting,” Touya snorts.

It must be over ten years old, but that’s alright—bubble bath doesn’t expire, does it?

Touya pours a bit too much of the syrupy magenta substance under the running water, resulting in you being encased in a mountain of foamy suds that reek of artificial bubblegum.

“Y-You’re not coming?” You ask, a frown materializing on your face as you watch Touya turn off the tap, wiping some of the bubbles that cling to his arm on his thigh.

“No, baby,” he says softly, kneeling in front of the tub. He guesses your next question before your dazed mind can find the word. “Because niichan wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you if he did, and that’s not what you need right now,”

“I could handle it,” you grumble, and Touya laughs, eyes glittering.

“It isn’t a question of whether or not you can handle it, it’s a question of whether or not you need it,”

But even without him snuggled behind you it’s nice nonetheless, your niichan cleaning your body slowly, unhurriedly, dragging a rough cloth across your skin and lathering soap in little circles, cleaning the sweat that has dried sticky and salty on your neck and collarbone, then elbow-deep in the water as he gently pries your thighs apart, scrubbing away the dried cum. Soft, murmured affirmations spill from his lips as he works, praising you for being such a good girl last night, for being such a good girl as he washes you.

Good girl, very good girl, his good girl, his best girl.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Just past noon, Rei kicks you all out of the house.

“The Takasu Snow Park is open until four today,” she tells you curtly, practically shooing the five of you out of the cabin. “Don’t come back until it’s closed.”

She lets you take different cars, this time.

“And Touya, Shouto,” she calls from the doorway, lips pressed in a firm, thin line.

Both boys freeze at the sound of their names, hesitantly turning to meet their mother’s gaze.

“Don’t forget that you’re doing the dishes tonight,”

Shouto scoffs as he turns away, climbing into the back seat of Natsuo’s car, and Touya rolls his eyes, muttering something about being treated like a child, to which Fuyumi retorts that it’s only fair, considering the fact that he’s been acting like one.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The Takasu Snow Park is just under an hour from the cabin. It’s surprisingly busy for Christmas Eve, filled with high-pitched squeals of excitement and bubbles of laughter as children wrapped up in brightly coloured snowsuits waddle around with tubes in tow.

And Touya drives right past it.

“Niichan, I think you just—”

“We aren’t going tubing, baby,” he says nonchalantly, a wicked spark glinting in his eye as he glances over at you, lips tugging up into a crooked smirk at the way your head quirks cutely, shaking it a little to indicate that you don’t understand what he means. “Niichan would rather play with that pretty pussy of yours instead,”

And he does, finding a shaded little nook just off the main road, snow squeaking under rubber tires as he pulls into it, partially obscuring his car.

“C’mere, princess,” he breathes, patting a thigh. “Come play with your niichan,”

You scamper across the center console and crawl into his lap, thighs straddling him and giggling a little as his fingers inch up, up, up, until they’re pushing your white lacy panties to the side and gliding against your slit.

“Something funny, pretty girl?”

“No, niichan,” you gasp as a finger dips into you, curling as he drags it out and repeating the action a few more times before adding another, your head finding purchase on his shoulder.

Nimble fingers work slowly, lazily, messily, Touya’s free hand busy scrolling through missed text messages on his work phone as he lets you pathetically rut against his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, craning his neck a little and allowing you to trace along the brilliant ink that stains his skin with your tongue.

And it’s nice. It’s almost romantic in a sense, just the two of you silently enjoying each other’s company, the only noise your gentle little mewls and a howling gust of wind every once in a while. The countryside, draped with freshly fallen snow from the storm yesterday, glitters in the late afternoon sun, the cloudless sky as blue as Touya’s eyes. You sigh dreamily as you gaze up at it, basking in the feeling of your niichan’s fingers buried inside of you, stroking your silky walls intermittently, just the two of you in your own little world, protected from everything else by the Audi’s bulletproof glass.

“W-Wanna cockwarm you,” the words are mumbled against his neck sleepily, your eyes lidded and heavy, only half conscious and barely aware of what you’re saying.

But you can feel his cock, hard and hot through dark denim, and it makes your little hole clench, fluttering around nothing. “Jus wanna be full, wanna be close,”

Touya’s chuckling as he shifts a little, hands slipping between your bodies to unbuckle his belt. “That so, princess? Is my baby girl being a needy little slut?” And despite the degrading words used, his tone is warm, gentle and full of compassion. “Niichan will let you sit on his cock if that’s what you want,”

“Please,” you’re whining, pulling back to gaze at him with bleary eyes. “Please, please,”

“Alright, greedy little thing,” he hushes you like he’s calming a fussy baby, shucking his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring out, using his thumb to push it forward, presenting it to you.

“So pretty, niichan, so pretty,” you’re mumbling as a small hand wraps around the base, squirming a little in his lap and lifting yourself to hover over him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his hips.

He lets you do all of the work, merely watching you through hooded eyes, an odd little grin present on his face. Touya doesn’t normally allow you to cockwarm him, hates how goddamn teasing it usually is, but he figures that today we have time to kill, so why not?

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs as you sink down on him, a loud moan getting caught in your throat. “You feel better now, huh? You feel better now that niichan’s stuffing your little cunt full?”

A soft whine is all you can manage, nodding dumbly against his shoulder. Yes, yes, you feel better, you feel right, you feel complete.

And you can’t help but hump him a little, hips rocking against his in tiny, shallow motions, clit catching on his pubic bone with every push forward and drag back.

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he breathes, though his eyes are still focused on his phone, reading an article about a drug bust you’re sure his gang was a part of. “Use niichan to get yourself off, come on,”

He tells you to go slow, to be careful, cute pussy still sore from the abuse it suffered last night, and you obey, hips moving in unhurried motions, just enjoying the feeling of him being inside you, of him being this close, of how good it feels, sweet little whimpers of niichan, niichan, being huffed out against his neck.

It takes a good half hour of grinding before you’re finally creaming all over his cock, body trembling in his arms as he hushes you through it, whispering into your hair how good you are for him, one of his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to keep moving until your body collapses against his, boneless and pliant. Touya affords you a few moments to come down, cock still buried deep inside you, twitching as it patiently waits for your breathing to calm.

He isn’t gonna fuck you, he tells you as he shifts your limp body off of his cock, not with how you were feeling this morning. But he doesn’t think it’s very fair to make niichan suffer with such a hard cock, especially after he just let you cum all over it.

You don’t think it’s very fair, either, murmuring your agreement to him as your hand wraps around the shaft, his cock jumping at your touch.

It’s still so wet from all of your own juices, aiding your hand as it pumps him, hard and fast the way he likes it, obscene squelching echoing throughout the car.

Heat floods your cheeks while you watch your motions, stomach curling in on itself as his cock gleams with your slick, and it’s so hot, that’s so hot baby.

It doesn’t take long to have him panting out those gorgeous sounds, throaty moans and broken little whines, and you can tell he’s close when his hips begin to shift, thrusting into your fist. But you don’t want him making a mess all over his nice car, or his pretty sweater, leaning down to close your lips around the tip and suckle, tongue swiping across his slit as your hand works.

He whimpers out a curse before his hips stutter, thrusting his cock into your mouth as it paints your throat with spurts of burning cream. And you swallow it all, like the good little girl you are, looking up at him with sparkling eyes as you thank him for his cum, and God he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Christmas Eve dinner consists of a symphony of forks dragging across porcelain and spoons scraping against bowls. Rei tersely shoos everyone out of the kitchen the moment it’s over, brusquely ordering Touya and Shouto to get started on their chores.

The rest of the family shuffles into the living room, sitting stiffly on the couches, the television’s volume low as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer plays on the screen.

Fuyumi tries to reason with her mother in a hushed urgent voice, tries to tell her that it’s a bad idea to leave the two of them alone, especially with Touya surrounded by so many objects that could potentially be used as weapons.

“They’re adults,” her mother responds, tone clipped. “And they aren’t alone,” grey eyes glance over at the kitchen, at her eldest and youngest standing together at the sink, frothy bubbles beginning to build as the tap runs. “I can see them perfectly fine from here.”

“Mom—” Natsuo begins, cutting himself off at the glare his mother shoots his way, swallowing his words and nodding instead. “—is right. Mom is right,” he looks over at his sister. “They’re fine, look at them,”

But his voice is high, thin, glassy, the words trembling ever so slightly as stone eyes dart towards his siblings, both with rigid shoulders, weighted with the thick tension suffocating the room.

“They should be fine,”

But it’s hard for you to watch, too much for you to watch, entire body consumed by sharp anxiety as you observe Touya’s stiff movements. His jaw is set, nostrils flaring as he glares down at the sink, frustration and anger and red-hot hatred beginning to ooze through his mask of passivity, to seep through the cracks Shouto’s dexterously created using hostile comments and snide glances as his tools.

And on Christmas Eve, that mask finally shatters.

Because Touya doesn’t have it in him to continue his act of indifference anymore, worn out and exhausted by the effort. Trembling hands pluck a spoon from the mountain of dishes sitting in the aluminum sink, wetting it with water and then laving over it with a soapy sponge.

He’s sure he’s coming down—even though it isn’t time yet, even though he knows, deep down, that the comedown is still a few hours away, even though he knows he knows his body better than this, has been swallowing oxys for so long that he’s got the comedown memorized, right down to the fucking second—but he swears he can feel it, can feel the migraine beginning to throb behind his eyes, can feel the cold sweat beginning to bead at his temples, can feel the chills beginning to course through his body despite how warm the cabin is, teeth grinding to keep from clattering.

The air stings his clenched teeth as he sucks in a breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, trying to force his mind to focus on the dish in his hand, on the warm water cascading over his skin, on the light scent of artificial lemon wafting from his sudsy skin. It’s fine, he’s fine, all he has to do is wash a few stupid dishes and then—

“Listen—”

“Shut the fuck up and scrub,”

“I just wanted to—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Touya growls, gaze hyper-focused on the plate he’s been cleaning for over a minute now.

A lie. He has a lot to say to him, but he’d rather not make their mother cry, again, desperately hoping that Shouto will just shut his mouth and finish cleaning his side of the skin so they can get this fucking over with.

Shouto sighs, deep and patronizing, scoffing as his chest rises with the force of it.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbles. “Why can’t you—”

But then it’s all bubbling over, acidic words flowing from his mouth before he has a moment to consider what he’s saying. He wishes Shouto would’ve just left it, would’ve gritted his teeth like Touya and finished their chores silently instead of trying to play some fucking martyr, instead of trying to fix something that has always been broken.

“I heard what you said in that fucking washroom,” Touya cuts him off, eyes finally flashing to his face, jaw clenching twice as he glares at his baby brother. “Don’t you ever fill her head with that bullshit again, do you hear me?”

“She’s my step-sister, too,” Shouto shoots back, scrubbing turned needlessly aggressive, eyebrows set in a deep furrow as he glowers at the bowl in his hands.

“I don’t care,” Touya hisses. “Stay the hell away from her,”

Something massive, sharp and shiny catches his eye as he turns to deposit the clean dish on the drying rack, quivering hand hovering over it in hesitation. A butcher knife, gleaming in the dim, warm light of the kitchen, stuck halfway in the knife block.

Beside him, Shouto snorts, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust as he looks back to his hands, rinsing the bowl under a stream of hot water and placing it on the towel-covered counter.

“What? You gonna stab me? Really? In front of mom on Christmas Eve? Were the bloody nose and the black eye and the split lip not enough for you?”

No, of course not; it will never be enough for Touya.

“Why not?” Touya asks, voice calm, sounding almost serene, for the first time tonight. “It’s not like she’d miss you. I’m the one she took with her when she left, aren’t I? I think we both know that mom loves me more than she loves you—isn’t that right, scarface,”

And that—that has Shouto freezing mid motion, hand halting under the flowing tap water, half rinsed glass still in his grasp. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, Touya watching him almost lazily, that annoying indifferent smirk finally forming on his lips, achingly familiar.

Heterochromatic eyes glaze over and Shouto swallows roughly, jaw clenching twice as he turns towards his eldest brother, the glass clutched in his sudsy hand squeaking as his grip tightens. And for a moment, Touya thinks he’s won, breath bated as he waits for that first tear to escape, to roll down Shouto’s unblemished cheeks and fall crashing to the floor.

But then Shouto’s rolling his shoulders once, twice, puffing his chest out just a touch as he straightens to his full height, nearly a full inch taller that Touya, and exhales forcefully through his nose.

“Y’know, if you loved her—I mean, if you really loved her—you’d let her go,” His voice is sharp, clear, ringing throughout the kitchen, ringing throughout Touya’s head, bouncing off the walls in his mind and reverberating. “What you have, what you’re feeling, isn’t love—it’s obsession.”

That infamous smirk begins to fall, cobalt eyes narrowing at his baby brother’s words, breath beginning to quicken. Shouto sees it then—that final crack in the mask Touya’s so painstakingly crafted, in the mask Touya so expertly worn for so many years—and he strikes.

“It’s possession.”

No. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this—it’s all lies, isn’t it? Touya tries to scoff, tries to roll his eyes and shake his head at such ridiculousness, but it feels like his body’s encased in ice, frozen straight to the core.

“It’s insecurity.”

Blood rushes in his ears, but it fails to drown out Shouto’s crisp voice, his words slicing straight through the white noise. Touya wants to tell him to stop, wants to tell him to shut the hell up, wants to silence him by driving that huge knife straight through his fucking chest, but his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, refusing to obey his brain as it shouts at it to fight back, goddamn it!

“I meant what I said to her in that washroom,” his younger brother spits, words dripping with hostility as his eyes narrow, giving Touya a once-over like he’s the most pathetic thing Shouto has ever laid eyes on. “She does deserve so much better than you and you fucking know it, but you’re too selfish to let her go. That isn’t love.”

And it’s those final three words that finally have the mask breaking into tiny fragments and falling away, revealing glassy sapphires and a twitching nose, a trembling chin and a hard swallow. It’s those final three words that have it shattering concurrently with the glass in Shouto’s hand, shards clattering to the tiled floor, smashing into smaller pieces upon impact.

It catches Fuyumi’s attention first, who had been on edge and observing the pair sharply, body coiled and ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

“Shouto, your hand!” she cries as she leaps up, eyes wide and trained on the blood oozing from Shouto’s palm, rushing down his arm and dripping off his elbow.

But neither of them break their stare, Shouto entirely numb to the pain, Touya entirely suffocated by it, molars grinding together as he tries in vain to stop his chest from stuttering. It isn’t until Fuyumi grabs Shouto by the shoulders and forces him to face her that their gaze is broken, the youngest finally looking down to find his palm stained with viscous crimson.

Frantic sapphire eyes dart around the room, something akin to panic clawing at Touya’s chest, tearing him open from the inside out and making each breath more painful than the next. He needs to go, he needs to leave, he needs to get the hell out of this kitchen, out of this house, needs to, needs to, needs…

Feet stumble a little as he rushes up the stairs, catching himself on the railing twice as he ascends to the top. Someone calls his name, he thinks, but he can barely hear it over the intense ringing in his ears, his vision fading in and out of focus. The door to your shared bedroom slams open, brass knob whacking off the drywall and leaving an ugly little hole not unlike the larger one Shouto’s head left in the living room wall the day before.

Startled and gasping, your book falls from your hands and tumbles to the floor as Touya barrels through the threshold, making a beeline for the nondescript chest of wooden drawers tucked into the corner, yanking it open and beginning to riffle through the neatly folded clothing.

It sounds like he’s muttering something to himself, but you can’t discern what it is, heart beginning to thud against your ribcage. The tufts of hair at the back of his neck are coated in sweat, sticking to the skin, his breathing harsh and uneven as a curse hitches in his chest, rapidly moving onto the next drawer when whatever he’s looking for doesn’t turn up in the first.

A potent mix of adrenaline and dread floods your veins, and for a moment you’re frozen, little fingers curled so tightly in the sheets under you it’s painful, breathing stopped as you watch your niichan urgently rummage through the second drawer, his back beginning to hiccup.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what the hell is going on, unblinking eyes watching his motions in some sort of daze. For a moment, you’re terrified he might be overdosing, frantically searching for—for—you don’t even know, for some sort of antidote Natsuo might’ve given him, or something.

But then, he chokes out a pathetic little half-sob, trying in vain to swallow it back down akin to the first night you spent at the cabin, and then you’re leaping off the bed and rushing towards him in alarm, wrapping your arms around him tightly from behind, and he just…breaks. Collapses against the wooden chest hard enough to make the entire thing wobble, burying his head in his folded arms as his entire body shudders under the force of the sob that tears through his chest.

“Niichan!” you gasp, pawing at the front of his shirt, trying to make him move to face you. “Niichan, niichan, what is it? What’s wrong?” your own voice breaks with the threat of tears as you speak, heart racing in your chest.

He doesn’t respond, merely turns in your embrace and collapses on you instead, face buried in the crook of your neck as he weeps, big juddering breaths that have his entire back convulsing.

The action surprises you, a stark contrast from his stubborn resistance from the first night, but it worries you, too, such surrender uncharacteristic of him.

But your body’s running on autopilot, immediately petting his hair as your other arm tightens around his waist, clutching him. Soft hushes fall from your lips as you hold him, rocking your bodies slightly as you whisper into ivory tufts; it’s okay, you’re there, it’s alright, you’ve got him, you love him.

And the sob that rips from his throat as those last few words leave your lips is nothing short of vicious, has him coughing wetly into your neck and whining a little, large hands curling in the material of your dress as he tries to pull you closer, closer, closer.

“Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong,” you beg and your voice cracks, blinking hard against the tears flooding your own eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help, please,”

He shakes his head, whimpering incoherently into your neck.

Can’t…Won’t…Pathetic…Disgusting…

“Please,” the word catches in your throat as tears finally escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks in pairs. “Please, let me help, let me make you feel better,”

“I—I—I’m—” he tries, shaking his head again, but you urge him to continue, plead with him to try again. “Need to get out, n-need to—to make it stop,”

You aren’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t matter, body moving on pure instinct the moment the words are out of his mouth, little hand snatching the keys to the Audi off the surface of the dresser and dragging him along behind you.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The road is empty, silent, entirely barren as the Audi weaves through it, fat snowflakes beginning to drift down from the wispy clouds that decorate the night sky, taking turns blanketing the full moon and softening it’s beams of ivory light.

You don’t drive very far. You haven’t a clue where you’re going, but it doesn’t matter, frenetic eyes searching for the first little secluded clearing you can pull into.

Touya is unsettlingly quiet, save for his soft sniffles and the gentle rustling of his clothing as he uses a sleeve to wipe at his nose. Hiccups are still catching in his chest, but he’s trying his hardest to stop them, to quiet them, growling a little in pure frustration each time one escapes. Your stomach churns uneasily at his muteness—you wish he would just say something, glancing over at him worriedly with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, his sapphire eyes destitute, bloodshot and glassy as they stare indigently at his knees.

The small village that the cliff overlooks emits a warm glow of golden light, hovering hazily over it like a halo. Christmas lights are strung up on a few of the cabins, little glowing dots of red and green and blue lining the roofs. A dusting of snow has begun to collect, like gingerbread houses sprinkled with icing sugar.

Touya is still silent when you cut the engine, stays silent when you turn to peer at him from your spot in the driver’s seat, stays silent when you place a dainty hand on his bicep, rubbing soothing circles into the clothed muscle and sighing.

“Niichan,”

Nothing.

“Niichan, look at me,”

Nothing.

“Touya-nii,” you murmur, kicking off your boots and climbing over the center console into his lap, his arms immediately opening to embrace you. “What’s going on?”

His gaze still avoids yours, despite the fact that his hands are curling around your body, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to make you wince, needing you close, closer. And his voice is so quiet, almost desolate as he answers.

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

Cobalt darts around the car, trying to look anywhere but at your face as sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, an attempt to quell its quivering. A soft sigh leaves your lips as gentle hands cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Let me in,” you whisper, soft little thumbs caressing the ink under his eyes. “Let me help,”

Burning sapphire sears into your eyes, gaze penetrating and powerful as it shines with unshed tears, and you have to force yourself to not look away, to keep staring into those pools of gleaming blue, feeling as though you’re staring directly at the sun.

He doesn’t blink, but the tears collecting in his eyes become too many, too much, spilling over his lashline and cascading down inky cheeks, leaving little gleaming trails in their wake. He inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest for a moment before exhaling slowly, the breath trembling.

“I don’t even know where to fucking start,”

And his voice is so low you nearly miss it, raw and hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Take your time,” tiny fingers run through his hair again, his eyes closing with the motion, more tears dripping down his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just…Tell me what’s bothering you,”

What is bothering him? It’s hard to say, not because it’s complicated, but because he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t want to admit that his baby brother’s words have affected him more than he ever thought they would.

If you really loved her…You’d let her go.

He does really love you, he wants to scream until his throat is sore, until his throat is bleeding, molars grinding at the thought of anyone thinking otherwise. He loves you so much, loves you too much, loves you more than he’s loved anything in his entire fucking life, he’s sure of it, positive of it.

He’s loved you since he first began stealing kisses from you, in the kitchen when mom wasn’t looking. He’s loved you since you tiptoed to his room, mumbling about a nightmare and seeking solace in his warm bed, in his warm arms. He’s loved you since you sobbed into his chest, that night you told him you wanted all of him, that night when he realized that you love him, too. He’s loved you since you let him permanently sear his name into your skin, branding you as his forever.

Yes, he’s possessive, and yes, he’s selfish, and yes, he can be a fucking asshole, but he does love you. Really loves you. He can barely remember his life without you in it, everything blurry and out of focus before you entered the frame. You’re all he’s got, all he’s ever had, all he ever wants, and the thought of you being unhappy, the thought of you wanting to leave, kills him, drives a large stake straight through his chest and clean out the other side, spearing him.

And yet, he fails to put any of these thoughts, running a mile a minute through his mind, into words. Patient as ever, you wait, petting his hair, planting kisses scattered across his face, tracing patterns on his skin as a war rages inside his head.

“I’m—It’s fucking pathetic,”

“It isn’t pathetic to be human, Touya,” you whisper sadly, little thumbs swiping across both cheeks. “You don’t have to keep it together every minute of every day,” you remind him gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re allowed to be ‘weak’, too,”

He shakes his head, but refrains from arguing with you, because he can’t. Because he knows if he opens his mouth, if he tries to speak, he’ll start sobbing again. Sapphire tears away from your gaze, unable to hold your eyes anymore as his chin begins to quiver.

“I do really love you,” he whispers finally, head dropping, eyes squeezing shut against the prick of tears.

“I know you do, baby,” you say softly, fingers rubbing circles into his biceps, though he can hear the confusion laced in your voice.

“But do I—Do I des—”

He can’t. He can’t force those four simple little words out of his mouth, getting caught at the back of his throat, tangling into a giant ball that aches when he tries to swallow past it.

It’s starting again, that feeling from the kitchen, building in his torso, growing, stretching, higher and higher and higher until he can’t fucking breathe. A sharp gasp hitches painfully in his chest as he desperately tries to inhale, tries to suck an adequate amount of air into his lungs, coughing on the saliva pooling at the back of his throat.

“Do I—” the words escape his lips in a pitiful whine, voice cracking.

A sudden flash of blistering fury rips through his chest at his own cowardice. Disgust churns in his stomach, leaving a stinging bitterness lingering on his tongue, revolted at himself for getting so goddamn emotional over this, for letting Shouto’s words eat away at him, corrosive and parasitic as they take root in his brain, infecting his consciousness until it’s all he can fucking hear, think, see.

Tiny fingers find his face, hooking under his jaw and tilting it up, gently forcing him to look at you again. The pads of your fingertips dance along his skin, tracing along his jaw and then up his cheek to catch in the endless stream of tears.

You don’t say anything, because you don’t have to, tender little touches speaking volumes more than your words ever could, inspiring a bout of intense strength as he powers through the sentence, forcing the trembling words from his throat.

“Do I deserve you?”

And you’re so shocked by the question that your fingers halt, and his body stills, his breath stuttering in his throat, staring at you in an almost urgent manner, pleading with you to tell him the answer he’s so desperately seeking.

Salty water trickles over your thumbs, the sensation breaking you out of your reverie, response flowing from your mouth seamlessly, without a second thought.

“Of course you do,” your eyes search his face, studying his features slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

The question leaves your lips before you even know what you’re saying, but your voice is soft, kind, full of so much concern and affection as your fingers begin their ministrations again, tracing the ink decorating his cheeks.

He refuses to tell you, shakes his head as his lips press into a firm line, expression hardening. Blue fire ignites in his eyes, and you have your answer.

Shouto’s words from that first day in the washroom drift through your head, but you don’t press. Regardless of whether or not Touya had heard them on the twenty-first, it is fair to assume that Shouto must have said something along similar lines tonight, triggering this reaction.

Sighing, your expression softens, forehead falling forward to knock against his, hands still on either side of his face, keeping his gaze from escaping again as you speak.

“You—you’re sure?”

“Niichan, my niichan,” you murmur, pecking his lips in a chaste kiss. “That isn’t yours to decide, or Shouto’s to decide, or anyone’s to decide,” and your voice is so tender, filled with so much love as tiny fingers run through his hair, tension dissipating from his shoulders with each comb through. “It’s mine. And I’m telling you that you do deserve me,”

“Do I?” he chokes out brokenly, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. And the look on his face, azure eyes glazed with a thick shield of tears as they desperately search your face, chin trembling almost violently as he swallows a pitiful whine, pierces your heart; and you swear you can feel it shattering into a thousand little pieces, puncturing the surrounding organs and making your whole chest ache.

“Yes,” you whisper, tiny hands flexing on either side of his face as you grip him tighter, blinking rapidly to clear your own vision. “Yes,” you repeat, louder, stronger, fiercer, silencing whatever he was beginning to respond with by crushing your lips against his.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re murmuring between kisses, spit slicked lips sliding against his as he sobs into your mouth.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, voice raspy with tears. “I love you, I love you,”

And, truly, you’re the only thing holding him together at this point—have been the only thing holding him together for a long time now. You’re the glue that keeps his life from falling apart, you’re the stitches that keep his very soul intact, sewing him back together each and every time he begins to unravel, keeping him complete, keeping him whole.

Fingernails dig into the skin of his cheek as you hold him in place, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling, relishing in the quiet, broken moan you pull from him. A little tongue laps at the salty tears staining his cheeks, licks along his jaw as his hands grip the meat of your ass, trying to pull you closer as he breathes out your name.

“I love you,” you whisper, words punctuated by kisses down the column of his neck. “So much,”

A whine gets stuck in his throat, head tilting to allow you more access to move as large hands paw at the hem of your dress, rucking it up around your waist. Something pokes you, prods you, pushes up into you through the thick, rough denim of his jeans, and you inhale sharply, instantly consumed by overwhelming need—the need to feel him, hot and pulsing and driving into you, the need to make him feel better, to make him forget, to remind him that you’re his, and he’s yours, the need to be claimed.

It hits your like a fucking freight train, burns through your veins and shoots straight to your core, sharp spikes of heat that have you huffing out his name.

“I need you,” the words are whimpered against inky skin as you grind desperately against his hard cock, clawing at his chest, his biceps, his belt. “Niichan, I need you,”

“Yeah, baby?” he pants into your mouth, hands kneading your nylon covered thighs as he presses his clothed cock against your core, forcing a mewl of his name from your throat.

“Yes,” you cry pathetically, and it’s almost too much, the scalding, throbbing heat collecting between your thighs, hips gyrating in quick little circles as you try to alleviate some of the tension coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, yes, need you t-to fuck me, to—” a sharp gasp cuts you off as he bites into your shoulder, growling darkly against your skin. “—To fill me up, to remind me who I belong to,”

Strong, lithe fingers tear into your thin tights, hooking into the holes they create and ripping the delicate material. Dark eyes flit down, rabidly scanning your clothed little cunt, white lace soaked and stuck to you, outlining your folds. Touya chuckles, delivering a superficial slap with the back of his hand before pushing your panties to the side.

Niichan, niichan, you’re whining out the honorific, fingers tangling in his sweater and tugging roughly as his digits caress your slit, urgently shaking your head.

His lips tug down. “Baby, you know I—”

“No!” you pout, eyebrows knitted together, Touya’s eyes flashing dangerously at being so rudely cut off. “I don’t want your fingers, they aren’t enough,” Because the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be owned is almost voracious now, desire clawing at the pit of your belly. “Mark me, claim me, breed me, I-I’m yours,” you’re wailing, cunt achingly empty, the pulsing in your clit nearly too much to take.

A snarl rumbles in his chest, large hand snaking around your bent leg, wedging between your thigh and calve and gripping the back of your knee, hitching the leg closest to the center console up in one swift movement and planting your foot on the console box, thighs stinging from the sudden stretch.

One of your hands latches onto the handle above the door while the other clutches his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles through the knit of his sweater while he fiddles with his belt, squirming a little and shoving his jeans down to his knees.

Not a second is wasted as the head of his cock nudges against your fluttering hole, and then he stills. He wants you to beg, needs to hear you beg, and so you do, high-pitched and whiny as your hips instinctually wiggle.

“Please, niichan, please! Want it, need it, need you,”

And then he’s shoving himself into you, a hiss slipping from between your teeth, familiar, welcomed tears springing into your eyes, a guttural groan catching in his throat.

It stretches, aches, stings so good, so right, so perfect as he bottoms out, pressed snugly against your cervix, and pauses for a moment, cock twitching inside of you, strong hands on your hips preventing them from rocking forward and forcing you to just feel him for a second, every inch of him, buried deep inside you. The sigh that falls from your lips is nothing short of dreamy, mumbling about feeling whole again, and he chuckles.

Yeah, that’s right, princess. Only niichan’s cock can fill you up like this.

His thrusts start gradual, fingers flexing on your hips as they dig into the sensitive flesh, forcing you to slide nearly all the way off his cock before pushing you back down, hips pressing up to meet yours, cockhead grinding against your cervix as he stuffs himself in your cunt, gaining a little more speed with each motion.

No one but niichan could ever make you feel like this.

The words are whimpered between fierce, messy kisses, between ravenous, devouring kisses, between the clacking of teeth and the slurping of tongues, glistening saliva, sticky and sweet and laced with the taste of blue fire and Marlboros dripping off your chin.

And he needs to hear it—needs to know that you belong to him and only him, needs to know that you want him and only him, needs to know that only he is deserving of you, worthy of you—so you tell him, in breathy little whines, that no, no one could ever make you feel this good; yes, niichan’s the only one that can fill you up this fully, this wholly, this rightly, eyes rolling back and sharp cries echoing through the car as he pounds into you, deep little grunts falling from his lips in time with each snap up of his hips.

“Tell niichan—ah, fuck—tell niichan how badly you need his cum,”

Senseless babbling flows freely from your lips the instant he asks for it, forever incapable of disobeying a direct order from him—please niichan, need your cum so bad, need to feel it in my belly, need to feel it in my brain, please, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!

“Christ,” he chokes out, hips beginning to falter, muscles bulging and tensing as he forces you to keep bouncing on him, hard and fast and deep. “Cum with me, baby,” he nearly begs, voice more wrecked than you’ve ever heard it before, inspiring a whole flock of butterflies in your tummy. “Be a good girl and make a—make a mess all over niichan’s cock,”

And it’s the sense of desperateness, of urgency, of sheer neediness sown deep into his broken voice that has you spasming around him, that evokes an orgasm so intense it makes you choke on your own scream as it slashes through you, gurgling on spit and tears as violent tremors course through your body.

Hot, thick spurts of cum fill you, your name escaping his lips in a cracked whine, his hips continuing to lazily roll against yours as you milk him for every drop of cum he’s got, as you beg him for more, more, more.

Overwhelmed by emotion, you collapse against his heaving chest, hiccupping out pitiful little sobs between your harsh breathing, and he hushes you, fingers petting your sweaty hair as he murmurs against your scalp—shh, it’s alright, he’s here, he loves you, you’re his, and you did so well.

“Do you want to leave?” the question is uttered softly, after your breathing has calmed to tiny sniffles, voice so genuine it’s almost painful, curled up in his arms as your bare cunt presses against his pelvis, cum still leaking out of you. “Just say the word and we’ll go, baby,”

Swallowing thickly, he’s silent for a moment, considering. Patiently, you wait, nuzzling comfortingly against his neck and licking at the sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, laced with a hint of disbelief.

“Really?”

You pull back to gaze at him.

“Yes, really,” you whisper, catching a tear with the pad of your thumb and placing a soft kiss against his cheek. “You are more important to me than anyone else in that damn cabin by far, and I don’t care if it upsets them—if you want to leave, if you need to leave, we’ll leave. Say the word, and I’ll drive back, pack our shit, and we’ll be gone. You don’t even need to get out of the fucking car,”

Shining sapphire eyes study your face intently, searching for any sign of hesitancy, finding nothing but sincerity.  

“I love you so much,” he laughs wetly, more glistening tears escaping his eyes with the motion. “So fucking much,”

Tingling warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, at his laugh, conjuring a watery smile of your own as you pepper his face with kisses, soft lips ghosting across his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and forehead until he becomes too impatient, large hands cupping your jaw and pressing your wandering lips against his.

Giggles erupt from your throat, and he’s sure that’s what liquid sunshine sounds like, allows the noise to wash over him, to bathe him in your everlasting light, to warm him to his very core. A little tongue darts out to lick teasingly along the seam of his lips, evoking an involuntary smile of his own before his tongue escapes to meet yours, another precious squeal of laughter echoing through the car.

Yes, he thinks, as your laughter vibrates against him, arms tightening around your waist as he cradles you against his chest. This is what love feels like.

[woahitslucyylu]

Guests.

GIF Credit: Pinterest 

Author’s Notes: This wasn’t asked for, but hm, here is some sweet and innocent Erik love. This is not part of Baby Mama. It’s just a stand alone one shot. Happy Friyay, sleazies! 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, this is his whole apartment? No roommates?” Cydni’s eyes scanned the lofty ceilings and modern furniture - admiring the taste of your fuck buddy’s apartment. 

“Yeah, whole ass apartment,” You liberally poured the tequila into the blender, “It looks bigger in the light.” You added the margarita mix - eyeballing the ratio as you put the lid on the blender. 

“Girl, what did you say?” Tori’s head snapped as she looked up from her phone. 

The roar of the blender died as you shrugged, “Well, this will be the first time we’ve hung out in the day time.” You stifled the giggles as you poured into the frosty glasses. “Here. Come get a drink.” You slid the drinks forward; a coy smile hiding behind your own sugar rimmed glass. 

“Bitch, don’t glaze over that like you didn’t just say that!” Cydni’s voice rose as she slapped her thighs in animated shock. “Did you just say the day time? So, when are you seeing him?” Cydni shrieked, bouncing around, as she answered her own question. 

Tori laughed, snorting as she sipped her margarita, “You just be out here poppin’ up at his house at night? Damn.” Her head shook in mocking shame. 

“Yes, no, I mean,” You sipped your drink - the tequila burning your modesty, “Like, sometimes, I’ll surprise him, but he surprises me too.” You licked your lips as your mind burned with images of Erik dressed as a plumber on a late night visit and your pussy throbbed with a memory. 

Tori and Cyndi slid onto the leather bar stools. Their gaze unwavering as they sipped margaritas - a pregnant pause bubbling in the air. 

“I still can’t believe this bitch said ‘in the daytime’.” Tori squeaked - the bubble bursting as laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. 

“Aye, you started without us?” The baritone voice smothered the giggles as Erik and his friends turned the corner - their hulking frames filling the dining room. “I see how it is.” Your breath hitched as he smirked. His smile was deadly - gold fangs twinkling in the light - as he shuffled towards you, sliding the plastic bags onto the marbled counter. 

“Aye, Corey, show the girls the balcony.” Erik’s dreads flopped as his head nodded towards the sun drenched patio.

“Y’all smoke?” Tre pulled a blunt from behind his ear, fishing a lighter from his pockets, as he herded the group towards the outside door. 

“I just want you alone for a minute.” Erik framed your body - his forearms flexing against the counter as you wiggled beneath him. “You look so good today, ma.” His eyes raked over you as he licked his lips - rolling his plump bottom lip between his teeth as he stared lovingly at your round hips. 

“Thanks,” The gratitude was airy as you moved closer - pressing your breasts into his chest, “I know you like them.” The thought was real - an intentional selection for him and the thought didn’t go unnoticed. “You know why I like these shorts?” His hand slid over the waistband of the linen shorts as he leaned in - his lips hovering over your neck, his breath warm on your skin.  

“Because your pussy looks so fat in them.” His hand slid between your thick thighs - rubbing your soft mound as his lips dusted your neck. 

“Yeah?” Your head fell against your shoulder as Erik nipped and sucked at your skin - each bite electrifying your body. His fingers slid back and forth over your panties - dampness growing with each swipe of his thick digits. “You gonna be a good girl while our friends are here?” He spoke into your skin - his words melting as his fingers slid behind your panties, dipping into your wetness. “Don’t make a fucking sound.” He threatened as he rolled your clit between his fingers - your knees bending under pleasure. 

“If you make a noise, they’ll know I’m in here deep in this pussy, ma.” His words were dipped in ego as he crooked his fingers against the softest spot. “Oh,” You melted into him, your forehead falling onto his shoulder as your hips rocked against him, chasing the delicious feeling washing over you. 

“Yo, E, you bringing drinks?” Heavy footsteps paired with a deep voice stilled your body - your teeth sinking into Erik’s muscled shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m helping ------ get the food. We’re coming. Just stay with her friends, man.” Erik shouted back, wearing a smug smirk as his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. “Come on, baby girl, finish for me. Our guests are waiting.”  His lips captured yours, swallowing your moans as your adrenaline pushed you to orgasm - your body limp against the counter as Erik pulled his fingers from you. 

He turned, pumping the soap and turned the water on, washing his hands as you leaned against the counter - your eyes glassy with lust as you watched him behaving as if he wasn’t in you knuckle deep just moments before. 

“Ma,” He turned, grabbing the bags of chips and pretzels, “I’m going to take the snacks outside. Go get cleaned up. We’ve got guests.” 

[offthedeeepend]

Bathtub

I bet the concept of bathtubs would really confuse and interest merfolk who came on land.

What? These leggy land-dwellers aren't any good at swimming, but it's too small a body of water for practice? And if they need water to get clean what's wrong with the shower.... it's just to sit in a waist/chest-deep puddle?? indoors?? how hilarious! Floyd at least would just burst out laughing.

Floyd would 100% knock all the water out of the tub and all over the floor, whether with his eel tail or arms and legs, either one. Jade going into the bathroom to fetch something while his bro is sploshing around in there and THEN Floyd knocks all the water out trying to splash Jade www

Azul: who's going to clean up that mess in there!! ╬ ╬ Floyd: oh are you volunteering Azul~ ahahaha~ Azul: N O;; Jade: thank goodness I wasn't carrying any books or anything;

Bubble Baths

Which one of the three would become enamored by those? Oh Azul, definitely

If he ever was able to use one of those luxurious-looking circular tubs he could even be his octo self in it! I feel like he'd like that. Nobody watching, and a scented bath, how relaxing~ He deserves it!

Floyd is banned from using bubble solution after a certain Incident, which none of the three will explain, but if you bring it up Azul and Jade get a bit frosty toward Floyd, and Floyd sulks ww

Jade would definitely be the one who tries to read in the tub and gets put off baths for a while when he accidentally drops a treasured book into the water, poor boy ww Someone move the tub so that he can rest the book in a shelf or something while reading! Or get him one of those trays that perches across the tub widthwise, like for storing soap and shampoo bottles, but he’d use it to keep his books safe~

Jade: O:< !!! (makes a bit of a Floyd face wwwww) and then he runs to get his book wwwwwwwwww Floyd: Oh, Jade’s taking a bath~ unusual~~

Sea Creature Bath Toys

Little rubber floaty toys! They invariably have at least three when they climb in the tub (eels and octo of course) but I bet they own quite an impressive collection after some time ww

Even Azul! feels like something is off if he doesn’t have some of them with him! though he'd never ever ever admit it!!

Azul just swathed in bubbles and the toys end up having a labyrinth of tunnels dug for them through all the foam~

AND IF THE OTHERS DON'T REALIZE HE'S IN THERE AND POP IN TO GRAB THEIR TOOTHBRUSH OR SOMETHING

HE'D GET ALL SHY LIKE "DON'T COME IN!!" EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE BASICALLY FAMILY

Jade: why?! You’re completely invisible in all those bubbles Azul: ....... .............oh *burrows into the bubble mountain even further just in case*

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Rise of the Guardians: Earthsong

Ao3

Chapter 3: Mother Nature

As Jack spiraled down from the clear blue sky towards the emerald earth below, he could hear nothing over the tremendous thundering of the water cascading from the cliffside to splash into the massive pool hundreds of feet below. White, frothy foam bubbled at the point of impact, swirling through the crystal clear water like soap. Just feet from the rocky shore of the pool, the forest encroached, towering trees stretching their leafy branches to the sky while ferns and bushes hugged their thick trunks and roots. Broad leaves caught the sunlight wherever possible. He landed beside the water, his bare feet digging into the soft, loamy earth for a brief second before it froze solid beneath his toes. He inhaled the deep forest air, savoring the scent of succulent fruits and flowers mingling with earth and decay, then propped himself up on his staff.

“Now, where would a nature spirit hide around here?” he wondered aloud, swinging his staff as he began poking around the massive waterfall. The water droplets shooting through the air froze into little diamond droplets as they splashed onto his clothes and hair. He left icy footprints where he walked, meandering around the edge of the pool to inspect crevices in rocks and pull up rotting logs, watching as the bugs scattered to find another dank, dark hole. He found plenty of centipedes and spiders and beetles, and dark tunnels, but no sign of the beautiful, golden-haired woman he sought. With an irritated huff, he whirled around and shouted up at the booming waterfall, “Oi! Mother Nature! You out here?” His voice bounced through the small clearing; his only answer was his echo. He stomped over to the rocky moss-coated cliff smothered with stubborn clinging plants to lean up against it with his arms crossed, snorting. “Where are you?”

He took a few minutes to fume silently before he pushed himself away from the wall, unable to think straight with the constant, tremendous drumming of the gushing water. He craned his neck to gaze up at the impressive height of the waterfall until his eyebrows knit together when a sudden thought occurred to him. Could there be something behind the waterfall? All of the Guardians had homes in securely hidden, off-the-wall places, after all; it would not be unreasonable, given the massive size of the cliff from which the waterfall poured, for there to be an expansive cavern hidden behind the streaming water. Thus, Jack swirled his staff and allowed the cold wind to bear him into the air, shooting alongside the endless torrent.

Stray droplets rained down onto him as he peered behind the sheet of foaming water, but all he could discern was the same slick, dark rock. When he was about halfway up, he was beginning to grow discouraged, until the rough surface suddenly vanished. Beyond the water, the wall abruptly caved in into a spacious cave-like opening. Finally! Carefully, using the slippery rock as a foothold, he wormed his way into the thin gap between the hollow and the thundering water. Somehow, he managed to squeeze through without slipping, though his hair and clothes now contained a thin frost from the sheer amount of water that poured onto him. He shook his head, sending snowflakes fluttering in the gloom. Only a little light filtered through the waterfall, white lines dancing across the moss-slicked cave floor; however, the back of the cave was shrouded in deep darkness. Cautiously, he descended into the murkiness, holding his staff aloft as the shadows embraced him.

As he pressed further, the rhythmic drumming of the waterfall was replaced by the fall of his footsteps echoing in the gloom. The air was cold and heavy with moisture, causing his breath to fog up in front of his face. It felt like he shuffled through the dark for an eternity. He soon wondered if it would be a dead end. Then, suddenly, a light glimmered. “Bingo!” he grinned and shot towards it. The ball of light rapidly expanded until it swallowed him, and it was so bright that he had to squeeze his eyes shut and shield his face with a hand lest he be blinded. His lashes repeatedly fluttered for a moment as his eyes gradually adjusted to the glaring light, and as he did so, a fantastic image emerged. “Wooooow!” he breathed as he lowered his arm, his eyes wide with wonder.

The cave led to a gigantic circular cavern hewn into the inside of the cliffs, a hemisphere hundreds of feet in diameter. The stone was not just dark like outside, but carved with rivers of white calcification from the high level of moisture. Stalactites and stalagmites and columns spanned the impressive height, making the room seem like some elaborate throne room. At the peak of the dome, the ceiling had fallen away, leaving a large hole open to the world above. Vines crawled over the edge and clung desperately to the stone ceiling. The light that filled the spacious room originated from this point, as well as a few other holes dotted here and there in the stone ceiling. That wasn't the most impressive thing, though.

Planted in the center of the cavern was the most massive tree that Jack had ever seen in his life. The tree’s trunk was colossal, so large that five of him probably couldn't embrace the entire circumference. Its branches were as thick as the trunks of the trees outside, twisting like corkscrews through the air. They even bent down to crawl along the stone floor. Smaller branches sprouted from the thick main branches, and smaller ones sprung from those, making a dense network. The leaves, about the size of his hand, were rich emerald and shining in the sunlight. Strange, glittering fruits, perfectly spherical and several feet in diameter, nestled within. Jack scampered over to the nearest one, contained within a bend in one of the thick branches, and was amazed to find that they were not fruits at all; rather, they were portals of some kind.

“Amazing!” he breathed as he brought his face close to the portal-like orb, the surface rippling with his breath like a bubble. Within the sphere was an entire world, a beautiful coral reef stretching across blue-grey stone. The corals were dyed red, blue, purple, yellow, green, and every shade in-between, with structures that varied just as much- branches and fans and brains and shapes he couldn’t even describe. The squishy stingers of anemones flowed back and forth in the gentle water current, and Jack was delighted to see little orange-and-white clownfish flitting between them. Other colorful fishes swam in schools across the reef, an eel poked its snake-like head out of a hole, an octopus scuttled across the rocky floor, starfish clung to the rocks and corals- even a sea turtle slowly glided by, like a guardian enduring the peace of its sanctum. Jack's blue eyes shimmered with the light playing through the water, and almost entranced, he found himself reaching out to touch it. His hand did not meet resistance with the barrier, however; it melted through the thin, malleable surface to slip into the water, and he felt the coolness of it spreading across his hand. He pulled it out and was astonished to find that it was not wet, and a grin slowly spread across his face. Without further ado, he shoved his head into the strange ball.

His head emerged from a sizable crevice within the rocks, and his hair floated around him as he turned his head from side to side. His appearance had startled the fish around him, sending them scattering like marbles, but after a few minutes, they grew more curious than afraid and ventured over to inspect the strange boy. He laughed as they nipped at his frosty-white hair and swam in front of his face, and his giggles sent them fleeing once more. After a few more minutes of enjoying the underwater haven, he pulled his head out of the sphere to return to the task at hand.

He walked toward the base of the tree, stepping over the roots that had cracked through the rocky earth and maneuvering through the sprawling branches, all while investigating the strange portal spheres. He saw an African savanna, a dense jungle, an Antarctic tundra, a scorching desert, and several kinds of forests. As he grew closer to the heart of the tree, he began to see more and more species of animals he did not recognize; they were funny-looking and a lot bigger. He jumped back from one, a sphere containing swirling snow and an icy glacier, when he saw a wooly mammoth trudging through the snow. He peered into it, watching in awe as a pack of saber-tooth tigers sprung out from behind some rocks to begin chasing after the sizeable elephant-like creature. “What the-? What is this tree?” he cried and dashed forward, jumping up in the air to follow the spheres further into the dense treetop. He landed on one thick branch next to one orb with an open plain, and his jaw dropped when he saw dinosaurs dashing across the short grass. “Cool! If only Jamie could see this!” he snickered and jumped down. Though he would love to explore the portals, he had a job to do.

As he landed back on the rough, rocky ground and glanced at the thick trunk, he was finally close enough to discover that a multi-room cottage built around the massive tree. It was made of soft, creamy brown wood with cream-colored accents, shutters, and the like. Its roof tiles were a darker shade. Jack could see a warm light blazing within the marbled glass windows, but because of the pattern, he could not see anything inside. Outside was a gazebo of white metal, with crawling ivy with large white flowers in bloom. On that gazebo was a set of two plush, grey chairs and a small gray table. In one of those chairs sat the woman Jack had been trying to find.

She sat with a book in her small hands, and her face turned downward as she read silently. All he could hear was the occasional turn of the page. Jack cautiously crept closer with his staff clutched in his hand; he could only barely see her, and she did not know that he was there; he didn't want to startle her, but in case he did, he certainly did not want to be caught unawares. As he came around to peer into the opening of the awning, his heart stopped in his chest. She was looking at him, staring at him with eyes like pure emeralds, her golden hair shining around her.

“Did you enjoy the Tree of Life?” she asked him. Jack was struck by how beautiful her voice sounded; it matched the rest of her, soft and sweet as North's silver bells. He stood there for a moment, captivated, while a small smile appeared on her pink lips. Then she snapped the book shut, jarring him out of his stupor.

“O-oh. Yes,” he stammered shyly, glancing up at the impressive plant. “The Tree of Life?” he echoed.

“Yes. It is the record of all life since the beginning of time, and I am its keeper,” she explained. “Those portals lead to biomes that are representative of different points in time, both past and present.” Jack bit down on his knuckles slightly as the happiness bubbled up inside of him again, and a pink haze appeared on her cheeks as he hopped into the gazebo to gesture wildly at the tree with his staff.

“So, you have every animal ever here?” When she nodded, he laughed giddily and danced around slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, I gotta bring Jamie here! Man, he would love this! Wait, wait, what about mythical creatures? You got those?” he babbled, whirling back on her and causing her to jump.

“Yes, I do,” she smiled and rose from her chair and waved for him to follow her as she stepped out of the gazebo. He scampered after her, avoiding the flowing train of her white dress as she walked out into the grass. He found that she was barefoot as well, and little flowers sprouted where she strode. She walked up to the trunk of the tree and placed her hand on the bark. To his shock, the tree began to move, its branches writhing and shifting positions. One of them dove down to settle itself in front of her. A sphere perched against the wood, and she waved him over. Jack approached the globe and peered inside to see a forest clearing, which contained a shining white unicorn grazing in the grass. His lips parted slightly as he gazed at it in pure wonder, and when he looked at Mother Nature, she was smiling proudly. “Who is Jamie?” she inquired as she touched the tree again, sending it back to its original position, and he smiled bashfully.

“Oh. He’s a little boy I’m friends with… He's real big into mythical creatures, and he would have a ball with this place,” he snickered, leaning on his staff. Now that the initial excitement was over, he finally had the presence of mind to really look at her. “You know, you’re pretty young-looking for someone they call Mother Nature,” he frowned. Honestly, she looked no older than he did. She blushed again and looked away.

“I’m only one in a long line of Mother Natures. I inherited the title four hundred years ago. The Earth appoints us to guide life's progression and record it, and, if necessary, protect it,” she explained. “I am also responsible for the coming of spring, the renewal of life each year.” As she mentioned the season, he suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place.

“Oh! Speaking of, Mot- no, that's weird. I’m calling you something else. Can I call you… Nat? Yeah, I’m calling you Nat. Anyway! You’re in big trouble!” he cried and grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her a little. Her eyes fluttered rapidly as she struggled to comprehend his stream of chatter until she finally narrowed her eyes at him.

“Trouble? Whatever do you mean?”

“It's Pitch Black! I overheard him hatching a plan to ‘rid the world of its spring,’ and so the other Guardians sent me to come get you so we can keep you safe.” At the mention of the Bogeyman, her expression grew sour, and she pulled herself away from him to march toward her cabin. “Um, where are you going?” he asked as he scurried after her.

“So, Pitch thinks that he can defeat me, does he?” she snorted, ignoring him as she threw the door to the cabin open and stomped inside. He poked his head into the threshold, his eyes following her movement to a fireplace. She plucked an ebony-wood bow from a mount above the hearth, and grabbed a quiver of arrows from a hanging hook. As she whirled around, her golden hair and white dress spun with her. “Well, I think he'll find that I’m quite a bit tougher than I look.” I like her spirit, he thought with a smirk as she haughtily stomped back out of the building, red roses springing up where she walked. Do the flowers change with her moods? He thought with a grin. “To be honest, Nat, I didn't think it would be that easy. Bunny said you were shy. Is that why I’ve never seen you in four hundred years?” he asked casually, and as the words left his mouth, she stiffened. That’s weird.

“… I just don't get out much. I have to keep constant guard over the Tree of Life. It is the lifeblood of the Earth, not just a record. If anything happens to it, then the Earth will freeze in time. Crops will yield little, animals will give less and less meat, and the Dark Ages will return,” she answered, but despite the logic, he could tell that she was withholding something from him. However, before he could inquire, she summoned an orb from the tree again. She leaned forward, whispering into it in an ancient language, then retreated. “You may want to step back,” she warned as he tried to walk closer and inspect it. When he moved to look at her, he cried out when a massive reptilian head shoved its way out of the bubble.

“You have a dragon?” he shouted as the gigantic winged lizard slithered out of the sphere, rapidly growing larger as it exited the portal. It towered nearly as high as the tree itself, its scales as emerald as Nat's eyes. Its thick legs stood on either side of Jack as he craned his neck to gaze up at it in sheer awe, while its tail slithered back and forth over the rocky earth. Its bat-like wings folded against its side, and when its long neck twisted around so it could look at him, golden eyes bored deep into his soul. Its forked tongue flickered out of its maw to lick him, and he wriggled at the strange, tickling sensation. “Hey!” he snickered. The dragon exhaled deeply, blowing white smoke into the air before it looked at Nat.

“This is Salazar. He guards the Tree while I am away,” she smiled as she reached up and stroked the dragon's face. The ground rumbled from the ferocity of its purring, like a gigantic cat. Then, after being caressed for a few moments, it slipped away to curl protectively around the cabin and tree. Jack held a hand out for her, to which she responded with a quizzical look.

“We have to fly to the North Pole.”

“Who said I needed your help to fly?” she smiled wryly, and placed her fingers in her mouth to whistle shrilly. A loud neigh responded, and Jack glanced up as he heard the leaves rustling wildly. From the emerald green burst a white shape, and he grinned elatedly as a pegasus soared around the top of the tree before descending and landing primly in front of Nat. She climbed up onto the beautiful white winged horse, slinging the bow and quiver over her back. The horse tossed its head, flipping its long mane about, before she smirked at him. “After you.”

Jack grinned before flipping his staff and summoning the winds, shooting upwards to soar above the giant tree through the hole in the cave top. He glanced down to see the horse galloping through the air after him, with Nat perched on his back with her golden hair streaming in the wind.

Well, mission accomplished. I wonder what will happen next?

Here’s the next chapter! Want more stories? Check out my Table of Contents!

[atcostmag]

Rainsford - Crying in the Mirror

Exhibiting a little bit of model behavior for her latest visual single, Rainsford Qualley recruits models Kaia Gerber and Gregg Sulkin with direction by Cara Delevingne on “Crying in the Mirror”. An anachronism in both sight and sound, the video retraces the glory of 90′s soap operas as seen through the dusky veil of its sunlit filter. Slowly and smoky in its anachronistic take, “Crying in the Mirror” shimmers with its frosty glow. Billowing over the nudging mass of its percussive splash, swooning emotion and ruminating R&B detail Rainsford’s latest track. A track written about getting over a lover, Rainsford had this to say about the musical dilemma which inspired the track:

I wrote this song after a terrible breakup, essentially begging my ex to get back together. Which we did briefly but it didn’t last. For the video I wanted to make a 90’s soap opera version of what happened. And I could not be happier with the result. I feel So blessed to have such incredible friends. I am all bubbly and smiley and dancing on the inside to finally be able to share this with y’all!!  

You can check out Rainsford’s star-studded “Crying in the Mirror” alongside the sleek, clunky quirk of “2 Cents” and the blurry haze of previous single “Open Open”:

“Open Open”

Rainsford · Rainsford - Open Open

“2 Cents”

Rainsford · 2 Cents

“Crying in the Mirror”

Rainsford · Crying In The Mirror

[opens-at-nightfall]

A curious sight! Ephemeral soap bubbles, frozen in the frosty air...

[iamherenotthere]

It’s 15 minutes after the deadline, but here’s my contribution for Ichirukimonth 2018: Day 14: Any 

Summary:  My take on the meme started by Prettysketch, Dance With Snow White.

“The Soul King is the key to this world.  If the Soul King dies, Seireitei, the present world, Hueco Mundo, Everything…will disappear. -Hyōsube Ichibē”

He saw his blade strike home, saw Zangetsu cleave through Ywhach’s body.  Then everything…shattered.

“It’s starting Orihime” Ichigo said.

“Be right there!” His wife cheerfully replied.

“You seen Kazui?”

“Hrmm.  He should be upstairs. According to Tsubaki and the others, he just got back in from snooping around Hiyori’s place.”

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. I’m married to Orihime? He thought.  What?  Why would that happen? That just doesn’t make sense.

Nothing Ichigo saw was making sense. The latest fragment drifted away from him tumbling end over end glinting like a mirror shard.  They surrounded him as far as the eye could see.  He floated in a formless void, helpless and confused, surrounded by the glowing, glassy things displaying light and life and sound.  Some of the fragments made sense.  There he was as a child learning karate with Tatsuki.  Over there he saw Isshin treating a patient.  Further out was someone he didn’t even know going about his daily business setting up shop.  Ichigo couldn’t understand what it all meant.  And every once in a while, he’d see something that he knew didn’t happen.

“Traitor!” Ichigo snarled.  “Did you really think you could get by me with something like this?” Angrily he held up a silver arrowhead.  “How dare you call yourself a Quincy?  How dare you raise your hand against the emperor?”

Ishida raised his head up from the dust to glare up at Ywhach’s successor.  Blood spewed from his mouth as he fought for breath staining the boots of Ichigo’s snow white uniform.

“Don’t be a damned fool Kurosaki.” He panted. “Can’t you see?  He’s no leader. He’s a monster!  He’s going to destroy everything.  You have to fight the hold he’s placed on your mind Ichigo.  You have to break free!”

The former Shinigami sneered as he drew Zangetsu from his back. “The only thing I have to do is eliminate the last obstacle to our future.”

Ichigo turned away.  He couldn’t bear to watch anymore.  There’s no way that could ever have happened. Ishida was his friend.  What could ever make him want to harm his friends?  It was a lie.  It had to be.  

Floating around was getting him nowhere.  He tried touching one of the fragments.  It moved away from his fingers like a soap bubble.  Reaching for another had the same effect.  There had to be something he could do!  He sighed as a different fragment drifted past his eyes.  

Ywach chuckled. “You never had a chance Kurosaki Ichigo.  There was always a missing element in your attack.”

“I’m not done yet.” Ichigo declared. “Let’s see if I can find that element.”

“No need.” Ywhach mockingly assured him. “I’ve found it for you.”

Reaching into his billowing cape of eyes, he dragged out something large.  Or rather, someone.  Tightly bound and hobbled, she struggled to stay on her feet as Ywhach cruelly dragged her forward by the rope around her neck.  Ichigo had flashbacks to Aizen pulling her by her prisoner collar.  

“Rukia!” Ichigo cried.

“Yes, Kuchiki Rukia. “ Ywhach confirmed.  “By trying to protect her, you have engineered your doom.  Had you attacked me as a team you had a slim, but very real chance of winning.”  

“Ichigo…” She gasped fighting off strangulation. “Run...”

“Don’t worry Rukia.” Ichigo said bringing Zangetsu to the ready position. “I’ll save you!”

“Oh, I can’t allow that.” Ywhach countered.  “While you have a slim chance with her alive, dead you have no chance at all.”

Ichigo screamed in terror as Ywhach drew his sword.  Even as he moved with every ounce of strength in his body, Ywhach seemed to move even faster.  He was powerless to do anything as the blade swung down.

“NO!” Ichigo shouted. “RUKIA!”

“Ichigo?” A far away voice answered.

“Rukia? Is that you?” He called back.  

“Of course it’s me fool!  Who else would it be?”

He smiled.  Just hearing her voice again made him feel better.  At least he wasn’t alone.  The spinning fragment containing her death drifted away forgotten.

“Where are you?” He asked “I can’t see you.”

“I don’t know.” She griped.  “I’m just sort of floating around out here.”

“Can you see me?”

“If you can’t see me, then how can I see you?”

“Good point.  Wait a minute, I’m going to try something.”  

Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind.  Closing his eyes, he focused inward, trying to see with his mind’s eye.  It didn’t take long for him to see it.  The unbreakable bond.  The red ribbon connecting him to Rukia.  Now that he had a fix on it, he gathered spiritrons under his feet and followed it through the glittering cloud.  

I’m coming your way.” He announced. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Me too.” He heard her say.  “You sound louder.  We’re getting close.”

They nearly bumped heads when met. They both clutched the others sleeves to stop moving.  Ichigo managed to pull enough spritrons together under his feet to create a “floor” allowing them a place to stand.

“Rukia. What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“I…I couldn’t stand waiting for you Ichigo.  I felt I had to be there with you for some reason.  I followed you and Renji as fast as I could.  I’m…I’m sorry Ichigo.  I wasn’t there in time to help.”

“Did you see what happened?” Ichigo asked. “One second I’m fighting Ywhach, the next we’re…here. And where is here anyway?  Are we in another dimension?  Another world?”

She sadly shook her head.  “No Ichigo. This isn’t another world.  Oh...how can I explain this? This is...all the worlds.  All of space and time.  Everything that was and everything that might have been.  All smashed to pieces.”

“How is that possible?” He said. “How could our battle destroy everything?”

“Don’t you see?” She replied. “Soul Society set up the Soul King as the linchpin to reality. Ywhach took on that role when he absorbed the Soul King’s power. When you defeated him, that linchpin was destroyed.”

“What, seriously?” Ichigo demanded.

“Yes! Seriously!” Rukia countered. “Do you have a better explanation for what you see here?”

“Well is there anyone else here?” Ichigo asked. “Hello! Hello!”

They both tried shouting.  “Hello! Hello!”

“Looks like it's just us here.” Ichigo observed. “Why is that?”

“I don't know.” Rukia replied.

“So what happens now?”

“I don't know.”

“Well what about...”

“Ichigo!” Rukia snapped. She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.  I didn't meant to do that.  I...I'm a little scared right now.  I knew something like this could happen if the Soul King was killed, but I was never trained, never prepared to deal with it.  I'm sorry Ichigo. I can't help you.”

Ichigo gave a wry smile.  “I'm sorry too. I'm so used to getting my answers from you.  You've always been there to tell me what to do.  I think I might putting too much on your shoulders sometimes.”

“It's all right.” She said. “Someone has to be there to keep you steady.  Right?”

They both smiled bravely, but the fear persisted.  Unconsciously, Ichigo pulled her close.  He could feel her heart pounding against his chest as the fragments swirled around them.  

“Ichigo, look.” Rukia pointed. “That piece over there.”

Following her finger, he quickly realized what was happening.

“It's dying.” He said.

As they watched, the “life” guttered out of the fragment leaving it gray and dull.

“Is this what's going to happen?” He asked. “Is everything just going to fade out?”

“I think so.” Rukia replied. “With reality broken, there's nothing to generate new energy.  New life.  I think this is the end of everthing.”

As more fragments began to sputter and die, it became harder to maintain the spiritrons under his feet.   Ichigo stumbled as he lost his footing.

“Hey be careful.” Rukai warned.

“I'm trying.” He replied trying to regain a hold. They began spinning in place.

“Let me try.” Rukia offered.  She had no more luck than Ichigo.  With energy fading there was less to work with every second.  

“I'm starting to get dizzy.” Ichigo complained.

Rukia nervously chuckled. “Why Mr. Kurosaki, you dance divinely.”

Ichigo tried to think up a comeback when he noticed something.  

“Hey Rukia. Do you feel that?”

She frowned. “Feel what?”

“I'm not sure.” He answered. “Just follow my lead.”

Instead of trying to stop the spin, Ichigo began using what little push he could generate to increase it.

“Can you feel it now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Rukia replied. “I can feel something.  I can feel power.  We're generating something.”

It wasn't long at all before they could create a solid spritron platform again.  

“Interesting.” Rukia noted. “But what good are we doing?”

“Who knows?” He replied. “It's not like we have anything better to do.  Besides, it just feels right.”

“I've trusted your instincts before.” She said with a smile. “And yes, what else do we have to do.”

Ichigo had an idea. “This is getting boring. Let me show you a few moves.”

With a solid “floor” under his feet, he began to move in a pattern.  Placing his hand on Rukia's waist, he held her hand out to the side. “Here, follow my lead. This is a basic box step. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4.”

Rukia was surprised. “You never told me you could dance.”

“Mom used to teach me when I was little.” He said. “I was planning to show you some day.  Let's try this now.”

Ichigo showed her new steps and moves as they went along floating in the vacuum.  The energy they generated grew stronger and stronger.

“The fragments.” Rukia said. “They're glowing again.”

“And they're moving different too.” He added.  “They were all moving outward before.  Now they're starting to move back.  Let's keep it up!”

As the fragments bumped and collided around them,  they began to make a strange sort of music.  The young couple began to forget the predicament they were in and were actually enjoying themselves.  With the energy growing by the second, it began to affect them. Before Ichigo's eyes, Rukia transformed into a vision in frosty white.  Laughing she pointed at him.  He was transforming into his final form, covered in black flames.  Fire and Ice, Yin and Yang, they danced in perfect balance and harmony.  

Suddenly Ichigo saw it.  Reaching out, he pulled a fragment out of the maelstrom.  He showed it to Rukia. It was them.  It was the very first moment they met in Ichigo's room. Rukia spotted another fragment and seized it.  It was the moment she gave Ichigo her powers.  Using his flame, Ichigo melded the fragment together.  Using her ice, she sealed the mended pieces together. They soon found more.  Going to school together.  Fighting Shrieker. Battling Renji and Byakuya.  Meeting again in Soul Society.  Moment leading into moment, piece leading to piece, the broken pieces of reality were being reforged.  It became a part of their dance as they moved back and forth, finding and repairing reality, one shattered piece at a time.  

How long could it take to repair infinite pieces?  It didn't really matter.  In the void there was no time, only the satisfaction of purpose, the joy of creation, and the dance, always the dance.  They put back together not just their lives, but all lives.  They fixed the warped and damaged pieces created by Ywhach's perversion, setting things right.  They were new gods of creation, remaking the world with the power of their dance. After an infinity of time that didn't seem that long at all, they were done, all of reality arcing overhead, a rainbow of light and life and possibility.  The song of the universe was quiet now, only a steady thrum like the beating of a heart.  And still they danced.

“It's almost done.” Rukia told him. “There's only one part left.”

Ichigo nodded. “Us.  Once we go back, it all starts again.”

“I wonder what's going to happen?” She asked. “I wonder how it will be when we go back.”

“I know what you mean.” He answered.  “I'm kinda nervous myself.  Let not think about that for now.  Lets just dance for a little while longer.”

Swaying in each other's arms, they put all other thoughts aside, simply enjoying each other's company.

“Rukia.” Ichigo began. “Before we go back, I just want to tell you...”

She put her finger against his lips. “I know.”

The music slowed, then stopped. Rukia let him go and stepped away.

“It's time.”

Nodding, he took her hand.  Reaching upward, they rejoined the rest of the universe.

A strange voice was speaking.

“When the two that share destiny part and reunite, beyond the frame of time the ceased clock will awake and start to tick once again.”

Opening his eyes, he saw a strange tall man standing over him.

“Hello. Ichigo is it? I'd like to thank you for putting everything back together. I have to admit I was a bit worried. Prophecy's not as cut and dried as people think.”

It was then Ichigo noticed his eyes.  They were just like Ywhach's! He scrambled to his feet in alarm and whipped Zangestu off his back. 

“Just who the hell are you!?” He snarled.

“No need for that.” The strange man assured him.  He began to stretch and wave his hands around. “Ah, it's so nice to have my arms and legs back.  I hope they had a good time.”

“Listen freak!” Ichigo warned. “If you don't tell me who you are and just what the hell is going on...”

He was interrupted by a smack on the head.

“Fool!” Rukia shouted. “You can't talk to the Soul King like that!”

“Argh, dammit Rukia!” He complained rubbing his head. “Wait a minute. That's the Soul King?  Wait.  Rukia? We're back? We're back!”

Dropping Zangetsu on the floor, he swept Rukia up in his arms.  Laughing and talking excitedly, they lost all notice of their royal host.  He turned his back to give them some privacy.  Well, as much as a near omnipresent being like himself could give.  There would be time to go over his plans for them later.  This was only the first step in a series of badly needed reforms in Soul Society.  They still had a lot to do and Ichigo and Rukia would be key to every step.  Judging by the way they were still holding each other, he was sure they wouldn't mind.  

[ravenopera20]

Tips To Help You With Red wine

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[theradicalscrivener]

60th Street Part 2: Jingle Bed Rock

Kris and Nick are back for another adventure, and this time it’s Nick who goes to visit Kris at his place, but visiting the North Pole isn’t as easy as visiting the suburbs. In a land as steeped in magic as the North Pole, there’s bound to be some side effects for visitors. 

[First Chapter] || [Character Art Gallery]

               Nick had been wired and jittery the entire flight. Normally he didn’t mind hopping in a jet and zooming across the country, but this was a different experience altogether. His current vehicle was careening across the sky at hundreds of miles per hour, and Nick was along for the ride without so much as a roof nor a seatbelt to hold him in. To make matters even more bizarre, Nick’s pilot was a two-inch tall elf who was singlehandedly holding the reins of all eight of Santa’s reindeer. Yet despite his unusual travel accommodations, what truly had Nick so on edge was the fact that he was going to be meeting his boyfriend’s family for the first time. Meeting a lover’s family was always an awkward experience, but Nick’s already overactive anxiety was kicked into hyperdrive by the fact that his boyfriend’s grandpa was none other than Father frickin’ Christmas himself! In fact, even though they had been going steady for very nearly a year now, Nick still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that the cute guy he was dating was none other than the currently active Santa Clause.

               Kris was a far cry from the Jolly, old, fat man that graced every postcard and promo around Christmas time. Kris was as lean and lithe as they come, and didn’t look a day over twenty. He could have just as easily been one of Nick’s classmates instead of the acting chief executive of a global gift-giving operation, and that wasn’t even touching on Kris’s choice of attire. The bulky, red, fur-trimmed Santa suit was a thing of the past. Kris instead opted for a bright red ensemble of knee-highs, booty-shorts, and a crop-top.

               Just thinking about his adorable boyfriend was enough to get Nick excited in yet another way. He could feel his dick chubbing up in his pants. Nick was very glad for his custom-fitted Kringle Corp. boxer briefs because had it not been for those, his boner would have been visible from miles around. As much as Nick loved having a cock that dwarfed the rest of his body, he wasn’t too keen on sprouting a noticeable stiffy in front of his elfin pilot and was even less keen on having a massive wood when he arrived at the North Pole to meet his boyfriend’s family.  

               Nick tried to direct his attention towards anything other than how hot his boyfriend was. Fortunately, there was no shortage of breathtaking sights to take in. The sleigh was currently careening over the Pacific Ocean, and down below Nick could make out large chunks of ice floating amidst the waves and seafoam. There was no doubt about it – they were getting into the frigid northern climes, and it wouldn’t be long til they reached the fabled North Pole. Nick had no idea what to expect when he got there. His mind was flooded with images of various Christmas specials and Hollywood movies that portrayed the North Pole as an ambiguously European town that was covered in snow and draped in sparkling lights, but he knew better than the trust Hollywood’s interpretation.

               “We’re beginning our final approach,” The pilot said. His voice was surprisingly clear and crisp especially given how tiny he was. It sounded almost as if his voice was being relayed directly into Nick’s ear via a Bluetooth headset or some such device, but Nick was wearing nothing of the sort.

               Nick glanced around, but try as he might he could not catch a glimpse of the fabled North Pole. He was just about to give in to disappointment when the sleigh came upon a rise. As the sleigh approached the top of the hill, a magnificent sight came into view. The landscape opened up into a large, polar basin, and in the center of the lowlands was a massive, glass dome. It looked almost as if there was a snow globe right in the middle of the frozen wasteland! The globe shone and glimmered with thousands of sparkling lights, but it was tough to make out specifics through the frosty glass. It wasn’t until the sleigh had finished its approach the Nick could begin to make out what he was seeing.

               The sleigh passed through the glass wall as easily as if it had been the skin of a soap bubble and not a five-foot-thick layer of reinforced plexiglass. As soon as he was through the layer of glass, the landscape before him was clear as day. In fact, it was day. It had been so dark in the tundra that Nick had forgotten that it was merely mid-afternoon in his time zone. But inside the bubble, the sun shone bright in the sky. The sun wasn’t the most amazing thing about the view though. Before him was a sprawling city scape. There was a veritable bustling metropolis contained within the dome. It seemed impossible that such a huge city could exist within the glass bubble he saw as he approached, but as the sleigh continued its descent, things started to fall into place.

                The sleigh coasted to a stop. When it finally came to a halt, Nick began to exit the vehicle, but he was cut short before he could even get one foot onto solid ground. “NICK!!” shouted a very familiar and very excited voice. Nick managed to look up just in time to see the red and white blur of his boyfriend leaping at him like a pouncing tiger. Nick ended up toppling backwards right back onto the seat he had just gotten up from. Nick found himself lying flat on his back with his boyfriend straddling him and grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.

               “H-hey…” Nick murmured awkwardly. They had seen each other no more than a few weeks ago, but somehow Nick had forgotten just how cute Kris was, and seeing him so unrestrainedly happy was almost too much to bear. Nick could feel the blood rushing to his face as well as heading down south. Nick’s face burned bright red, and his dick steadily chubbed up.

               It took a second, but the daze steadily began to fade. Nick was just about ready to say something more – something less dorky than just a stammering ‘hey’, but he was cut short by his boyfriend’s lips against his own. The kiss was more fantastic than even the magic city around them. One kiss led to another which lead to another. Neither lover was really sure who had started to use tongue first, but by the third kiss they were Frenching harder than the entire cast of Les Mis. The two of them could have kept at it for hours, and in fact, they could have taken things even further. Kris’s hands had already found their way towards Nick’s fly and were beginning to fumble with the top button when another voice cut in to snap them back to reality – however fantastical said reality may be.

               “Ah, to be young again…” said the kindly voice of an older gentleman. Kris quickly sat up and looked back over his shoulder, and Nick did his best to prop himself up on his elbows but couldn’t do more than that with his boyfriend sitting on his stomach.

               “Gramps!” Kris shouted happily.

               “Gramps…? Gramps!?” Nick sputtered. He sat up so fast that he practically launched his boyfriend off of him. Nick hopped to his feet and found himself standing face to face with a smiling older man. The person was not at all what Nick was expecting. Sure, he had the rosy cheeks, the full figure, and the flowing white beard, but his outfit was all wrong. The guy was wearing khaki cargo short, an awful Christmas socks and sandals combo, and the ugliest Christmas sweater Nick had ever had the misfortune of seeing, but even with the tacky getup, Nick knew that this was none other than Father Christmas himself.

               “omigoshit’ssanta,” Nick blurted out.

               “Retired, but yes,” Santa said. “But there’ll be plenty of time for introductions later. You must be exhausted from the long flight. Let’s get you out of the cold and set up with a nice, warm bed.”

               “Yessir. Right away, sir.” Nick murmured in awe.

               “Relax. Relax.” Santa said softly. “You’re our guest. We want you to feel comfortable here.”

               “Yessir. Right away, sir.” Nick blurted out once more.

               Santa gestured for Nick to follow and then turned and headed down the main thoroughfare towards the center of the city. It took Nick a moment to collect his wits enough to even attempt to follow, but fortunately he had some help getting on his way. Kris was at his side and ready to give him encouragement.

               “You’re such a dork,” Kris said sweetly. He leaned over and gave his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek before taking off after his grandfather with Nick’s rolling suitcase in tow.

               Nick was too flustered from his awkward first meeting with his childhood hero to really take stock of what all had just happened. He was only vaguely aware that Kris didn’t need to step up on his tippy toes to give Nick a quick kiss like he had in the past, but he chalked that up to the boots that Kris was so fond of. As Kris bolted forwards, Nick could get a quick glance at the soles of Kris’s boots, and sure enough the layer of rubber on the bottom was at least an inch thick, but Nick didn’t spend too much time checking out his boyfriend’s boots – especially not when his boyfriend’s cute booty was tightly packed into his little shorts and was wiggling for Nick’s viewing pleasure.

               Nick regained his senses and set off after his hosts. It didn’t take long for his sense of wonder to overtake his embarrassment from his first meeting with Santa. The city of the North Pole really was a fantastic sight. Not only was it a bustling metropolis that would have made New York City look tame, but it was so small to boot! The elves that scrambled through the streets were only inches tall, and the entire city was built to scale. Even the tallest buildings only reached up to Nick’s nose. He felt like King Kong in the middle of Manhattan, but fortunately his visit was nowhere near as destructive as it had been for the king of the apes. There was a narrow footpath that cut through the center of the city and led from the landing pad all the way towards a small cottage in the center of town.

               Small was a bit of a misnomer. The pathway was narrow and the cottage was small only by human standards. By elfin standards the ‘narrow’ pathway would have been wider than an eight-lane interstate, and the ‘small’ cottage was as wide as ten city blocks and three times taller than even the most massive skyscraper the elf city had to offer.

               Just exploring the city could have taken a full day unto itself even at Nick’s comparatively titanic size, but he didn’t dare stray from the walkway nor did he want to fall behind his hosts. Nick tried his hardest to keep pace with his boyfriend, but it seemed like with each step he took, Kris got ever so slightly further ahead of him. Even when the entire entourage finally reached the rustic cottage the other two seemed strangely distant and yet closer than before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was experiencing. Nick chalked it up to the jet lag and lack of sleep catching up to him. He had been so wired during the days leading up to his trip that he barely slept at all. The smell of warm cider and cinnamon coming from the cozy cottage seemed to amplify his grogginess. Nick shambled up beside his boyfriend and groggily nuzzled up against him. He was so sleepy that he hardly even realized that his head didn’t even reach Kris’s shoulder.

               The last thing Nick heard before he finally succumbed to exhaustion and the soothing aura of the cottage was Santa saying, “Looks like you better get the little guy to bed.”

               Nick had no idea how long he was out of it. When he finally awoke it was because he could feel something bumping against the side of his face. He couldn’t tell what it was. It was far too huge to be anything ordinary. It was like taking a battering ram to the side of the face, only the battering ram had just enough give to it and was only gently nudging him so it didn’t hurt at all.

               “Hey… Wake up, sleepy head,” Nick could hear Kris softly calling to him.

               “Whuh…? What’s going on?” Nick murmured groggily.

               “Hehe, good. You’re awake. Buddy said you were a little high strung on the flight up, so I thought I would prepare a little something to help you unwind, but it looks like it was a little too strong. You conked out before we even got you in the door,” Kris explained.

               “Hmm? Oh… to be honest I haven’t been sleeping much lately. I was too excited to get see you again and too nervous about meeting your family,” Nick explained. He yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, but he was so comfy even with the ridiculously thick and stiff blanket that covered his lower body.

               “I guess that makes sense, but there’s no need to be so worried. They are all great people and I’m sure they’ll love you,” Kris replied.

               “I hope so… when will I get a chance to meet them anyway?” Nick asked.

               “Soon, I hope. It’s so busy this time of year and everyone has their own task to take care of. Even I only have a few minutes to spare before I have to go prep the sleigh for tonight, but I had to see how you were taking the changes before I left you alone for the evening,” Kris explained.

               “Handling the changes…?” Nick asked. The grogginess that hung over him vanished in an instant. He sat bolt upright in bed and glanced around the room. The bed in question stretched on around him for what seemed like miles, and what he mistook as an oversized comforter was actually his own t-shirt which had pooled around his diminutive body. “What… the… fu-,” Nick began to say, but before he could finish the statement his boyfriend’s colossal fingertip pressed against his lips effectively silencing him. Even just the tip of Kris’s finger was bigger than Nick’s whole head.

               “Language, little guy. Wouldn’t want gramps to hear you. That’s a fast pass to the naughty list for sure,” Kris said with a chuckle.

               Nick tried to shove the giant finger which was bigger than his whole body away from him. Thankfully, Kris was happy to oblige and moved his hand out of the way. “What did you do to me?” Nick asked.

               “Me? Nothing, but I may have mentioned before that the only people who can stay in the North Pole are the Kringle family or elves.” Kris explained.

               “So, does that mean… I’m an elf?” Nick asked in awe. His hands shot up to his ears and he began feeling the tip of his earlobes for proof. Sure enough, his earns had become pointed at the top just like the rest of the elves.

               “How long am I going to be like this?” Nick asked.

               “Only as long as you’re in the North Pole. You’ll revert to normal when you leave.” Kris explained.

               “That’s a relief,” Nick said with a sigh.

               “Hehe. I dunno. I think it’s a good look for you,” Kris said. He began to gently and playfully poke Nick’s face. “Haha. You’re so cute and cuddly like a little teddy bear. I just want to hug you and play with you.”

               “Come on. Cut that out,” Nick grumbled and swatted at his boyfriend’s colossal finger, but despite his grumbling, it was clear he wasn’t entirely annoyed by Kris’s antics. For starters Nick had a huge grin on his face and an even larger bulge forming in the fabric of the shirt which pooled around his lower body.

               Kris’s eyes darted towards the forming tent in Nick’s shirt. “Oh my. You’re enjoying this more than I thought.” Kris said. There was a devious tone to his voice that matched the glint in his eye.

               “Well, since we’re both here, and I’m already ‘up’ think we can have a little fun?” Nick asked.

               Kris thought it over for a second. “I dunno… I only have a few minutes to spare. I really have to get back to work.” He explained.

               “But what about your time powers? Can’t you just stop time for a bit?” Nick asked.

               “My powers are tied to the holiday. They’re not nearly as strong today as they will be tomorrow. Why do you think I have to visit all the kids in one night?” Kris explained.

               “So that’s a no?” Nick pouted.

               “Not necessarily… I won’t be able to stop time, but it is Christmas Eve. I should be able to slow time enough to give us time for a little bit of fun,” Kris explained. A devious smirk was slowly forming at the corners of his lips.

               “I guess that means we better hurry,” Nick replied. The smile on his face was just as devious as the one on Kris’s.

               “You betcha, little man,” Kris replied happily.

               Kris hopped up from his perch on the edge of the bed. The motion caused the tiny Nick to bounce what felt like a few feet into the air before landing back down on the plush mattress. The jostling caused Nick to slip even further out from underneath his enormous discarded shirt. Now the collar of his shirt no longer covered his legs, but that didn’t mean his legs were exposed. His dick had shrunk alongside the rest of him, but his cock and balls were still massive enough to eclipse his lower body. His cock, which had once been upwards of twenty feet before his conversion to elfdom was now almost a solid foot of fat cock. His dick would look impressive on a porn star, but on an elf who was merely a few inches tall it looked absolutely monstrous. Nick’s cock dwarfed his entire body. Even just one of his massive testes was bigger than his whole body. Had it not been for Nick’s custom-fitted Kringle Corp. shorts, he would never be able to get around on his own, but those shorts, much like the rest of his clothing, had fallen off of his dwindling frame during the shrinking process.

               “Ooooh. Loving the view,” Kris said playfully. “Now then… let me return the favor.” Kris winked seductively at his tiny little lover and then began a saucy striptease. He pealed his skin-tight crop top off first revealing his lean, lithe upper body for his tiny boyfriend’s viewing pleasure. Then he kicked off his boots and slowly began to peel off his tight little booty shorts. As the waistband of his shorts slid down his thighs, his own massive cock steadily spilled into view. It was a view that Nick had seen many times before and yet one he would never get enough of. He loved watching his boyfriend’s massive cock spilling out from behind those red shorts. Each inch after fat inch of cock slowly came into view until there was more than a foot of fat cock hanging out, but still there was more to reveal. Kris’s beach ball sized nuts had barely fully come into view and his shorts were already down around his shins. Even once Kris’s shorts were down around his ankles, his cock was still not completely revealed. It wasn’t until he kicked off his shorts that the last foot of his phenomenal phallus finally spilled into view. Kris’s cock was a solid four feet long, and it was still in the process of chubbing up. Even now Kris’s cock looked to be the size of a double decker bus to the diminutive Nick, and it was sure to get even bigger as it stirred fully to life. Nick knew he would love every second of the show.

               “Hehe. You look like you want to play with this,” Kris said playfully. He reached down with both hands and gripped the sides of his colossal cock and began to stroke it all the while keeping his eyes intensely locked on Nick’s own. Nick was so overwhelmed with how huge and sexy his titanic boyfriend was that all he could do was nod in awe.

               Kris moved around to the foot of the bed and slowly started to climb onto the bed. His cock reached the mattress a few feet before the rest of him did, and by the time Kris had gotten his knees onto the end of the mattress his nearly five feet of cock were name aimed directly at his little lover. His dick was so massive that even just the slit was longer than Nick was tall. It was like staring down a cave instead of a cock – a cave that Nick had half a mind to go spelunking in had it not been for his own massive nuts which were sure to bar his way.

               “Like what you see?” Kris asked seductively. Nick nodded in awe, but even had he not made an effort to show his appreciation, his rapidly hardening cock would have done the job for him. He was already flying at well past half mast, and his foot-long cock was quickly reaching rock hard status.

               Kris was soon straddling his own cock atop the bed. The bed creaked under the weight of the slim dude and his five feet of fully boned cock and enormous nuts, but showed no signs of giving out any time soon. Kris’s grin grew even wider as he stared down at his tiny boyfriend. Nick looked so adorable down there, that Kris couldn’t help himself. He had to feel the little guy in his hands. He reached forward and scooped his tiny boyfriend up into his hands as if he was holding a hamster or some other small pet. Nick was so tiny that he easily fit in the palm of one of Kris’s hands, but the addition of Nick’s full foot of cock made things a bit more difficult. His nuts spilled over the edge of Kris’s palms, and his huge cock stood straight up at attention. His massive nuts were so heavy that they threatened to send him toppling over the edge, but Kris was quick to work out another solution. Kris slipped one hand underneath Nick’s nuts. Nick’s balls were so big that even to the colossal Kris, they were the size of grapefruits. They were too huge for him to hold in his hand without spilling over the sides of palm, but he was able to at least steady them enough that their weight wasn’t going to send Nick sprawling to the mattress below.

Kris wrapped his lips around the tip of Nick’s cock and began to suckle the head of his lover’s huge dick. It wasn’t long before Kris wasn’t satisfied with just the tip. He began to slide his mouth back and forth along the length of Nick’s dick. With each pass, Kris took more and more of his lover’s cock into his mouth. It wasn’t long before Kris had the entire shaft in his mouth and down his throat. His chin dug against Nick’s huge nuts and his nose poked against his little lover’s body.

               Nick could feel his boyfriend’s mouth wrapped around his dick. He could feel the warm wetness of Kris’s tongue against his dick – a tongue that was longer than Nick’s entire body. He could feel his boyfriend’s throat wrapping around his massive cock. The sensation was beyond anything Nick could have believed was possible. It would have been an amazing blow job had his proportions been normal, but having his cock which was several times larger than his whole body serviced in such a fantastic fashion was too amazing for him to fathom. They had barely even begun their fun and already Nick felt like he was close to creaming. Part of him really wanted to just throw caution to the wind and just blow his load right then and there. His massive cock just felt so fantastic and he knew that Kris needed to get going soon, but at the same time, it felt so amazing that he never wanted it to end. It was so fantastic that Nick felt his heart sink when he felt the tip of his cock fully slide out from his lover’s mouth. He was sure for a moment that this was it for their fun for the time being. He’d have to wait until after the holiday rush before they could finish their festivities, but when Nick opened his eyes and saw the devious glint in his lover’s eyes he knew that his fears were unfounded.

               “You know… I’ve been thinking,” Kris mused out loud. Nick was about to ask what Kris meant, but he didn’t get the chance. Kris quickly continued his train of thought, and it quickly became clear just what that devious expression of his was about. “It seems our sizes are now reversed… so let’s try flipping the script in other ways,” Kris explained.

               Nick didn’t even need to ask. He already knew where this was going, and when Kris flopped forward so that he was lying directly atop his cock with his chin resting on the ridge of his puffed-up cock head, Nick knew he had guessed correctly. Kris maneuvered his little lover so that Nick was once against staring down the maw of the colossal cock. The pre-oozing slit was as massive as it was inviting, and Nick was on a collision course with it.

               Nick’s cock slipped into the slit of Kris’s massive dick. It felt amazing. Kris’s cock was so warm and it gripped the length of Nick’s shaft. It wasn’t long before Nick’s dick was buried so deep inside of his boyfriend’s own cock that Nick’s body was pressed against the pre-drooling slit of Kris’s cock. Nick was getting slathered in his boyfriend’s pre. The warm, slick liquid coated every inch of his body and seeped into his mouth. The slightly bitter taste was like ambrosia to him. He needed more. He needed to feel it wash over him and he needed to feel it cascading down his throat, but before he got the chance to drink his fill he felt himself once again being lifted up and out of his lover’s cock.

               Nick wiped the pre from his face and looked up questioningly at his titanic lover. Kris’s billboard sized face grinned impishly back at him. “It’s a little loose, don’t you think?” Kris asked. Nick was about to ask what he meant, but Kris once again didn’t give him the chance. Kris opened his free hand to reveal a familiar looking powder on the palm of his hand. Whether he produced the stuff magically or managed to sneak it into his palm via some top tier sleight of hand, Nick wasn’t sure, but what he was sure was what would happen if he came into contact with that glittering dust. There was no way Nick was going to protest to what Kris had in mind, but even had he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been given the chance. Kris quickly blew a puff of air into the palm of his hand which sent the powder billowing into the air and wafting over towards Nick’s tiny body. In a matter of seconds, Nick was coated in the stuff. The powder quickly sunk into his skin and vanished from sight. Nick could feel a familiar warmth and tingling in his cock, and he knew exactly what it meant and was excited to see how huge he would get from this dosage.

               Kris wasted no time in resuming the fun. He flopped back down atop his cock and once again aimed his lover’s dick towards the eager hole of his own humongous cock head. It was a tighter fit this time as Nick’s cock slid into his own. It felt so great that Kris couldn’t even stifle his own moan of pleasure as more and more of his lover’s fat cock slid into his own. His dick was soon filled to the brim with his lover’s cock. Kris had never felt something so amazing before. His cock was so stimulated that it felt like he was already cumming, but he was just getting warmed up. There was no way he was going to let him cream so soon. Kris quickly settled into a motion of sliding his lover’s cock deep into his own and then pulling back until only the tip remained imbedded in his own enormous cock and then once again slide his lover’s cock deep within his own.

               Kris and Nick were both moaning in ecstasy with each pass. Nick could feel his already massive cock steadily creeping up in size by the second. With each thrust Kris’s cock gripped his own tighter and tighter which just made the sensation all the more intense. Nick had never felt anything so amazing before in his life. It felt so fantastic that he was close to being overloaded with euphoric bliss. It was all he could do to keep from shooting his load straight down his lover’s cock.

               Kris was in a similar boat. As his lover’s cock steadily swelled within his own, the need to cream became more and more intense. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. With each pump of his lover’s cock, Kris’s grip became shakier and shakier and his breathing became shallower and shallower. Sweat dripped from his brow. His whole body trembled with the need to cum, but still he fought it for as long as he could. Eventually he lost the battle against his own body. His soft whimpers and moans gave way to a low, load moan. His massive cock bucked and lurched with his little lover along for the ride, and then the dam broke. Cum spurted from his cock and sent Nick flying through the air.

               Nick landed with a damp splat against the pillow at the end of the bed. The impact was not enough to hurt but it was enough to break his concentration just enough to let his need to cream get the better of him. As his lover’s massive loads splashed against him, his own cock started spurting cum into the air. Huge ropes of jizz were flying in both direction coating both lovers in each other’s cum in the process. Nick’s tiny body was completely coated in cum in the initial blast, and it wasn’t long before Kris’s face was equally jizz-soaked. Eventually, their torrents of jizz tapered off. Nick collapsed back onto the pillow and Kris flopped onto his own massive cock.

               It took a few minutes before either one of them caught their breath and came down from the afterglow enough to speak. In the end, it was Nick who was the first to speak up. “Woah… that was amazing…” He murmured.

               “Yeah…” Kris agreed breathlessly.

               “And you say I’ll shrink down like this each time I come to visit?” Nick asked.

               “Well… at least until you officially become a part of the Kringle family,” Kris said with a wink.

[First Chapter] || [Character Art Gallery]

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