#him and mark man....love to gesticulate

[skitskatdacat63]

I just really like the way he talks with his hands, okay??

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—   KEEP THE LIGHTS ON

SUMMARY : “Hi!! First time requesting a fic so if this is dumb.. well yeah. A fic where Dean and the reader are about to do it (😏😏) and hes very focused on her thighs/hips area and she's got stretch marks there and he traces/kisses/grabs them? It's rough, intense, and passionate? 😳😶 okay love you and your writing byeee 🏃‍♀️” — anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), smut, as always unspecified skin colour and weight (lol), 

WORD COUNT : 2.0k

A/N : close your eyes song title. I loved this request as soon as I got it, and that’s why it didn’t take long! I’ve seen some stretch marks are lighter than the skin and others are darker than the skin and also that they feel like grooves so, I hope this is okay! *insert Scott Pilgrim and the L-word scene bc I can’t say ILY* AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Xx

You’d never been so comfortable and confident with a man before. Comfortable with yourself. Confident in your own skin.. Every insecurity you had in every other aspect of your life, sex-releated or not, flew out the window because you knew Dean. 

He had a way of making you feel beautiful all the time. Either with his facial expressions when you caught him staring, his words when you were alone, his actions at any chance he had to get his hands on you. He was very expressive, wordlessly so, and gesticulating. 

You had to get to know the real him to understand him and, you know… he’s complicated. He’s guarded, but beneath all that there’s a soft centre to him, like a brownie. And overall, he’s sweet and good and soft. Perfect. Like a brownie. 

Eventually, getting a read on him gets easier, but not entirely easy. Which is why he was currently taking your breath away with his lips moving down your neck and his hands tangled in your hair as he guided you down the hallway to his room. But only after admitting he’d been wanting to get you in his bed for years and you’d be damned if you let your fears and worries get in the way of getting your first taste of him after pining for him almost as long as he’d carried a torch for you. 

You had to be stupid to believe that Dean was shallow and cared only about a woman's appearance or attractiveness. You never thought you weren’t enough all those times Dean left with or hit on any women but you. All you thought was that he simply didn’t see you that way, which was only half of the truth. He wanted something more than one night with you and he just didn’t have the guts to tell you so. 

But tonight, after a sleepy hangout at the Dean Cave, after watching a variety of movies that Dean liked—movies he excitedly wanted you to enjoy as well when you said you’d never watched them before. And then going to the kitchen to get more snacks for the next film… 

Well, you don’t really remember what led to it, maybe you said something in your exhausted state. Or maybe he did. You had a feeling that if you made the first move and confessed something you wouldn’t have in the right state of mind, he’d hold it over you and tease you about it—if everything went well. 

Or maybe it was just a buildup of every little thing that the two of you shared with each other and all the history and all of everything else that you were. 

Now that you had his mouth on yours, quick and firm and desperate for attention and for a taste of you… You had a feeling making your stomach flutter. To some extent, the two of you were very aware of each other’s feelings and still decided to do nothing about it. 

What a waste of fucking time. 

Still, something about waiting made this much more intense. Your skin ignited at his touch when his fingers snuck up into your shirt. Your flesh became warmer and warmer after each rapid heartbeat, excitement from his wet, breathy kisses. The air in your lungs failed to escape correctly, failing to reach the full capacity of oxygen the more thrilled you became. 

You wanted to devour him whole. But all you could do was kiss him back with as much passion and fervour as you possibly could. Your palms smoothed up scarred skin, flushed and warm and taut. Your nails scratched and your fingers tugged at anything of his that you could hold onto. 

When you got to his room, he’d made your head spin more than it already was from his kiss when he pushed you into his bedroom door to shut it. 

“Sweetheart,” he moaned against your mouth and your breath audibly hitched. The sound of his voice, the way he spoke that pet-name to you made your stomach clench and your clit throb. Or maybe it was the way he pinned your lower body to the door with his hips and the way he held your gaze when he flexed his hand beneath your shirt, his fingers spread across your ribcage.

His other hand moved back up to your cheek and his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. Your lips parted at first when he did that and your eyes searched his curious eyes longingly, but he seemed to be on his own mission. You bit your lip anxiously instead as you attempted to maintain eye contact, your cheeks burned when his green eyes dropped down to your lips. All you could feel was his erection pressed into your soft skin through the flimsy layers of his pyjama pants. 

And then his cock twitched. 

It was driving you crazy.

Being this close to him felt like a chemical reaction. You bubbled as he came into contact with you and you could probably evaporate into nothing if you were just a reactant. You never thought you’d feel consumed entirely by a person as if they were a reagent. You’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else but Dean who made you feel this pathetic. 

Your eyes reacted faster than your body when Dean dove back down to capture your bottom lip. He sucked on it softly and rolled his hips into you and you breathed shakily against his mouth at the combination of pleasant sensations that occurred simultaneously. 

You buried your fingers in his hair and then you felt his own gripping your hips tightly. God, you wished he’d dig into you and mark you permanently, but instead your thoughts ran through the imaginary engine of a plane and turned into smithereens when his tongue entered your mouth.

He lifted you up and his hands slid roughly from your ass to your thighs. You clung to him and kissed him hard, pouring yourself wholly into the kiss until he drunkenly stumbled to his bed and dropped you into it. All the while, he was still completely attached to you and getting more desperate now that you were as malleable as dough in his expert hands.

He pulled away from you breathlessly, lips parted and wet and red and perfectly kissed. His cheeks puffed a little and he had a tiny smile that shined mostly in his eyes when they fluttered open. You thought you’d be sucked right into his dilated pupils as he admired you beneath him, but he went right back to your neck and your cleavage while his hands pushed and pulled away at your clothes to get you naked.

For the fraction of a second, your body snapped out of the trance he’d placed you in when you felt his fingers trace and dip gently into the marks on your skin. The magic was gone only for a few moments when you opened your eyes to him between your bare legs, he looked up at you in surprise. Surprised at your reaction.

“What?” He frowned at you. The cute pout made your eyes brighten and your body relaxed once more as you smiled down at him. 

You were hesitant and he was patient. And then his expression mirrored yours, smiley. But he was so soft, with those crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and those dimples above his pillowy lips. He didn’t even make a big deal out of it and that made you release a soft breath and with it, the tension disappeared from your body. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip. He lifted a brow at you before both brows came together in amused confusion. He slowly pulled himself up your body and shamelessly dropped his hips at your centre, practically grinding his covered erection against your bare, wet core. 

You inhaled sharply and he smirked at you. He slid his forearm up beside your head to balance his upper body above yours and continued to brush his thumb against the lines you were more than familiar with that resided at your hips. 

“Wanna hear it explicitly, is that it?” He murmured, his tongue dipping out to pull his lower lip into his mouth. Then he planted his teeth on the shimmering, plump flesh. What a journey. 

You were amused when your eyes flickered back up to his and you pulled your own lip between your teeth. He was cocky and maybe it didn’t help that you were a mess beneath him, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“I’m gonna fuck you hard in my bed,” he told you. Your eyes widened slightly and you breathed unevenly as he rocked his hips against your heat. “But first, I’m gonna memorise every inch of your body and I’m gonna make you wait ‘til I’m satisfied. And only then,” he whispered, dropping kisses along your cheek and jaw, “I’ll give you what you want.” 

You licked your lips and allowed Dean to move lower to pepper kisses along your breasts until he slowly made his way back down between your legs. Part of you wanted to whine when he brushed his fingers over your stretch marks again, but there was something about how casual he was about them that made you want to see where this was going.

“What do I want?” You grinned down at him just as his lips made contact with the lines in contrasting colour to your skin. He smirked and looked at you through his lashes. His warm breath tickled your thighs when he chuckled and you shivered, bumping his bicep playfully with your knee. 

“Me, I hope,” he answered, almost bashfully. He buried his fingers into your hips and pulled at your skin, following the lines that decorated your body while keeping his eyes on you. You squirmed as he continued to touch and mouth at your stretch marks. “But mostly, my dick.” 

You laughed, “what?” And Dean nipped at your hip, along a few lines on either side of your body and your body shuddered pleasantly. 

“You asked what you wanted. I said: me and my dick,” he recapped for you playfully. You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help smiling. Dean went from playful to sexy and dragged his lips down your pelvis. Your hips wiggled in anticipation and your breath became shallow, but Dean only breathed against your soaked cunt. “If… all ‘a this proves anything.”

The warm air slipping between his lips aroused you to the point of wanting to pull his face between your legs and trap him there with your thighs. You felt yourself turn hot at his words, both from embarrassment and from lust.

“Dean, please,” you begged with a whiny laugh. 

Instead of replying with something witty, he swirled his tongue around your entrance with a moan. You felt his spit and you held your breath when he flatted his tongue and dragged it up to your clit. You closed your eyes and arched your back when he sucked and flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit. 

And then it was all gone and your body became loose once more. You opened your eyes to Dean pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the freckled skin you’ve always wanted to kiss and mark with your mouth when you patched him up on hunts. 

Before you could get your hands on him, he got out of bed and pulled his pants and boxers down his legs swiftly. He barely gave you time to see, to admire what you came to accept as the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. 

“I told you,” he smirked, slipping between your legs and lowering himself on your body to kiss you. “I’m takin’ my time.” You groaned in protest against his lip, but eventually every complaint you had on taking it slowly dissipated from your mind as he pushed and pulled at your body in ways you didn’t think you’d liked until he began working your body. 

You didn’t want to admit it, but dammit… Sex with Dean was better and more satisfying than the sex you had with any other man. 

You couldn’t tell Dean that. Never. It’d go to his head. Rightfully so, but still. All you could think about is the embarrassment he’d cause you to feel by reminding you, every chance he had—with that smug smirk of his—about how good you said he makes you feel. Better than any other man. 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[wannaeatramyeon]

Welcome Back!!!

How about Daniel having a friend who knew about the two bodies the whole time. Someone he could confide and who could cover for him when needed. GN reader is totally fine and I think theyd be better off being platonic but super close to the point that they sleep over at Daniels house and everyone else is always suspicious that they know something theh don't. Only if you have time and energy of course. I love your work❤️

Man, you request the guy I write the least and have arguably the worst grasp on his character. Thank you for requesting anyway anon! Have... this *waves vaguely at this mess*

Daniel Park with Reader: Two bodies

G/N.

In hindsight, how did no one else think he was suspicious?

Sure, Park is a very common Korean surname but two Daniel Parks living together? Never seen with each other. Interchangably attending High School when Big Daniel couldn't?

You give the sleeping Big Daniel a pinch on his cheek and nada. Then a rough shove. No reaction, nothing, and you chuckle.

This never gets old.

"Y/N, please don't do that," Small Daniel moans, carrying over the large pot of ramen and sighing at the reddening mark on his other body's cheek.

Correction: this never gets old. For you.

"Sorry," you say, mulling over what additional casual harm you can inflict on Big Daniel.

"Please don't tickle me neither."

"I wasn't going to!" Oops, guilty as charged. Hand retreating back, you tuck Big Daniel's foot back under the covers.

"Come eat before the food gets cold." Daniel shoots you a small smile, and you wonder how no-one has figured it out. So many mannerisms are identical, including the smile. Gentle and kind, eyes crinkling exactly the same way as he pinpoints your weakness.

There's nothing like food to stop you in your tracks, and you obediently shuffle over to the coffee table.

It's an established routine. Walking back to Big Daniel's home after school. Talking about the going ons at J High. Discussing what crazy scenario seems to be happening that week.

Then in the privacy of his own home, as he gets ready to go bed, theorising about his two bodies. What sort of miracle or curse could cause this.

And when Big Daniel falls asleep, Small Daniel instantly wakes up, picking up the conversation without missing a beat and preparing dinner for the two of you before his graveyard shift.

In between mouthfuls, Daniel tells you that he met with DG and the Idol will tell him about the secret of the two bodies as long as he-

"That guy is full of shit."

"Huh?!" The chopsticks pause half way to his mouth at your dismissal, "B-but It's DG!"

"Don't get starstruck Danny, they're all full of shit and want something from you."

He pauses. You're not exactly wrong. Everyone seems to be going on about the Four Crews something or another and he always seems to be at the center of everything.

How did a bunch of high schoolers get into so much trouble? Where are the adults in all this? Why is it like the lawless Wild West in South Korea?

Thank the heavens he has you to help confide in and trauma bond together. He likely would have lost his sanity a long time ago without your company.

"Unlike me," You grin, gesticulating at yourself with chopsticks.

"You want nothing. Except all my food," Daniel rolls his eyes fondly when you reach for seconds.

[lemonylioness]

A Work of Art

Madara x Reader - University AU - An aspiring artist gets their first nude model

Content warnings: dub con, D/s dynamics, edging, public sex, mild bondage, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, squirting, creampie, aftercare

4.8k

So honestly, this is only marked for Madara, because he is my favorite. When writing this, I felt it could fit a lot of our older “Daddy” type characters and I kept it intentionally vague (except for a line or two) so feel free to imagine your favorite dominating you. Madara, Hashirama, Tobirama, Jiraiya, Kakashi, Kakuzu, Geto, Toji, Nanami… Honestly the list goes on… Enjoy~

“Alright, class, for this week’s project, we will be using posed nude models to complete studies of the human body and to grow your knowledge of anatomy. You will create a painting in either oil or acrylic medium on canvases or boards. I want the completed project to be at least 10” x 20”,” the art professor wrote on the chalkboard as he spoke, writing down the same requirements for the project as he was speaking, “Be respectful of our models as they are volunteers, older students and professors who graciously donated their time for your practice. Once they come in, stay seated, they will come to you. The model you get is the model you get. No swapping and no complaining.” He turned and snapped a finger at the student closest to the classroom door, “Let them in and remember, we are grateful for their time.”

The student pulled open the door and a line of robed men and women came into the spacious classroom, a mix of body types, heights, and hair colors ranging from white to blonde to brown to the deepest black, splitting off and sitting by whoever caught their eye and immediately the volume of sound in the room increased as strangers got to know each other and robes were discarded. You were tucked back into a corner by the large window. It was your favorite place to paint as it had a view that overlooked the university campus and had a perfectly warm sunbeam for most of the class time. Rearranging your paint brushes on your work table nervously, you worked not to catch anyone’s eye, a deep blush coloring your face at all of the exposed skin. This was way outside your comfort zone, but you loved art and this was a part of it. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as the pairs settled, leaving only one model left, who was standing at the front of the room with the professor, his broad back to the class as they spoke. You recognized him as one of the professors on campus, possibly teaching history or something like that, his wild black hair tamed back into a ponytail and his large hands moving through the air as he gesticulated to whatever he was saying that you couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, he turned, looking in the direction the professor was pointing which was straight at you, making you duck behind your canvas as your blush turned a blazing red. When you peeked out again, you were immediately ensnared in his dark eyes, his expression changing to something like hunger as he started toward your little corner. Dropping your eyes, you fiddled with the brushes again, unexpected heat flooding your body from just his look. You felt like a trapped rabbit as the predator stalked silently towards your hiding place and it was taking everything you had not to break and run.

“Where would you like me to be?” The model’s smooth voice brushed past your ear from way too close and you jumped, not expecting him so close so soon.

“R-right th-there is perfect,” you stumbled over your words as you indicated the stool set up in front of your easel, making use of the sunbeam that glittered across the floor. More blood suffused through your face and neck as you tried to ignore how much of your personal space this man was in, “You can use the stool if you want… Or whatever you’d like…”

He chuckled as if he knew exactly how nervous he was making you before stepping around your body and canvas. Taking off his robe, he asked, “how would you like me to pose for you?”

“Oh… Ah… Um…” Your brain was short circuiting as your eyes roamed over his muscular frame, “h-however is most comfortable for you… I’m not picky.” Clearly comfortable with being naked in front of an audience, he started arranging himself on the stool after a sly smile in your direction, finally settling on facing you with his feet propped on the foot rest bar and legs spread apart, showing his manhood as well as the curls of hair above it. He sat up straight, arching his back slightly as he positioned his arms above his head, elbows bent and hands tucked behind his neck. It was a very casual pose that showed everything. Muscles rippled as you watched him flex for you, his eyes on your face, waiting for your reaction. Gathering yourself, you tried your best to keep any evidence of the heat you were feeling from your face, though you couldn’t deny the way your core ached and dampened just from his gaze alone.

There was no doubt about it, he was very attractive and he knew it too. It was like he was preening as more and more of the class looked your way. Hiding behind your canvas, you tried to stay out of the line of sight of everyone as you wet your brush and got started on your piece. At least here, you could avoid not only the jealous looks of your classmates, but also your model’s laser focus. Taking a deep breath and steeling yourself against another flush of heat, you let your mind wander back over his perfectly sculpted muscles, the gorgeous dark hair both on his head and the dusky thatch between his legs, under which was perched his nicely formed penis and scrotum. You had seen naked men before, you certainly were not a virgin, however none of them had looked like this. Or had his eyes. It was his eyes that drew you in the most. Deep and intelligent, it was like they could see right through you, like he could read your mind and everything you thought with just a look. It was just so intense, like he had stolen his eyes right off of the cover of a romance novel.

Taking another calming breath, you picked up your paint palette and looked out from behind your canvas to make sure your model wasn’t just a figment of an overactive imagination. His eyes immediately locked onto yours again and he smirked.

“Ready to get started?” he purred, flexing fully once more. Swallowing hard, you nodded and started your sketch, praying to whatever higher power that you were going to survive this week without melting into a little puddle. It was going to be a long project.

—

The art room was empty except for yourself and your model. The other students had long since called it quits for the day and shuffled on to other pursuits. He was no longer in his pose as you had finished your bare bones sketch and wouldn’t need him until it came time to set the lighting and color. For now, you were slowly adding detail from memory avoiding looking at him as much as possible. He was currently chewing on his lip and staring out the window, still perched on the stool, still unbelievably attractive, and still making heat flood your body every time you forgot yourself and stared at him for too long. The silence in the room was overbearing and making things worse for you as there was nothing that could be used as a distraction. Maybe it was time to call it a day. You certainly could use the break to get rid of the nagging ache between your thighs, your dorm room sounding better all the time for some privacy. Your panties had to be soaked after all.

Finally setting down your paint brush, you stretched and stepped back away from the easel, catching his attention, “Are we done?” He stood up and stepped over to look at the canvas, immediately invading your personal space again and standing way too close.

“Well no… I mean, I’m taking a break for a moment… But you certainly don’t have to stick around… I can wait until tomorrow for the parts I’ll need you for, but for now I just want to step away for a moment or two,” you stepped back away from him, turning to your work table to hide the arousal you were sure was stamped all over your face. He was so warm and you couldn’t handle his presence when it was so close to you. He also smelled really good and your hands itched to see if his skin was really as silky as it looked. You needed to get a hold of yourself. He was turning your brain to mush and he wasn’t really even doing anything.

Gathering your paint brushes, you moved to take them to the sink, when suddenly a strong arm had you trapped against the table, his firm, bare chest pressed against your back as he caged you in place, “you do look a little tired, taking a break is smart. I’ll stay here with you.”

Even though his voice was soothing, you tensed as his breath fanned across your neck. “I should leave,” you struggled to speak normally, hoping he couldn’t hear the beginning of the needy whine in your voice, “and let you get dressed and back to whatever you need to do… I’ve got a few things to take care of and I’ve held you here long enough…” Your voice faltered as his lips pressed just under your ear.

“Don’t go,” his tone left little room for argument and he pressed closer, his body solid against yours and making you shiver.

“I-I… W-we can’t… You’re a professor and someone could come in at any time… We don’t even know each other’s names…” You argued weakly, the ache was becoming unbearable and you were pretty sure he knew.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, just relax,” his mouth trailed up and down the tensed muscle of your neck, one of his hands moving to press against your stomach to keep you in place when you tried to turn to face him, “No, kitten, stay where you are. Forget about everything, the project, your worries, your inhibitions. Just focus on me. Focus on how this makes you feel. I won’t let anything bad happen. Understood?”

A soft moan left your lips as you felt his teeth nip your skin before you let out a breathy, “Y-yes…”

A deep rumble powered through his chest at your acquiescence, “yes what?”

“Yes Sir,” you blushed with embarrassment as you answered him without hesitation, the words springing from your lips instinctually.

“That’s my good girl,” he purred, his unoccupied hand moving to pull the paint brushes from your grip and setting them aside before he guided your hands up into the air so he could pull off your shirt and bra in quick succession. His mouth moved to your neck again, making your knees weak as kisses and nips heated your skin only to be soothed a minute later by his tongue. You melted back against his hard chest as his teeth caught your ear lobe, tugging as he sucked at the soft flesh. Your acceptance of his ministrations seemed to please him and he pulled you back tighter against his body, one of his hands moving to cup your breast while the other drifted lower to the waistband of your shorts. His fingers were gentle against your skin in contrast to the way his lips and teeth were attacking your neck and shoulders. Your eyes slid closed as another moan left you, the combination of his skillful touch and sinful mouth was getting to be too much.

He seemed to have been waiting for this, taking it as his cue to start taking things further. He squeezed your breast, his thumb tracing around your areola and over your nipple, making the bud tighten into a stiff peak for him to tug on as his other hand slipped into your panties, moving to cup between your legs. His touch was electricity, delivering shocks of pleasure that just seemed to turn you on and on and on. You were more aroused than you had ever been before in your life. Your little cunt wouldn’t stop aching, begging to be filled with something just so you could have an ounce of relief. Your model seemed to be feeling similarly, you could feel his thick, twitching erection pressed firmly against your ass and when you reached back to touch him, he groaned in your ear as his hips bucked slightly.

“That’s right, kitten, go ahead, touch whatever you’d like. I want you and this wet pussy so bad… I can’t believe how ready you are for me…” His voice tightened and he stifled another groan as your fingers wrapped and squeezed around his girthy shaft. You arched against him as he pulled his hand from your shorts so he could undo the button and push them down past your hips, letting them and your panties pool around your feet as his hand went right back to where it was, your legs spreading of their own accord to give him more access. He hissed against your neck before purring in your ear, “So ready… You’ve wanted this for a while haven’t you? My naughty girl. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

A harsh whine left your throat as his fingers started to probe between your lower lips, “Y-yes S-sir… P-please… I-I need more…” He chuckled as his other hand came up to gently circle around your neck, holding you as still as he could, his arm pressing between your breasts and against your sternum, pinning you to his body.

“Of course, pet, all in good time, just be a good girl for me,” his fingers slid inside of your throbbing heat and curled deliciously causing pleasure to spike through you. Panting from the delightful feelings, your thighs tried to squeeze together as he worked his fingers against your g-spot, the stimulation already overwhelming as his hand tightened around your throat in warning, causing you to freeze. One of his legs came up between yours, his muscular thigh forcing you to keep your legs spread as he pulled your back into a harsher arch, making it difficult for you to do anything except take it as you balanced on your tiptoes. “Relax, kitten, let me pleasure you,” he admonished gently as he continued to massage your spongy spot until you were shaking in his grasp, your hand pumping his hot, silky cock erratically. It was so easy to follow his commands and let him toy with your body that you found yourself going boneless in his arms, letting him have his way as he made pleasure course through every one of your nerves, setting you on fire every time his fingers moved inside of you.

“O-oh, p-please, I’m so close… I’m g-gonna c-cum,” you soon sobbed, your pussy fluttering with your impending climax.

His hand immediately stilled, his fingers sliding out of your core and making you cry out as your orgasm slipped away, tears gathering on your lash line, “shh, pet, I know, I know… But you can’t cum yet… Not yet. You’ll only cum on my cock or not at all.” He wiped your juices across your stomach, letting you whimper quietly as he readjusted your position, pulling your hand from his cock and pushing you down chest first onto the work table, your breasts squished to the cool surface. He nudged your legs apart with his knee so your soft lower lips and fluttering cunt were on full display for him, one of his hands splayed across your back to keep you in place as the other groped the smooth globe of your asscheek. You squirmed underneath his hand, feeling your slick start to ooze from your clenching, empty heat, coating your trembling lips before drooling down your thighs and spattering onto the tile floor between your feet with a soft pap, pap, pap.

He rumbled in approval behind you, “That’s it, now I can see your needy, little hole. Don’t move.” His hand left your body as he stepped away from you, the loss of his heat making goosebumps rise all over your skin as you quickly chilled in the cool air. You couldn’t help the shiver that worked its way up your spine as an anxious ball tightened in your belly, your swollen clit throbbing as your pussy clenched and quivered in anticipation. Suddenly, smooth hands were pulling your arms behind your back, the tie from the robe he had been wearing earlier wrapping and knotting around your wrists to keep them together and in place against your back as he stood behind you once again, his thick cock resting between your ass cheeks, leaking pearls of pre-cum onto your shivering skin as he contemplated his next move.

A whimper fell from your lips as your hips involuntarily bucked back, “Please… P-please… Please…” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, but you needed something to happen, you couldn’t stand waiting any longer.

He tutted softly, tracing a finger down your spine and making you arch and shudder, more of your slick dripping and pooling on the floor, “Ask appropriately, kitten, use your words… Tell me what you want.”

“P-please, Sir, I want you inside me… I want your cock so bad… I need it. Fuck me! Please!” You begged brokenly, practically sobbing with urgency as you gave into his dominance, letting him have complete control as you laid submissively on the table, your legs shaking.

“That’s my good girl,” he purred, wasting no time shifting behind you and pressing the tip of his cock against your fluttering entrance, getting himself slippery with your juices. Before he thrust into you, he leaned down and his hand circled around your knee, bringing your leg up to rest in a bent position on the table, pushing your hips back flat on the cool surface and opening your cunt up even more for him to look at and touch, his fingers ghosting over your twitching skin and lightly catching on your swollen clit, making you sob and buck again. “Mmm… You’re so perfect… This pussy is so perfect… This is now my property, do you understand that, pet?”

Without waiting for an answer, he groaned as he slowly worked his heavy girth into your sloppy, slobbery hole, the head of his cock popping past the tight ring of muscle and stretching you out in a way you’d never felt before. You moaned pathetically, your hips jerking back and your body threatening to climax just from him barely penetrating your quivering pussy.

“F-fuck, kitten, you’re so tight,” he choked and shuddered behind you, his fingers digging into the plush of your ass as he reeled from how hard you were clamped around just the tip of his length. “That’s it kitten, go ahead, cum for me,” one of his hands reached between your bodies and thumbed at your clit, thrusting shallowly to give you a little friction to help, planning to use your orgasm to slam home. The stimulation quickly sent you over the edge and into a shaking, spasming frenzy. With your arms bound behind your back, you had no way to muffle your cries as your little hole strangled his dick and pleasure whited out your vision. He immediately took advantage of your quivering, cockdrunk body, his hips thrusting forward before the euphoria of your orgasm could fade and sheathing himself in his entirety in your pulsing heat.

The sudden stretch of his heavy girth had you mewling and shuddering, the immediate overstimulation threatening to send you back into orbit. He stood still behind you, giving you time to get used to how his thick cock was stuffing your little hole full. You couldn’t help the way your hips jerked forward, your body shifting further onto the table as you tried to relieve some of the intense pressure overwhelming your senses. Soft whines fell from your lips as your only broken thoughts revolved around how deep his cock felt buried in your guts.

“Look at my dumb little kitten, thinking you can run from my cock,” his hands quickly grabbed your hips, dragging your body back to his as his dick twitched and flexed within you.

“T-too m-much,” you whimpered frantically, “p-please t-too much!”

“Shh, pet, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed gently, pressing closer to your trembling body as he worked to calm you down, “you’re doing so good, kitten, you’re taking me so well and you feel absolutely amazing. Just breathe, sweetheart, I’m about to make you feel so good.”

As your shaking body started to relax, he continued to praise you in hushed tones, one of his hands staying wrapped around your hip as the other moved to grip your arm bindings holding you tightly in place as he started to drag his silky cock through your gummy walls, achingly slow and controlled. He very carefully built his rhythm, his strokes long and languid until you got used to his size and the stretch, your moans and sobs acting as his guide. It wasn’t long before he was pounding into your dribbling cunt, his thick length pressing against every sensitive spot inside of you and making you see stars every time his tip kissed your cervix.

“Ah- Ah- M’gonna… M’gonna…” You struggled to speak as your second orgasm built way more quickly than the first, the knot in your core threatening to snap after only a few seconds of his rough thrusting.

His only answer was his fingers finding your clit, rolling the little bud in tight circles as he kept up the demanding pace. You were almost immediately shoved off the edge of your peak and dropped into a churning sea of ecstasy, your back arching as you wailed your pleasure, your sloppy, little hole strangling his rutting cock.

He groaned loudly, but his pace never faltered, “Ngh, kitten, fuck, you feel so good…” Your response was another cry as again you hit another peak, euphoria tearing through you as he continued to stimulate your sensitive pussy, not giving a bit of respite as he chased his own pleasure. Shudders wracked your body, leaving you a dumb, drooling mess on the table as your cunt gushed around him over and over, soaking you both in your fluids. Big, fat tears traced their way down your cheeks as climax after climax rolled through you, stealing your breath and not allowing you to do anything except lay there and take the cock bullying into your trembling heat.

Panting as his own climax drew near, your model shifted behind you, his rhythm pausing as he wrapped one hand around your throat, lifting you bodily from the table and quietly directing you to place both knees on the surface to get you at the perfect height, his other arm wrapping tightly around your waist to cage you to his chest as he began to sloppily fuck up into you. His crushing grip on your jaw did nothing to muffle your sobbing moans, your straddled legs keeping you spread wide open as his dick pounded into your cervix, making you see stars with every thrust. Pace picking back up, he tilted your head back onto his shoulder so he could look directly at your fucked out face, his own pupils blown wide with lust as he ran his tongue up your cheek, collecting the tears that still streaked down your skin, savoring the taste of your overstimulation.

“You’re doing so good, kitten, give me one more orgasm… We’re almost there… Just one more, pet, that’s my good girl,” he cooed against the shell of your ear, keeping eye contact, and probably very aware that you more than likely couldn’t even understand him with how absolutely obliterated you were. His pace finally broke down into jolting thrusts, each ending with a grind deep into your womb until finally you fell apart again.

Shaking and arched in a silent scream, your soul was evicted from your body with one last earth shattering orgasm. Your pussy clamped down tightly around his cock, milking him for all he was worth as he spilled his hot seed deep into your belly, the liquid heat painting your quivering walls as his dick twitched and flexed. His hips jerked a few more times, drawing out both of your climaxes until at last his softening length slid out of your used, sensitive cunt, spilling the lewd mixture of your fluids into the already messy puddle on the floor.

Carefully, he slowly lowered you to sit down on a clean spot of the floor, snagging his robe to place underneath your body so you weren’t in direct contact with the cold tile. He gently cupped your face, directing your gaze to his so he could judge your condition as he released your arms from the robe tie, making sure you made it back down from your high safely as he rubbed feeling back into wrists and hands. After your color was better and you had caught more of your breath, he left you to grab a few towels to clean up the mess on the floor and between your legs. You squirmed against him as the towel pressed against your sensitive flesh and he chuckled in your ear, holding you close to him as he continued to work, getting you as close to spotless as he could before helping your jellied limbs back into your clothes. Setting you back on the floor, not trusting you to stay in a chair yet, he threw back on the soiled robe, tying it closed so he could step out of the room for a few seconds or minutes, you weren’t really keeping track as you started to doze, exhaustion setting in. Before you knew it though, fingers were tapping against your cheek, bringing you back into consciousness to see your now fully clothed model kneeling in front of you.

“You okay, kitten?” He smiled, his fingers brushing across your skin, “you still look pretty fucked out and like you’re going to need help getting home.”

Your face immediately heated up, startled at the thought of this man, who just pounded the life out of you, escorting you to your dorm room, “N-no! I’ll make it back, thank you, but I’ll be- I am okay.”

Disbelief was written across his face, but he didn’t say anything as he watched you wobble to your feet like a fresh baby deer. That is until you tried to take your first step and all but collapsed into his arms. “Mhm, you’ll definitely make it back on your own,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before scooping you up into his arms and standing to his full height, “I’m getting you home, whether you want me to or not. Though I’m somewhat hurt that you don’t want me to make sure you arrive safely.”

You struggled in his grip, but gave up quite quickly after the stern look he gave you, “It’s not that I don’t want you to… I just don’t want to explain it to my roommate… You know, why a professor is seeing me to my dorm room safely and looking like this…” You indicated your rumpled appearance and wild hair, a fierce blush creeping from your cheeks, down your neck, and blooming across your chest.

He threw back his head with a bark of laughter, “I might have a solution for that. You’ve trusted me thus far… Would you be okay with me taking you to my home instead? I don’t live far and you can rest, shower, and straighten up before facing this roommate of yours.”

“Are you going to fuck me again?” You asked with a squeak, arousal blooming in your core at the thought of being alone in his house with him, though a hint of trepidation joined the mix at the thought of doing all of that again, you were tired and couldn’t really feel your legs as it was.

“If you want me to,” he answered with a grin and started carrying you out of the art room.

“Wait- my stuff!”

He didn’t even pause in his stride, “We’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll let your professor know that your things are there and I doubt anyone will bother with them.”

“B-but,” you started to protest.

At this, he did pause, “There is nothing you can say now that is going to stop me from taking care of you. I want to make sure after all of that, that you are okay. What we did was intense and I don’t want you to experience any sort of drop. I honestly don’t want to let you out of my sight at all. So please, kitten, let me make sure you are okay.”

You closed your mouth and he quietly carried you out of the building and to his car while you thought over his words. You were silent while he buckled you in and started the vehicle, pulling out and beginning the drive away from campus. After a few blocks, you turned and looked at his serious face, getting up the courage to speak.

“What if I want you to fuck me again?”

He only smiled.

[rolloollor]

Abandoned Draft of an Unnamed Mallerollo Dragon Sacrifice Fic

This ended up not having enough conflict for my liking and it just fell flat. I personally don't think it's that great overall, though I can't show you more than the first chapter yet because I use a chunk of the second in the fic I'm currently working on. If people are still interested in seeing more after I post the newest longfic, then I'll share the rest.

This isn't polished, so temper expectations.

Rollo hissed as his captor tightened the ropes binding his arms behind his back. The rough material bit into his skin, promising blood if he struggled.

But it would flow regardless.

He knelt in the cold mud on the tallest hill near the village. The skies overhead were heavy with clouds. Flashes of heaven’s wrath illuminated the ground below for a handful of seconds each time, followed by sweeping explosions of sound.

Three elders—two men and one woman—stood before Rollo, facing the crowd seething at the base of the hill. The youngest of the three, a man with a permanently ruddy face and neck from drink, held up his hands. The mass of people quieted.

“Today marks the tenth full day of storming lightning,” he said, his voice quavering with age. “There is but one explanation for this. The dragon of Mt. Briar,” he paused, pointing to the jagged mountain on the horizon, “is displeased.”

Murmurs swept through the gathered villagers. Rollo glared at the elders’ backs. Dragon, indeed. No one standing here had ever been to Mt. Briar, let alone seen the monster in question.

“How, then, do we reclaim the sun?” asked the female elder, her gray braid shifting against her shoulders as she gesticulated. “We must sate the beast. Legends say that dragons delight in the flesh of humans with the curse of magic flowing in their veins.”

The oldest man, leaning on a gnarled walking stick, spoke next. “Many in our village have this curse. It is no threat, as long as one does not dabble in it. Most acknowledge the danger, the potential to go mad and ooze murky filth, and never make use of magic… They are our neighbors. Our friends. Our family.”

Rollo sneered. Was he not their neighbor?

A familiar, quivering voice came from the throng. “But… But Rollo has never handled magic.”

Valentin. A young man around his age, one who always seemed to find an excuse to meet with him. He had the spark, as well—trying to defend Rollo could come with significant consequences. If his line of sight wasn’t blocked by the trio of codgers, he might have given Valentin a sharp shake of the head.

The youngest elder grunted. “As far as we know, he has not. But I suspect he has. His brother could not resist the call, after all.”

Jehan.

Rollo’s stomach flipped. They had the audacity to bring up Jehan?

Once more, like they did every night as he tried to sleep, his piercing screams echoed in his head.

They had gone out into fields illuminated by the moon. Jehan had said he was going to show him something amazing, something he might never forget.

Magic. It had turned on him. Eaten him alive.

His younger brother, his only family, the person he had loved most in this world, reached a burning hand out to him. Rollo's heart thudded, each beat slamming against his ribs. The scent of seared flesh coated his throat. He couldn’t get enough air. He would drown in the middle of the field as Jehan's howls consumed the night.

He had not taken Jehan's hand.

Instead, the boy, barely nine, had charred, his skin flaking. His legs had turned to ash as his wails faded into gurgling moans. Then there was nothing but the crackling of endless flame.

Rollo had been rooted to the spot, staring at cinders, until someone stumbled upon them the next morning.

But that had been years ago. Rollo’s shoulders heaved with ragged breaths as he stared at the grass beneath him.

How dare they bring up Jehan? They understood nothing! None of them had seen his end with their own eyes. The pile of ash could not convey the horror of that night.

“Jehan didn’t lose his mind!” Rollo shouted. “No black fluids flowed from him—he died to out-of-control flames! His screams,” he paused, swallowing hard, “didn’t you hear them? Why did no one come to help? You let him die!”

A small, sharp voice whispered in his mind, “You didn’t take his hand. You stood there and you watched.”

Rollo grit his teeth. He was innocent! What could he possibly have done?

“Something. Anything. How betrayed Jehan must have felt to witness you do nothing.”

He was blameless! He’d had no options, no way to save him!

The female elder turned to look at Rollo, her eyes devoid of warmth. “You let your younger brother partake in magic. His blood is on your hands, not ours.”

Tears welled in his eyes. No. No, it wasn’t his fault. He had loved Jehan, who had been so excited about his magic trick…

“Rollo Flamme is a threat,” continued the female elder. “And the dragon needs a sacrifice.”

The codger with the walking stick nodded. “He is the best candidate. Unless someone wishes to take his place?”

Utter silence. Valentin did not speak up, but such was to be expected. Circumstantial friendship was not enough for someone to die in his stead.

Moisture climbed up his linen clothing from his knees. The elders directed a group to build a fire. Not to burn Rollo, but to create a smoke signal to try and communicate with the dragon. He peered at them. They were men and women he knew. They had offered condolences when his brother passed, shared food with him at festivals, and applauded his hard work tending to the goats.

To think he had lived among these people for twenty years and, at the first sign of trouble, they were more than happy to have him killed.

After he died in agony, they would live on, basking in the rewards his sacrifice had earned them. Would they feel even the slightest bit of gratitude?

With the elders busy with the fire, Rollo could now gaze out at the faces in the crowd, at people he had thought he had known. Valentin was conspicuously absent. Had he left to avoid seeing his end? Wise.

“Is the smoke signal ready?” the youngest elder asked. “We must hurry.”

A few men and women held a wet blanket over the bonfire they had stoked. After a moment of covering the blaze, they pulled back and allowed a ball of gray to erupt toward the sky.

Would the dragon notice such a flimsy method of communication? If it didn’t come, would they blame Rollo?

This was a lost cause. Even if there was a flying lizard that lived on Mt. Briar, what use would it have for him? If it didn’t accept him as an offering, it did not mean he could return to life as it had been. At best, they might exile him and he would fall victim to the wilderness. At worst, they could vent their frustrations with violence.

How dare they do this to him? Rollo didn’t deserve such a grisly end. Had he not dealt with enough in his life? Without his parents, he had done his best to raise himself and his younger brother, only to fail him. He had eked out a living as a goatherd, tending to animals he did not own and making just enough to keep himself from starving to death. And now they saw fit to subject him to this?

The world was cruel. The world was wicked.

There was no justice.

Loathing filled him, flowing through his veins, turning solid in his gut.

“What if it does not accept our… gift?” the female elder asked the others.

The man with the stick stroked an unkempt beard. Old, blurry eyes turned Rollo’s way. “The scent of blood,” he paused, sucking in air. “May entice it…”

Scalding contempt climbed up Rollo’s throat. They would snuff out his life for the mere chance of satisfying this entity none of them had ever seen.

No. He would tolerate this no longer!

Physically, he had no way to get out of his restraints. Magically… Well. He might immolate himself, but at least he would die by his own hand!

Neglected pathways within himself opened, allowing power to surge. These people needed to be cleansed. Their filth and antipathy would not wash away—something stronger was necessary. If they saw nothing wrong with leaving him for dead, then they deserved naught but the pyre!

Furious, greedy flames erupted from Rollo, engulfing his body and eating through the ropes. The crowd below screamed. Those tending to the smoke signals dropped their blanket and bolted. The elders shouted, demanding people remain calm. Rollo turned toward them.

The oldest yelped and stumbled backward. He toppled, rolling down the hill. His cane fell, but did not follow him.

Good. If he hadn’t perished from that, Rollo would finish him later. This fire of his did not hurt him and somehow did not turn his clothing to ash, so he had more than enough time. Before that…

He turned toward the remaining elders. Which one should he deal with first?

They jerked, eyes wide. The old woman held her arms out in front of her, as though she could defend herself from the blaze.

“Just like your miserable brother,” the male elder wheezed.

An easy decision.

Rollo lunged. The male elder tried to dodge, but his age made him slow and feeble. Rollo snatched his wrist, allowing his flames to scorch the weathered skin, turning it red, then black. The elder shrieked, his gummy mouth opened in agony.

But it was nothing like the pain Jehan endured—wayward magic had enveloped his small body and gnawed at him until all that was left of him was no longer human. Even this man’s cries were half-hearted in comparison. He deserved worse.

Everyone did. No one in this wicked village, this cruel world would escape his judgment.

Then the earth shook as though quaking with shared fury. Rollo wobbled where he stood, accidentally letting his prey go. Too ancient to keep themselves upright, the elders collapsed. The old man’s bellowing ceased.

The tremor stopped.

“Oh,” came a deep, booming voice. “A human.”

Rollo whirled around.

A reptilian behemoth stood on four legs. Translucent wings folded against his back, unnecessary for the moment. It bore dark colors and strange, thorn-like protrusions along its spine. Two shining horns and webbed frills approximating ears jutted out of its head. A long tail ending in three prongs whipped back and forth, cutting through the air. The dragon opened its maw, releasing a burst of green embers. Its teeth glistened in the dim light.

Rollo’s blood froze.

It was real. He was going to die.

The beast lowered its head closer to Rollo, allowing its horrible, pupilless gaze to bore into him.

“Stay back!” Rollo yelled, reaching out a hand to singe the dragon.

It blinked. “I am a dragon; fire does not frighten me.”

Slowly, its snout approached, radiating its own powerful heat. It brushed against Rollo’s torso and… sniffed at him like a dog. The hair on the back of Rollo’s neck stood on end. Unlike with the elder, his flames didn’t do anything to those hard scales.

“Hmm…” Its forked tongue flicked out of its mouth to taste the air. “You cannot maintain this level of magic for long without a magestone. Stop channeling, human, or you will lose yourself to blot.”

Blot? Was it referring to the muck that bled from mad mages?

But if that happened, would he not be better able to enact his judgment? He would be far more deadly.

A low rumbling sounded from the dragon’s throat. “If you refuse to obey my command, I will ensure you bow to my will by force.”

Something bore down on him, impossibly heavy. His legs crumpled and he found himself on his hands and knees in the mud, unable to push back against the mass of what could only be magic pressure. He grit his teeth.

The wildfire around him went out. Hazy smoke drifted off his limbs as the dragon relented, dropping the magic that had held him down. His body trembled as he heaved himself upright again.

“So you can still stand… Many fae would not rise, after that.” The dragon’s tail swished back and forth. “What an obdurate human. Tell me your name.”

Rollo took a raspy breath. Exhaustion pulled at every part of him, demanding he sleep. But that only made him even less enthused in speaking to this monster. “…Is it not rude to ask for someone’s name without giving your own?” he spat.

The dragon said nothing for a moment. “You… are correct, yes. I am called Malleus.”

Rollo huffed. “Rollo Flamme.”

“Flamme.” Malleus lifted its head and stared down his snout at Rollo. Above him, the clouds began to part, allowing rays of sunshine to reach through. “You are a threat to your fellow humans and should be dealt with as they see fit. And yet, I find myself intrigued…” It paused. “Rejoice, Rollo Flamme, for I will accept you into my household.”

What?

Accept him into—?

No, none of that made sense. This was some sort of ploy to get him to drop his guard so it could feast on his entrails.

“I have no interest in living with a dragon,” Rollo said, taking a step back.

“Oh? You would rather remain here?”

He frowned and glanced toward the remaining elder. The old man had fainted, no doubt overwhelmed by both the pain of his wounds and the presence of a dragon. The woman had not lingered.

There was nothing left for him in this place, not now that he had attacked someone. Still, it would be better to take his chances out in the forest than in a dragon’s clutches. He might be able to reach another village by morning if he started walking now. But they would discover what he had done, sooner or later…

“Why did you attack these humans?” Malleus asked, its massive face pointed at the unconscious elder. “With magic, no less… You are a such a violent species; it is a miracle some of you yet live.”

Rollo glanced about, looking for a path he could take if he decided to bolt. “They wanted to offer me to you as a meal.”

The dragon paused, his tail halting mid-swing. “…Hm. Well, all the more reason to bring you with me.” Malleus lifted itself onto its hindquarters. “Brace yourself, Flamme.”

Tension rooted Rollo’s body to the spot. Brace for what?

Before he could open his mouth, his sight failed him. Everything was pitch black, worse than a forest on a moonless night. Had that monster made him go blind? He reached out a hand only for his fingertips to collide with something impossibly smooth and curved. It was all around him—Malleus had put him in some sort of sphere.

“What is this?! Let me out!”

“Land-dwelling mammals do not tend to enjoy flight. I have heard they tolerate it better when they cannot see the ground.”

The darkness around him shook and his stomach dropped the way it might if someone larger lifted him into the air. Rollo’s legs gave out and he fell, solid darkness catching his body. The ascent abruptly halted. One side of the enclosure emanated heat as if Malleus now held the sphere against itself. Rollo flattened himself away from it.

“It will be a short flight,” Malleus said. “Home is not far.”

Then came the sound of beating wings and the nauseating sensation of going upward without any control. He had nothing with which to hold on, so Rollo ended up on the ‘floor’ again.

A dragon’s household. If nothing else, he was not dead yet. He could find a way out of this. The moment Malleus lowered its guard, Rollo would seek his freedom. Providing that was at all possible in the first place… He had never climbed a mountain before and had little idea as to what it entailed. Worse, he had nothing but the clothes on his back.

Malleus could fly, breathe fire, and conjure horrible containers to trap someone. How could he slip away from him unscathed?

There was a sudden dip downward, making Rollo’s gut do a flip. Weren’t they flying to the top of Mt. Briar?

Malleus settled on solid ground with a jolt. The temperature plummeted, the cold seeping into his skin. He hugged himself. His linen tunic was appropriate for summer or the hotter days of autumn, not a snowy mountain top.

“There, now we are home,” Malleus said.

The smooth sphere around him seemed to fade and suddenly Rollo was standing on frigid rock. Somewhere far above and half-obscured by rock, light hovered out of reach. It did little to help him see—at best, it revealed the outlines of some strange stone spires reaching upward toward the ceiling and down toward the floor. Malleus’ massive lizard-like form stood nearby, his green eyes somehow aglow, penetrating the darkness to stare directly at Rollo. Somewhere, water dripped, the noise faint but ever-present.

Rollo walked toward the fleeting glimpse of the sun and found a wall. He ran his fingers along it, finding damp, slippery moss clinging to it. It must have been taller than Malleus—impossible for Rollo to climb. But, at what must have been the mouth to this cavern, leaves sometimes waved along the edges. If he could just get up there…!

“Flamme.”

Rollo winced. He turned to face Malleus, whose head was mere handspans away from him. He jolted with a yelp.

“How skittish you are,” Malleus commented. He nudged Rollo with his snout. “You appear to be shivering.”

“Obviously,” he said through his teeth.

Malleus nodded. A moment later, warmth spread around Rollo, almost as though he had donned his clothing after they had dried in front of a fire. The chill still reached his face and hands, so the dragon must have made the fabric emanate heat.

“That should keep you comfortable for the time being. Now—”

An irritated rumbling came from his stomach and interrupted Malleus. The sound bounced around the walls, turning from something embarrassing to unsettling.

What if other creatures lurked in this cave?

Malleus tilted his great head. “You are hungry?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm…” Claws idly scraped against the rock beneath them both. “What do you eat?”

Did the beast intend to fatten him up before eating him? Fine. If it left to acquire a meal, then Rollo could try to escape.

“Bread, mostly.”

Malleus blinked. “Bread?” it echoed as though the term was unfamiliar.

Indeed, what use would a dragon have for cooking or baking? Rollo sighed. “Fruits, vegetables, meat… Milk and cheese.”

“Not leaves? Bark?”

Did it think humans ate like goats or deer? “…No.”

Malleus huffed, a puff of smoke leaving its mouth. “Then I must go and find meat for you. Wait here for my return.”

In one motion, it hopped up the wall blocking Rollo from the entrance and, at the top, spread its wings, the span as wide as Malleus was long. Without the least bit of hesitation, Malleus leapt into the air. It disappeared out into the world, leaving Rollo alone.

Rollo examined the moss-covered barrier again—it was utterly smooth, with nothing for him with which to hold on. He scratched at it, seeking any kind of purchase, and gained only grit beneath his nails. Damn! He slammed his fist against it. The outside world was within sight, but beyond his reach!

That left him with one option. Rollo gazed into the depths of the cave, his heart sinking. Could there be an exit on the other side?

There was no time to waste—his life depended on his next action. He had already faced death more than once within the span of an hour or so. This time, he had control over his fate. He could wait for the dragon’s return or he could try his luck looking for a way out.

In truth, there was but one option.

Gritting his teeth, Rollo stepped into the darkness.

[neverforpickles]

what's your favourite omega!harry fic? or favourites, if you're feeling generous enough to share

Hii, I am not much of a fan of Omega Harry but here’s a list of the ones I like (including but not limited to):

We Are Inevitable

/ mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.”

drunk on rose water

/ brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

All I want

/ quitefinishedlove

“Remember this one film we watched two days ago? ‘Thirty, flirty and thriving’, that's you Lou. Not ancient, wheezing and dying, come off it.”

“Says my 18 year old boyfriend, fine then.”

“Your capabilities are still hitting the market, old man. Business and pleasure wise.” He punctuates each word slyly with sloppy nibbles on Louis’ skin, but not too playful to leave marks.

“With all that feisty little attitude you’re generating, you’re aware your bum is leaking though?”

They both laugh when they feel the trickling come passing Louis’ thighs from Harry’s twitching hole. He feels Louis pulling out five minutes later as they both settle in side by side.

(or the one where Harry gets pregnant at 18, without his alpha’s knowledge)

solids as a stone (when everything is gone)

/ anonymous

“Why’d you take me with you?”

Louis startles at the question, the car almost swerving off the road in the process. He holds his breath as he waits for the twins to wake up and start wailing, but they don’t. They keep sleeping on peacefully, covered in the family blanket.

Harry’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

Louis takes a minute, mulling it over. He answers quietly. “I hate to say it, but as much as we hate each other, I can’t bear to leave you alone to deal with this whole thing all by yourself.” and I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you died, he adds in his mind.

or, it's the zombie apocalypse and Louis is stuck with Harry, with whom he shares a complicated relationship with.

High Noon Or Midnight, I Don’t Want To Know

/ @creamcoffeelou

The intruder stands there for too long before he reaches into his bag, pulling a length of rope into his hands.

The darkness is too overpowering for Harry to make out any of the alpha’s features, rather he can only see the sweeping movement of his hands, his legs as he takes a step closer. Harry knows what’s happening, can see exactly how this is going to play out, but he almost doesn’t want to fight the idea.

“Wait,” Harry starts. The words come faster than he intends, mouth moving before he can think through what he’s saying. “Let me get dressed and pack a bag. And then I will go with you.”

OR: Harry is an omega prince who doesn't want the crown and will do anything to escape. Louis is an alpha who does and will do anything to get it.

Is it a sign?

/ bluegreenish

“Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -”

To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep!

“You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.”

What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie.

The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding.

“I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear.

And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing.

or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

Let’s Embrace The Point Of No Return

/ sweaterpaws

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Or

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

I Sail With You

/ @afangirlfantasy

Against his wishes, Omega Prince Harry Styles is arranged to mate with someone he doesn’t love, much less knows. Though he pleaded to his parents incessantly, they not only refuse to comply but force him to depart on a ship days later. Harry prays for fate to step in, to change what’s to come, however, the answer he is given is not exactly in the form he had hoped.

Enter Will Tommo – deadliest pirate captain of all seven seas.

I Think You’re Already Home

/ @jaerie

Seeing Louis Tomlinson today, it would be hard to guess that he was ever once a member of the world's most famous boyband. These days he doesn't even the leave his own house. The truth is he can't leave his own house. He can't even remember the last time just standing at an open door didn't send him into a debilitating panic attack. But, against his friend's advice, Louis is ready to add meaning to his life again. He's ready to start a family. So what if he doesn't have an omega? There are plenty of surrogacy services just waiting to help the rich and famous become parents. He just has to find the right one for the job.

We Got The World Shaking

/ FutureMrsHaroldStyles

Suddenly Louis is taking Harry’s hand in his own and turns to his sister. “I’m taking him to my room. Don’t worry I’m going to take care of him. Now go and enjoy your party, little sis!”

And with that Louis leads Harry to the elevator. The thoughts in Harry’s head are going wild but they all come down to Fuck am I really gonna spend my heat with Louis Tomlinson?

Or the one where Harry goes into heat at his best friend Lottie's birthday party and her big brother helps him out.

No Love Like Your Love

/ Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

Seeing Blind

/ zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

Wolf Boy (Like No One Else)

/ cristalrush

Harry turned his head and smelt the pillow. He was slowly waking up but didn’t want to. He wanted to stay asleep and keep smelling that scent. He was certain it was only made up by his brain because nothing could smell like that. So good and relaxing but at the same time exciting and new. He tucked the soft blanket higher up, so he could hide under the covers for a while longer. His aunt would come soon and wake him up.. Except... no, Marie was not coming to wake him up. He wasn’t at home. He was somewhere he didn’t even know, sleeping in someone else’s cabin and this wasn’t his bed.

Harry sat up fast, the blanket falling down on his lap. Harry looked around the room and saw a boy in front of him, sleeping in an armchair with a baseball bat next to him. And that was when Harry screamed.

Or the one where Harry leaves his old pack in hopes to find his soulmate. And that’s when he meets Louis, an alpha who doesn’t believe in soulmates.

Si Pudiera Volar

/ @softfonds

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You’re Running From (Love Was Something You’ve Never Heard Enough)

/ hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased.

Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

[amxthystiine]

Oh god this is gonna be a long one 💀

Now, at long last we get to the meat of our tale, as we cut to our unlucky bespectacled brunette scrambling down the street to school, his heart racing as he darts through the gates right before they closed.

"Phew, that was another close call... Man, Lucy would MURDER me if I was late!"

Thomas Pascall muttured to himself, laughing and shuddering at the thought of one of his closest two friends at the moment - Lucy Franklin, an blonde, usually glasses-wearing amber-eyed formal & intelligent girl with a penchant for sweaters & vests.

She's a very strict stickler for rules and order, being quite cold and blunt, but when it truly counts she wouldn't hesitate to come to her friend's aid and stand up against injustices, or at least, that what she likes to call them.

While she does warms up to you quite quickly once you get to really know her, something about her just seemed...familiar to Tom, in a way that resonated with him. He couldn't explain it, but he felt like he knew her for years.

The same applied for his other closest friend - Emery Bower, another girl with dark brown hair and eyes who just can't be seen without either her crystal necklace, a denim jacket or her black hat with a sprig of lavender attached to it by a pinkish-lavender ribbon.

While on the surface she seemed to be the generic bratty grumpy teenager who you'd expect to yell "IT'S NOT A PHASE, MUM!" she's a truly passionate person in every way of the word, whether it be her ranting about teachers that couldn't fucking do their job or encouraging and hyping up a friend when they're down

There was just somethin about the fire that would light in her eyes when she was excited about something that you couldn't resist adoring, and yet, that twinkle in her eyes felt familiar as well, somehow.

Oh, and speaking of which-

"RAAGH!"

"HOLYSHI-"

"PFFFFTTT SHHAHAHAHA! YOUR DAMN FACE WHEN I GOT YOU LIKE THAT TOM!! I GOT YOU SOOOOO GOOD!"

"Oh come ON EMERY GIVE IT A REST WOULDJA?!"

-That's right, Emery can get a bit petty and mischievous at times. Dammit, OF COURSE she'd try to scare me when I was almost late to school there!

I sigh to myself, walking and chatting with Emery as she animatedly gesticulated her way through the wildest stories she'd hear around town.

Just another regular school day, I thought to myself as I finger-gunned, smiling cheesily at Lucy who facepalmed herself in embarrassment, flushing slightly as she walked over to me and Emery, walking together to our classes as I heard a voice in my subconscious-

"Man, when are you gonna confess to one of em?! I can tell you love em as best friends, but at this fuckin' point I think you want to be something more! Especially with Lucy~"

The teasing voice brang a specific smug clock-eyed face to mind as I heard it ring inside my head, and thus I grumbled my reply under my breath -

"Oh c'mon K, you know I only love them platonically and nothin' more. I'm not damn ready for the commitment of a partner yet..."

That voice, or the bane of my existence as I liked to think of it, is the voice of an insufferable time god that I've done a deal with to gain this time bending scythe in the first place, and now he's stuck in my head, constantly throwing snarky comments at me. Oh, uhm, right, I didn't mention that this was a part of an average school day for me.... Oh well!

I honestly feel as if there's a lot I'm not remembering, and that this guy was the crux of it all, but thinking about said lost memories just felt painful and wrong to me, so I personally just don't like to think about it much.

I do feel as if I'm forgetting something big, though.

As that last thought ran through my mind I sighed again, my head throbbing with pain. I then felt a comforting hand on my shoulder, turning around to find Lucy, a smile that lit up my life on her face. Man, I'll give the madman one thing - he wasn't reaaally too off the mark when it came to my feelings on Lucy. Maybe.

Eventually, we reached our tutor group, or homeroom, or whatever the hell you call it!!

Exhausted and still wheezing after the mad dash to school, I zoned out of the teacher's notices for the day as I gazed around the room, taking note of the others around the room.

A tall, green-&-curly haired boy in a camo shirt, black ripped jeans, green shoes and denim jacket was snoring at the back, clothes a mess as the leaf crown he always wore on his head drifted up and down with him.

Terry Woods, local intimidating guy who doesn't hesitate to use that fact about him to his advantage. Every time, consistently, the guy'd seem like he got next to no sleep when he came to school, his insomnia (or at least, that's what I'm assuming it is-) always getting worse and then better within the month. He has a younger twin, Nova, but I rarely meet her in the halls. She's a sweet girl though, if I recall.

Speaking of Terry, I think something's going on between Emery and Terry, but I'm not really sure what...they never seem to last 5 minutes without glaring at each other or being at each other's sides, and at this point I can't tell whether they want to be in a relationship or they hate each other's guts. Like, one second they're smiling fondly at the other, as if remembering something pleasant about the other person, and the next they're glaring daggers like they're mortal enemies.

Hey look, they're doing it now!

Next to him was the madman daredevil, Richard Robins. His dark blue hair and constantly pulled up hood of his blue hoodie alongside his purple-crystal attached eyepatch over his right eye makes him seem like the menacing, mysterious quiet kid at the back of the class, the impression of which he puts up pretty well, but when it's break or lunch, the only part of that description that really sticks is menace, cause if you thought Emery's jokes were bad, this fucker takes her extraness when it came to pranks and stunts and kicked it up to 11.

Heck, I've heard that the guy has a lighter on him at all hands in his hoodie pocket, ready to burn his hand covered in rubbing alcohol or something to freak out anyone around him.

I do feel a sense of familiarity about him too, but not as strong as Emery and Lucy though. Maybe we met at a concert or a meetup once? Feel like it may be a bit more important than that, but it definitely wasn't for long.

Behind both of them was the local conspiracy theorist as we liked to nickname him, the wannabe detective Martin Menthe, an amber-eyed boy who was rarely seen out of his wizard D&D cosplay outfit - and while it was weird as fuck in my opinion, I ain't denying the fact that his staff, wig and hat was made really well.

Him and some other girl, I think it was Lav(?)

"She wanted to be a prosecutor, right?"

I muttered to myself, getting a reply of -

"Yeah, you're not misremembering someone's name for once ya doofus!"

She and Martin are getting mentored by a person actually in the law workfield, which is extremely lucky, actually, considering the absolute chaos this damn city is at night. This guy is usually aggressively scribbling on something, as he was now, on a notepad while glaring at both Rick and Terry in front of him, who seem to be making a few paper airplanes together.

So, where does the "conspiracy theorist" nickname come from? Well, every now and then Martin will end up dragging a full ass blackboard into school during lunch, the board being covered in red threads and pictures and newspaper articles as he gestures wildly at the entire board, excitedly rambling with a passion that rivaled Emery's about how this accident was linked to one 3 years ago or whatever. Like, his logic is all sound and the guy's terrifyingly good at deductions and profiling, but he never really has any evidence on his red-thread boards, so I find them hard to believe. To be honest, most of the school only crowds around Martin not for whatever theory he's gonna pull out of his ass this time but for comedic content n shit as they probably make parody vids of the guy and post em online for everyone to see.

I've also usually seen him running about at night, always finding where all the fights were (somehow) and scurrying like a little rat as he tries to gather what I assume is evidence for his theories.

Or at least, that's what I think people here'd do. Either way Martin doesn't ever bothered by stuff like that, and honestly? Godspeed man. I will say though, he always hits a peak of his delirium at school around this time of the month anyways, so maybe someone should start watching his caffeine intake??? I dunno man, I'm just concerned for him, because with willpower, determination and confidence like Martin's comes the wildest of incidents, and let's just say it's not Terry or Rick or any other jock round here who gets the most hospital trips round this school.

On the desk to the left of him was Orion, a curious, polite & quite mysterious black-and-white haired amnesiac with decorum to rival royalty. Y'know, I could've sworn I've heard at least Martin ramble at least once about how Orion and Victoria were long lost royalty. Pfft, imagine that! I will say though, how we first saw him at school in full armor, sheathed sword in hand with a diadem on top probably did help his theory, but hey, we already have one cosplaying maniac on the premises so a second one wouldn't be too surprising. He probably got lost on his way back from a convention.

And while usually he is quite nice and caring to others, I still quite often see him with the three I've mentioned before. I will say, I've heard that they're roommates, but still, that doesn't really mean you have to be around them for so often out of said room- like, if you see a hoodied roommate of yours get on the building's roof somehow, holding a basketball, poised to jump as another two your roommates juggle a hoop between them, I think you'd yell at them to get down and stop messing around, and not join your first roommate by flipping through the hoop and into a bucket of water.

Don't ask. The point is, he seems to have some kinda reckless side that just kinda cement him as part of these four as the harbingers of the craziest news that happens around here.

Oh, and about Victoria, she's much more casual and cheery than Orion, and is one of his closest friends. I'd consider them a bit more considering the amount of time they spend with each other, running all around town, but they never really seem to be dating yet, despite the fact that it's obvious these two sweethearts have a crush on each other. They seem to trust each other a lot and are the closest of friends, but something about them feels kinda awkward, like as if they both feel like they're not supposed to be near the other.

It's weird man, just like most of the people here.

At the opposite corner to the Quartet Out Of Hell, sat their honorary 5th member, Jack, an energetic cheery but snarky idiot who has a habit of taking things a bit too far. As I mentioned earlier, he too hangs around the previous four mentioned, and likes to act as a wingman for them, whether it be pulling off insane stunts at dates or switching off the power supplies for the lights as to bail the other out. He's a dark blue haired kid with a yellow highlight akin to a bolt of lightning in his hair, and is usually seen in a vanity jacket and sneakers. Oh, and he's really good with tech, but letting him DJ at last year's prom was......certainly a decision.

I gazed upon my other classmates before gazing out the window, vision blurring as I started to space out-

RRRIIIIIINGGG!

-Suddenly, a sharp noise pierced my ears as I snapped out of my stupor, cupping my hands over my ears as the bell went off. Yeesh, I keep forgetting how LOUD that thing can be! Shoving my hands in my pockets, I joined back up with Lucy and Emery as we split up for our respective classes, from which the rest of the day was a blur, apart from lunchtime, as per usual.

My prediction earlier turned out to be bang on the money as I watched Martin, wizard hat askew, drag his trusty blackboard to the front of the cafeteria and opened it up to see the usual mess of red threads and newspaper clippings, except, something was a bit different about how the audience was gazing upon the board and the confidence that the theorist had while wildly pointing about the familiar images on the board-

Wait.

Is that?

No, no way, it can't be-

And yet, it was. I thought he was just joking about making this but seeing it in front of my eyes right here, right now, has really made me respect Martin's guts for doing this.

The local vigilante identity theorizing board he kept boasting about.

So, uhm, Martin had this weird theory that he kept saying he was "working on" that some people here at this school was somehow linked to the local news's headliners as, if it wasn't obvious enough already, this city's a bit of a chaotic hellhole, with self-proclaimed heroes, villains, vigilantes and anti-heroes scrambling all over the place, and while it's all fun and games hearing & witnessing the latest spat between Firecracker and the Celestial Paladin until you're the one in between them.

Seriously though, knowing Martin's luck, he'll get like 2 of these right, and they'll be the most dangerous of them all to cross, and next thing you know it he's coming to school next morning with an eyepatch akin to Rick's...

...and hey, wait, I recognize that picture! That exact moment where sparks flew between the Midnight Mage's and Monarch's staffs had a photo taken from another point of view, being featured in the front page news! I knew that green blur looked SOMEWHAT familiar...

To be honest, I think this new board may be his magnum opus so far, and I can easily tell that he sure as hell thinks so considering the smug face he's making in the corner right now. Man, some people are NOT going to take this lightly...

...I stared at Emery, curious to see what her take was on it.

And, surprisingly, (or not, honestly) she was glaring at Terry again, and he was glaring back, both with such intensity I could almost hear the crackle of electricity between them!

Lucy, right behind her, was putting up a brave face, but even I could tell she was sweating from all the way back here. Poor girl's gonna have a lot of rumours and scuffles to squash as student council president...I told her not to stress herself out on the job just yesterday as well!

"Oooooooh, man, I often see this kiddo scrambling about at night, but even I have to give him credit. Considering how destructive these scuffles can be, to be able to get even these little bits of evidence is impressive!! Gotta give credit where it'd due 'n all!"

Yet again that sing-song voice reverberated obnoxiously in my head, just what I needed after the entire cafeteria had burst out into yells and heated chatter.

"God damn it K, can you not???? Like at least is there like a volume slider up in there????"

"Pssssht, you deal with it or I take the whee-"

"NO. Especially not HERE!"

"Fine fine, calm down you idiot, I was kidding anyways...I'm no fuckin good round people and have no restraint anyways."

I probably looked like a maniac if anyone saw me muttering and gesturing to myself but eh, in this racket I'd bet everyone was too focused on spreading the word around anyways.

After the small conversation with K, the bell suddenly rang, ringing so effing loudly that even the local gossips around here shut up as they looked up in surprise. My ears are still ringing after that one...

I then caught a glimpse of the headteacher, still in that tuxedo (?) suit (?) (I have no idea how to describe it...) and mask that hid every part of his skin watching with his beady eyes from behind the cafeteria doors...something's definitely up with that guy. Of course, an investigation into him will have to wait as I already have enough mysteries on my plate to solve whatever it is, but man, I'm keeping an eye on him. I squinted at him while leaving, as to be able to somewhat communicate that I couldn't trust the guy.

But hey, I then walked to my next class and the rest of the day flew by. What can I say? I was excited for how this move of Martin's would affect tonight's shenanigans.

As I eventually opened the door to my dorm, darting straight to the bathroom as I changed and got myself ready for tonight, I take a look at my scythe mentioned way back earlier in my room's cupboard.

Look, I had nowhere else to put it ok? Worst case scenario, if someone sees it they'll think it's am elaborate cosplay accessory.

Seeing my reflection in it's blade, I grinned at myself.

Oh yeah, I never really said that I was trying to take up my father's legacy, did I?

Well, a few (years ? or months ? everything's becoming a blur to me...) back I decided to trudge on a journey as to discover what truly happened to my dad, and why he just went missing all of a sudden.

It was this search that lead me to discover his old files on researching time travel, and I then quickly connected the dots between him and the Time-Reaper, however, before he got to share his discoveries in plain clothes, he disappeared. Gone, without a trace, leaving me and my sickly mother behind as she too died a few years afterwards.

Thus, I just have to know what happened to him. You're telling me that I have to believe that he had so much going for his life, and just threw it away by ending it all or just disappearing? No. It had to be a kidnapping, or a final duel, or something if that sort!

He cared for me as a child, and I have many fond memories of all of us together...

...no, I have to get back on track. No time for reminiscing on lost time now.

Basically, I decided to take up his legacy and follow in his footsteps as to be able to hopefully get for info about him by retracing his steps.

Ok. Maybe it was a liiiittle bit influenced by the really cool idea of being a hero. But hey, what else could I do with a scythe that RIPS THROUGH THE SPACE TIME CONTINIUUM?!

I then rushed to the rooftop, clambering up the ladder as I stood on the balcony, leaving on my scythe, my hair flowing behind me in the wind. Ah, man have I missed this!

I took a deep breath, smirking as I swung my scythe back up at a carryable height, walking backwards towards the railing, flipping round it as my vision turned upside down, gazing downwards at the maze of houses and dark alleys beneath me-

I let go of the railing.

Man, I always get giddy at this part!

Twirling my scythe in front of me, I press a hidden button near the centre of the pole, causing the tip of my scythe to reveal a smaller, sharper blade, and rip a time rift that I fall into, resulting in me landing on my two feet on a street a few blocks down from my house.

I then casually walk past as if nothing happened, using the bottom spike of the scythe to sew the hole back up like fabric.

Hehehe. Like the fabric of space time. Wait, is that why it was named that???

"Yes, idiot, of course it is. For someone with a scythe that grants you the power to time travel, you sure don't know SHIT about how it works-"

"God dammit K, don't start lecturing me about how-"

We, (or, well, I?) bicker as I go on patrol round the town, wondering if Martin's sudden call out would somehow influence tonight's events. I will say, a couple of my own suspicions were on there...

I then hear a familiar flutter of feathers and the swoosh of fireballs as I lean on my scythe, turnimg around to see the shadows of a familiar person- and a much bigger beast, the wall near me showing these shadows being lit up by a bright purple light akin to fire. Yikes. Looks like Amethyst got to the Menace first. I would intervene...but I feel if I did I'd probably get horribly injured, would horribly injure someone or just ruin the flow of the fight in general. And I know that the Midnight Mage is a strong magic wielder - she could probably take care of the Menace herself, and be pissed at me if I disrupted her concentration.

Right. I, alongside two other vigilantes round here are part of a team? Kind of? It's more so like having a good colleague you can rely on. Like usually we take our own opponents on by ourselves but in cases of emergencies or situations where one person isn't enough, we won't hesitate to work together. I guess it's an alliance of sorts, then?

As part of this team, we've given ourselves codenames. The Midnight Mage is Amethyst, I'm Wisp, and the Celestial Paladin is Astrid. Some of these weird titles can be a mouthful, so we usually just stick to our codenames or nicknames based on our titles, I guess.

Letting out a small sigh of guilt on ditching my colleague, I flip around on hearing sudden yells and loud, fast-paced footsteps, only to see a blue blur leaping across rooftops, something like smoke and flames trailing on from behind it.

And moments later, from right behind me came the source of those footsteps - a nimble, green-robed figure holding what looked like a huge cup filled with and donning a wizard like ha- hey wait, isn't that-

"COME BACK HERE YOU FIEND! I WILL APPREHEND YOU!!" shouted Martin, changing towards Firecracker like his life depended on it.

Will Martin EVER give up his chase after Firecracker?! I know that he despises him for burning shit down that he considers inhumane, but he also hates Amethyst for her disregard for local property during battles! So why chase one far more than the other?! Even worse, of the two, Firecracker's the one that's far more likely to hurt you-

"Goddammit-! move outta the way! Can't you see I'm in pursuit of an arsonist over here?!"

I hear a sudden yell from behind as I was pushed out of the way, the flame in Martin's eyes being one to rival any blaze that Firecracker made. Yeah...on second thought, maybe interfering with this chase is a bad idea as well.

I turn away again, feeling less guilty as no-one knows how that chase'll end. The one guarantee is that Martin'll lose Firecracker again, and that he'll have some kind of injury to prove it.

I kept going round and round my usual patrol route but didn't find any other disturbances - apart from a couple of shadows zipping past and a crash here and there, and even then I couldn't catch whoever the hell they were.

Thus, I decided to call it a night, disappointed, yet unsurprised with the little action the night had. As I changed back into normal clothes and locked my scythe away again, I leapt into bed, ready for another day of similar tasks and a good, long sleep.

Well, that's what the boy told himself, anyways. Little did he know just how quickly his night-time excursions would escalate...

[what-if-nct]

So good morning, friend! I come bearing another NCT related dream. Very short though:

I was back in the realm of NCT X, cause I was finishing practicing a routine with my girls, and the 127 boys were practicing after us. This was a completely different building and everything though, so idk what’s up with that, but I remember staying behind a bit and seeing Jungwoo practicing with Mark and Yuta I think, and some Hulk Hogan looking man came up to me and asked what I was looking at. I was confused who he was and just said, my band mates.

Then, a female manager came up to Jungwoo and said something (I couldn’t hear because apparently I was outside a glass window/door) and I just saw him GO OFF. He kept pointing and gesticulating something over and over. Whatever he was saying obviously bothered him to his core, because even the manager looked scared and upset.

I was so confused about what was going on. I looked at the Hulk Hogan man and I asked him if he had any idea what’s happening. He responded back “it’s none of our business so all you need to worry about is keep dancing and looking pretty.” I was so appalled and flabbergasted. I almost punched him. However, my manager came up just in time and took me away. I turned and asked my manager, “do you know why Jungwoo is so upset?” My manager told me that it had something to do with another female idol in the company but to not worry about it, it was being handled. I didn’t like that answer and I wanted to investigate further, but apparently I was told that I was needed for a photo shoot with the entire group.

I went out and I ended up seeing Johnny and Ten and I wanted to stand next to Johnny for the picture, but Ten wouldn’t let me. He claimed that I have been avoiding him the entire duration of being in NCT so I offered to standby him, and I even hugged him. I have nothing against him. I don’t know why he would say this.

I also kept saying that I felt like there were more people than what we currently have, and not only was it the new dongsaengs, but also RIIZE and it made me cry to see Sungchan and Shotaro back with their papas and uncles again. Also my unit was there, and Shoko kept messing with someone I didn’t recognize. It was my IRL crush. And I was like, “whatchu doing here man?!”

That’s all I remember cause then the old Bruce Wayne from Batman Beyond was taking over my dream begging for youth and then something something, Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. But that was my dream, no explanation

Wait okay so now I'm invested with what was going on with Jungwoo and that girl, the drama and no answers, you gotta ask Jungwoo cause I wanna know. And no like he low-key deserved to be punch cause what? Like let you be nosy for a second. And Ten being upset you haven't paid attention to him, and you having to give him extra affection to reassure him is so cute. Okay this is only reinstating RIIZE is just a secret NCT unit like once neo always neo nothing can change that. They're a part of NCT, that's it. Plus they are so chaotic on TikTok and aware of the chaos they're creating like I love them. Also the conflicting unrelated voice over during the dream I can only imagine it being so cluttered. My Taeil dream last night was my first NCT dream in a while. My dreams have been weird lately like super disjointed and vague cause I keep waking up in the middle of the night.

[lumierecharity]

Miraculous medal, front and back

Luky:

THE SEVENTH of November has always been a red letter day in my life, as it marks the birthday of a near and dear one. When she was small she'd be counting the weeks and days leading up to it for months, giving us no chance to forget it.

One year's birthday was probably a lot different. As mother (at the time) of two and expecting her third child in another six months' time, she had enough to occupy her mind.

All the same, I phoned her that morning and she enthused about the lovely gifts her husband had brought her.

Unsuspecting

I on my side had good news too. My own husband, having successfully got over his operation, was coming home the next morning. We mutually expressed our pleasure and rang off.

Little did I know then that I was about to remember November the 7th for quite a different reason.

Just before ten that morning one of the matrons of the local hospital telephoned me. My husband was back in the intensive care unit of the surgical ward, she said, and she was sure I'd be wanting to see him to encourage him as soon as I could.

A nod is as good as a kick to a willing horse, so I went to my boss and got permission to go to the hospital.

Plugged in

Having arrived there I found my husband lying on a bed, tubes and bottles attached to several parts of his body. He was barely able to speak but the matron had explained to me that he had either got a clot in the lung, known a a pulmonary embolism, or in the heart; called a coronary thrombosis.

He had complained of a very severe pain across his chest. "I've nursed Mr Whittle for years", the matron said, "and I know him well enough to be aware that by the time he finally complains there is something seriously wrong."

Strong friend

I can't tell you how kind everyone was. As parents of one of the hospital's student nurses at the time, we received VIP treatment.

My old neighbour grabbed me as I was leaving the hospital on my way to I know not where and steered me back to the ward. She's a nursing sister and midwife and was a tower of strength to me in the eight years we lived next door to each other. It was like living next door to my doctor.

Complicated prang

When I pranged my car that morning, trying to get out of a parking place, three men helped to liberate me. If you gave me five thousand rand to repeat what I must have done to steer my car into such a position, I'd have to decline because I just don't understand how I managed it.

Please pray

Early next morning I telephoned my sister. My husband was on the critical list and my brother-in-law came to the phone and asked what he could do.

"Take all your children to church now on their way to school and have them pray a Hail Mary for their uncle", I pleaded.

He did that and more. That afternoon as I arrived again at the hospital, he was sitting outside my husband's ward. He had taken the day off and spent four hours driving my mother and sister to see me. I've always thought that man was a jewel; now I have proof.

My mother stayed and looked after the children for the next few days, much of which I spent as hospital.

It's good to have a family.

More to come

A second clot was to pass through my husband's lung before his agony was over. I received a letter from my colleagues at the office; all of them had gone into one office and prayed together for my husband's recovery. Everybody was praying, especially the lady who worked for us. 

"I was so scared Mr Whittle was dying", she said.

The younger children, aware of the tension, became unbearable, looking for attention, arguing and quarrelling and crying hysterically over nothing.

Interesting incident

The day I knew things would improve I was seated in a little room outside the intensive care unit, talking to my daughter. I had been given permission to look in at my husband on the half-hour.

She had taken off her miraculous medal and handed it to me to put round her father's neck.

We were talking and I was gesticulating with the hand which held the medal. Suddenly I looked down on my knee, and there to my astonishment I found that the chain had arranged itself into the shape of that peculiar broad flat "M" on the back of the miraculous medal.

People have laughed at my assertions of miracles all my life so I said nothing about it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

'That's odd", I said to my daughter, "What does this remind you of?"

"The M on the back of the miraculous medal", she said. "And look next to it, that's a heart shape, also found on the back of the medal."

"Your father will be all right now", I said after marvelling for a little while, and handed her back her chain. "He won't need this."

I went into the ward and spoke to the heart specialist.

"Your husband is improving", he informed me, "though he's not out of danger yet."

It was all I could do not to tell him he was wrong. With such a powerful patroness as our Lady showing her very personal concern, I knew that no power on earth could prevent my husband from recovering.

Catherine Nicolette

Dad went on to make an uneventful recovery - an amazing turnaround as he had been critically ill. I have great devotion to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal and both Mom and I received much comfort from the configuration of the chain. Do I believe this was a sign from God? The comfort I received when I saw the symbols of holiness was deep. In that moment I knew: all will be well.

Having been witness to many signs and wonders from God throughout my life, I would encourage you to look out in your own life for those moments in which God is present with comfort and hope.

The Miraculous Medal is a holy devotion which brings special spiritual protection and comfort. Why not find out more?

Visit for petition to Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal

at https://lumierecharitymarian.blogspot.com/2017/08/petition-to-our-lady-of-miraculous-medal.html

[emxie]

When the World Was At War We Kept Waltzing

You are the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country. A charming and mysterious stranger steals your heart. What could go wrong?

Zhongli x Fem Reader

Warnings: Blood, gore, murder/massacre, violence, one curse word, slightly suggestive content, somewhat yandere Zhongli

Word Count: 3139

A/N: There are several influences that inspired this piece. Music plays a huge part in my writing, so originally I drew inspiration from Lana Del Rey, specifically her Born To Die album, which I love to pieces. Of course, this song title is basically from a Lana Del Rey song (from her Lust for Life album), except for the last word, which I changed to "Waltzing" both for alliteration/phonetics purposes, and because it fits the theme of the fic more. You might recognize influences from Hamilton and Parasite, as I also like these pieces of media. When I first started writing it, I meant to include more angst, but as I formed the story, it morphed into a darker storyline and came to involve some blood and gore. What can I say, I just enjoy writing horror. Additionally, you might notice some repeating motifs throughout the story, specifically involving color. After reading The Great Gatsby, I have been fundamentally changed as a person, and thus why this fic also contains color symbolism and repetition of such themes. Also, although it's a bit vague and I didn't specify the time period in the actual story, I like to imagine that this takes place in the 1920s (just like The Great Gatsby), and there's like the sense of grandeur and riches associated with the time period (until it all goes south with the stock market crash, but let's pretend that didn't exist in this fic).

Enough about the background. I have not gotten Zhongli yet, despite doing 30 rolls and then some, and his banner is still continuing for another week and a half or so, so I'm saving more primogems up to roll more for him. Please come home Zhongli!!!! I'm so desperate you're the one character I would pay money for. Anyways, take this fic as another cry for help from the RNG gods to give me Zhongli.

I hope you enjoy the story, and remember that if you are triggered by violence and graphic imagery, or yandere-type characters, please don't read this fic.

“Would you like to be mine, and I yours?”

That was what he had asked you on this balcony laden with brocade ribbons and your heart bursting with passion.

A breathy “Yes” passed your lips, and then he was on your lips, gripping the bodice with a ferocity bridled. You two had stayed like that under the moonlight, broken up only by the occasional crackle of a firework.

You ran your fingers over the marble balustrade. Memories danced through your mind, earning a small sardonic quirk at the corner of your mouth.

How naïve you were.

That night set in motion a series of elaborate plans, not that you were aware.

Not even a week later, he had asked your father for your hand in marriage. You watched, holding your breath, as he sat across the furnished oak table from your father. As they talked, his hands continued to move as if they were their own entity, gesticulating to convey his intense love for you.

After an hour of discussion, you watched as your father reached across the table to shake hands with your love.

He stood up, moving across the room to where you sat. His amber eyes glowed as he reached out to you, gloved hands an inviting trap. You took his hand, standing up and being pulled into a tight hug. He brushed his lips against your ear. “You’re mine, beloved.”

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

After another month of bliss, engaged to the man who had taken your heart in its entirety, painting it red with his raging passion for you and entreating you to his cause, the wedding was announced. And it would be a sight to behold.

The absolutely sheer size and amount of wealth your family possessed signified that this would be a legendary union for ages to come. Invites slipped into envelopes and marked with your family’s seal, a dove holding an olive branch, were sent to hundreds around the country. Day in and day out maids and ladies-in-waiting would pester you about the dress, the flowers, the decorations, the theme, the ring you wished to gift your soon-to-be husband, and a variety of other accessories.

In the few spare moments you were able to catch with your fiancé, you would find yourself within his arms, gripping onto his broad shoulders as he bent down and kissed you. Occasionally you two would get a little too riled up, and had to cut your loving short lest a servant find you. But in those several times you found yourself subject to his more intense states, you were shivering, eager to learn what it was finally like to be loved by such a fierce and powerful man. And as you grabbed onto his long black and caramel locks which trailed behind him whenever he walked, pulling him down into a rough kiss, his hands ghosting your body feverishly, you couldn’t wait to be wed.

And wed you would be. For it was the day of your holy union to the one you loved, and excitement thrummed throughout your body as you were being dressed. The maids were straightening out the final pieces of your outfit. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you could hardly recognize the person staring back at you. The intricate makeup, paired with the dramatic crimson dress that you chose, was certainly a statement. Layers of bright red fabric made a beautiful waterfall all the way from your chest to your ankles. Making the decision to dress so boldly was another way to ensure the strength and legacy of your family among the wealthy. Of course, at the time, you didn’t think much of how he had suggested you wear a certain color.

They placed the scarlet veil over your face, obscuring your vision. It was time.

You walked out of the dressing room, a couple of servants gathering the glorious gradient of a tulle train behind you. The presence of such a color caused pride to swell in your heart, and your back straightened and you felt a bit taller as you slowly stepped, in sangria-colored heels no less, towards your future.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

You had arrived at the venue where the wedding was to be held. Hundreds of people, most whom you knew from previous encounters, milled around the entrance. Your maids guided you towards a side entrance, so that you would be prepared to walk down the aisle once everyone was seated.

After some time waiting, you were informed that everyone had gotten settled, and it was about time for you to walk.

Rising from your seat, you passed another mirror in the room before leaving. Glancing at your reflection, you noted how your appearance seemed to herald…something. You resembled a specter; of what kind though, would remain unseen.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

Regal doors, carved with designs of divine intervention, could barely be seen beyond your veil. There was a hand clenching around your heart. You could feel your pulse speed up. This was it. The beginning of your happy ever after.

Your father stood to your right, looping your arm with his. “Look at my gorgeous pumpkin, already so grown up.” You offered a delicate smile at these words.

A grinding noise sounded as the doors opened. Music began to play as you began the slow trek to the altar. Each step felt like an eternity. There was a noticeable hush as you began to walk.

Your gaze swept over the guests. You could make out some familiar faces. They looked as if they were drenched in a red liquid due to the filtering effects of the veil.

Then you were there. Your father handed you off, and stepped to the side. Looking up, you saw him.

He was dressed handsomely, in a suit matching your dress’s vivid choice of color. The sleeves stopped just above his wrists, allowing you to focus on his hands. Black gloves still covered his hands, barring you from viewing the naked flesh underneath. A little miffed, but undeterred by such an occurrence, your eyes moved up to his face.

He possessed a strong profile. Intense golden eyes, an angled bridge of a nose, lips that were straight-set, yet still so luscious and plump (you knew from kissing them so often), and a jawline to die for.

His eyes trailed over your body, taking in the sight of how beautifully you had dressed up. Just for him.

The music ceased. Only the occasional shuffling noise could be heard from the guests.

“We gather here today to celebrate a most momentous union!” The priest announced with a wide sweep of his arms. Some polite applause ensued, before dying into oblivion again.

The priest continued on with his speech. Some of the words became lost on you. Staring into those glowing amber eyes really did make you lose track of time.

With the exchange of the rings, you gave him a black ring carved from obsidian with ruby and gold veins running through it. In return, he gave you a typical diamond ring, although the jewel was perched atop a red crown. The priest was about to conclude.

“You may kiss the bride,” he declared. Your husband leaned in, grasping your soft hands in his rough leather gloves. He placed one hand behind your back and dipped you, while flipping the veil behind your head in one fluid motion. The crowd gasped in awe at his movement.

You could finally view his handsome face, unhindered by red. He kissed you, those plush lips resting comfortably on yours, just as they did on that nighttime balcony escapade. His eyes flashed a golden brown as he did so, so fast that you missed it. Your eyes fluttered shut, basking in his unwavering attention.

You didn’t feel the veil floating back down to shield your face from the atrocities committed. Almost. The absence of his warm lips and firm grip had you opening your eyes, searching for the touch of your husband.

The world was swathed in red. The guests were asleep, draped over the chairs in awkward and unnatural positions. Your father was slumped in his chair. Standing in the middle of the aisle was your husband. You ran up to him, hiking up your dress to reach his side.

“What happened?” you inquired.

“It had to be done,” he whispered, shoulders stiff as he stared down at the ground, hands entrenched in his pockets.

“Wait, what had to be done? What do you mean by that?” You backed up, heel skidding on the marble surface almost too easily. Tumbling backwards, you landed with only the padding of your dress breaking your fall.

The sudden motion tossed your veil backwards.

It was red. Everything was red. Red. Red. RED.

A scream clawed its way out of your throat. You back-pedaled on the floor, away from the man. No longer was his aura inviting. The love within your heart was obliterated in an instant, crushed by the rising fear that swallowed every warm emotion in its dark terror.

Your hand slipped. Catching yourself on your elbows, you looked to the side. A slick scarlet substance coated your hand. You knew what it was.

Your stomach twisted into a knot at the sight, sending a wave of nausea throughout your body.

The clicking of dress shoes against the floor had you freezing in place, too afraid to do anything else. What could he possibly want? You thought that you had it all, and he had truly loved you.

He knelt down in front of you, cupping your face with a bare hand dyed garnet. You flinched as his soiled skin made contact with you. You didn’t miss the sorrow in those entrancing golden eyes as he witnessed you shy away from him.

“I had to do it, my dear dove.”

“Why? WHY?!” you yelled, slapping away his hand. “My entire family is dead because of you!”

“Now; that’s not entirely true, princess.” He gestured with a grand sweep of his arm to your surroundings. “Give a great round of applause to your regularly-scheduled assassins!!!”

He chuckled at your puzzled expression, slowly morphing to one of wide-eyed horror. Several wedding guests arose from the prone bodies around them, dressed in all black and with Gatling guns slung over their back.

“I don’t understand. What could you possibly gain from murdering my family, much less hundreds of people?” you protested.

“Angel, angel, angel.” He tsked at your confusion.

In one quick smooth motion he had wrapped his hands around your head and placed his forehead against your own. You squirmed in his hold, cringing at the feeling of life, other people’s once thriving life, coating your once perfectly-coiffed hair.

“Oh, is my dear princess a little squeamish?” His voice had deepened, sending tremors throughout your body. You felt his fingers tighten around your locks, tugging on them ever so slightly.

“A small price to pay for the keys to an empire.”

It dawned on you.

“This…this entire time, I trusted you! How dare you scheme to steal my family’s fortune!” You struggled once more, and he released his hold on you, having thoroughly soaked your hair a crimson shade.

He began to pace in front of your weakened form.

“Beloved, you know that I only have the best intentions. Believe me, I really did fall in love with you. At least, that’s all it was at first. Did you know, the idea came to me in a dream, with you by my side? You gave me the idea. You agreed to be rid of the shackles of your family’s status and expectations in order to be by my side. And that’s when I reached for the sun, love.”

You spit at his shoes.

He stopped pacing. Leaning down, hovering over your body, he gripped your chin with a newfound strength, sending jolts of pain throughout your face. “You’re lucky I love my wife so much that I would be willing to overlook a little bit of deviance, when she should be rightfully punished.” As you were forced to look up, the amber eyes you had so loved to stare into for hours on end gleamed with a vicious ambition, thirsty for vengeance and glimmering with scathing deceit.

He released his hold, and continued to pace.

“I thought to myself: why not kill two birds with one stone? Continue my original plan of marrying you, but orchestrate the death of your father to gain access to an entirely new world of wealth.”

“You bastard! I hate you!” You screamed at him, voice growing more hoarse with each passing second.

“Now darling, I don’t think that’s an appropriate way to treat your dear husband,” he mused, shooting you another glance with those damned eyes.

You shut your mouth, the obscenities coming to a halt. Something sinister lurked beneath the surface of those eyes. And if you didn’t stop yelling, you didn’t want to know what he would do.

“Now, as I was saying, once we were legally married, I would be able to get rid of your father without anyone questioning my claim to your family’s assets.”

“Then why did you kill every other person in this room?” you questioned, voice cutting into his reasoning with a bitter hatred.

“Simple. They were collateral.” He shrugged as if this were the most rational approach to take.

“Don’t give me that sanctimonious bullshit,” you spat. “You know perfectly, as do I, that there was no need to shed so much blood over an act that could have been committed in secret.” Your voice cracked as the “secret” spilled over your lips. The gravity of this atrocious event hit you straight in the stomach, twisting your insides until you felt sick.

Sinking to the floor, you began to sob, body trembling against the cold floor. This time you ignored the drying vitality crusting over the white marble, for it could no longer distract you from the terrible truth that had been unveiled. You could not escape the claws of the dead, for they were forever persistent, leaving indelible rust-colored stains that permeated your dress, your skin, and your mind most of all.

He let you cry, until you could mourn no more.

Growing quiet, you whispered one thing through a raspy voice: “Why play your ace now?”

“I couldn’t just sit by and take the coward’s approach out. I had to go all out, my love. Otherwise, I would have no right to call you my wife, and you to call me your husband.”

“And how do you plan to cover this up? This isn’t some stupid business deal you can let fall through when it no longer suits you. These are lives you so carelessly crushed. You toyed with the fate of all these people. And you will pay.” You steeled your gaze at him, glaring with all of your might.

“I won’t let that happen, dove.” In one swift movement, he drew a pistol from his suit.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! As naturally as if he were breathing, he took four shots, clean right through the skulls of each of the assassins.

“There. No witnesses besides us two. I hired the assassins from a local mafia. We can blame the deaths on them and how it was part of a larger scheme to take over your family.”

He blew the smoke off the tip of the barrel before pocketing the pistol carefully.

“I believe it is time for us, lawfully wedded husband and wife, to return to our rightful mansion. I will talk to the authorities and handle the specifics, okay? All you have to do for me is sit pretty and act scared, princess.”

He placed another rough kiss to your head, burying his face in your bloody mussed hair. You didn’t respond. He took your left hand in his and placed a delicate kiss, right below the ring he had so lovingly slid onto your finger, which was now saturated through with the runny insides of others. You didn’t respond. He ran his hands, dipped in the sacrifices of others, down the sides of your dress. You didn’t respond. He sighed.

He slid one of his arms under your bottom, and supported your back with the other. “You know, you’ll have to talk to your dear husband sooner or later, dove. I won’t have any bad behavior from my wife.” 

Muttering these final words to your despondent form, your love, the one who had buried his fangs deep into your heart until it dripped red with desire, picked you up in his arms and carried you off, his own bride, back to your home—no, our home—where no one would be there to meet and congratulate you. Where your father would no longer be. And where you would never find happiness again.

🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟🎕⽕⼟

You sighed, running your hands up and down the railing of the balcony. It had been a year since you had first kissed him. A night you will never forget, and always come to regret.

“My darling, my dove, my angel, my princess, the light of my life.” Arms encircled your waist, and he buried his face into your neck. His hands, bared to the chill night air, toyed with your thin coral nightgown.

“What are you thinking about? I hate to see you look so miserable.”

You smiled, despite the pain in your dejected and blackened heart. “Just about the night we first kissed, honey.”

He peppered kisses against your skin. “Ah, yes. That night I wanted to ravage you and steal you for myself. Yet I withheld and waited, remaining patient and anticipating our marriage with open arms. If not for that night, we would never have married and gotten our happy ending. If not for that night, you would have been plucked out of my life forever, like a dying flower. I revitalized you, darling. Look at how you glow in the moonlight. My wife, all for myself.” Chuckling, the timbre of his voice rumbled against your skin.

Placing his right hand around your waist, kneading the soft flesh underneath his fingers, and interlacing the fingers of his left hand with your right, he began to sway with you from side to side. There was no music to guide you two. Yet you still danced, illuminated only by the moon and stars.

And so was your fate. Doomed by the very man you loved. The man who had charmed you and pulled the rug out beneath your feet. The man who had shielded you from the bombs he himself had set, distracting you with promises of loyalty and extravagant gifts. While the rest of the world had raged on, he had blinded you to reality, and now you were his. The man you were to be wed to for all of eternity.

Zhongli 血红血红血红血红血红血红

[kinnersonne]

Silco v. Jhin

“I will give you one chance to explain to me why the most feared assassin in Ionia failed to make the kill.”

Silco drilled that bad eye of his through the ivory mask staring back at him, and the man behind it replied,

“The lighting.”

“Meaning you couldn’t see him?” said Silco. That would explain what he’d heard from the underlings he’d sent to watch the operation covertly: when the mark appeared, the assassin Jhin hadn’t so much as taken the shot. Nothing had happened. Not quite living up to the legend of the Golden Demon, in Silco’s mind.

“No,” said Jhin. “The lighting was hideous. It was unworkable, simply unworkable, that’s the only way I can describe it to you.”

“What does…” Silco meant to finish the sentence off with something like ‘that have to do anything,’ but all he was capable of was repeating the word, “What?”

Jhin had left his seat by this point, apparently in order to free his hands and arms for some needlessly theatric gesticulations. “I assure you, I had full visual coverage of the area, and I know what I saw. Utterly atrocious. Not enough extras, too many props, and the lighting was so ugly, caught between an avant-garde chiaroscuro and a candid. Nothing was working. Nothing. It couldn’t have been any worse if I were trying to write a parody! And so I knew I could not kill the man.”

“And you didn’t.”

“And I didn’t,” he replied, flourishing those delicate fingers of his in a gesture that approached apologetic. “because I have standards.”

Judging by the sigh Silco gave, then, Jhin correctly surmised that he hadn’t read the script he’d given him. Even when he’d been so considerate as to get it to him two whole days before the performance, and afterwards resist the impulse to take it back for revisions. He’d sensed from the beginning that Silco would hardly be receptive to his vision, and had made these peace offerings to help him see the good work of killing from his more elevated perspective, but where had it gotten him? If only that scarred eye (on the left side, mind you!) bore literal symbolic value the way it ought to in a perfect world. If only the man’s personality were as good as his aesthetic.

“There are things I will tolerate,” began Silco, standing up from his desk chair. Jhin did love the way he monologued, and so he did not interrupt. “and there are things I will not. I have tolerated you. Your dress, your eccentricities, your exorbitant fee. All because you promised me Jaimison dead. He is not. I would call that incompetence. That I cannot—have never—tolerated.”

“Will never tolerate.”

“Correct. Now—”

Jhin laughed. “You misunderstand me, I was correcting your grammar.”

Silco huffed through his nose and drew his lips to a line. He came towards him around the desk, and at that Jhin stepped around the vacant chair to circle him, as if they were rivals staking out the area for their duel. Silco’s glare didn’t sharpen but it did increase in density, like sediment settling to the bottom of a glass bottle. He saw that, and he knew what Jhin thought this conversation was, knew why this ridiculous man was folding his arms behind his back and puffing his chest like a pet bird. Was this all a game, to him? He stopped walking, and so did Jhin.

“Stop that.” Silco told him.

“Stop what?” Jhin asked.

“Do you ever stop performing?” He waved at Jhin’s extravagant gilded costume. “It’s exhausting to watch you.”

“As it should be! Art should never be a passive experience.”

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose, because this man was a headache. When he opened his eyes to speak, Jhin, head tilted like a mannequin, was investigating a mug. It was lovingly decorated with an angry monkey face in fluorescent marker. His mug.

“Ah, the art of a child! So pure, so—”

By the time Silco barked “put that down” he’d already taken it back. He slammed it back on his desk. It was noisy, percussive. Jhin was talking,

“I do admire children, their closeness to sheer imagination. They have a deeper connection than we do, with that great unseen that surrounds us and moves us to artistic expression,” he was saying, making those inane gestures with his fingers again. “And I do believe that.”

“We’re not talking about her,” said Silco, and there was a growl to his voice. “We’re talking about you. I don’t think I ought to pay you.”

That did get Jhin to falter: nervous laughter. “Now, Silco, I hardly think that’s an appropriate situation to experiment with hyperbole, it doesn’t suit your aesthetic—”

A cool lift of the eyebrows. “It doesn’t seem fair, to you? You haven’t delivered. Why should I.” Going off of Jhin’s fluster Sevika hadn’t paid him yet. Lucky, that he’d guessed that correctly.

“I understand your concern,” Jhin said, bowing his head and extending his forearm in a concessatory gesture. “It’s never reassuring to have to reschedule. But our contract is still in effect: I promised you Jaimison, and so you will have him. Killed, as agreed upon.” He said the word like it was sweet on his lips.

“I can give you twelve hours,” said Silco. “Longer than that, and he’ll have done enough damage to my reputation not to be worth your bullet. I mean it, Jhin. I want him removed.”

“He’s as good as yours!” said Jhin with defensive hands.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Silco bit out, turning that bad eye on him. “I told you: he’s hiding out in the tenements two blocks down from Drop Street, sixteenth floor on the riverside corner of the building, and his sister works at the Freljord Maid. Find your ‘lighting’ in one of those settings and shoot him.” Why was this foreigner making it harder than it had to be? He thought he was demonstrating taste, no, all he was demonstrating was how little he understood of this world. People like him thought everyone had time to waste on making life look better than it was. Well, other people had work to get on with.

Unbeknownst to Silco, this man he’d employed was planning his death as well as Jaimison’s. Idly, of course, not with any intent to carry it out; who would be brave enough to commission him for the Eye of Zaun? Certainly no one, and so he let his imagination frolic. The scene must be bold. Extreme, almost. Dark, with sharp lighting for contrast, bring out those striking features of his. That false eye could be a better color than orange, but for such a compelling piece of the mise-en-scène he’d make do. And he couldn’t be caught dead with that cheap makeup, literally. The scar must be visible on his last day, it simply had to. Visually it practically wrote itself. Costuming, he guessed, taking a discreet look at Silco’s current composition, would be unnecessary.

Bringing such a stoic man into any kind of dramatic expression would be difficult, however…but the girl? Ah, yes! She could coax it out of him—

“Anybody home, Jhin?”

“Sparklers!” he burst. “I need sparklers!”

Silco waved his hand like he was backhanding someone. “Get out.”

And out he went, humming along with an orchestra no one could hear.

[besotted-eros]

Okay, but imagine your first kiss with Eren. He’s wanted to do it since the first time he’s laid eyes on you. Being the annoying little shit he is, he likes to tease you. He brings his face close to yours, gripping your chin to tilt your head up, then pulls away at the last second. And you fall for it. Every. Single. Time. You want to wipe the smug little smirk on his face, when he knows damn well he leaves you breathless.

In reality, Eren’s actually really nervous. He sees the way you look at him so expectantly that his stomach is doing summersaults and his heart threatens to jump out of his chest. What if she doesn’t like it? You’re gonna have to be the one to make the first move because as much as he likes to tease, he can be pretty shy as well.

When it actually happens, it catches you both off guard.

You're sitting on the hood of his car, cheeks red from the cool night breeze. You had texted him that you couldn't sleep, and the comfort milkshakes he bought you sat discarded now, half finished. Eren was in front of you, the moonlight throwing your best friend's muscles into stark relief. You're looking at his arms closely, how good they look in his loose black t shirt. He had thrown his old denim jacket over your shoulders around the twenty minute mark, complaining that seeing your shivers made him feel cold.

He's gesticulating about some fight he had with Jean over something insignificant. You watch as his eyes dance, miming an uppercut and being kicked in the stomach. His face is extra bright tonight, excited to see you after a few long days apart. Boyishly handsome, that's the best term for him. His soft hair, always unkempt and falling in his wide viridian eyes. Soft, almost full lips that his moon white teeth dragged over when he looked at you.

"Some day, I swear I'm actually gonna hurt the guy and feel bad." He concludes, fixing you with a wide grin as he adjusts his hair tie. He catches the flash of softness in your eyes before you turn your face, rubbing your cheek with his sleeve. It smells like him, like sandalwood and sultry tobacco. "What? What was that?"

"What was what?" You asked, tone airy as you run your thumb over the peeling paint job.

"That face. You looked..." You turn back into time to see his devilish grin, the one that curls the corners of his mouth and makes his eyes glint dangerously. Oh, fuck. "You were just thinking of how pretty I am, weren't you?" He asks, stepping closer to the hood. You scrunched your nose, kicking out a leg to keep him at bay.

"You wish, Jaeger."

"Oh but babe. No need to wish. It's written all over your face." He grabs your foot, large hands sliding up your calf. A long arm comes forward to touch the tip of your nose, spreading warmth like a wildfire across your cheeks.

"See? Right there. You're saying, Oh Eren. You're the most handsome man in the whole world." He feigns a swoon, catching himself on the hood and laughing as you swat the back of his head. He reaches out to touch your cheek. "And look, here. You're saying ' You've ruined other men for me.' " You fought the urge to bite at his hand, settling with holding up your middle finger.

"And what does that say?" You asked, watching as he grabs the rude gesture and clutches it to his heart.

"That you're irrevocably in love with me. " His tone is somber, face contorted into a mask of sympathy and melancholy. It breaks into a smile when yours does and this time you were the one who caught the soft look in his eyes. He realises, turning away to stare up at the moon before you can catch his blush.

"Now who's the love struck one?" You tease, nudging his side.

"Still you, idiot." He retorts, the momentary weakness covered by an excess of bravado. "Look, all it takes is this, and you're putty."

Before you know it, he's playing this familiar game. Leaning in close, cupping your cheek with a calloused hand. The scent of sandalwood is even stronger, mixed with laundry detergent and the spearmint gum he's constantly chewing.

His eyes are heavy lidded, lips pressed forward. You're reminded of every moment that lead to this love of him. Because God, you don't know if it's the late night or the moonlight but he is beautiful. And he's not even inches away, maybe just centimeters. And he's closer, and closer.

Like every time, you think that maybe this is the one. He's getting too close, this time he'll actually kiss you and break this stupid rope of tension that makes you feel like your wrists are chafed.

And then you see the smirk starting.

And the wildfire in your cheeks turns to lava, because FUCKING shit Eren, not again. Not this time.

So you grab him, by the stupid fucking bun. You can feel him stop his turn in its tracks, the almost imperceptible widening of his eyes. And you pull him closer, and closer and then after what feels like centuries you're kissing Eren Jaeger. It feels like freefalling and like being caught.

When you pull away, he's bright red. Like, bright red. And he stutters. It's endearing enough to make you pull him in by the collar for another one, admiring how soft his lips are and how delicately he kisses back.

"Sorry- oh. Sorry." You say, finally breaking away. He's touching his lips, eyes even wider than usually and mouth agape. It seemed you succeeding in stopping that smirk, and you can't help but feel a twinge of pride. It's hard to tell in the pale light, but you have a feeling he's blushing.

"Just got tired of being teased." You shrugged, hugging yourself as you became minutely interested in how the clouds were doing.

Eren draws you back in with a sigh, blocking the moon from your sight as he over comes you, kisses hurried but gentle. Intent on loving you. You can feel his smile, crooked and easy.

"Good." He murmurs. "I got tired of teasing."

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[thesevro]

fashion sense

gojo satoru x reader fluff/crackfic word count: 790 words

WARNINGS: contains mentions of sex A/N: sometimes i just wanna get into someone’s car, steal gojo, and have him choke me in a hotel suite. join us, pretty?

A WARM CLOUD of steam billows from the open shower door. Your fingers draw marks into the misty precipitation on the clean glass as you push the door open, the skin on your shoulders a blushing red from the refreshing warmth of a hot shower.

A contented breath of happiness escapes you. Here you stand, residing in a lavish hotel you know only those of much opulence can afford. You stare at yourself in the mirror and think smugly,

I'm a rich bitch, I eat caviar straight from fish pussy every morning, and I get cock from the hottest man alive on the daily. God, I'm absolutely amazing.

You flip your wet hair and shoot yourself a prideful smile. Yes bitch, you're amazing.

Come to think of it, you had yet to receive your daily dose of thick cock. You mull over which path you should take on your way to getting cock.

Should I put the lingerie back on? You contemplate with absolute seriousness. You weren't able to show Satoru your laced derriere earlier. It had been a long day of committing a merciless curse holocaust with him, because it was Las Vegas, a city populated solely by long-tongued snakes. Snakes with tongues even longer than Satoru's talented one.

You spare the laced lingerie a glance. Hang a hand on your hip and frown, then wrap a towel around your nudity instead.

I'm not in the mood to strip anyway.

"Satoruuuu~~" you call from the bathroom.

"Bunnnyyyy!!!" Satoru answers your call. You hear sheets rustle as he stands to make his way to the roomy space of your thirty-by-thirty square-footed bathroom. "Need anything, baby?"

He rests a bent arm against the topmost part of the doorway (tall bastard he is) and whistles at your near-bareness. You smirk as he looks you up and down, eyes noticeably pausing at your ass before finally reaching your eyes.

"Enjoying the view?" He nods vigorously. Your face bursts into a happy laugh and Satoru almost forgets the lack of room inside his pants. "Glad you are. But I need you to help me pick an outfit."

"Yeah? What are you gonna try on? Maybe you could try me on for size—" He grins widely as you swipe at him. He lets you hit him. He loves every one of your touches, after all.

"This..." You twirl around in your towel, the white fluffiness of it the only thing even minimally clothing you. Satoru cocks his head in confusion and blinks. That towel is, judged kindly, a mess of a dress. "Or..."

You drop the towel, let it fall to the floor. Satoru's jaw drops with it.

He meets your eyes with a nonplussed smile. It's both a grin and a smile of absolute bafflement.

"...Well? Which one do you prefer?"

"Oh, bunny." He shakes with a bubble of a laugh. His arm falls back to his side and he gives you a crooked, wicked smile as he approaches your nakedness. He speaks with his hands sliding up from your bare ass and further upward to squeeze your hips, "I think you'd look better with me inside you."

You lour at him sourly. Decide to play around a little bit more. "But that's not an outfit, you moron."

"Like I said, you have to try me on—"

"Still not an outfit," you tease.

His hands fly from your hips, and he looks around wildly, thrown into further mystery and confusion. "WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE JUDGING THEN?!"

You begin to wheeze at his pinched features and comedic outburst. You yell back at him in between gasping fits of laughter, "WHY... CAN'T YOU... JUST... FUCK ME... ALREADY... HUH?!"

"WELL OKAY THEN GET UP ON THE SINK!" he shouts back at you with the vehement gesticulations of a baboon swinging from tree to tree.

"NO!" you scream back at him. You look up at him with the same love brimming in his eyes. "YOU BRING ME UP THERE, YOU LAZY SHIT!"

"SURE! I'D DO ANYTHING FOR YOUR SWEET PUSSY ANYWAY!"

So he makes you cum in that same bathroom twice, then two more times on each bed of the hotel room. He even begs you to go one last round with him against the wall. As if you could say no to your best man.

You collapse into bed just as dawn breaks the sky open, then wake to each other at noon. Fuck each other well into the afternoon even with the exhaustion of last night's long rendezvouses still hanging over your weary bodies.

It is a great life you live.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? Part 3

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.2k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Prev] [Next]

Seokjin was currently defending the kitchen from his position on top of the counter. His ammunition, fresh fruit, and his target the white tiger who was skillfully dodging each projectile. Ducking you narrowly missed a large strawberry. 

Amongst the hissing, you heard Jungkook begging the others to stop, claiming ‘you would be mad’ and expressing his fears of rehoming.

You rolled your eyes, stupid Hybrid hierarchy. If they just sat down and waited patiently, instead of worrying about who was in charge, you could have them pick their rooms and make a start on dinner, maybe even try some bonding games.

Following a long blue cord across the floor, and under the table, you knelt down to see Taehyung cowering with the house phone in hand. “Grandpa can you pick me up, I’m scared and I don’t like it here?”

“Taehyung, how about we pick your room and you can go for a quick wash huh, you're all messy, and I will sort everyone out. Everyone is just a little territorial, right now, we can talk to your grandpa again tonight if you would like?” he shook his head begging his owner.

That afternoon saw you and the three newly acquired hybrids out the front of your new home, it looked like it took everything in Yoongi’s power not to run away. He almost looked pained when he was asked to give his name to the lady at the front desk before you signed for him. You were behind schedule, wanting to go to the shop before the last four hybrids arrived. 

Whilst waiting for the others to arrive you took note of the three more clearly. Kim Seokjin was a handsome young man and he knew it. Though he was older he had an eternal youth vibe about him, his face was expressive and he gesticulated often, which made him seem more animated and lively. He had broad shoulders that tapered to a thin waist, he was occupying Jungkook by telling stories making the young boy laugh with him. 

You scrolled through your phone analysing the traits of a Racoon hybrid. Playful, intelligent, generous. They seemed like good traits to have and you knew what to expect. He would be hard to keep on task during study sessions but he seemed to make friends rather easily.

Min Yoongi laid on the porch swing soaking up the warm afternoon rays with a soft purr, he still had a scent of blood but it was stale. His face was softer rounder and his lips turned down at the side creating a permanent look of unhappiness. It was such a cute face juxtaposed by his cold stare that bore down on you like he was ready to roast you and maybe he was. But for now you were happy that the young man seemed warm and comfortable enough to sleep so peacefully.

A white Tiger Hybrid was not as easy going as Racoons it seemed Yoongi was more independent and observant, bold and full of courage. This would be good for studying not so much for making friends quickly.

Jungkook was charming; he had a tendency to scrunch his nose when he laughed or stare with wide eyes at the world around him. He loved to play and be silly from what you had seen but he would always look to you for confirmation in case he was being too loud. He had a lean figure and looking at Seokjin’s broad chest puffed his own out trying to compare them. You knew he was going to be such a dream to teach.

Jaguars according to the hybrid analysis website determined they were courageous, beautiful, determined creatures with tonnes of Valor and strength. No wonder he was handling the situation well, you had heard stories of hybrids having meltdowns upon entering a new home. You knew it was scary, but he was holding himself together very well.

Taking a moment you checked what Taehyung would be like, he was a golden retriever hybrid which you already knew was a loyal companion but you wondered what his common traits were. Brave, friendly, playful, hardworking and family orientated. Perfect for the program. 

Another tab on the website said cat Hybrids and you located the Calico cat Hybrid breed and wondered what your long time friends traits were, you needed a comparison, you had know him all your life so, this would inform you if the website really knew what it was talking about. Calico cat Hybrids are full of freedom, patience, adventurous spirit, curiosity, traits of feminity. That was Jimin alright. 

Distracted from any further searches a big luxury van, pulled into the driveway beside your little hatchback. The driver stepped out and got into a sleek covert government car and disappeared. The side of the van opened and a familiar pair of long legs stepped out.

Jimin dressed formally as always, paired with sunglasses to attempt to hide his sweet face. He walked like he was on a runway accentuating his long legs, whilst dangling the house keys daintily from his pinky. His strides ate up the pavement between you and you were pulled into an embrace followed by a kiss to your cheek, “Don’t look so scared, I am a friendly face yeah?”

“Where are the others?” You reached for the keys and he pulled them back playfully. 

“They can’t make it due to delays on travel,” He said, jingling the keys his tail swishing playfuly. Yoongi stirred at the sound of the metal keys clinking together and looked at Jimin almost surpressing a growl at his close proximity to you. You knew hyrbids became very protective of their owners and you wondered if Yoongi was just looking out for your safety, “I am here but not for long, I have a photo shoot at dawn tomorrow, they want pictures by the sunrise”

Park Jimin seemed to be amused taunting you with the keys but not yet handing them over, you knew if you went to grab them he would pull his hand back again and giggle at your expense. But you were saved when a car pulled up on the curb. 

Kim Taehyung stepped out with his grandfather and walked over excited, though the two weren’t related they were still so close. Taehyung rubbed his misty eyes and tried to suppress the frown on his face. “You can come back whenever you want, and talk whenever you want. There is no need for these tears?”

Taehyung nodded and his grandfather gestured for him to step inside the gate, you waved at him and he smiled waving back. “Taehyung, you made it, we all just arrived.” You smiled. Taehyung was just like Jin. He had an eternal youth vibe, his features were handsome and yet held in a boyish way, but due to his love of television he had become a master of expression. A born actor.

Taking the distraction of a new hybrid, you playfully swiped the keys from Jimin and opened the front door gesturing for everyone to enter, “Please make yourselves at home while I park the two cars in the garage and we can do introductions and stuff when I am inside. Jimin let me know if anything happens.”

They walked in and you got to work parking the cars, you hadn’t been gone more than seven minutes but walking into the house was like walking into a battle zone. How did they manage to start an all-out food fight, and what started this absolute chaos?

You had just managed to coax Taehyung out from under the table before a soft peach exploded across your chest. The room fell silent and the three stopped to stare, multiple ears flattened against heads, and you almost broke when you saw Taehyung and Jungkook tails between their legs. 

“Okay that’s enough, now everyone calm down” you sighed consoling Taehyung and gesturing to the couch, “If everyone could sit and listen.”

They all reluctantly moved towards the couch and you laughed, “Not you Jimin, you are covered in fruit” He nodded standing behind the couch respectfully giving you his undivided attention. You took a deep breath.

“My name is Y/n and I am theoretically your owner, but I don’t want to own you. I am offering you a home where you can be free to express yourself, an education at no cost and your own rooms, luxuries and I ask for nothing in return except maybe civility towards one another” You sighed, “I want you to be happy, so I am not going to tell you not to destroy the house but I will say that I don’t own it and will have to pay the damages.”

They looked around and frowned at the state of the place, even Yoongi seemed to appear guilty. You didn’t want there first day to be scary you wanted them to have fun and learn and build a safe place. “Now, what would you like to eat for dinner?” You smiled, “I think we might order in, how does that sound?”

You ordered lots of food and led them to the rooms, “now you will be getting your own rooms, we will start hear and go oldest to youngest which means Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon when they arrive, Jimin, Taehyugn and Jungkook on the end.”

“What about your room?” Jimin said confused, you heard a little growl from Taehyung which earned a small hiss from Jungkook. The two scaring one another with there sounds their hair frilling slightly.

“Put your bags in and make yourselves at home, if you need anything let me know, I can get you fabric, fake grass, heat lamps, fans what ever you need to make your space yours and comfortable” They moved their bags to their rooms and started setting up. Jimin finished unpacking and stepped back into the hall.

“Y/n, hey I have to go, because of the shoot tomorrow and all, I will be back though, I promise you things will work out. As you were walking Jimin to the front door the doorbell rang, opening to reveal Taehyung's grandfather. Jimin gave you finger hearts behind the old gentleman and waved goodbye to Taehyung who had hear his grandfathers voice and ran over with a smile.

“I think it is a bit overwhelming, how about he just comes over for visits first,” the old man sighed he squeezed your shoulder gently, “Don’t be disheartened it’s just until he gets to know the others. Saying goodbye to Taehyung you felt like things were already falling apart. Your whole program felt like it had been ripped to shreds.

When the food was delivered you thought perhaps this was your chance to convince them and turn it all around. As the three hybrids ate you thought it was the best time to explain the program while they were in a good mood.

“The reason you are all here is this is a trial program from the government, where if approved hybrids will be given the means to become an independent race. Education and homing centers like this but on a bigger scale where Hybrids can go to university, get a job, learn to be self-sufficient, and have families freely” You sighed “if this goes well.”

“So we get to go to university?” Seokjin asked, confirming that he heard you right.

“Of course, that’s what this is all about” 

The conversation changed to their stories where they were from and funny stories. Yoongi was quiet the whole time and finally, they all went off to bed, leaving you to scrub the floors and the walls by the kitchen light.

You were scrubbing the tiles when you heard a sound, “Yoongi, hey do you need anything?”

“I am leaving now,” He mumbled and you sat up,

“Did I do something wrong, is Seokjin being mean?” You asked

“I don’t like humans, they lie,” He frowned “You say we can go to University and be independent, well that’s what my last owner said and I ended up on the streets.”

“Yoongi, I am serious, I am doing this for hybrids just like you, I don’t want to see strays I want every hybrid to have the chance to be educated and go to school and get a job” You sighed, “If this experiment goes well, I can get homeless hybrids younger than Jungkook off the streets, I can get save hybrids like you and Seokjin from being put down because they have reached their limit on rehoming or they got caught too many times on the street”

“I am not just doing this for you, I am doing this for millions of hybrids. This isn’t going to make just one center either, there will be one or two in every city and town. You will be free to walk the street, to have a home. Don’t you want that. Without this program, Jungkook could have been bought into a family, loved for a few weeks and dropped off to cycle into rehoming, Taehyung would eventually outlive his owner and be completely lost on how to function. And people like you and Seokjin would be dead.”

“If you stay you will be freer than you have ever been. You can own a house, get a job, make money, live properly. If you stay Hybrids get a voice, and they get freedom too.”

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Happy 28th! I read shockingly little fic this month so I’m going to support some fic fests that are currently running.There are so many amazing new fics all around so make sure to check them out and leave lots of love for the authors ♥ @onedirectionbigbang: Big Bang Round 4 just finished this month but you can find a complete round up of all the fics on the blog | AO3 collection here @1daboficfest: you can also find some rare pair a/b/o’s here | AO3 collection here @hlmpregficfest: The mpreg fest just started posting last week | AO3 collection here @wipsanonymousfest: support authors to complete their wips here | AO3 collection here

The eight fics I actually finished this month are under the cut:

The Earl and His Duke | QuickedWeen | Regency - historical - friends to lovers - light angst - smut - 53k Lord Tomlinson, the elusive Duke of Leeds, has suddenly emerged in London for the first time in six years. He is believed to have been abroad. He is believed to have been widowed. He is believed to want to withdraw from society. Harry doesn’t know what is true and what isn’t. He only knows that the older brother of one of his best friends is back in town to stay, and that time has taken him from merely the most beautiful man Harry knew, to the most handsome man to ever walk the earth. A man whose gaze probably still skips over Harry like he doesn’t exist the same way it did when they were young.

Double Trouble | Beanno28 | mpreg - canon divergence - smut - 23k Exactly five minutes later, Harry walked out of the room with his head down, focusing on doing up the last of the buttons on his shirt. “There you are,” a familiar male voice startled Harry. “What were you… oh, I see you must have found some poor stagehand to sneak off with.” Harry smirked, thinking about his time with Louis, “I guess you could say that.” “You’d better make a quick stop in the bathroom before joining everyone else on the bus, you stink,” Paul, one of their security guards, advised. Or the one where Harry and Louis start secretly hooking up while on tour and Harry ends up pregnant.

eucalyptus | docklands | a/b/o - kid fic - scenting - lactation kink - breeding kink - 46k Harry didn't mean to get pregnant at all. When little Agnes comes along, his bachelor life takes a turn and he has to figure out how to single parent, with the occasional help from his best friend and co-worker, Zayn. Everything is running smoothly until Agnes starts acting strange, crying non-stop, sleeping at the most unconventional hours and not caring that she's ruining Harry's life. Her doctor says she's just an infant and that there's nothing wrong with her. Harry's instincts tell him the doctor's wrong and that he needs to seek a second opinion. Agnes' new paediatrician, Louis Tomlinson, is enthusiastic, passionate about his job and a little too charming for Harry's lonely heart to take. More than figuring out what's wrong with her, Louis ends up revealing secrets about Harry's life he had never even dreamed about.

Lunar Waltz | outropeace | a/b/o - 19th century - marriage of convenience - hate to love - mystery - enemies to lovers - angst - deception - smut - 57k “You want me to seduce an alpha,” Louis hissed. “I want you to marry an alpha. It’s the only way I could ever get back on my feet. You didn’t think a few dances at a ball would do anything to Alastair’s reputation or mine...” “And what if Alastair comes back? Have you thought about him in all of this? You’re going to marry him to an alpha he doesn’t even know!” “Oh he does know him, in fact... he’d be ecstatic to know he got to marry him.” Louis’ blood ran cold, already suspecting who was the alpha the earl was talking about. “Who is he?” he asked anyways, hating how fragile and almost scared his voice sounded. “Lord Harry Styles.” Louis' stomach dropped, the words came smelling like danger, sending a bolt of fear down his spine, the Earl wanted Louis to seduce The Duke of Death. Or Louis has to replace his (missing) twin brother and marry one of the most dangerous alphas of the kingdom.

Unveiled | phdmama | a/b/o - royalty - magic - 60k The train grinds to a halt and Harry leans forward in his eagerness to take it all in. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, the sky the same intense blue that he knows from home, which comforts him. There’s much here that looks almost familiar, but then so much that is new and strange to his eyes. The bustling station platform and winding streets beyond paved in cobblestones look much like home. There are vehicles ranging from small to very large, some with strange and unusual shapes of which he can only guess the purpose. But most surprising are the people. There is a crowd gathered, filled with men and women, some in what looks to be a military uniform, some in what must be the street clothes in this Land. There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

Stubborn Hearts | Rearviewdreamer | social worker Louis - kid fic - foster care - adoption - angst - 33k Louis’ job description as a child social worker doesn’t cover half of what he does, but he doesn’t mind going above and beyond and putting his whole heart into it, especially when it comes to Sydney.

The Money Mark | brightgolden | a/b/o - Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby - exes to lovers - pining - nesting - age difference - smut - 52k Harry's heart beats faster in his chest as the name sinks in. The Tomlinson name is awfully familiar, and he isn’t sure how many rich Tomlinsons are out here in London, but he knew one. Seven years ago. Like all fine things in the world, Louis Tomlinson ages exceptionally well. OR Where Louis is Harry’s first sugar daddy who dumped him over text and their paths cross, seven years later.

Is it a sign? | bluegreenish | a/b/o - deaf character - 25k “Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -” To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep! “You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.” What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie. The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding. “I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear. And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing. or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.