#i need them to wrap the tentacles of a god beyond our realm around my throat and hug me tight and beg i be theirs forever

[transmechanicus]

The HRT has killed a lot of my normal everyday experience of sexuality but fortunately it has revealed a second, much much weirder sexuality underneath.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 2: The Confession (Chapter 1 here)

Ichabod couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off of the mirage before him, could barely breathe. How could she be standing here, days after she'd disintegrated into that confounded box that'd then combusted into nothing, looking none the worse for wear? Looking as gorgeous as the day he'd met her. Looking as real as the heartache clawing at his insides felt.

It had to be some monster's trick, a devil's devious ploy to destroy him. He raised his arm, his forefinger pointing to the sky. "Who are you?" he managed to demand harshly, though he felt none of the power the words conveyed. The creases of her smile deepened, her beautiful brown eyes sparkling at his confusion indulgently. "Crane." He longed to close his eyes and revel in her presence, let her voice wash over him and sluice the grief away, soothe the hurt in his heart like a healing balm. She hadn't answered his question, instead speaking his name as a statement, and he nearly gave in to his desire to accept this fake as the genuine article. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began before he could formulate any words. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions....and I'll do my best to answer them. I can't imagine what the past few days have been like for you," she lamented, her voice and expression dripping with sympathy. "And before you ask, it's really me." He squinted his eyes at her, doubtful and hesitant and simultaneously so damn afraid and desperate to believe her. "Prove it," he challenged. One side of her mouth quirked up as if she expected nothing less from him, and she held her fist out towards him. He eyed her hand skeptically, unable to reach out and touch her, even with a simple fist bump, until he knew for sure it was her. She waited a handful of seconds, but when he didn't reciprocate, she slowly dropped her hand. "I know this can't be easy. I know it doesn't make sense, not yet. I can't quite believe it myself. But it's me," she entreated him to believe her. "Prove it," he repeated, more heatedly this time. She thought for a moment, the intense look on her face willing him to trust her. "We were in Pandora’s lair, and the last thing I said to you was to never give up. The last thing I heard from you was...you calling my name." He nodded, the moment indelibly imprinted in his memory, a cursed experience his eidetic mind had relived a thousand times already in the past few days. "Before that, we sailed to the entrance to the catacombs. Found Betsy Ross in the hidden chamber inside the temple just before the essence of Pandora's box wrapped its ugly black tentacles around me. You carried me out, had..." she paused momentarily before continuing, "words with Betsy, and then she left. We followed not long after." The more she spoke the harder his heart beat against his ribs, the more heat flooded his body, returning warmth to him and the empty house he'd inhabited for over three days. "Abbie...?" he dared to believe. She smiled fully at him, and his heart broke itself back into place. "Oh, Abbie," he breathed in a broken whisper of relief, and she easily launched herself towards him as he moved to embrace her. 

They covered the several feet between them in a single heartbeat, and he snaked his arms around her, holding her fast, his knees nearly giving out at the feel of her alive, warm, breathing, the smell of her fragrant and clean, her arms cinched around him, a welcoming comfort he'd expected never to  experience again. "Abbie," he murmured again, nearly gasping out her name on a heaving cry, his eyes dropping closed. He knew it bordered on inappropriate to hold her so long, but he couldn't make himself let go for fear she'd fade away before his eyes again. He cupped her head, holding her against him, though by how tightly she held him she had no intention of letting him go either. He breathed her in, grateful for and reveling in every movement she made, inhaling, exhaling, her body pressed against him, her presence more powerful than any drug. Reining his emotions in, he slowly released her from his embrace, gripping her shoulders and peering at her like a vision from heaven. She still smiled gently at him, not overwhelmed or fearful of his desperation in the slightest. "Abbie, how...? It's been three and a half days. How are you here?" he marveled. "Miss Jenny and I searched for a way... Miss Jenny," he interrupted himself. "We must tell her! She needs to know." He patted his pockets searching for his phone but stopped when she pointed to it lying on the coffee table. He grabbed it up and scrolled through his recent calls. "Don't tell her over the phone; it’d be too cruel. Please, just ask her to come here. I want to tell her, show her in person." He nodded, sure Miss Jenny would think him drunk again anyhow if he told her Abbie had walked through the door and hugged him. He clicked on her name and stared at Abbie as the phone rang, unable to let her out of his sight for even a moment. Voicemail picked up after a handful of rings. "Miss Jenny, it's me, Ichabod. Please come by the house as soon as you're available. There's... something we must discuss. It's of the utmost importance, and I beg of you not to delay. I eagerly await your visit. Respectfully, Ichabod Crane." Abbie nearly smirked at him, and he wanted to query her about it, but he refrained, needing so much more than her wit and banter about his entirely too prim and proper voicemails. Without thinking, he sank to his seat, still staring at her in awe. "How is this possible?" "I don't exactly know," she admitted, moving the box of tissues from the couch to the coffee table, dropping to the cushion and angling towards him. "I emerged from the lake, much like I did—like we did—when we returned from the Catacombs. It's just down the way from the river cave where you were buried. All I can figure is that that body of water or that acreage of land is somehow linked to...whatever realms exist beyond." His brow furrowed in consternation, and she continued. "Anyway, I came out of the water a bit ago, without memory of where I've been or what happened after I felt myself slipping into the box. But I had this..." She fluttered her hand in a circle, trying to find the right word. "...this knowledge, like it'd been downloaded into my brain." "What knowledge?" he questioned warily. "You said it's been three and a half days?" He nodded, wondering what this count of 84 hours and—he looked at the clock—34 minutes had anything to do with anything other than being the exact count, nearly down to the minute, of how long he'd suffered in anguish without her. Her smile surprised him, and he waited, quite impatiently, for the punch line. "We've called ourselves Witnesses. Others, our enemies, have called us Witnesses. But we've never paid attention to the passage from Revelation that speaks of us. I woke up with this knowledge, this…unmarred understanding of our role, our destiny. And not even Pandora, her box, the Hidden One, or death can thwart that. As eternal souls, we’ve been given power against the antagonistic forces of evil. And this job of making things right, of justification, is never brought about by a single witness. There's always got to be two.”

He stared intently at her, in awe of both her and the information she relayed. Indeed, they’d never read much from the Scriptures about their role, instead merely settled in to their roles as warriors. This knowledge she now had seemed to grant her a lighter countenance, a more secure understanding of their place in this world. And it’d brought her back to him. He waited for her to continue. "See, Revelation chapter 11 describes the death of the two witnesses only after the testimony—our role to fight against evil—is done. We're only to die at the end of all trials, after all of the tribulation. And we're only to die together." "But you did die...didn't you?" "I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, visibly confounded. “All I know is Pandora, while she may have held more power than anyone we'd ever faced before, is no match for the biblical prophecy. You said it yourself once: the Bible foretells two witnesses. You and I must remain together if there is any hope of victory." He hung on to every word, trying to comprehend all she detailed, not to mention her presence here once again. "You’re saying...we're invincible?" "No, not as I understand it. We've been endowed with... fortitude and strength to fight these battles, the demons, the witches, the monsters, the ungodly. We can still die. And will. But not until our appointed time, and no one other than big-G God determines that. And even then, it's only for three and a half days." "Three and a half days," he muttered, the wheels in his brain trying to keep up with her revelation of their part in the cosmic war they fought. 84 hours. All this time he'd been calculating not how long she'd been gone but how long before she'd return. The notion filled him with a heavy dose of incredulity, and not a little fear.

Something tickled his brain, a conversation from long ago, and his fingers twitched as his tired mind drew up the memory. “Not long after we met, you told me about your encounter in the woods. You said you’d been missing for four days.”

“Four days,” she repeated quietly as her eyes went wide. “Closer to three and a half, if we’re being specific.”

“And Miss Jenny was spared too. Perhaps because of her relation to you. Or her proximity at the time.”

Eyebrows raised with uncertainty, Abbie nodded.

“You’re right,” he claimed in surprise. “Moloch couldn’t defeat you then, and Pandora and her hellish box couldn’t conquer you now. Three and a half days, and you’re revived.”

“Just as the prophecy says: we’re given power, able to overcome our enemies. And at the end…‘But after three and a half days a breath of life from God entered them, and they stood on their feet,' Revelation 11:11," she quoted. "That's why you're here," he marveled. "The prophecy isn't complete, and He...He sent you back." She nodded resolutely. "We still have work to do." He couldn't respond, trying to take in all that she'd relayed, the weight of their destiny, the fact that she sat before him in perfect form, speaking to him of their future after he'd mourned the unspeakable loss of her for over three days. His heart's undulation from sorrow and despair to relief, wonder, awe, and astonishment left him reeling and emotionally spent, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught. "Crane?" The concern in her voice made his heart ache anew, and her hands settled on him like cool silk, one gripping his arm, the other clasping his fist.

God's wounds, how he'd missed her! Missed her quirks and foibles, her goodness and passion, her fierce spirit, persistence, and kindness. Her contagious laugh and beautiful smile, expressive brown eyes and teasing nature, the way she explained things when he felt confused and teased him when he became too academic. How she cared about people, held herself to the highest degree of integrity, defended him against any naysayers, made him feel valued in this time he was only beginning to truly settle in to. He missed hearing her putter around the house after he'd gone to bed, playing chess with her, discussing and solving cases with her, listening to her sharp mind delve into fine details, her surprises of confections or ethnic foods he'd never had the joy of experiencing before. Missed seeing her first thing in the mornings, bleary-eyed and coffee-deficient, bedhead hair wild and sexy, so excruciatingly adorable sometimes she stole the breath right out of his lungs. Missed the sound of her voice, her big brown-eyed stare, her petite frame next to him, how she'd always protected his back. Missed her flirtations and irritabilities, her soft touches and fierce hugs. Missed every single detail about her, flaws, favors, and features all. "Crane..." "Yes, I...I merely need a moment," he nearly begged. She started to pull her hands away, but he grasped them, gently but firmly. "Please," he murmured so softly he barely heard his own voice. "Don't go." She squeezed his hand in response, trying to comfort him, and the silence of the room filled with the knowledge of her presence. "I'm sorry. Crane, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice full of sympathy. "You shouldn't be. You quite literally saved the world, Lieutenant." She turned her hands over in his until their palms met, and she clasped at him. "I mean... I'm sorry for the loss that you and Jenny have endured the last few days. Losing Joe and then...."

"And then you," he finished for her when she'd gone silent. "It must feel like whiplash, having me here." She almost sounded regretful, though he knew she merely sympathized with their suffering. He stared at her intensely. "Yes," he admitted honestly. "But I wouldn't trade you for a hundred battalions of soldiers to fight this war with me." A shy, appreciative smile eased over her face, and she looked down at their joined hands. His eyes followed, and he stared at the ying and yang of them, her hands so small and dark in contrast to his large, pale ones. Complete opposites in nearly every way, and perfectly complimentary because of it. The memories of all the things he'd wanted to say floated through his mind, the reasons he'd spent days mentally flagellating himself, how he thought he'd never have the chance to make up for all the times he'd swallowed down his affection for her, of the words of all those who'd seen that he loved her before he'd faced the realization, and too late it'd seemed.

Master Corbin knowingly prompting him to ‘talk to her.’ Miss Corinth blatantly denying his words. “I think you are ready for someone. I just don’t think it’s me.”

Master Mills’ words upon their first meeting. “Take good care of my daughter.” Betsy had spent less than an hour in their presence. "Only one truth matters: your heart belongs to Abigail Mills," she’d declared. “You love her, don’t you?” Pandora had stated. “She is your hope, your everything. I took her from you.” His mind flashed in picture-perfect fashion to his desperation for her, his need to rescue her from Purgatory and the utter desolation he'd felt at having left her there; the absolute despair that'd come over him when she'd become lost in the Catacombs, the numbness he'd forced upon himself to secret his emotions away in order to focus on finding her. The way he'd fluttered around her when she'd returned, ensuring she ate, making her laugh, keeping her company, wooing her with full candlelit dinners and rousing late-night games of chess. He had so much to make up for—he’d caused her such pain over the years when he'd only ever wanted her safe and cared for. He needed to tell her—now—what she'd come to mean to him. He watched his thumbs rub over her soft skin, the feel of her warm hands pouring liquid heat back into his frozen veins. "Having you back, I cannot begin to express my elation." He lifted his eyes to hers. "But I shall try." She lifted her eyebrows in innocent wonder. "Abbie, when I awoke in that cave four years nigh, I never could have comprehended this world and what my life would become. I felt lost. Defeated, and alone. And then you walked into the room. Despite our initial and mutual misgivings regarding one another, your compassion and integrity drove you. Your tenacity for the truth and your strength of character made me believe I could trust you. And I've never stopped. I know I've done things that've hurt you, things I regret and I'd go back to erase if I held that power. Please," he asked sincerely when she started shaking her head against his words. "Please, hear me out.” She nodded once, and he took a fortifying breath before continuing.

“So much of our time together has been me chasing an old life, one that’d become lost to me before I ever even crawled out of the ground. I tried to cleave to it…” He balled his hand tightly into a fist. “And the harder I held on, the further it slipped away from me.” He slowly opened his fist. “And through it all, there you were. You helped keep me grounded as everything I’d ever known and relied upon disintegrated. You spent more time trying to fix…the Crane family problems than you did grieving all you’d lost because I appeared in your life. And never did you complain. You’ve been the epitome of kindness, patience, virtue, and strength. And it’s more than I deserve.”

He threw a finger up in the air to halt her protests. “I’ve made some grave mistakes, the greatest of these being...  You’ll have to forgive me. In my day we weren’t quite so free with our sentiments. We were more…”

“Puritan?” she offered.

He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Indeed. Though I am striving to become a 21st century gentleman.” His expression turned serious again. “I’ve missed you gravely these past few days, Abbie. You’ve come to mean so much to me over the years, and when I thought you were gone before I ever took the chance to tell you how much I care, I…”

His trailed off, staring into her wide, trusting eyes. His heart beat wildly at this step he was about to take. He swallowed hard and plunged forward, her expectant look filling him with hope.

“You have been the greatest surprise and the most valuable treasure of my life. I love you, Abbie. I have for longer than what’s appropriate and more and more so every day. And I regretted it profoundly when I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you so. I love you. And there’s nothing in this world I desire less than to be without you. I want you with me always. That is...if you..." His words faded away, uncertainty replacing his resolve. She could reject him—dear God, he hoped not, but she could—and still he wouldn't regret letting her know she was loved. Not after the abject self-loathing of the past few days. In one smooth move, she tucked her legs beneath her, kneeling next to him on the couch, sitting back on her haunches. She reached for him then, one hand lacing through his hair and resting at his neck, the fingertips of the other settling against his scruffy jaw. She gazed at him from eye-level, tears flooding her eyes but not falling. He didn't know what they meant, but she'd moved so close, invaded his space in a way she'd never dared to before. He could only peer at her helplessly, not comprehending how he'd arrived at this moment after losing her. How her warm hands could be touching him, her ears hearing the words he thought he'd choke on for the rest of his lonely life, her eyes staring into his soul like the sun blazing onto the frozen tundra. She mesmerized him, his mind simultaneously reeling from and numbed by her presence. The trauma of the past few days and lack of sleep had him spent; he had nothing left to give at this moment and everything to lose. "Ichabod." She breathed his name, and his heart clenched in his chest, recalling the only other time she'd done so. Then, too, she'd left him speechless, though he should've spoken up; he couldn't now even if he wanted to. Her knees pressed against his thigh, and he felt the soft puffs of her exhales ghosting over his skin. Her fingers absently teased along his neck, and he felt tingles race down his body. It'd been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately, caused such sensations to course through him, and he stayed frozen in place, nearly overcome by sensory overload. He watched her, helpless, wondering what came next. Her eyes, filled with desire, flicked between his gaze and his mouth as she inched towards him. Strewth, he must be dreaming! Passed out on the couch after drinking heavily to try to numb the pain and grief. Hell of a job he'd done too, to conjure such a perfectly sensual fantasy. He let her close the distance between them, unable to think straight, unable to move, but prepared for the feel of her lips, the taste of her kiss, the heat from her flowing into his frozen limbs. Her expression, so soft and vulnerable, made his heart ache fiercely, the cavern inside his chest closing with each inch she moved closer. All he could do was watch her. Time had slowed, frozen just like he had, as if the heavens had pressed a pause button, and his blood pounded loudly in his ears. Then, without warning, it seemed to scramble forward, and he watched as her eyes dropped close. His did the same as her lips pressed against his. He was not prepared. Whether the torrential cocktail of the past days' emotions or the reality that his fantasy had come true deserved blame, he couldn't say, but he sat completely at her mercy. She moved slow, patiently, her kiss soft, tantalizing, hot, and he moaned out a soft breath in disbelief and wonder. She started to ease away from him, but he chased her lips, not ready to wake from this searing dream, and she easily fell into him, her arms looping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. He came alive then, blossoming under the scorch of her ministrations, and he turned towards her, one hand cupping her head gently, the other roaming her back, pulling her more urgently against him. "Abbie," he murmured heatedly against her lips, but she silenced him easily, her tongue teasing his, her mouth drawing another moan from him, even as she matched it with her own. She moved to straddle him, and he helped her, his hands steadying her hips as she slid one leg over his lap. His large hands nearly spanned her small waist, and he moved them over her petite frame, from her lower back to the curve of her...buns (that word didn't seem so offensive at the moment), up the line of her spine to her shoulders, then down again to her hips and up her sides until he felt her rib cage beneath his hands, his thumbs just below her breasts. He wanted so much more, but even as she allowed—encouraged—his handsy exploration of her and continued doing marvelous things with her mouth and tongue, his mind screamed at him to cease, the impropriety of their situation a haunting specter he couldn't shake. Before he could muster up the willpower to pause their fervor, his phone both vibrated and rang, and he reluctantly, regretfully eased away from her. He touched his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, self-conscious about his shortness of breath—though he immediately noted that Abbie suffered from the same affliction. His phone continued warbling loudly and sputtering across the coffee table, infernal thing it was, fraying his sensitive nerves. Clearing her throat, Abbie slid off of his lap and grabbed for the phone. He watched her, cheeks tinged pink, lips rosy from his kisses, contented look on her face, and wanted to pull her right back to the place she'd vacated. Instead, she glanced at the phone, then held it out to him. "It's Jenny," she intoned softly. He nodded, still not entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming, drunk or not, and took the phone from her. He swallowed hard before answering with a meek hello. "Crane, are you alright? I got your message." He peered at the petite woman in front of him, overwhelmed and grateful, exhausted and thrilled beyond reason she hadn't disappeared like a desert mirage, and wanted to weep at the realization that she was real. She stared back at him as if he'd hung the moon, eyes dilated, corners of her mouth upturned in a perpetually pleased smirk. His heart nearly gave out knowing he was the cause of such a wondrous look. "I am...alive." Miss Jenny wouldn't understand his dual meaning. Yes, his heart still beat, but more than that his body zinged with fervor, full of passion and longing, his lips hot from Abbie's kiss, his mind reeling with all the possibilities that lay before them. "Stay that way. Be there in five." And she hung up. Ichabod cupped the phone in both hands, drumming his fingertips on its back, trying to think of something to say, something to do that wouldn't find them back in a compromising position, especially with Miss Jenny on her way. He began twirling the phone in the palm of one hand, the fingertips of the other tapping out a beat against his knee. "Would you like to sit back down?" Abbie's eyebrows shot up, an amused smirk on her face, and he realized the unintended innuendo in his words. "Oh no, not... Of course, I didn't mean to imply... I meant..." His hand fluttered in a circle in the air, his tongue tripping over his words. God's wounds, he felt depleted. He needed sleep. But not just sleep. Rest. Still, he couldn't help thinking if he fell asleep he'd wake up to find this was an exquisite dream he'd never get back.

Focus, you imbecile. "I just thought you might want to sit a spell," he managed to explain, his hand indicating the other end of the couch, the large comfy chair. "Miss Jenny will be here soon and..." And he didn't know what. He could barely keep his thoughts in order after the past 20 minutes, let alone the past three and a half days. The look on Abbie's face turned to concern. "Jenny's not going to take this well," she surmised, beginning to pace. “Not at first.” He'd laid his heart out, spilled the words he'd thought would plague him to eternity, played all of his cards. And while she'd seared him with her passion, she was already moving on, unaffected. His heart sank, broken all over again for different reasons. What came next for them? For him? How could she feel so indifferent after branding his lips with hers? "We don't have nearly enough time for me to say all the things I want to say to you before she arrives."

He hadn't realized until this how many ways a heart could be devastated. Hearing her now... Wait, had she just...? He watched her pace in frustration for a moment, her words sinking in to his daft, sleep-deprived brain. His heart, lying in the pit of his stomach, fluttered to life, making him queasy and anxious to hear what came next.

"Abbie...?"

She stopped moving and faced him, the coffee table standing between them. Her hair, full around her face, sat perfectly, her wondrously pouty and kissable lips called to him, her eyes filled with compassion and—dare he think it?—love. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

"There's so much more I want to tell you, so many things we have to talk about." Her eyes pleaded with him. "This isn't over, Crane. Promise me this isn't over."

The desperation in her tone simultaneously ignited concern and anticipation. "It's not over, Lieutenant. It's only just beginning," he promised fervently, resolutely.

She opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by an urgent knock at the door.

Jenny had arrived.

[ask-chaos-kin]

Slender Freaks Ch.1

Fortress Beyond Our Belief

“Keep going! We’re almost there!” A girl cried, shoving her brother forward through the leaden halls. 

“We’re not going to make it!” The boy shouted, jumping as a creature tried to snag at his heels.

“We will make it! Just keep going!” The girl gasped, fighting to stay ahead of the monster that chased them down through the corridors. She and her brother turned a sharp corner, and they both gasped in shock. “There! There’s the exit! Come on, we’re so close!”

“We might make it! We actually might escape this!” The brother chuckled as the two rushed towards a portal upon a mighty altar.  

But as they advanced, the altar began to grow faded and blurry, and a distinct ringing noise filled the ears of the two would be escapees. They skidded to a halt and backed away from the altar in terror as a tall, slender figure emerged from the static surrounding the portal. He bore no face, and wore a black suit with a red tie. His skin was as pale as death, and shadows gathered at his back. 

“Slenderman!” The two runaways gasped, recoiling away from the imposing figure. But stepping back, the two were aggressively reminded of their pursuer. A shriek made them turn on their heels, and the color drained from their faces at the realization that they were caught between two of the most infamous monsters in this nightmarish world; The Rake, and the feared Slenderman.

“Oh shit,” The brother swore, frantically looking around for an escape. “There goes our chance.”

The sister looked past her brother and saw an open vent shaft in the wall. With their escape attempt thwarted again, their only recourse left was to get out of the monster’s territory, and that shaft would at the very least give them reprieve from Slenderman and the Rake.

“Come on, we can try again later!” The sister shouted, shoving her brother towards the vent, sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them as the Rake barreled towards them. 

The two soon to be escapees managed to climb into the vents just in the nick of time to avoid the emaciated monster behind them, and the sister pulled the vent covering up to hold it off from following them. 

“Move! Move! This thing won't hold for very long!” She barked, pushing her brother through the shaft until the two of them were out of sight from the monsters.

However, as they fled, they deprived themselves of bearing witness to a truly inhuman display, even for a monster as infamous as the Slenderman. The tall figure watched the escapees flee, and stared blankly as the Rake gave up its mindless chase and stalked away from the vent. Slenderman tilted his head to the emaciated monster, as if to ask it a question, but the infamous creature just continued on its way.

Slenderman glowered for but a moment, then turned his attention to the portal the two siblings had attempted to escape from. A portal out of this nightmarish realm and out into the real world.

Slenderman extended a pale hand out to the portal. What a strange realm, this world was. Monsters like and unlike himself roamed, but not freely and not without consequence. This was not a world of hunting and surviving. It was organized and relatively stable. There were so many people out in this world, people who were fully unaware of this realm's existence. People who would make the perfect victims of this neverending nightmare.

Extending his tendrils into the portal, Slenderman altered the state of this rift between realms. He forced open tears into the real world, opening up the promise of more victims to hunt. Who would be the first to fall victim to these portals? Who would be the first of the unfortunate souls to be trapped here? Who would join the hordes of runaways in their futile attempts to escape this dangerous game?

***

“One paddle, paddle, paddle, two paddle, paddle, paddle…” Spyper yawned listlessly, watching as the ball repeatedly hit the paddleboard. He was lounged back lazily on a couch, sitting across from Intelligent Heavy as he deconstructed an N64 console that Jester had given them. 

The two Freaks were four months into their house arrest, only a few days away from finally being let off the hook. Both Freaks wore heavy bands around their ankles, anchors to keep them inside at all times that would alert HECU if either of them so much as stepped foot out the door.

“I’m bored,” Spyper sighed heavily, finally letting his paddle streak end as his arms fell to his sides. “I never knew how boring it could be just staying home, but now I do, and I want it to be over!”

“It’ll be over in a few days,” Intelligent assured, smiling at his friend.

“Why can’t it be over now?” Spyper groaned, slouching further into the sofa. He sighed and slid off the couch. “I’m getting a drink.”

“Bring me the leftover pizza while you’re in there,” Intelligent called. Spyper nodded and gave the Heavy a thumbs up as he headed for the kitchen.

A knock at the door suddenly drew the attention of the two Freaks. Intelligent set aside the dismantled N64 and headed for the door. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s us!” Jester's cheery voice called out. “We brought cake!”

“They dragged me along since I really had nothing better to do,” Pancakes called out.

Intelligent opened the door to see Jester, Pancakes, and Chaos standing at the door. He smiled and let the three inside.

“So, how’s house arrest working for ya guys?” Jester asked, setting the cake they were carrying on a nearby table.

Spyper let out a loud groan and hung his head back.

“That bad?” Chaos questioned as she walked into the kitchen.

“I got lucky. I mean, it sucked being restricted to my can in RED Spawn for a month. But on the bright side, Painis doesn’t really bother with the can unless meals are scarce.” Pancakes stretched.

“Hey, at least you guys are off the hook in a few days, right?” Jester asked, hacking off a slice of the cake and handing it to Intelligent.

“Mhm. One more week of this, and we’ll be free to go.”

“That’s good to hear!” Jester smiled. “Did you guys like the console I sent you?”

“Well…” Intelligent glanced over to the deconstructed N64. “In a way: Yes.”

While the rest of the group was talking, Pancakes let his eyes wander for a moment before noticing a small light in the house.

“Yo intelligent, when did you make a teleporter like that?” Pancakes pointed it out.

“Huh? I didn’t…” Intelligent looked at the glowing orb.

“Than… what is it doing here?” Chaos started to approach the ball of light.

“What even is it?” Jester quizzed, floating after Chaos. 

“Do I look like an expert on random glowing objects?” Chaos bit. 

“I don’t think you three should be getting that close to it,” Intelligent warned.

“It’s not like some-” Before Pancakes could finish his sentence a large black tendril shot out from the ball of light and wrapped around his arm.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” He screamed. He grabbed the tendril and tried to pry it off to no avail. “GET IT OFF!”

Before Chaos and Jester could jump in to help, two more tendrils burst from the light, grabbing the two Freaks.

“What the hell!?” Chaos gasped with strain. 

“Intelligent! Spyper! Help!” Jester cried, struggling in the tendrils grip.

The three Freaks screamed as the tendrils lifted them into the air, and the ball of light they came from expanded outward rapidly. In a blinding flash of light, it engulfed the Freaks and snapped out of existence with a sharp cry, taking the Freaks with it.

As the light faded, panic filled the two Freaks left standing there to witness their friends being dragged away by another force.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK!” Spyper screamed, staring and gesticulating wildly at where the Freaks had just been. “What the fuck just happened - Intelligent!?”

“Don’t look at me!” Intelligent explained, just as baffled as Spyper. 

“Oh god, what do we do!? They just got nabbed by tentacles from another dimension!” Spyper cried, throwing up in hands in panic. 

“We need help for this,” Intelligent gulped. He threw aside his cake and ran for the door, causing Spyper to stumble after him. 

“Woah - WOAH! What are you doing!?”

“Getting HECU’s attention! Now move!” Intelligent grunted. He pushed his friend outside and marched out the door. He flinched as soon as he was out the door, as the band around his ankle began beeping loudly and flashing, alerting HECU that the detained Freaks were breaking their house arrest.

“This can only end badly,” Spyper fretted, staring at his friend in shock and alarm.

“I really hope HECU knows how to help us,” Intelligent gulped, watching for HECU vehicles to start coming down the road.

“And what if they can’t?” Spyper implored earnestly.

“Let's hope they do.”

“Yeah, cause that’s reassuring.” He glanced down at his own band and sighed. “Oh well. We’ve already broken the law. What’s one more?” He muttered, joining his friend outside.

***

“Only a couple more months… If only those months came faster.” RED groaned laying on his back looking up in his prison cell.

“We’ll get through it, RED,” Pure assured, sitting in a cell across from RED. “We’ve made it this far.”

“I know. At least the food here is good, just really boring.”

“It’s better than whatever Brutal cooks,” Pure shrugged.

“I honestly thought this place would be a million times worse. Who knew that prison for Freaks was just Rehab level 2.”

“Yeah, I really wasn’t expecting the rehab part,” Pure said, looking down the hall. 

“Better than normal prison at least.”

“How do you think the others are fairing?” Pure asked, leaning forward on his bed. “I hope none of them have gotten into trouble since we were arrested.”

“Well, Brutal and Gentle are in Rehab 1.0, So there’s the two trouble makers out of the picture.”

“And I’m sure Polite, Spyper, and Intelligent are abiding by their house arrest. Pancakes...I’m holding out hope for him, but I’m not entirely convinced he’s stayed in his can for that long.”

“And we don’t have to worry about Jester and Chaos,” RED grunted as he stretched. “At least, I hope we don’t.”

“Chaos just found out that she still has a living family and the remainder of her team is still alive. I’m sure that someone is looking after her,” Pure remarked pointedly, pressing his hands together.

“I’m not too worried about Jester. They’re too busy with piecing together their past,” RED yawned, reclining on his bed. “And they’ve learned a lot in the time since being released. They and Chaos will be fine.”

As RED reclined, Pure happened to notice a ball of light appear next to the bed.

“What in the world?”

“Huh?” RED lifted his head. “What is it?”

“There’s this...Light next to your bed,” Pure said hesitantly, squinting at the shimmer. “Don’t get close to it. I don’t know what that thing is-”

A shrill scream tore through the relative silence of the cells and Pure leapt from his bed in shock, a pale dread overtaking his face as he watched black tendrils erupt from RED’s bed and ensnare him, locking him tightly in place as it slowly dragged him down.

Muffled screams escaped from the tendrils as they engulfed him and dragged him into the small light, terror filling the very air around them. 

“RED!” Pure screamed, throwing himself against the glass screen of his cell. “Guards! GUARDS! HELP! Something’s happened to RED!” He cried desperately. He frantically looked about his cell for anything to use to get himself out, but he barely had time to search his nightstand when another set of tendrils burst from the ground beneath him and wrapped around his legs, immobilizing him. Pure gasped in terror as the tendrils dragged him downward, and his terrified cries for help echoed through the halls as he was violently pulled into a small light.

As the light disappeared, a small camera focused on the spot where the two spies were taken. On the other side of the lens, on a monitor in HECU, a young intern sat baffled and mortified by the events her bright green eyes had just seen. She swallowed hard and leaned back in her chair, stricken pale. She brushed a strand of her brown, curling locks aside, a strand of purple bleeding into her natural hair color. Then she frantically snatched up her pager and started running for the door, quickly turning the channel on the pager to that of Commander Rudra. 

“Commander! Commander, come in! We have a security breach, I repeat we have a security breach! Christian Pure Spy and RED Spy have just disappeared into thin air! We need backup here!” She gasped, fumbling with the doorknob. “Black tendrils just came out of nowhere and grabbed them, then dragged them to who knows where! Please, Rudra, we need some help here! We’re dealing with something supernatural here!”

The intern flew out of the security room and started sprinting through the halls, weaving between guards and officers in her panicked sprint to Rudra’s office. 

However, she didn’t have to run far before she collided with the commander herself, receiving a facefull of metal plating from Rudra’s heavy armor before staggering back, nearly falling squarely on her rear end and no doubt receiving a bruise or two from the collision.

“Now what’s going on?” Rudra asked sternly, lowering her pager. “What’s this about a security breach?”

“There were these long black tendrils that emerged from this ball of light in their cell that dragged RED and Pure into it! It was like something from a horror game!” The intern exclaimed, tripping over her own words in her frantic retelling of the events.

“Slow down, Ash,” Rudra said cooly, raising a hand to Ashley. “Did anyone else see this?”

“Everyone else is out on break,” She wheezed, her breaths still forced and panicked.

“The one time we don’t need them on break,” Rudra whispered under her breath. “And you managed to get it on camera?”

“Yeah, everything’s been recorded,” Ashley gulped.

“Good. We can look over the footage and see what happened. We could be dealing with something interdimensional here. I’ll give Jester a call if that’s the case.”

Before Rudra could get her phone out to call Jester, Ash screamed as something grabbed her. The black tendrils she had described suddenly wrapped around her legs and chest, immobilizing her and rooting her to the spot.

“AH! Rudra, HELP!” Ash screamed, thrashing to free herself from their grip.

“Hold still!” Rudra barked. She drew her flaming sword and grabbed ahold of the thick tendrils around Ash’s abdomen and began slicing, fighting to keep the lashing appendages still as she cut them down.

Ash’s screaming and the hiss of Rudra’s sword drew the attention of nearby officers and like clockwork, several guards jumped to tear Ash free of the lashing vines. 

“Come on, come on! What are these things made out of!?” Rudra hissed through gritted teeth, struggling to tear the tendrils away from Ash.

One of the tendrils grabbed a Soldier and dragged them forwards and into a much larger light. Many of the officers swiftly jumped to keep the Soldier from being dragged into the light, but the tendrils were far too strong to overcome, and the Soldier was swiftly swallowed whole by the orb. 

This set off a chain reaction of several of the officers, soldiers, guards, and interns around being dragged screaming into the light, all the while Rudra held fast to Ash, tearing and slicing at the tendrils in her attempts to keep the woman out of the lights grasp. 

“What’s going on!?” Ash screamed, thrashing about in her binds.

“I don’t know!” Rudra exclaimed. “Just don’t let go of me!”

“I can’t! I’m slipping!” Ash gasped, trying to dig her heels into the floor to no avail.

Around the corner, Noir has finally made it to the scene when Ash fully lost her footing, only being held back by Rudra’s strength alone.

“Noir! Help me here!” Rudra shouted, holding tight to Ash.

“Hang in there, I’m coming!” Noir cried, sprinting over to the two and grabbing a hold of Ash. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get you out of this!” She strained, digging her heels into the floor. “Jesus, what is this thing!?”

“We don’t know! Whatever it is, it's not going to give up easily!”

“No shit it’s not giving up!” Noir wrapped an arm around Ash and tried to strong arm her out of the monster's grip.

“I can’t hold on for much longer!” Ash screamed, digging her nails into Rudra’s armor. 

“Don’t you dare let go!” Noir barked, straining her entire body to keep Ash afloat. 

“Come on, come on!” Rudra hissed through gritted teeth. Her metal sollerets screeched across the floor as she and Ash were slowly dragged towards the light, leaving noticeable white scars in the ground.

As the three women fought against the otherworldly force that threatened to drag them all into its clutches, two stray tendrils emerged from the light and snaked along the floor, wrapping themselves like spiders around Rudra’s legs. With one powerful tug, the tendrils threw the angel off balance. Noir was sent collapsing to the floor as Ash and Rudra were yanked out of her grasp, and a deafening scream tore through her throat as the small light engulfed the intern and her wife in the blink of an eye.

“NO! RUDRA!” Noir shrieked. She leapt to her feet and scrambled to where the light had been, frantically searching for that shimmering rift between worlds. However, just like Rudra and Ash, the light had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but the white streaks in the tile floor.

“Oh god, oh god. Tyson! TYSON! SOUND THE ALARM! RUDRA’S GONE! SHE’S BEEN TAKEN! SHE’S GONE!” She cried in blind and hysterical panic, sprinting down the hall in terror. 

Within minutes, all of HECU had been sent into chaos. A commander had been dragged into some kind of interdimensional rift, along with countless HECU employees. Alarms were sounded as news of the disappearance spread, and the news that Freaks had vanished thanks to this same anomaly only furthered the madness HECU was spiralling in.

However, things only got worse when two of the most infamous Freaks vanished from HECU’s containment facility.

***

Deep below ground, in a heavily fortified cell, Gentlespy and Christian Brutal Sniper sat in their respective lounging chairs, cables and wires hooked up to every part of them like some kind of battery. These cables and wires kept them in their seats, restricting their movement and ensuring the safety of all who stepped into their chambers. A small white table and chair were sat across from them, along with a straightlaced doctor who calmly tapped a pen against his clipboard.

This doctor had been assigned to the two Freaks when they had first been sent in for institutionalization, and it was this man's job to shape Brutal and Gentle into law-abiding Freaks like Madic. However, for all this man's training, he had hit several brick walls in regards to the Freaks in front of him. Brutal and Gentle clearly wanted nothing to do with institutionalization and stubbornly resisted the doctors attempts at changing their perspective or altering their homicidal tendencies, and had driven this doctor to the point of exhaustion with their bullheaded resistance.

“Take number 273, You two have murdered hundreds of mercenary and non-mercenaries alike. We at HECU would like to offer you an alternative to your murderous ways,” The doctor started, already seeing the bored and annoyed expressions on their faces.

“You aren’t leaving this room until you comply or the higher ups agree to let you go. So are you going to rot down here or actually have a chance of leaving here?”

“I’d prefer to break down that door and get back to my old life,” Brutal scowled, tugging on the cables around him to make a point.

“You go back to your old life, and you’ll be sent straight to prison. Would you rather at least try to be better, or would you rather be locked up somewhere?”

“Oh gee, lets see....Eenie meenie miney…Neither. You aren’t gonna magically change us. You haven’t been able to change our minds the last 272 times, what makes you think we’ll listen this time?”

“I was hoping you would have changed your perspective-”

Brutal interrupted him with a hearty laugh. “You’re fun. Annoying, but fun.”

“This isn’t a game, you two,” The doctor groaned incredulously.

“It is. A game of endurance,” Gentle chuckled, examining the quicks of his nails. 

“If I were not here to try and help you two, I’d smack you both,” The doctor bit.

“Can’t help people who don’t want it,” Gentle cajoled jeeringly.

“Then what’s the point of me trying to help you?”

“That’s what we’ve been asking since we got here,” Brutal grumbled, shuffling in his seat. “Got a smoke?”

“We don’t bring cigars in here,” The doctor scowled, rubbing his eyes.

“Figures,” Brutal sighed.

The three swiftly turned their attention to the blaring alarm outside, and the Institution Center was filled with bright, flashing red lights as the intercom flared to life.

Warning: Interdimensional rifts discovered in HECU Headquarters and Evo City. Several Freaks and personnel have vanished into these rifts. All non militant employees are to gather in the courtyard. Everyone else: Please make your way to the Engineering Department.

“Well...Shit,” Brutal groaned. “Interdimensional rifts that are stealing people. This is what, only four months after Grave?”

“We have a habit of getting the short end of the stick,” Gentle sighed, rubbing his temples.

The doctor stood and headed for the door. “You two stay here. I need to find Dr. Liss.”

“Don’t worry, it's not like we can go anywhere,” Brutal jeered incredulously, holding up all the cables that held him back and shaking them around.

While the two sat there, a light appeared behind Gentle. It was dull and small, hardly noticeable even if the two Freaks could look back to see it. 

“Hey, Gentle, you have a smoke?” Brutal asked listlessly, cracking his neck.

“For the last time; They took my cigar case,” Gentle groused, rolling his eyes.

“Would have thought you’d have stolen it back by now.”

“It’s hard to steal anything when I’m wrapped up in these - WHAT THE FUCK!?” Gentles jeer warped into a shrill scream as writhing tendrils of shadow erupted from behind his chair and ensnared him, tangling around the cables and wires that held him in place. Brutal jumped to his friends aid, but another set of twitching vines reached out and grabbed him, too.

“What the fuck is this!?” Brutal gasped with strangled breath, the tendrils wrapping around his chest and neck and violently pulling him back against his chair.

Gentle tried to struggle out of the grasp, only to be pulled into the light as the wires were ripped off the machines. Brutal followed behind him, dragged into the gaping maw that the tendrils had emerged from. It was like hell itself was pulling them in.

And when the doctor returned upon hearing their screams, the alarm that Christian Brutal Sniper and Gentlespy were gone sounded, joining the panic that had engulfed HECU.

[esselley]

Kinktober #12: Tentacles

Space AU is back, but this can be read stand alone! There is no justification for Kageyama and Hinata going on a first contact mission because they’d both be terrible at it, so this AU is now 100% comedy. Oikawa is fucking off and cackling in the background somewhere At All Times

“So, let me get this straight,” Second Officer Kageyama says, arms folded across his chest.

Behind him, Second Second Officer Hinata heroically clutches Kageyama’s sleeve, scooting as close to him as he can get. They are standing in the middle of a room that appears to have no walls, ceiling, or floor—the space around them is brilliantly white, glowing. The only way Kageyama knows it’s a room, and not an endless void, is that they came through a door to get inside. But as soon as the door closed, it blended seamlessly into the wall, leaving them in this odd space that makes him feel as though he is floating, despite feeling solid ground beneath his feet.

Their mission was to make first contact with the dominant sentient species on the planet, to see if a relationship between humankind and these aliens could be fostered. They are a strange, hivemind-like species, their thoughts and emotions all interconnected. Kageyama believes it to be possible, based on his first interactions. They haven’t seen one of the aliens yet—apparently, physical movement is hard for them, and so everything on the planet is automated (or perhaps controlled telepathically—Kageyama isn’t sure). But the aliens are intelligent, hospitable, and polite.

They are also very curious—and after providing the earthlings with food and refreshment, appear to have a few requests.

“You’re asking us to have sex with each other?” Kageyama asks. Just to clarify.

Yes!

The voice wobbles out from seemingly nowhere and everywhere. Kageyama knows it must be the voice of one of their hosts. It sounds very excited, or as excited as a species that is used to inflecting all of its meaning through thought can sound. Quickly, however, it backtracks.

That is only—of course—if you would be willing. I do not wish to impose! We merely are very interested in the mechanics of human coupling.

Kageyama massages his temples. He doesn’t want to offend the aliens during their very first contact, but this type of request…

“Sure!” pipes up a voice from behind him. “We don’t mind!”

Kageyama turns, slowly, to face Hinata. Hinata looks at him blankly.

“What?” he asks. “We don’t mind, right?”

Under his breath, Kageyama hisses, “Are you stupid? Yes, of course we mind!”

“What?!” Hinata yelps. “Why?! We do it all the time!”

“Not in front of—” Kageyama looks around the room, and then hopelessly waves his hands in the air. “And we’re on a mission—”

“What about that time when we were sent to collect samples from that underwater forest—”

“That’s different,” Kageyama grits out.

“Or the time we were like, bees, on that planet with the pollen and all the pink—”

“That was—unintentional!” Kageyama snaps. “Anyways, the point is—”

Our newest friends, please, we do not wish to sow discord—

“No discord!” Hinata says, holding up his hands placatingly. He turns back to Kageyama. “Tobio, come onnnn.”

“I can’t believe—how is this even something you are fine with?” Kageyama asks him, at a loss. “Why is it something you are contemplating?”

Hinata shuffles his feet. He bites his lip and looks up at Kageyama. “It sounds kinda kinky?”

Roughly four minutes later, Kageyama finds himself wondering how and why such a large portion of his job has become finding himself in naked, slippery situations with Hinata.

He only wonders briefly, because it’s hard to think much about anything beyond how good it feels when Hinata deepthroats him.

Fascinating… the larger human has moved beyond the realm of verbal communication…

Hinata pinches Kageyama’s thigh and Kageyama jerks, his hips jumping. Hinata chokes good-naturedly. When he pulls off, his lips are pink and swollen.

“Kageyama, did you hear that?” he asks, grinning. “I’ve moved you beyond the realm of—”

“I’m going to taser you,” Kageyama tells him. Anyone would be unable to talk with their dick that far down Hinata’s throat. It’s not like he’s the only one. “I’m ready, hurry up—”

Hinata has been making himself useful in more ways than one, fingering Kageyama while he sucked him off. The aliens had provided lube, a small container of it that had risen up next to them from the floor of the room. Hinata had been less than cautious about slathering it all over his fingers, and inside Kageyama’s butt, but they’re both still alive, so Kageyama figures it’s fine.

“Jeez, Kageyama,” Hinata says, “it’s not fun if you’re rushing me!” But he’s still quite eager, shoving off his own pants to reveal he’s already hard. Even though everything happening is weird, Kageyama still can’t stop himself from licking his lips, hips wriggling. Hinata is… the stuff he does with Hinata is good.

Hinata crawls over top of him, grinning down in that stupid… attractive way that he has, the I’m so excited we’re fucking each other grin he gets whenever Kageyama gives in to his whims. Kageyama glares up at him, even as he reaches up to encircle Hinata with his arms.

He groans when Hinata pushes into him, clinging to him tighter. Initially, he had skittered around the idea of Hinata fucking him, because Hinata’s ego inflated in tandem with his sex drive, and Kageyama had absolutely not wanted to deal with that. He’d had to cave, eventually, because Hinata turns out to be actually incredible at fucking him. Unfortunately.

Kageyama drags his fingers down Hinata’s back, gasping every time Hinata drives his cock home. Being observed by an indeterminate amount of aliens does absolutely nothing to slow his building orgasm.

This is most unexpected. Even though one of the humans is clearly larger, he appears to be the receptacle for the other human’s sexual apparatus. In this instance, the larger human fulfills the role of the “uke”.

Kageyama blinks. What?

Incredible! Even though the smaller one seemed more timid earlier. I do not want to make any radical claims, but it is possible our assumptions about the humans sexual functions were incorrect, or at least unclear…

“W-wait,” Kageyama pants, and Hinata stops, expression questioning. “No, not you—”

“Okay!” Hinata says happily, and resumes plowing him. Kageyama arches his back and swallows a moan.

“H-hang on—no, I’m still talking to them, Hinata—w-what did you just say?”

Regarding what?

“What did you call me?” Kageyama asks. He feels like he must have misheard, because there’s no way… “You said I fulfill the role of…”

The uke!

Kageyama screws up his face in confusion. “What?!”

It is true, is it not? You are the one being penetrated—I believe colloquially: receiving a dicking.

Hinata has noticed the conversation now. He sputters. “How—”

The small orange penetrates you—therefore, he is the “seme”.

“How do you even know—” Kageyama wheezes. “Okay, no! No.”

He is not the seme?

“Yeah, I am!” Hinata huffs immediately. His face is pink with exertion.

“You wish you were—” Kageyama growls.

Are you both the seme?

“No one—” Kageyama starts to say forcefully, and then forces himself to calm down. Captain Oikawa’s voice is like a siren in his head. Do not yell at the aliens we are trying to befriend for the good of humanity. “No one is the seme.”

Long silence.

…Are you both the uke—

“NO,” Kageyama bellows. “No one is either of those things! They’re not—where are you getting this from? Why are you asking us this?!”

It is the topic of my research assignment on human behavioral habits! I am focusing primarily on the mating patterns of humans. I have gathered my knowledge from your most valuable cultural annals.

“Oh my gosh,” Hinata says, both winded and excited. “Kageyama! They already knew about us!”

Kageyama experiences a profound and sinking feeling of dread. “What cultural annals are those?”

Your people’s history! The hentai.

“They already knew about us because of porn!” Hinata says, sounding impossibly more delighted. “I need to say something more seme-like. Uhhh—”

“Don’t.” Kageyama attempts to head him off.

“Kageyama, you need to take responsibility,” Hinata says, his voice falsely deep. “For being so cute.”

“God dammit, Hinata,” Kageyama says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “Also, you’re already in me, so I am taking responsibility. You suck at this. You suck at being a seme.”

“I do not—”

Humans, we have another request!

Kageyama is not inclined to listen to the aliens’ newest request, having just found out that he is little more than Figure A in somebody’s book report. Hinata, of course, feels differently.

“What can we do to help?” he asks brightly. He circles his hips slowly inside of Kageyama at the same time, which effectively destroys Kageyama’s ability to argue. Little shit.

We wish to engage with you in a more direct manner. But we understand it is important to acquire permission!

Hinata looks down at Kageyama and wiggles his eyebrows. “Kinkier.”

Kageyama sighs. “Sure. Why not?”

Of course, this is what leads to tentacles.

Kageyama doesn’t know if they actually belong to the aliens. He doesn’t know if they’re possibly engineered to be pleasant to humans, or if it’s just a fortunate happenstance. The point (the problem) is: it feels amazing.

“Ohhhh my god,” Hinata moans. “Oh, god, that—that’s really—ahh—nnnh—”

One of the tentacles has slicked him up and entered him from behind. He’s still inside Kageyama, but his thrusting has turned languid and slow as he rocks forward into Kageyama, then backwards to fuck himself on the thick, purple appendage.

Kageyama is again past words. Strictly speaking, this should not be how this particular mission went—but, fuck, if he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it anymore. He rolls his hips helplessly, sucks at one of the little tentacles that has curiously quested into his mouth—whatever secretion it oozes is faintly fruity and sweet. Another tentacle has found his cock and wrapped around it, squeezing and stroking in time with Hinata’s thrusts. It tingles a little bit, a barely-there pulse that feels amazing on his tongue and the hot skin of his dick.

My research in this area has been more than adequate! It seems true that “consentacles” are, for humans, indeed quite pleasurable.

“Quite pleasurable” is putting it mildly. When Hinata comes, he can’t hold back a cry—his fingers scrabble and then grip tight against Kageyama’s hips as he fills him up, and Kageyama can’t help but follow shortly after. It’s an orgasm that shakes him to his very core, makes him just a little hazier than usual. Not quite hazy enough that he doesn’t notice one of the tentacles discreetly scooping up some of the cum off his stomach to deposit into a conveniently appearing container of some sort.

But, he lets it slide. It was a good orgasm, after all. And they’re trying to work with the aliens, here.

The aliens give them time to collect themselves, and little bowls of water and towels (pre-heated… considerate) to clean and dry themselves with. Hinata is practically glowing afterwards, as they say their goodbyes. It won’t be a permanent farewell—this has been, somehow, a successful liaison for earth.

They arrive back on the ship looking quite pleased with themselves and no worse for wear. Iwaizumi, the ship’s first officer, is there to greet them.

“Ah, Kageyama, Hinata,” he says, “status report?”

“The miss—” Kageyama begins, but Hinata sidesteps in front of him like an overexcited pigeon.

“The mission went well!” he says brightly. Kageyama puts a hand on his face and shoves him back out of the way.

“Quite—well,” he says. “I’m sure we can proceed to further encounters with the planet natives. They were really… welcoming.”

“Fantastic,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll notify Oikawa.” 

“Understood,” Kageyama says. “Although, uh—”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question him. Yet. “A full report by 0900 hours tomorrow would be great.”

“Understood,” Kageyama says again. They watch Iwaizumi make his way out of the rendezvous room.

“Are you gonna put it in your report that you’re the uke, Kagyama?” Hinata asks.

Without blinking, Kageyama puts him in a headlock. “I’m going to put you in a trash compactor.” 

He has got to figure out a way to keep Oikawa from seeing this report.

More Kinktober? Here’s some more close encounters of the sexy kind!

[blueclock3000]

Caretakers of the Emperor

By Sicilian Oravarian

[In 3E 389 the wicked mage, Jagar Tharn, ensnared Uriel Septim VII’s form onto his own and sent the Emperor to Oblivion. While the prison was of Jagar Tharn’s design, it was vulnerable yet to the influence of Princes who dominated the realm. This text documents the meeting of the unholy royalty and their concerns of what to do to their new guest.]

“Give me his asshole.” Molag Bal grabbed one of his servants and sent their head into pieces against his table. “There is much to do with a Septim but a little reminder of the forces he has mingled and barter with is in order first.”

LET’S KILL HIM! It’d be so easy just bash Bash BASH his skull in! COME ON! Just do it!

Mehrunes Dagon was never raised properly and thus didn’t know how to quote his words. Peryite’s many claws rapped against the chair his serpentine form curled around. The chaos and cacophony of these meetings always riled him up and it came to be expected that every few meetings he would explode into insanity much like his kin.

“Order, I say, order!” He chimed. Peryite rested his head as his temper fumed.

“Give me that royal ass! Aren’t you sickened by the violating hands of mortals slithering into our realm and taking our servants? I say we violate them back.” The Prince who said this needs no identification. He turned over to the woman quietly scrying far across the table. “And what are you up to, Azura? You secretive bitch!”

Hermaeus Mora slithered by, his casual negligence of his tentacles and their proximity to bodies giving Molag Bal a much arousing shiver.

“Vivec?” He cried out in desperate want.

Azura burst into laughter.

“Your lover is still struggling to maintain power in his faux temples. Don’t worry, I’m quite certain you and him shall see each other again.”

“I’ll rape you! I’ll rape all of you!”

“Order! Nothing gets done if everyone is just shouting what they want!”

“You’re shouting you want order.” Azura said as her second self spoke whispers upon dying sun rays to her servants far away.

“Yes, but what I want is best for all.” Peryite hissed.

“Azura.” Groaned out Mora. “Perhaps you and I shall discuss Morrowind. I have schedules with a certain part of it, if all works out accordingly. Shall we see if there’s any conflicts….or rather,” His voice dragged into a malevolent growl. “How far you intend to influence it.”

The sudden stink of wet swine and carcass invaded the room and all but Malacath quivered at the intense rancid mist only a Prince of dying animals could marinate and concoct.

“Morrowind, we speak? What business have any of you with it?” Hircine said.

“Far more than a mere hunt.” Mora replied.

“Technically you want Solstheim, idiot.” Azura said. “Keep that filthy isle. It’ll make a great dumping ground for your hogs and dogs. So please tell them to stop defecating on the meeting floor!”

Malacath rose out his seat and slammed his hand against the table.

“Stop oppressing his personality!!”

Sanguine’s mind found its way through the intoxicated fog.

“We should think of how to care for the Emperor. Uriel knows the pleasures of life and beyond, let’s at least be gracious hosts for a while.”

“If it’s sustenance he needs…” Namira gracefully but with quick purpose uncurtained her left breast, revealing a mushroom infested rot lump quivering with the release of new age pus, “…let’s give him a taste. They say in strife a man may find his star.”

Sanguine’s cheeks ballooned with a torrent of vomit, only withdrawn with hesitation and reminders of his drinks the night before.

Throw my lands into CHAOS! THE EMPIRE IS DESTINED TO FALL AS ARE ALL THINGS! I refuse to rest until we usurp the throne and GIVE ME WHAT IS MINE!!

A xivali risked it and whispered into the ear of his lord, reminding him of their meddlings in Nirn and the long term benefits. Suddenly the disappearance of Uriel Septim VII seemed to work just perfectly.

I WITHDRAW MY DEMANDS. PROCEED AS YOU WISH. I AM PLEASED.

The moving flow of stars left Azura’s eyes as she snapped to Dagon.

“What does that mean? What are you scheming?”

NOTHING. STATEMENTS WITHDRAWN FROM I. ONLY APATHY TOWARDS THIS MADNESS.

“Bullshit!” Azura screamed. “You monkey-looking maniac, what are your plans? Give them to me!”

Molag folded his arms and chuckled heartily.

“You plot too? I’ve got my eyes and servants on your vampiric hordes!”

“I’ll have my vampiric hordes on your servants as well.”

“Fucker dick! I’ll have a little surprise for your boyfriend.”

“Taking a male form are we?”

“Now why would I want to make you insecure?”

“God….damn…” Sanguine muttered through his pants. “The banter…”

Meridia hummed to herself as the outline of her form danced through many colors and lights. Peryite had used them to comfort his mind until he realize there was no pattern to them after spending half an hour thinking there was. It only swelled his stress. The maiden of lights just watched as others spoke, keeping note on Mehrunes Dagon and his sudden satisfaction.

Clavicus Vile had spent the whole meeting uttering conflicting information to pin the Princes against each other but none had cared to listen. Despite Sanguine’s invitation to a meeting afterparty, Vile proceeded back to his realm to listen to music and ponder if he had lost his touch.

“Why do you all fret so wearily?” Yawned out Mephala. “Is it not enough the Empire has been deceived by a falsehood, a falsehood that this Jagar Tharn will be unable to keep up? He’s a sneak with no knowledge of how to rule. With patience we shall see the Empire tear itself apart.”

“Death to evil!” Yelled out a paladin as he leapt upon the center of the table. “By the Nine I see all the vileness of all the worlds at conference! You fools! You merely line your heads for an execution!”

“ENOUGH!!!” Peryite shrieked as he slid onto the table, wrapped himself around the paladin and vomited cancerous surges down his throat. The paladin’s body erupted piece by piece into blood plops and infested meats.

“Whoa ho ho! Sick!” Molag Bal laughed as he pulled up to the edge of his seat.

For Sanguine this was hilarious but with the upset caused by Namira’s prior exhibition, it was the last straw. He later stood in a two foot hill of his own upheave.

“Boethiah doesn’t even bother showing up but she sends her pranks!” Peryite shouted. “ORDER I DECLARE! BAGAWK! ORDER!!” He span his head wildly in circles as Meridia slid over to talk to Dagon, as Namira began to produce lewd and putrid juices while darkness overwhelmed her among the vomit - which pile of vomit is up to you - while Nocturnal stood as she did since the beginning and waited for the ramblings and initial madness to exhaust itself to only incredibly irritating levels. She could exert her status and speak truths of the void but that cannot be withered in use. Namira knew of Nocturnal’s presence, which stirred her lewdness in the first place.

“Shut the fuck up!” Azura yelled as she hurled an ebony moon AND a star at the dragon. Peryite’s temporary fray into insanity had already expended itself in the taking of a life so he took the blunt damage as a reminder to maintain himself and returned to his seat. He left the tumor vomit corpse as punishment.

"What takes Nocturnal so long?" asked Azura.

Molag Bal whipped out his menacing rod and smiled as the narrative was now forced to use unpleasant innuendos.

“Yeah, where is she? I wouldn’t mind a threesome with you and her.”

Sheogorather blurred his form as his torso leaned in 45 degrees to the cloaked and despicably fragrant Prince of Nightmares. The blur was to hide or perhaps make notice of his legs remaining strictly upright. Lips popped in and out in a bubble fashion about Vaermina’s head, whispering plots. She took heed of each as she held her sharp chin in thought.

“Tell me your voices on this, Mad Prince. Nightmares for one long stayed in Oblivion will only seem like the anxieties of one in a crime ridden village. Horror awaits in memories of a world far kinder growing more distant away.”

Sheogorath nodded before jerking his neck abruptly and collapsing on the ground. A Sheogorath from within the corpse emerged, ripping through the carcass as if it were paper. The mouths around Vaermina’s head whispered in fear as they beheld the display. The new Sheogorath stepped out of his corpse like a man at last ready to attend the ball. He rolled the corpse into a paper ball and tossed it to the side. The mouths parted, allowing a silent one in the back to fly onto the featureless jaw of the Mad Prince, cracking a growing smile as it glided through the air.

“Old ideas scrapped, Vaermina!” His golden eyes sharpened. “This dream business has a lot more potential than what those deviled eggs over there are cooking up! I say, why torture the man any further? Give him pleasant sanity from these wonderful waters.”

“Help the Emperor? You’ve intrigued me before, I thought you’d be pleased with another Pelagius.”

“Bitch, please.” He chuckled. “Pelagius is more than one Pelagius as far as he and I are concerned. Besides, the Septim’s head is already a festival. The Divines speak to him, what’s another friendly voice? That Tharn lad has given us gold here. In the Septim’s time of need he will find new loyalty in wondrous dreams, loyalty that will carry over once he returns to Mundus.”

Vaermina’s brow jolted to join the wrinkles above.

“You speak of others but what are you concocting, Sheogorath?”

“A new kind of future for Tamriel. I say we proceed with Love, shall we?”