#look at the wall and cry for several hours perhaps. riveting!

[archduke-enver-gortash]

realised way too late that people are sending more than just one colour for that ask game btw sorry gang i am a dingus. so i will just say. appreciate y’all <3

[kazekohitori]

This is a four part fanfic I wrote for myself and my friends to help deal with the pain of the end of Castiel and Supernatural.

Please read CastielXStacie Chapters One and Two, CastielXAllanah Part One, and CastielXStevie before continuing.

CastielXAllanah Part Two

Allanah took Castiel back to her house where she thought they could better analyze the situation. She explained along the way that, in this world, Castiel was a character in a tv show played by beloved actor Misha Collins. Sam and Dean were played by two Texans who, after portraying brothers for so long, were very much like brothers in real life. The creator of the show, Eric Kripke, had left after season five and that was why the writing had taken a turn for the worse. Castiel listened intently, everything she said had all happened to him in the exact same way. Could the writers of this show be prophets? He didn’t recognize the names as such but maybe in this universe there was a different list of prophets inscribed into the angels minds.

And what of the angels? Were there angels here? Allanah said she had never seen one but couldn’t in good conscience exclude their existence. There had been no angel radio communications; in fact Castiel’s angel senses could not pick up any vibrations of the supernatural. No angels. No demons. No witchcraft or magic. This world seemed to be void of them. That, or his senses weren’t functioning properly.

Castiel had sat at Allanah’s computer the rest of the afternoon and evening reading news articles looking for signs of abnormalities that could be tied to his arrival here. He had found nothing. Deciding instead to focus on what was in front of him he looked into the show following his recent experiences. He had been interested in the love Misha Collins’ fans had for him and all the good Misha had triggered in this world. Allanah had gushed about what she knew of Misha and how kind he was, stating that was one of the reasons she loved the character Castiel. Not only did Misha portray a memorable angel, he was practically an angel himself.

Allanah went about her evening rituals while the angel did “research”. She finished her chores about the house, played with Emma, made dinner for them, put Emma to bed, and did the dishes all while Castiel sat hunched over the computer.

After her evening routine was complete she approached Castiel with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “You drink?”

Studying her he sat back, “I- uh... sure.”

Setting a glass down next to him she poured a glass for him, then one for herself. Holding her glass up to his when he took it, she said, “To new friendships.”

A small smile crept to his lips as he watched her take a sip and then followed suit. He only tasted molecules but it wasn’t unpleasant. He had learned with each “tasting” of human consumables he could discern the different molecular structures and, in a sense, taste. He liked sweet foods such as cereal and chocolate candy bars but the love he once had for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was gone. This wine, to him, had semi-sweet undertones, like chocolate, with a hint of grape jelly. With each sip it started to grow on him.

Allanah went to sit on the couch in front of the tv where he joined her. “Shall we watch something?”

He gave a small nod, “if you want.”

She flipped through her tv’s menu for something he might enjoy, “anything in particular?”

He watched her take a sip of wine. Her lips pressing to the glass as the red liquid flowed in and over her tongue, her throat muscles bobbed with the swallowing action. Her neck had a graceful length and dip to it. And the way she held her head, as though some invisible crown lay upon it. “A queen of her domain,” Castiel mused, “not one easily trifled with.” And yet she had allowed him, what he considered himself to be, a stranger, into the bosom of her home. There was an easiness about her. She didn’t make him feel as if he were a stranger. She had welcomed him home, offered him a room to stay, with it’s own tv, access to a computer and the internet, and some spare clothes (apparently from an old boyfriend) for him should he wish to change, all without asking anything in return or expecting anything of him until he could ascertain the situation he now found himself in. Her kindness, he thought, was not found in every human. She was part of the rarer breed.

Allanah side-eyed him, “Hello? Any preference?”

Castiel withdrew his attention from her, focusing instead on his glass as he brought it up for another sip. “No. What ever you wish is fine.”

She opted for Criminal Minds and settled herself in for a riveting episode. However, shortly therein she felt his eyes upon her again. The angel on the show had a habit of awkwardness and staring. She had always considered this endearing. Now that she was on the opposite end of it she wasn’t so sure. Being so heavily scrutinized she couldn’t enjoy the show. She was tempted to snap at him but knew that would be detrimental to their budding friendship or, hopefully, she thought, romantic relationship.

She glanced at him, taking in his relaxed form sitting beside her on the couch. Would he ever take that trench coat off? It hindered her view of what lay beneath. She imagined his muscular arms around her, caging her to a wall as he pressed up against her, kissing her deeply then turning his mouth to her neck. She would pull his shirt from his belt and hastily unbutton it, pressing her lips to his when he lifted his head. She would then work on his belt to free his manhood from the confines of his trousers and squeeze his tight ass as she ripped his boxers from his legs. She imagined herself dropping before him and licking- Oh GOD! Could he hear her thoughts? Like in the show? Oh, Fuck! What had she done!

Her face turned a bright red as he watched her. Perhaps he was staring too much. He refocused his attention to the tv show. He wasn’t interested in it at all. What he really wanted to do was snuggle into her. To bathe in that warmth she had so freely given him on the street. To indulge in the scent of her and, if she’d allow it, to taste her wine soaked kiss.

“Mama?” A small voice from the bedroom roused both of them from their thoughts. Allanah left to check on her daughter while Castiel downed the half glass of wine he had left. Returning with Emma in tow, Emma ran to Castiel and jumped up on his lap while Allanah went to the kitchen to get Emma’s sippy cup. Emma started playing with Cas’ face, which he, surpringly, let her. He held her loosely to keep her from falling and smiled contentedly at her. Emma giggled and smooshed his cheeks together giving him “fish lips” and giggling louder when he moved them as such. She pulled at his ear as she readjusted herself on his lap, when he pulled away she reached for his nose instead. Again he pulled away but still smiled. She bopped him on the nose and he acted as though she had given him a knockout punch, throwing his head back and crying out in pain. Then he looked back at her and smiled. She did it again, and he again obliged.

Allanah returned having watched their game from the kitchen, “Emma, be nice,” a motherly tone in her voice. Emma giggled before taking the sippy cup and settling herself into Castiel’s lap, laying her head on his chest. If Allanah was ever jealous of her daughter this was it. Being a child, Emma could do things like climb into strangers laps and no one would bat an eye, but if Allanah did that she was sure to get some strange looks. “The innocence of youth...” she thought.

Allanah reached for Emma, “Sorry about that. C’mon Em.”

Emma moaned her disapproval, digging herself farther into Cas’ embrace, throwing her small arms around his chest and burying her face away from her mother.

“It’s okay,” Castiel stopped Allanah’s attempts to collect Emma. He folded his arms around her, cradling her to him.

Now Allanah really was jealous. But instead of saying anything she simply pouted her lips, poured herself some more wine, and watched the tv.

Several hours passed with the three of them on the couch. Emma had fallen asleep in Cas’ lap but every time Allanah tried to remove her she would wake and make a fuss. Castiel did not complain, instead reassuring Allanah he enjoyed having the small life on his lap. Allanah herself had started to become sleepy and considered feigning nodding off on Cas’ inviting shoulder.

Suddenly Allanah’s phone started going off with messenger notifications. She went to the kitchen to retrieve it and see what was going on. Stevie was sending messages one after another.

Stevie: YOU GUYS!

Stevie: OMG

Stevie: YOU GUYS!!!

Stevie: HES REAL

Stevie: IM LOOKING RIGHT AT HIM!

Stevie: HES HERE IN MY HOUSE!!

Stevie: HES REAL

Stevie: YOU GUYS!!!!

Stevie: AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

Allanah was the first to respond.

Allanah: What do you mean? Who?

Stevie: CASTIEL! HE’S HERE IN MY KITCHEN!

Allanah: How

Stevie: Idk but he is! We just kissed!

Stevie: I thought he was a dream but

Stevie: HE’S FUCKING REAL!!!

Allanah typed back.

Allanah: I know he is. I’m looking at him right now.

Stevie: What?

Allanah: He is on my couch with Emma.

Allanah: How is he with you?

Stevie: There’s two of them?!

Before Allanah could respond Christina chimed in.

Christina: Make that three

[youcancallmecirce]

Elemental, Chapter 8: Stroll

Gah, why is it so hard to get to the good stuff?  This chapter sets the stage for the scene drawn by artisticFlutter, and we will actually see that scene next chapter.  

No, I really mean it this time!  

Seriously, how has it taken me EIGHT CHAPTERS to set up ONE sex scene?  For crying out loud, this is ridiculous.  Oh well.  Thanks for your patience while I worked through my writer's block! I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5    Chapter 6     Chapter 7     Read it on AO3

So, to recap:  Adrien and Nino have joined the girls for a sleep-over.  They had dinner and a video game tournament, and are now watching Star Wars.  In this chapter, Nino and Alya get side-tracked during the movie, and retreat to Alya's room for some privacy.  The walls are thin, though, and Adrien and Marinette decide to take a walk to escape their friends' rather vocal enthusiasm.

Since Adrien was completely new to Star Wars, and had somehow managed to avoid picking up on the biggest “surprise” of the series, there was some debate over how, exactly, to introduce him to it.  Marinette saw no reason not to watch them by order of release, but Nino insisted on something called the Machete Order.  Marinette had conceded gracefully, though now, at the end of A New Hope, she glanced at Nino in irritation.

Or, more specifically, at Nino and Alya.

Adrien had traded places with her, claiming the bean bag chair for himself so that he could sit closer to the TV, and Marinette now sat in his spot in the corner of the couch.  Nino still sat in the opposite corner, but now, instead of sitting next to him Alya sat on him with one knee on either side of his hips and her tongue down his throat.

Marinette poked Nino’s side with her toe.  “Stop snogging, you’re distracting me,” she hissed, trying not to disturb Adrien’s enjoyment of the movie. “I thought you wanted to watch this with him?”

“S-sorry,” he sighed as Alya moved her attentions to his jaw.

“They’re not bothering me,” Adrien said as Princess Leia briefed the Rebel pilots on their attack plan.

Alya shot her a coy glance.  “You’re just jealous that you’re not snogging someone right now.”

“No!”  Maybe.  “I just think you should stop dry humping and actually watch the movie.  Or get a room.”

“Perhaps we should.”  Alya kissed Nino again, and tugged his lip gently with her teeth.  “What do you think, babe?  Finish the movie?  Or say ‘good night’ now and go get more comfortable?”

She raked her nails over his nipple, through his shirt, and his breath hitched.  “Uh…com—comfortable sounds good.”

“You’re shameless, Alya.”   Marinette rolled her eyes, aroused in spite of herself, and focused her attention back on the movie.  It was either that, or imagine herself snogging with Adrien.  In all honesty, that was what she wanted, but their relationship was too new for her to just attack him out of nowhere, and he really was enjoying the film.

Alya pushed herself off of his lap and stood, then threw a glare at Marinette as she held out her hands to pull him up as well.  “Don’t you slut shame me either, M.”

“Oh, no, slut it up, girl,” Marinette grinned.  “Just try to do it where I can’t see you.”

“Spoil sport,” Alya laughed, leading Nino to her room.  “’Night, guys.”

Marinette giggled, and waved somewhat enviously at their retreating forms.  “Goodnight!”

“’Night,” Adrien called absently.

“Later dudes,” Nino replied, just before he disappeared into Alya’s room and the door clicked firmly shut.

By that point, the Rebel fighters were desperately trying to bullseye the exhaust port before the Deathstar came within firing range of their base, and Adrien was riveted.  When the credits began to roll soon after, Adrien stood from his place on the bean bag chair and joined Marinette on the couch while she picked up the remote to shut off the movie.   In the absence of the music, however, they could now hear the sounds coming from Alya’s room, and their eyes widened.

“Well,” she chirped, desperate to fill the void with something to distract from their friends’ noises, “what did you think?”

He chuckled, recognizing her over-loud question for the distraction it was.  “It was good!  The special effects are obviously dated, but it’s a good film regardless.”

Marinette gave him an amused look.  “Those dated special effects were revolutionary at the time it was released.”

“I’m sure.”  He shrugged.  “But that was what, forty years ago?”

Marinette returned the shrug.  “Doesn’t matter.  It’s a classic.”

“I can see why.”  Adrien smiled. “When can we—” There was a particularly loud moan from Alya’s room, and he stopped abruptly.   “Not subtle, are they?” Adrien remarked, giving up on trying to avoid the topic and tossing a look at the closed door.  “Are you sure she’s not Mer?”

“Definitely not,” Marinette snorted.  There was another moan, even louder than the one before, and she cleared her throat awkwardly.  “Would you want to go for a walk, or something?  They’re uh, they’re going to be like that for a while.”

“If you want to, but they’re not really—”  He was interrupted by a muffled obscenity in Nino’s voice, and an accompanying feminine moan.  He cleared his throat.  “Actually, yeah.  A walk sounds really nice.”

Marinette laughed.  “Come on, we can walk to the beach and back.”

“The beach?”  He stood, and pulled her to her feet.  “Want to go for a swim while we’re out there?”

“In the middle of the night?” she asked, frowning.

“Why not?” he shrugged.  “I do it all the time.”

“You…do?  Isn’t it dangerous?”

“No more dangerous than during the day.  At least, not for me.”  He chuckled softly.  “I grew up there, remember?  A midnight swim for me is no different from a midnight walk for you.”

“Oh,” she blinked, and ducked her head sheepishly.  “Right.  I um—just, let me go and put on my suit, then.”  She walked backwards towards her door a few steps, and at his nod, turned to hurry through it.  She stuck her head back out long enough to say, “I’ll only be a moment,” and then shut herself inside.

Marinette opened her drawer to see that she had only one clean bathing suit: her oldest one.  She grimaced, but began changing.   She’d acquired several bathing suits over the last few years, since she’d started swimming daily, but all of the newer ones were either hanging in the bathroom or waiting in the hamper.  This one would do; it was still in decent shape, and it was the loveliest shade of rose that complimented her skin well.  

She grabbed her dress and pulled it on over her bathing suit, slipped into the bathroom for a couple of towels, and then met Adrien in the living room.

He’d changed, too, she saw.  “You brought swim trunks?” she asked, pointing at his shorts and passing the towels to him.

“I wasn’t sure what I’d need,” he admitted.  “I wanted to be prepared.”

“Well, it worked out.”  She grabbed her beach bag, tossed her keys and phone into it, and then held it open for him to add the towels.  “Ready?”

In Alya’s room, the headboard began to slam rhythmically into the wall, prompting blushes to bloom on both their faces.   Adrien nodded his head emphatically.  “Absolutely.”

They were quiet as they made their way down to the street, trying to be respectful of the other people in the building.  Just because they were still up at midnight, didn’t mean that everyone else was.  Under normal circumstances, Marinette herself would have been in bed hours ago, and she knew the frustration of being woken by inconsiderate neighbors.

Outside the building, though, they relaxed.

“I’m sorry about Alya,” Marinette offered, her cheeks warming.  She hoped he wouldn’t notice, strolling as they were down the darkened street.   “They’re always kind of noisy, but I can usually tune them out.  They only get like that when they’ve had a bit to drink.”  She shook her head ruefully, a wry smile tugging one corner of her mouth.  “I should have anticipated it, honestly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed, slipping his hands into his pockets.  “It was a bit awkward, but I’m not scandalized.  My people are not shy about their sexuality.  Honestly, it was just the noise.  I’m definitely not used to that.”

“The Mer aren’t, uh…vocally expressive?”

“Not as much, no.  And sound is different, underwater.”

“That makes sense,” she allowed.

He glanced at her assessingly.  “It really does make you uncomfortable, though, doesn’t it?”

“No!” He raised a skeptical brow.  “Well, maybe,” she amended.  “It’s just so…private, you know?”  Then she frowned.  “Or maybe you don’t.  You keep saying Mer are a lot more open about sex.”

“More open, yes, and far less shy.  But most of us do prefer some degree of privacy.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” she teased, bumping playfully into his shoulder.  Before she could shift away again, he caught her fingers in his and twined them together with a gentle squeeze.  “Oh!”  She glanced up at him in surprise, and he met her blush with a warm smile.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they walked through the darkened streets towards the beach.

Adrien enjoyed their quiet camaraderie as they walked to the beach, their hands linked and arms brushing as they moved.  Marinette was a restful companion; she didn’t find it necessary to fill the quiet with incessant chatter, as Chloe did.  It was wonderful to simply enjoy the night, breathing in the scent of the ocean and soaking in the presence of the woman beside him.

Wonderful—and torturous.

In the absence of conversation, his mind was free to wander.  Given the explicit sounds they’d left behind in the apartment, and the svelte body brushing his, his mind was fixated on the erotic.

He had wanted her days ago, from the time she’d first touched the delicate skin between his fingers.  As they’d spent more time together, his interest and desire had only grown.  And now, with the sounds Alya had made fresh in his mind, he was hard pressed to think of anything else. Would Marinette make the same noises?  Could he draw those sounds from her?   Arousal rippled through him anew.  He glanced at his companion, who was strolling beside him with a distant expression and a faint blush on her cheeks.

Were her thoughts running along the same path as his?   Was she thinking about him making the same low, primal sounds that Nino had made?  Was she thinking about being the one to elicit those sounds?

Gods, he hoped she was.  Aside from a brief, impersonal liaison with an acquaintance the one time he’d been home since coming here two years ago, he’d only had the company of his own hands during that time.  He ached for the touch of someone else.  But, he wanted it to be someone he cared for.  He wanted someone who cared for him, and wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He wanted Marinette.

He swallowed thickly, and looked down at her again.  They’d reached the sandy path leading to the beach, and out here there were no more street lights to pollute the night sky.  The undiluted moonlight limned her skin, making her look ethereal.  Soon, she would have water droplets clinging to her body, refracting the light, and already he itched to kiss the water from her skin.  When he’d kissed her before, she’d tasted sweet, like coffee and cream.  How would she taste with the salt of the ocean on her lips?  He wanted to know, wanted to know that and more, but it didn’t matter if she was interested only in a midnight swim.

Adrien took a deep, steadying breath.  He wasn’t sure how this kind of thing worked, here.  He’d already indicated his interest in her, and he knew that she returned his interest.  At home, with another of the Mer, he’d address the question directly, and receive just as direct a response.  But here?  From what he’d observed, it was taboo to issue a frank invitation to have sex.  He shook his head in bewilderment.  Humans made things unnecessarily complicated.

“What is it?”

He started at the soft question, and looked at her with his brows raised in question.

She stopped, and pulled him around to face her. “You shook your head, and you’re frowning.”

“Oh. It was nothing.”  He smiled gamely, grateful that she wasn’t privy to his thoughts.  Then again, it might make communicating with her a lot easier…

She looked as if she wanted to press him, but shrugged and slipped her bag from her shoulder to clutch it in her hands.  “This is where I usually leave my things when I swim.  Did you want to go in the water, or just keep walking?”

“Low tide, it looks like.  It’s a good time for a swim.”  He looked back at her hopefully.  “I’d like to go in, at least for a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“No,” she replied, smiling.  “I’ll go in with you.  I rarely come out here at night, but it’s beautiful.  Do, um, do you want me to go in first, so you can, um…?”  She trailed off, blushing furiously, and gestured to his shorts.

“Oh!  Ah, yeah, that would be—um, yes.  Thank you.”

Marinette giggled, and tugged her dress off over her head, revealing a bathing suit that he hadn’t seen her wear before.  It was simple, but the lines of the suit complemented her figure as if it had been designed for her. She bent to stow her dress in the bag, and he forced his eyes back to her face as she stood and began to walk backwards, towards the water.

“I’m not going to go far, until you’re able to join me.  I love swimming at night, but I’m not ashamed to say that it frightens me.”

Adrien smiled at her admission.  Smart girl, he thought.  Aloud, he said, “I won’t be long.”

“Okay.”  She turned around and jogged to the gently lapping water, shrieking a bit when the chill water splashed up her legs.

Adrien waited until the water reached her waist, then shucked off his clothes and left them piled atop her bag.  He almost forgot to grab the leather thong for his ring, but remembered only two steps away from their things.  With the thong in hand he ran to join her in the water, anxious to conceal his nudity beneath its surface.

Even though it was late spring, with summer right around the corner, the water was cold.   It was no wonder that Marinette had squealed; without the warmth of the sun on his skin, or the protection of his natural form, the chill of it was a shock on his skin.  He, at least, could revert to his Mer form and be comfortable, but Marinette would not be able to stay in the water long without becoming chilled.  With that in mind, Adrien removed his ring as soon as he’d moved out far enough.  The warm tingle of his transformation washed over him and he sighed in relief.

“That was…wow.  Your transformation is an incredible thing to watch.”

Adrien spun in the water with a start, and saw Marinette treading water only about a meter away from him.  His eyes widened.  “You saw—”

“Only your transformation!” she rushed to assure him.   “I didn’t see, uh, anything else.  I promise.”

“Right.”  He relaxed, then wondered why he cared so much.  Hadn’t he just been thinking about being naked with her?  He gave himself a mental shake, and told himself to say something, anything to banish the sudden awkwardness between them.  “What…um, what did it look like?”

Her expression blanked in confusion.  “Look like?”

“My transformation.  I’ve never seen myself change.”

“Really?”  Her eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“Nope. I always close my eyes, no matter my intention to keep them open and watch.”  As he spoke, he carefully looped the thong through his ring, and slipped it on over his head.  Losing it wasn’t an option.  Without it, he couldn’t leave the sea.

“Oh.  Well, it’s…otherworldly.  You glow, with this subtle light.  It’s…it’s like…oh, damn.”  Her brow furrowed and her lips puckered in thought as she searched for the word, and Adrien felt his lips curve.  Her expression was adorable.  Then her expression abruptly cleared, and she snapped her fingers in triumph.   “Bioluminescence!  You looked almost bioluminescent.  Then the light intensified at your head and kind of moved over you in a wave, changing you as it went.  It was amazing.”

Adrien looked at his webbed hands wonderingly, trying to imagine what she’d described. “I wish I could see it happen.”

“Maybe I could record it happening sometime, and you could watch the video?   We could delete it after, just in case, but at least you’d get to see.”

Adrien blinked, and then shrugged.  “Maybe.”  He wasn’t sure how they could do that, since cell phones and water were generally not compatible, but they could figure that out another time.  She was shivering, so they either needed to start moving around, or get out of the water entirely. “Do you have Tikki with you?”

Marinette nodded and touched her earrings, which he now noticed were darker than they had been.  She tilted her head in question.  “Shall we head down?”

In response, Adrien only grinned and dove into the waves.  He sought and found the little eddies in the water that told him she was following, so he continued, leading her both farther from shore and deeper into the water.

“Slow down, you crazy fish!”  Her mental voice was tinged with laughter, nullifying any sting the words might have carried.  “Not all of us have fins, you know.”

He slowed and turned to wait for her, smiling in apology.  “Sorry about that.  I’m still getting used to swimming with a human.  I forget that your underwater breathing does not come with a fish tail.”

She swam closer, grinning at him girlishly.  “I wish,” she returned, projecting an image of herself with a shimmering red fish tail.

Though it had been intended to be playful, the image hit him, hard.  If she were a mermaid…  His eyes drifted over her body, filling in the details of the image she had sent him—her breasts unbound, strands of shells and pearls draped over her hips, coral combs anchoring her beautiful dark hair out of the way, a mother of pearl necklace at her throat and rose red scales against her fair skin…

Marinette must have sensed the change in his mood, because her smile fell.  “Adrien?  Did I do something wrong?”

He jerked his gaze back to hers, and in answer, projected her updated image back to her. Her eyes darkened, and her cheeks flushed.  “No.  Not at all.”  He flicked his tail lazily, drawing closer to her still-shivering body, and caught her hand in his.  “I quite like the thought of you as a Mer.”

“O-oh.”  Her wide eyes searched his, and the fingers of her other hand sought his.  “So do I.”

Another flick of his tail brought him closer, until her cloth-covered breasts brushed his chest and her knee bumped his fin.  Her breath caught, and he groaned.  “I want you, Marinette.  I don’t know how to court you as a human male would—“

 “Then don’t.”

Her mental voice was laced with both desire and assent, and Adrien’s blood surged in his veins.  He bared his teeth in a growl, yanked her fully against him, and seized her mouth in a kiss.  He felt a tremor of nascent fear run though her, and immediately gentled.  “I’m not going to hurt you, Mari.”

“I know,” she replied.  “This is just a bit new, for me.”

He pulled back to look at her face, cupping her cheeks in his hands.  “We can stop at any time.”

“I don’t want to stop, Adrien.”  She grasped his neck and pulled his lips back to hers.  "I want you, too."

[repressed-daydreams]

Caught in a daydream

It couldn’t remember its life before Master liberated it.

There was something to be said about finding freedom in its cage.

It had long since learned that it didn’t deserve pronouns. It didn’t even have a name. What was the point? A name designated a person as an individual. It wasn’t that. It was a non-human. Master had taught it so.

Master had taught it that it had no rights. It was just a piece of property for real humans. A bag of flesh and tits that held three warm, moist, welcoming holes.

It went by a number of nicknames though. Slave. Fuckface. Cock sucker. Cunt. But they weren’t really nicknames; they were its functions. 

As it curled over in its cage, it had drifted off in daydreams, staring blankly at the white walls and clinical lighting that surrounded it. There were a number of floor-to-ceiling mirrors on each wall that Master had installed. It served to remind it of what it was. 

It tried to remember its face. For what seemed like years now, Master had kept it in a black leather hood, taking away its last vestiges of personality, and humanity. 

But daydreams weren’t what Master wanted. At all times, it was to meditate on its Master, on thoughts of being used and fucked by its owner.

It moved its head to look at the mirror in front of it. It studied the large, thick ring that dangled from its septum, a light metallic clinking sounded through the room as the metal of the ring moved in its rivet-covered hole. 

It hung right over the top of its lip; an ever-present humiliation.

Its mouth was, as always, was held open by a ring gag. The straps cut into the skin of its face, and it realised it should show gratitude to Master for protecting her skin with its mask. He was always so thoughtful.

Its gaze travelled down its body, to the leather straps over its shoulders holding its arms in a beautiful leather armbinder, to the ropes that held its tits and turned them into a beautiful violet hue, to the bells that dangled from the piercings through her nipples.

It moaned at the thought of Master alternating between licking and whipping its tits. It felt its naughty little clit tingle at the thought, and it felt wetness dribble down its inner thigh.

Its gaze continued to its gaping, wet pussy. It was always wet these days. Master knew exactly what it needed. A ring looped around its cunt, and two clamps held its lips open. Master told it that this was the proper way a cunt should be treated, so it was always open and ready for Master to use.

It was only proper. 

It tore its eyes from the mirror and examined the leather holding its thighs to its ankles. This was its favourite bind. It pushed its thighs as open as it could, given the confines of its cage, and pushed its hips as forward as far as it could. Just in case Master walked in, it wanted to appear as sexy and use-able as it could.

And it was good timing too. Master pushed open the thick metal door to her cage room. It was just one room of many in the dungeons beneath his home. 

Wordlessly, he opened the door of the cage, and on bound knees, it crawled out. His slave stuck her tongue out from its mouth, silently begging its Master to use its mouth.

And it made a crucial error. It looked straight up at its Master, straight into his eyes.

But such a grievous mistake could not go unpunished.

It whimpered as it realised what it had done, its sad sound turning his cock to stone. It knew what was coming. What it deserved. So it threw its face to the floor, licking the soles of his shoes where it could. It knew it was not allowed to speak without permission, and it didn’t.

But Master, while turned on, was also feeling generous. It would give it the chance to speak.

“Does it have anything else it wants to confess to me?”

Through its gagged speech, he made out that it had been daydreaming about its life before. 

It knew that it was forbidden, and that punishment would be severe, and yet it still owned up to it. It’s training was progressing well. Perhaps soon it would be ready to sell.

He clipped a leash to its nose ring, and led it on its hands and knees to the corner of the room, where a plastic cock stuck out from the wall.

“It doesn’t deserve to be let out of this room today,” he said severely. 

It felt its heart sink. All it wanted was the opportunity to please Master. It lived to serve, to have its dripping holes used. It hated this room. Time passed so slowly since there were no windows or natural light to allow it to judge, but it knew that this was of no importance to a slave like it. Why should the passage of time matter to a hole?

“But I can see its pussy dripping. So I’ll give it the opportunity to make me forget about the major infraction it has just performed.”

How gracious he was. How it didn’t deserve the Master it had. 

It wasn’t sure if it still had permission to speak. So it didn’t. It just sat in its proper position, with its ass resting on its feet, its thighs as open as far as it could, and its chest pushed out showing off its pierced purple tits.

Its tongue hung out of its mouth, indicating its want of a cock. Master attached its nose leash to the wall behind it, tilting its head back and providing its Master with easier access to its throat. It had very little slack, and the tugging on its nose made its pussy even wetter.

Master took his cock out from his pants, and presented it to his slave just far enough that it would have to pull on its nose leash to reach it with its tongue. The pain, he knew, would just make it even more lustful.

It moaned in that sexy way females did, and he was glad it hadn’t lost that ability in his aim to make it genderless. Its moans had changed though; they were much more primal and animalistic now. All that mattered to it was its cunt. Which was a far cry from a pure sex-slave, but at least its constant ache for a good fuck made her more amenable to his desires.

As the drool flowed quicker from her lips, he pushed his cock down her throat.

He quickly corrected his thoughts. It’s throat. It.

And boy, did it perform. It swallowed his cock every thrust. Just as he was going to blow his load, he pulled out, covering her from the neck down with his jizz.

“It thanks its Master,” the cockslut drooled out.

“It’s welcome,” he growled. It was allowed only to say yes please, and thank you. He would not punish it for this.

He kneeled down to its level.

“Would it like its cunt fucked?”

“Oh yes, Master. Yes, it would. It begs its Master to use his worthless cunt.”

“Well there’s a cock on the wall behind it. It may fuck it with its asshole.”

Master released the leash from the wall, and it fell between her breasts. The extra weight on her septum brought tears to her eyes, but her clit just tingled in response. He turned to leave, and it felt a tear fall from its eye.

“I expect you to fuck it until I return. It’s dry, so you may deep throat it first.”

He knew that it couldn’t orgasm without any stimulation on its clit. He couldn’t wait to see the state it would be in once he returned in a few hours.

[kilikianity]

Fevered Dreams

[This story is no longer a canonical part of either characters story due to some complications surrounding the issue that lead to this piece of writing. Though it is not canon, I liked the writing done none the less and will keep it.]

The cave was near emptied, the time for moving was close. A lot of the books had already been packed away and shipped off through one means or another. Most large furniture was ready to move. What remained, however, was a table full of alchemist supplies. Beakers and tubes bubbled and frothed as the man worked. Dabbles of chemicals here and there as a figure dipped a red, syrupy liquid into a vial of purple, causing the color to change to a much more sky blue. "Hmm." The red haired man hummed to himself. "Soon." He muttered. "Are you sure this is wise?" Came the sound of hundreds of voices coming together as one. Off to the side, Syzi'k rumbled as his body formed out of the thousands of bugs that crawled along the cave wall. "You are dabbling in a forbidden art." It warned. "I did not contract you so that you could lecture me. As much as I appreciate the knowledge you carry. You do best as a guardian, not as an assistant." Xin spoke in his usual condescending tone, though the words they shared as not in a common tongue. One of the measuring devices on the table began to glow, and Xin would retrieve a mold he had made out of wax and paper. Slowly, carefully, he would dip the waxed tube into the basin until it was fully enveloped by the liquid. He hummed out a pleased sound as the liquid began to glow. The golem lifted and sagged it's shoulders like it was sighing. "I use to be called upon to assist mages, you know. I was a respected adviser at one point." It said in it's many voices. "I had much more dignified duty then simply guarding a cave from intrusion." A single blue eye would turn to the creature as it lumbered over to his side. "Perhaps, but that was then, and this is now." He said, turning back to watch the rubbing in the near clear liquid. "And I can tell you more than any one, that times change. And so do people. Which is why, it is up to us to keep arts like this alive. We practice it, so that those that come after us might strengthen their knowledge. So they might surpass us, and grow that much closer.." He trailed, standing and retrieving a pair of tongs. "You realize, those that have learned, learned because of these magics you are practicing. Entire societies laid to waste under the devastation of black magic. Whole cities being swallowed to the earth by white magic. Simply because you do not believe in the restriction of knowledge, doesn't mean you can control it. Just look at the fate of your own people." "Careful with your words." The man warned. "True, perhaps some of my predecessors were careless, but that is the fault of their teacher. Magic is as much a science as it is an art, and left unchecked, you will encounter unstable abnormalities with any art. An arcanist blowing a hole in her hand from not having a foci, cities being swallowed. A moon being dropped. These are tragedies, yes, but that is no excuse to limit ourselves. Danger is the sign of advancement, and if sacrifices have to be made along the way, then so be it." The tongs reached into the liquid, gripping the tube of wax that had seemed not the change. When it left the liquid, however, it changed, gleaning like a tempered metal, shifting from a brown to a dull steel as it left the basin. "Ahh..perfect. Get me my braces." He ordered over his shoulder. With only a sigh, the golem would retrieve bracers. More like metal arms socketed with arm holes. The brass was dull and aged, running the length of it's side with inscriptions and runes, ending in a clawed glove that covered everything but the palm, talons ran with rivets and tubes that were empty. Wordlessly, he assisted the man in putting the garments over the span of a single arm. Sighing, Xin would flex his fingers in the gauntlet, and reach out to take the tempered metal tube while the other arm was fit. Now fully equipped, he would move to the second room. Once a standing library, this cave was little more then simply that: a cave with torches lining the wall. The only thing that remained was a bed, in which slept a blue-grey skinned man. Upon seeing him, the mages face crossed into a look of frustration. "Why am I helping you? I should be ridding myself of you while I have the chance..." It was late when he was alerted by the sensors at the cave entrance. He could identify immediately who, however. Standing, he was prepared to berate the man for visiting at this hour, and for taking his coat, but immediately when he came into view, the red haired man could hardly get out a word before he was accosted by a hug. The man sobbed drunken tears onto him as he simply held on tight, infant in arms. Xin was disarmed. Despite his resolve, he knew Jikam to bounce back quickly. What ever it was that had him out of sorts merited at least an iota of comfort. Sighing, he put a hand on the man's back. "Please..Xin." He sobbed. "Help me." Despite his best efforts, the mage couldn't help but sigh, putting his annoyance and berating off to another time. "Fine. Come in. Tell me what has happened." Over the course of the next few hours, Jikam explained what had happened, and despite Xin's distaste for how he had gotten himself there, it hardly mattered any more. He was here now, and that is what mattered. "Are you absolutely sure you want my help?" The man asked, folding his arms. "Yes. Yes, what ever it is. Just...help me. I can't take this feeling any more." And so, here they were. Xin stood over the man with a metallic tubing in hand, an old apparatus on his arms, and a look of fascination over his face. He had done this before. But this...this was only something he could have dreamed of. A cruel smile crossed his face as his pet the unoccupied hand out to Jikam's head, fingers spread. Closing his eyes, he began to chant. For a time, there was no effect, but steadily, a steam began to rise from the body of the sleeping man as he gasped. The steam would waver and churn, gathering under the palm of the mage. To the outside, it looked like nothing more. To Xin, however, he has access. The mist flickering with images of times long passed, and some so much closer. Pictures, memories, of the man and his perspective. Xin smiled. It had worked. The golem backed up a couple paces, shaking the visage that was suppose to be it's head. "This is not right. I will not be a part of this any longer." And with that, the bugs would disperse, unfolding from the form of the body to travel along the floor and walls, back up into the fungus that resided on the roof. Xin was unphased. The bronze tinted gauntlet twitched as Xin moved his fingers. One after another, images and scenery would shift. People, places, events. Xin didn't care about any of it. Anything he lingered on too long would begin to draw upon the emotions. All the sadness. The happiness. If the common man could practice such an art, kidnappings would sky rocket, as one person could sit here forever and simply last on the emotional memories of another. But that was not what this was for. No, Xin's vision gazed around at all the different scenes, scanning backwards, jumbled as the synapses in the fried brain might be. Still, too long, and the damage caused by the procedure could be permanent. "Come on...come on." He mumbled. The hand twitch, then stopped, showing a scene of a bronze skinned miqo'te woman holding his child and smiling at him, a soft blush covering her face. The emotion was tagged clearly, perhaps one of the most purest: love, desire, yearning. Xin smiled. "Got you.." He said, beginning to chant again. "H'aku. Commerce. Female." He drew, the man beneath him turning slightly in his sleep as Xin forced these thoughts to the surface. It had taken several days of a steady dosing of drugs to reach this point, and the mage was going to abuse it. "Promiscuity in the face of desire. You will be an interesting observation, Miss H'aku." The images paused once again, the faces of the two stretching to meet each other, and Xin sighed. "Figures." He said. "Love..." He shook his head, and with a violent motion, the tube was raised above his head, and slammed toward the head of the miqo'te in a damning motion. The blow would certainly be fatal..if it had made contact. the pipe smashed into the clouded vision of the memory and pushed. The hand once holding the image capping the end of the pipe as he began to chant. "Bsit-tier-mor-gahs-sal-." He chanted, as the mists under the pipe churned violently, storming as Jikam's body began to seize. Torrents of radical movement sprang from the man as he shook, a gasp escaping him. Still, Xin did not pause, pushing the pipe further as the mist seemed to be absorbed. After a minute of struggling, the pipe resting against the head of the miqo'te, casuing him to cry out as a sizzling sound filled the cave, a smoke rising from the joining. The arm whirled to life, tubbing filling with the smokey substance of the cloud. Once all tubes along the arm where filled, Xin stood from the bed, and cast the pipe aside, the tempered steel spinning across the ground to clatter against the wall. Clenching his fist, the man focused, a bead of sweat producing from his forehead. The holding arm shook, throwing out itself as the hand clenched, threatening to throw the elbow in the wrong direction, or dislodge the arm all together. The display lasted only above thirty seconds before he regained control, and brought the arm back to his front, holding the balled fist in front of him. Slowly, he would open the fist to revealed a perfect sphere of glass. A marble. Inside of which was a cloud. Xin smiled, wiping his forehead with his forearm of the undamaged arm. "You owe me.." He mumbled, glancing at the man who lay upon his bed, the seizing having stopped, and a small, dark ring on his forehead. The Dark Sigil. Shaking his head, Xin looked back to the piping. Dissolved. Turned to a liquid that seeped into the ground. Just in time. Moving back to his room, Xin began to unstrap the apparatus from his arms. Once freed, they were placed back in the wooden trunks from which he came. After taking a moment to look over the damage to his right arm, he sniffed and brought up a finger to his ear. "Violet." He said in his usual, even voice. "I found Jikam. He is well, but would should probably come and retrieve him." Before he let his hand his ear. Turning, he would open the drawer of his night stand, and retrieve a small, leather sack. Opening it, he dropped the marble inside, joining it with a sea of others, each of varying colors, but all the same shape. He smirked. "One down.." He remarked to himself, closing up the bag.