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kyumisyumi · 9 months

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Tentacles and Tendrils

Shaking off the rust and giving monster smut(writing in general) a shot again.

Prompt: monster partner is in rut/heat and the partner has to deal with it

Rating: 18+

Monster type: M!Merfolk x F!Reader

Word count: 6k

~Taking requests~

You stare out at the unending, blue horizon. The cool ocean breeze preparing you for the temperatures of its water as you linger along the edge. You wore the company certified diving gear: a wetsuit, mask, BCD, the works. A spear weighed down one hand while a cylindrical container weighed on your shoulder. Hope and pessimism fought to be at the forefront of your mind as you scan the empty waters with heavy disappointment. This area was always relatively vacant, but not too far off you can spot a duo entering the water with matching gear. Their actions take you out of your haze, and with another gauge check you finally approach the water. Getting a feel for the sea's surge, you make your way in. And with practiced hands you slipped on your fins before turning to greet the seas with outstretched arms.

Beneath the blue your body instantly goes into autopilot. Swimming was as natural as walking and these seas might as well have been a second home; a wayward beauty that will switch it's mood at a moments notice but home nonetheless. You took it all in, familiar as it may be, the ocean never stopped being a sight to behold. A world beneath our own full of wonderful blues, outstretched greens and terrifying blacks. The current had a bit of force behind it but nothing near the cruelty you knew any large body of water could deal. Your darting eyes couldn't help but search around, scanning everywhere for even just a hint of... There! You moved with haste. As much as you could as a land dwelling animal in aquatic terrain. You didn't get far before the shape you eagerly chased revealed itself to be just a particularly thick and unruly swatch of seaweed. You sigh internally before resolving to begin your original task.

Nearing a gorgeous station of coral, you couldn't help but linger and watch the busyness. Schools of varicolored, itty bitty fish swimming through the equally colorful pseudo-flora. Despite your love for marine life, you never quite learnt the names of all the little guys much less how to differentiate between them, say for a handful that stick out. Your interest was usually for the larger lifeforms mother nature had to offer; you smiled as you watched a wary grey eel eye you with suspicion. Soon your eyes fell upon your reason for being here. It's bright red colors were slightly muted by the depths, with white tiger stripes outlined by black to break up the pattern. Its form was lined with spines and frills that flowed and fluttered with each graceful swish of it's body; an absolutely gorgeous creature. You readied your spear. The black strap trigger pressed into your skin as you carefully aimed, hoping not to hit anything but the target. It helped that the lionfish lingered in one spot before you speared it. You moved to put it in the container before opting to offer it to the eel you saw earlier. As gorgeous - and delicious - as they were, these guys were invasive here and the effects of their persistence was a constant strain to the native wildlife. They seemed highly concentrated around this sandy patch of substrate, driftwood and dead coral. It didn't take long after the first few kills for one of your friends to make their way over. Gently, you caressed the top of the nurse shark eyeing your spare eagerly, this one you named Lisa... or maybe it was Madeline. It was no surprise your face blindness extended to animals as well, even the cute ones that made your dives feel a little less lonely. The creature began gliding and swirling around you. You liked to believe the fondness was mutual but it was equally likely they were just in it for a meal. You speared another lionfish and offered it to the grey and white cutie.

The spot you were in. The shark. The scenario. It brought back the memory of the first time you saw him.

Back then you were collecting lionfish, same as now with a duo of nurse sharks tailing your every movement. At the time you were overly cautious, so you'd sit in one place, removing the venomous spines of the fish before handing them over. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, he'd been there for quite a while, watching you. From his position partially behind the rocks, you'd think he was hiding -or rather, on the defensive- but you just can't imagine something that big and powerful hiding from tiny 'ol you. Yes you had a spear but you doubt it would do you much good if he decided to attack. Merfolk. Given your job at the Aquatic Wildlife Center you were relatively familiar with them. Your company was more than welcoming when programs were made for them- as well as the other species- who showed interest in coexisting during the realm migration. The Merfolk you were familiar with, however, had to undergo numerous lessons on etiquette and culture to live among humans. The one near you now... The word 'feral' came to mind. You didn't quite like using such an animalistic term towards something that looked a little too human, someone that you knew had equivalent intelligence. His skin was primarily muted greens with a burst of parchment white down his chest and undersides of his arms. Unlike the fish tails merfolk were known for, this one's body ended in a myriad of tentacles, not unlike an octopus. Height wasn't exactly something you could measure but in terms of body mass he was more than twice your own. He seemed to tense any time you held direct eye contact so you settled on keeping him in your peripheral and keeping your movements slow and measured. You're not sure what he wanted but if he was content to just watch you, you didn't mind.

The next time you went out for a dive he'd made another appearance, this time resting on the rocks instead of behind them. Looking at the way his tentacles gently swayed against the current, you realise the way they'd writhed restlessly the day before may have been a sign of anxiety. It tickled you that somehow, in his mind, you were a threat to be worried about. You'd never even been in a proper fight. His relaxed demeanor gave you a bit of courage and you contemplated offering him one of the lionfish but ultimately chose not to. Doing so would feel as though you were treating him like an animal at the petting zoo. Then again, he was watching you like an animal at a regular zoo, keeping his distance as if he thought you'd lash out at any opportunity. You focused on the task at hand. Either the sharks had developed more patience or they were full from yesterday, this time they seemed more interested in dawdling around and getting pets than playing Russian roulette with your spear. You'd gotten into a rhythm of pull, aim, release as you moved slowly across the sandy substrate with him never too far behind.

On the third day he was almost as close as the sharks were. There was still a respectful distance but you'd only have to reach out your hand to touch him. Despite your determination to hold strong as he approached there was a hint of fear in your eyes when he first got closer. He wasn't threatening but the size difference was all to blatant up close, his chest so broad and arms so thick you didn't doubt they could snap you in half like an oatmeal cookie. In response he seemed to try to make himself look smaller, drifting at a lower level so that his head wasn't much higher than yours. This gave you a good look at his features, he had round pupils unlike the rectangular slits you associated with octopi, his sclera was a light grey and his irises a saffron yellow on downturned eyes. He didn't seem to have any patchwork of iridescent scales like your work colleagues. His eyes aside, everything about his face was sharp, from the hooked nose to the prominent chin and brow bone. As curious as you were, you tried not to look any lower than the slits along his neck; gills, in case your gaze made him uncomfortable. You briefly wondered if he'd try to say something once he got closer but he didn't, he just looked back with a gesture you interpreted as 'continue'. So you did.

There actually weren't anymore lionfish nearby so you decided to take a moment to clip the spines of the one on your spear, hoping to feed it to Joel the eel... or maybe this was Geoffrey. He took this lull in your movement as an opportunity to interact. You stared wide eyed as his hands reached out. It looked as though he was going to reach for your spear but thought better of it and reached out for your free hand instead. He took your smaller hand into his much larger ones. He inspected each finger, pulling them apart and tracing the curve in between, where his held a thin membrane. He ran a thumb over your blunt nails, where his held thick black claw. His movements were slow - cautious - and you get the feeling that it was more for your benefit than his. Wary as you were, you were equally enthused to learn more of the man... fish... octopus being before you. He inspected the sleeve of your wetsuit, running his fingers over the material. When it seemed like he was going to pinch the fabric between two claws you tugged your hand away, shaking your head in hopes the gesture was universal. Thankfully he understood. He then circled you to take in the rest of your form, a possible sign he understood touching anywhere else on your body might be unwelcomed.

Unsurprisingly, he took particular interest in your legs, watching the way they swayed to keep you afloat. He didn't touch you yet you somehow felt pressure over every inch his eyes laid upon. Was this how your coworker felt during those awkward introductory meetings where there would always be one person asking to touch their fins. The memory made you giggle and the merman suddenly shifted his focus from your legs to your face. Your breath caught as his eyes focused on yours, it was mesmerizing how they looked as fluid as the ocean; the colors swaying as the black center zeroed in on you. For a moment you wondered what did you look like through those eyes. He raised a hand to rest his knuckles against your cheek. His gaze then lowered to your lips. Your body -so ready to flee when he first approached- now froze. No matter how much you tried to reinforce that his actions were of innocent curiosity you couldn't stop thinking they weren't. Or maybe you just hoped they weren't. Oh dear. Before you could figure out where your head was at, he pressed a thumb against your lips. There was a subtle shift in his features as he stared at you intently. A question? Was he asking to kiss you? Your heart sprinted. He wanted to kiss you... and you- you were actually considering it. You must be insane; yes you thought he was gorgeous in a unnatural -captivating- way but you weren't going to kiss a creature you haven't known for more than a few hours. You hadn't even exchanged words with him. Words... Oh! That was it! You would've face palmed if your hands weren't occupied. He wished to speak, and prior knowledge reminded you that merfolk could adapt a language through lip contact. Well, that cleared your brain a bit. If that's the case surely you could spare your lips for a moment. It wouldn't have to be long, just the slightest peck was enough. A fraction of a second. He was patiently awaiting your answer, somewhat pulling back as if to tell you 'no' was a more than acceptable answer. With a tad more hesitation you finally nodded. You pulled out your mouth pieces, angling it downwards to prevent excess air loss. Trying to show some initiative you moved closer but you just couldn't bring yourself to close the kiss. Graciously he did and your lips met. Your rushing blood brought heat straight to your cheeks. It was such a minute amount of contact but your body responded as if he was already tongue deep inside. You felt... something. Like faint streams of electricity that moved from the corners of your lips to the center before vanishing. You figured it was the magic at work, now would be the time to move away but your body and brain can't seem to get on the same page. Or maybe they were on the same page and the voice telling you to move away was something foreign, something unwanted. You opened your eyes to see his, half lidded but looking at you with an intensity that couldn't be misconstrued. Neither of you wanted to break the contact. You're not sure where the confidence came from but just as you moved to press closer to him, your lungs reminded you where you were. They called for oxygen. It took more effort than you would like to admit to pull away from him and return your regulator to your mouth. You looked back at him to see his fingers pressed against his mouth, eyes swirling with mixed emotions. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you but you swear he licked his lips. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he moved his lips as if testing the motions.

"Can you understand me?"

You nodded in the affirmative. And by Gods, the smile on his face could outshine the sun on a clear summer morning.

This opened up the pathway to your budding friendship. Underwater, you couldn't have full conversations but with the barrage of questions he had there was hardly a need to speak. It especially amused you that he had to confirm that you were indeed human. Do humans walk everywhere? Do we forms pods? Do we dream? Do humans fly was a weird one to answer under the limitations. It was an eye opener to the fact that you were as alien to him as he you.

At some point you remembered that you were on a timer and though there wasn't really a quota, resurfacing with only four lionfish would definitely not look good for you. You went back to spearing, trying to be quick while he asked about this and that. It only got better when you finally resurfaced. You perched on the old abandoned dock, it was barely more than a couple planks of wood hanging on for dear life. You were especially glad that this area remained as vacant as when you left so you didn't have to worry about worried/wondering gazes at the two of you.

Unfortunately diving was only something you could do 2 maybe 3 times a week, it was essentially a freebie session offered to break up the office work you dread. Still, even after you clocked out, you'd take a stroll to that same dock where he'd be waiting beneath the surface. You learnt that, though most merfolk would declare otherwise, his species wasn't rare. Just distant and reclusive. The only reason he was close enough to the shore to spot me was because he seeked a precious stone to complete a trade. Based on his description you believed it was Larimar or Blue calcite, which you may have in your personal collection. When you asked why he decided to approach you, his answer was a sideways glance and a shrug before quickly changing the subject. There were moments, you noticed, when he'd rest his arms along the wooden planks and caress your overhanging legs. The movements were slow and feather light, almost absent minded. It made your mind fuzzy, you wished to just close your eyes and focus on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. Occasionally, he would gently rake a claw over your soft skin and you'd try your best not to trip over your words. In return, you'd run your fingers over the mix of tentacles and tendrils that sprouted from his head- similar to hair. The prehensile limbs would wrap around your fingers. The gestures were unmistakably intimate but neither of you spoke against it. Amongst the many questions and conversations would be these moments of content silence, these you treasured most. His hands on you, your hands on his, as you both enjoyed the world around you and each other.

Now those memories fill you with a hollow feeling in your chest. It's been almost a week with no sign of him. What had you expected, really? He has a life down below that he has to attend to after all. Even you have missed a day or two. What if he's hurt? The question gnawed at you many times these past few days; you despised the small part of you that preferred that outcome over having been left behind. But then the idea that somewhere down there he was facing unknown perils that you'd have no means to help him with would solidify in your mind. No, you'd rather the hurt of having been abandoned. Summoning your mental fortitude, you aimed to focus on the task at hand before you accidentally harm one of the sharks by being distracted. There was a new face this time... at least you thought they were new. They nuzzled your body as if sensing your distress and to your delight; it helped

Seconds dragged into minutes then hours before it was time for you to get out. You wished you could say you were strong enough to just go but instead you swam around for a bit; hoping. Praying. But there was nothing around except you, the water and your pitiful heartache.

Above land you safely shed the equipment. The smart thing to do would be to go home as soon as possible. To finish your day, change your clothes and curl up in blankets while playing some video games. However, you've always been a creature of habit so instead you sat at the old dock. Alone. The sun was so warm but the winds were relentless, they licked at your skin as if trying to shoo you away. Maybe this was Poseidon's way of telling you to get over it. It's not like there was anything between the two of you. You'd only known him for a handful of weeks after all, that's barely enough time to form a friendship much less... As if shutting down the thought, your brain replayed a memory of him pressing his face against the palm of your hand with pure bliss etched into his features. As if your touch alone could push away all his problems. Then there was the time you touched your forehead to his during a momentary spur of boldness. The look he gave you spoke so loud in the silence. You would've kissed him then if not for your shyness winning out. That was one of the last moments you'd shared before his disappearance. A treasure in your heart that now caused you pain. Packing up your things, you got up to leave, however something clutched your ankle. Something, rather, someone you recognized all too well.

You gasped violently as you were dragged down. Thank goodness you did because it was all the air you'd get to take with you in your rapid decent below. He shifted so instead of being pulled by his tentacles, you were fastened to his side by a firm arm. He stared straight forward as he swam, allowing you only to see the tendrils whipping around the back of his head. You could hardly process how fast you were going down the bottomless blue. The water shifted from a bright, comfortimg azure to ultramarine as you went deeper and deeper. Your panic rose the further he swam, which did your lungs no good. Was he trying to drown you!? You couldn't call out, couldn't scream so you tugged and pulled at his thick, unyielding arm, trying desperately to get him to stop. He turned to you then, there was a look of pained and haunted thoughts scribed into his face. The lovely grey of his sclera had darkened into a soulless black making the yellows of his eyes that more vibrant, almost glowing in the waters inky depth. The word 'feral' again came to mind as he blinked his second eyelids. He looked at you and looked at you and looked even more. As though his eyes processed one thing but his brain was stuck on something else. It took a moment but he finally said your name. Not said, growled it. His usually velvety deep voice was now strained through gravel. He pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your hair, your heart would be fluttering were it not currently banging in your chest wondering where the hell was the oxygen it ordered. You tried, you really did, to struggle against his hold. Hoping he'd wake up from whatever spell he was under and bring you back to solid ground. Hell, you'd make an attempt to swim for it, knowing how futile it would be. But once his long tongue was on your throat you became putty in his arms. You feel three distinct fingers rake against the other side of your neck as he nipped at you. You can't tell if your breath hitched or your lungs made another vain attempt to reach for air. You raised a trembling hand, trying to alert him to your situation but he seemed solely focused on tasting your skin.

"Breathe." He spoke in-between licks, his tongue venturing down to your clavicle, and you wondered if he'd actually gone mad. His hooded eyes met yours and he repeated the word.

It didn't matter anymore, the choice was no longer yours. You had held onto that final breath for dear life but it was time for that life to come to an end. A stream of bubbles left your horrified lips as you now fought not to breath in; that was a far shorter battle. You inhaled, preparing for the sting of water invading your airways in it's rush to your desperate lungs. For your body to heave and cough as the waters reminded you you were not it's friend but a guest who had overstayed their welcome. Would your body float up to be picked at by birds or sink to be fodder for the sea floor scavengers? You waited and waited. But... It never came. You, somehow, were breathing air. Opening your eyes in confusion, you looked around to see if you were suddenly back on land, if all this was some dream or hallucination spurred on by your guilt and heartbreak but no. You were still surrounded by the open seas and all it's inhabitants. Your breaths felt slightly strained but you weren't going to complain about life saving miracles. Especially when a giant tentacled man was tracing his finger down your spine. Now that your life was no longer at risk(mostly) you calmly rest your palm against his head, trying again to get answers out of him. He stilled, dissolving into your touch as he had many times before. You saw a bit of clarity in his eyes before he closed them.

"I'm sorry." He said after a moment, his voice was lustful and strained, like a warning sign dipped in want and desire. "It started; my heat. I tried to stay as far away as I could but when all sense had escaped my mind the only thing left were thoughts of you." He pulled you closer, his eyes remained closed as if one look at you would break the little control he had. "I thought I had overcome it when I began searching for... Methods for you to survive beneath the waters. But the moment I had my answers it overtook me. It possessed me. It still does. I want you...desperately but only if you'll have me."

You listened to his words, in confusion then understanding. Then you actually understood! Oh! Suddenly your body had forgotten all it's woes, focusing on your core instead. He wanted you. You bit your lip in thought, noticing that the water couldn't pass some unseen threshold of your mouth. You wanted him, you couldn't even pretend to deny that but... Was there a 'but'? You searched your tainted mind for excuses but your brain and your body were again in unison, the only outlier was you. You slid your hand up his face and caressed a cranial tendril, he opened his eyes and you felt his body vibrate. Purring.

You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye when you spoke. "I will." You consented.

He was on you instantly. His lips crashed into yours with reckless need. There was no slow build up, no questioning nor tentative tongue touches. His tongue snaked pass your lips and devoured you in kind. His large hands ran down either sides of your body, meeting when they both grabbed at your ass. There they lingered, kneading your flesh through the stretchy materiel, before one devious hand ventured even lower. You felt him slide a finger along the fabric covering your sex. Back and forth, his finger glided creating a nice little friction that almost touched your eager clit. Your hips moved on their own, seeking the contact. You craved more of his touch and suddenly the thin, synthetic rubber was a dense barrier. As if hearing your thoughts, there was the slightest pinch against the crook of your behind before a sudden coldness seeped in. You could feel him carefully swipe his claw to just above your clit, creating a opening in the fabric. The new sensation of cold wetness against you warm sex made you gasp but it was soon replaced by the warmth of his... hand? No, the texture was far different. Before you had a chance to investigate, the feeling of suction against your clit gave you all the answers you needed. Something between a gasp and a moan left your lips, the sound must've pleased him greatly because he tore himself away from your mouth to look into your eyes. The limb covered your whole sex, with the tip lightly teasing your entrance but it was that one suction cup upon your clit that was really putting in the work. It took a rhythm that was brain meltingly pleasant against the sensitive bud, thoroughly teased by his phantom touches prior. A sudden surge of pleasure began to build causing you to reflexively try to squeeze your thighs together. However, the action was impeded by two tentacles quickly wrapping around your legs to keep them parted. They squeezed as if to reaffirm their hold on you. He took your chin in his hand and watched you intensely as you came undone from the stimulation. His grip was light but unyielding when you tried to turn away. Closing your eyes would lead to him stopping completely until they fluttered open again to meet his. He would take in every dip in your throat, every curve in your lips, every crease beneath your eyes and flush upon your cheeks. He wouldn't miss a moment of your first orgasm at his hands. His gaze was dizzying, as if whatever possessed him was now reaching out for you. Having him inspect you with such cold fondness only made the experience that more salacious. The rising tide of pleasure finally crashed and you were left a buzzing, panting mess. With a look of gratification he released your chin, wrapping his arms around you once more to knit your body to his.

"You're so beautiful." He cooed before trailing off into words of his own language.

You didn't get a moment to say anything back before you felt something probe against your opening. One of his tentacles slid inside you fully, welcomed and aided by the slick lube of your still pulsing walls. You shuddered in his arms, thankful for the support. It was a comfortable fit and suddenly you're reminded that it's been ages since anyone has had you like this. It made the experience slightly more alien atop the fact that you were being intimate with a lust driven sea-beast. Rather than the expected thrusting, the appendage grazed along your insides. It twisted and pushed as if getting a feel for you, learning you before pulling back out. The sudden emptiness made you whimper, you looked at him, ready to beg if need be but it didn't come to that. You felt your entrance being prodded again. It was the familiar tip of a tentacle, ready to enter you once more. However, the more it pushed, the wider it got; so very much wider. And Gods, it held a bumpy texture that was absent before. Just as your mind went hazy you realised it was two of them, wrapped around each other. It finally gave you the thrusting motion you desired, it's ribbed texture grazing parts of you that remained untouched for too long. Your movements were limited but you attempted to grind against each wonderful thrust, moaning your delight with feather light whispers. This was all too good, soft and pliable enough that it writhed inside you but firm enough to press against your hungry womb.

Despite all senses seemingly being focused on your trembling hole you felt something press against your stomach, forcing it's way into the tiny space between your body and his. You peek downward to see the spearheaded tip of what you assumed was his cock. Suddenly, his preparation of your cunt made sense, you'd expected him to be big but geez. It was identical in color to his body, darkening at the tip in a similar fashion to his fingers. It throbbed and twitched as he began to grind against you. Even with two tentacles stretching your insides, your greedy eyes craved the feel of it. Craved the connection to him. You reached down and grasped it at the base, shock almost pulling you out of your haze when it wrapped around your hand. It tightened as if begging for more of your touch. You acquiesced and began running you hands up and down his massive length, taking great pleasure in the way his body vibrated with resonating groans. His thrusts inside you growing wilder, taking you further and further and you were determined to take him with you. His voice held a softer, pleading tone as it goaded you on, praising you between strained hisses. His cock swelled and hardened, his words devolving into senseless mumbles. The limbs inside you became more erratic as his pleasure grew. His grip on your body tightening to the point of leaving small tears in your suit and nicks in your skin. He released a long animalistic huff as he coated your arm in slimy white fluid, your body responded by coating his tentacles with your own. You rest your head against his chest, moving in time with his heavy breaths, counting them as you both recovered. You're not sure when he began moving you but suddenly you were face to face. He kissed you. Slowly. Gently. Tasting and savoring you.

"Do you think you could take me, my treasure, or do I need to stretch that greedy hole of yours even more?" He asked between kisses.

Words were beyond your tired brain so you just nodded. As spent as your body was, this moment would not feel complete until he was inside you. Slowly, as if moving you too much too quickly could break you, he turned you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. He snaked his hands around you -he really did seem to love having his arms on you-, one hand moving to grope your breast while the other traced a line down your stomach to caress your mound. You feel his lower half angle itself to bring his leaking member to your slick opening. Oh so slowly you feel him slide into you, spreading you wider with each inch. You couldn't help but try to squirm against him but his hands held you steady. He was only half way in when your body began to show resistance. He started pulling out slowly and thrusting into you, getting a little bit further each time.

"You're being so good for me." He whispered just above your ear, his voice held a lovely cadence. Singsong; as if haunted by a melody that compelled his body to move.

You couldn't hear it but you felt it, it rang through your body with each sway of your hips and out your lips with each whine. Down to the way he held you, like an instrument to be adored. Every moan a crescendo and every voice stopping bite at your neck a diminuendo. He was playing you and you were loving every moment of it. In and out, in and out like he was timing bars on sheet music. That was up until the flat, tapered tip hit the deepest part of you; he'd hilted. Then everything stopped. Fermata. You're only warning for what was to come were the tentacles that slithered around your legs to ground you. You hardly even felt him pull out, just the force as he thrust fully into you. The sound that left your mouth was a guttural whine of shock and pain. He kept going. Slamming. Pounding. Taking your body over and over. It hurt and yet you desired more. He fucked you like he was craving this moment his whole life. Your body eased and the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure, never quite leaving but become something more. Something better. Something wholy obscene. Your body was an inferno in the cold, dark water. Pleasure overtook you; you no longer felt like a person, just a mass of emotions and senses. You could hear his grunts and growls behind you, the sounds he made were truly animalistic. Wild. Primal. Savage. As though he couldn't fathom being anything but a creature of vulgarity. Couldn't fathom doing anything but driving himself into you. Desired nothing more in the world than to fill the emptiest parts of you. Your walls tightened around him, as if intending to learn every bulge and vein of his cock. Pulling and sucking him in with no desire to let him go, that was where all your strength went. You felt the recognizable build of another orgasm and judging by way his pliable member was now a hardened monolith, he wasn't far off. He no longer needed to lead, you danced with him as you both came together. His seed seeped out of him, filling every bit of (nonexistent)space inside of you before oozing out. He continued to thrust, making sure you milked his cock for everything he had. It's throbbing was like a heartbeat inside you.

You collapsed against him, laying your head flat against his chest, your cheek barely touching the flesh above his heart. After a moment you looked up to see him already staring down at you, the affection in his eyes fueled your already thrumming heart. A moment of tenderness as the tainted waters surrounding you both whisked your indecencies away. His sclera lightened to their usual soft grey. An eagerness popped up on his face as he seemingly wanted to ask you something then but thought better of it. A somber look taking over his features instead. Using what little strength remained in your body, you turned fully to him. He immediately took your head in both his hands and rest his forehead against yours.

"I- Did i hurt you?"

"Did-" You gave him a droll look. "Did you hurt me??" You flicked his head. Well, you tried but there was less than no force behind your fingers. "Of course you did. Lucky for you I enjoyed it."

"I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "If you would allow for a 'next time'."

"There better be."

"And a time after that?"

"Don't push your luck, ocean boy."

You felt him smile against you. It may have been an innocent one but you couldn't help but wonder if he was already plotting.

He took you above land after that and you thanked the Gods above that your towel and pack was still waiting for you. At least you could walk(limp) to the company building without catching a charge for indecent exposure. He watched you from his usual spot on the dock. His downturned eyes hooded by his lashes had him looking like a distraught child watching their best friend board a plane to unknown lands. Did he think he scared you away? That you'd never return? Maybe as a bit of revenge you'd let him believe it.

((You also had to deal with the urge to sink into the floor at the knowing and amused looks on your merfolk coworker's face every time they saw the marks on your neck D:))

#monster boy #monster lover #monsterfucker #merfolk #monster x human #monster romance #monster smut #teratophillia #exophelia #kyumiwrites #monster writing #tentacles #tentaclesandtendrils

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 month

Note

May I ask for a request of tangerine x reader who works with Tan and Lemon. Idiots in love type. And on a mission one takes a bullet for the other or does something stupid during a mission to keep the other safe? and then when they are in the clear they get into a big argument about how stupid the other was and like all the yelling and arguing leads to slipping out a love confession. You can choose who gets injured tan or reader.

Also, I could totally see Lemon in the back just watching them argue sipping on some water that isn’t poisoned.

hii sunshine! love love love it! thanks for requesting, hope you like it 💌 @thewinterv I combined this with your request, hope you don’t mind 🤍

HONESTY HOUR.

tangerine x implied fem!reader

word count. 792

warnings. couple blood mentions

Missions were always complicated with Tangerine. Not because he’s difficult to work with or unskilled, but instead it was your feelings towards him that made working with him so tricky. Confusing feelings pertaining to the unspoken, unacknowledged connection between you.

And because of that, you never knew where you stood with each other. You each knew there was something there, a spark as such, but neither of you would dare speak on it. These repressed emotions have been marinating for far too long, the approaching expiry date much like that of a ticking time bomb.

Today's mission was particularly challenging: you and Tangerine were tasked to retrieve something —you still were unsure of what exactly— while Lemon retrieved the other. You’d all often split on missions, though today two diversions were needed, and without a moment to think on it, you found yourself following after Tangerine.

In hindsight, it may have been stupid – the current bullet wound in your lower arm acting as a giant looming ‘I told you so.’ As soon as you and Tan were rushed into a trap —a setup— it all kind of went blank, and you fought on autopilot without a single comprehensive thought.

You were hardly aware that you were hit until Tangerine noticed it – the trail of blood leaking from your arm and on the floor in an inconsistent pattern.

“What the fuck have you done?” Tan yells, eyes widening as he rushes over to you – jumping over the small pile of dead bodies.

“I don’t know,” you shout back, looking down at your arm in panic. “I don’t know.”

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he continues his yelling for some apparent reasoning. “God, this is a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, moving a hand to cover the wound in your arm, his palm firm over the small hole – trying to apply pressure.

“It’s starting to hurt,” you wince, tugging your arm away. The adrenaline beginning to wear off.

He holds onto your elbow with his other hand, keeping you still and stopping you from pulling from his attempt of help.

“Keep bloody still, man,” he furrows, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment. “Knew you should’ve gone with Lemon.”

“Well if I did, you’d be dead. So you’re welcome,” you retort, eyes squinting at him in that same frustrated way.

“Yeah, well too late for that now, ain’t it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snark, snatching your arm away – holding over the wound in the same way he did. “Don’t have to be such a dick to me all the time, okay? I’m trying.”

“You never fuckin’ think. You always throw yourself in danger and I have to come and bail you out,” he scoffs, staring you down.

“I never ask you to.”

He chuckles, the sound amused. “Oh, come off it.”

“I don’t need you to treat me like I’m a little princess,” you retort once more. “I don’t need your help, okay? I’m fine on my own.”

“Well maybe that’s our fuckin’ problem then,” he says, voice far calmer now.

“What does that mean?” you ask, tone softening like his. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, exhaling heavily. “Forget it. I don’t care anymore,” he scoffs. “We gotta get back to Lem and get you sorted.”

And as he goes to leave, walking past you, you grab a hold of his arm to halt him. “What do you mean by that?” you question, eyes darting over his face.

“Nevermind.”

“No,” you tug his arm, extending your neck to meet his eyeline. “Tell me.”

He sighs, purposely avoiding your eyes. “I care about you, alright?” he confesses, speaking almost reluctantly.

You move to stand in front of him, making him face you – forcing him to look at you. You smile faintly at him, the softness in your eyes silently prompting him to say what else he was thinking.

“I like you, okay? I don’t wanna see you hurt,” he admits. “Happy now?”

You nod sincerely, smiling at him. “That’s why I always go with you… sounds stupid, but I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah?” he says softly, a faint grin lining his lips. “So what’re you saying?” he chuckles, pushing you into a confession like you did him.

“I’m saying,” you pause. “I’m saying I like you.”

“You do?” he takes a step closer.

And before you have a moment to reply, you hear footsteps approach, the presence snapping you from this little honesty round with Tangerine. “Oi, there you fuckers are,” Lemon shouts, spotting you both. “Got shit to do, now chop chop.” And when he sees each of your faces, he can’t help but laugh. Both of you looked so guilty. “About to finally do it, weren’t you?”

I fear this may be total ass

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train

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tallglasstea · 1 month

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Media N Basketball Part 1

Synopsis: The WNBA’s new Social Media Manager, Amara, heads to Seattle to help improve the Seattle Storms media pages. She has had a big crush on Gabby Williams but avoids her due to rumors that Gabby is dating Marine Johannes.

Please note: This takes place during the 2025 season and this is my first fic in yearsss. Forgive me if I am a bit rusty.

Thursday July 11, 2025

Third P.O.V

It’s almost the halfway point of the 2025 WNBA season and Amara couldn’t be more excited. She has officially been at the W for 9 months and has been having the time of her life. Still getting the hang of things, but overall she loves her coworkers and just the overall environment. Witnessing the 2025 draft and seeing all the college stars getting drafted and to just know that she was really a part of the big moment will always be a core memory for her.

Being based in NYC meant that she helped the Liberty, Sun, and Mystics a lot with their social media pages because she was so close. Providing a new and fresh outlook on their pages, the team's pages have grown exponentially. The Liberty has grown to 1.2 million on Tiktok and 2 Million on Instagram. The Sun to 600K on Tiktok and 400K on Instagram. The Mystics to 724K on Tiktok and 527K on Instagram. Teams immediately took notice of the newfound fanbases and the rest enlisted to have Amara flown out to help their teams.

Amara’s first stop would be Seattle Storm with her favorite (and closest) coworker Destiny. Despite having Jewell, Nneka and Nika, the Storm could not seem to grow their fan bases on social media. Amara couldn’t help but feel nervous as her personal celebrity crush was also on the Seattle Storm this season.

Amara’s P.O.V

“Gworllll are you excited to go to Seattle?!?” Destiny nudged Amara’s shoulder while they were settling on the plane to take off. “Your favorite girl is going to be there.”

“Pleaseeee stop. This is work, we need to stay professional.” I tried to keep my resolve but I couldn’t help to smile when thinking about my little crush. “Plus I heard that she is dating Marine Johannes so that dream is dead anyways.” Maybe if I said it enough then my little crush would fade away. ‘But she looked soo fine during the 2024 Olympics,’ I thought to myself.

“Mmchttt” Destiny rolled her eyes and rolled over to close her eyes. I was tired too and we had a long flight ahead of us, so I might as well get some rest.

Friday July 12, 2025

Destiny and I are headed to the Storm’s new practice facility, and my anxiety is through the roof. Not very demure nor mindful of me huh? I love working for the W but it’s still very nerve wracking having to meet new people and new teams. Especially women as tall and beautiful as them. I’m not short but I’m not exactly tall either, standing at a cool 5’6. I was so into my thoughts I didn’t even realize that destiny was talking to me until she started snapping in my face.

“Yoooooo is there anyone there? Bitch are you on autopilot?!” Destiny continuously snapping in my face. I mush her with my free hand. “Don’t snap at me! Anywhore what were you saying?” I asked. “What type of content are we starting with? Since we are almost there, I want to prepare,” she replied. Looking at the GPS, I realize that she is absolutely right. 2 minutes away. What if I crash this car right now? I'm kidding, I'm kidding (sort of, not really). I’m thinking what would be the best video to start showcasing their personalities. “I think we should do the rapid fire questions for each of the players. We should probably feel them out and kind of gauge what they are comfortable with answering and they aren’t,” I stated after a few beats. “ I call dibs on Nneka, Nika, Victoria, Mercedes, Joyner and Sami.” I wanted to make sure that I didn’t really have to interact with Gabby, my stalkerish ass could just admire her from a distance. Destiny looked at me bewildered as we pulled in front of the facility. “You evil bitch, I can’t believe you called dibs,” she laughed as we got out of the car.

The walk from the car ride to the main practice gym was short but felt like it took forever.

We had unloaded our equipment and were waiting outside the gym for the General managers and coaches. We, mainly I, didn’t want to just bust in on their practice while Destiny wanted to do exactly that. Once we introduced ourselves to the GMs and coaches, we told them our game plan for content. I took a deep breath, as the doors to the gym opened. Here goes nothing…..

To be continued….

Sooo what did we think? I know I’m rusty so don’t eat me up toooooooo bad. I was trying to make it short but I figured it would be better as a multi-part fic. Please let me know what y’all think! Since there was nothing not even hcs on Gabby I figured I would start some of my own.

If y’all like my writing style, I would like to open myself up to WNBA requests along with other womens sports.

Welp see ya soon bookies!

#wnba imagine #wbb #wnba basketball #uconn wbb #black reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #gabby williams #gabby williams x reader #seattle storm #wnba x reader #wnba #paige bueckers

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3-2-whump · 1 month

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It Started with a Gray Hair

After a couple months' worth of balancing two jobs, hardly getting any sleep, and running himself ragged, Khaled finally snaps.

Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for the feedback on this chapter, I've applied your advice and hope you like what I did with it!

TW/CW: emotional angst, emotional whump, defiant whumpee (?) (whumpee loses his last fuck to give), slave whump, captivity whump, alcohol, very briefly mentioned food whump (like it's barely there but I'll tag it anyways), intimate whumper, dub con, hate sex

Khaled noticed it when he was towel-drying his hair in front of the mirror after a shower. He accepted it wasn’t a trick of the light as he blew his hair dry in front of the mirror, and he finally confirmed it was exactly as he feared when he combed through his wild floof. Standing starkly contrasted against the black night of his hair was a single silvery strand, long and twisted and brittle amongst strong sable waves.

There was a sharp rap on the door, accompanied by his master’s complaints. Khaled ignored it, still horrified by the discovery of his first gray hair. It was less about vanity for him more than it was a visible sign of the passage of time, of how much time he’d spent living under this man’s thumb. His hands unscrewed the pomade jar on autopilot. He went through the motions of dipping fingertips into the sticky substance and running them through his hair, thoughts racing all the while. He managed to hide the silvery offender –the only one, as far as he knew, though where there was one, there were probably more, and what was that under his eyes? Lines?

“Sometime today, Khaled!” Thomas yelled through the bathroom door.

“Almost done, Master!” he shouted back as he rinsed the hair product off his hands. He hastily dried them and opened the door, subconsciously straightening out his shirt collar as he righted his posture.

“Everything alright?” It was funny, how he almost sounded concerned.

“Fine,” Khaled lied. As if he was going to complain to a forty-something year old man about his first gray hair.

“Well let’s go! We’re going to be late for the reservation I made!”

The restaurant they drove to overlooked a harbor boasting a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, plus or minus a few barges, with the city skyline largely forgotten behind the vast blue expanse. Regretfully, the outdoor seating was closed for the season, with it already being late fall, so the mob boss and his slave got a table indoors, right next to the wide windows above the balcony.

Whatever hope Khaled had of forgetting about the passage of time was quickly dashed by the first course. “We’ll take the antipasti plate, cured meats on the side, and your 2015 Merlot, two glasses, leave the bottle.”

Khaled cleared his throat, getting Thomas and the waitress’ attention. “Just one glass, please,” he corrected. “I’ll take a water.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Thomas asked. Khaled shook his head. “Best give him a glass anyway,” he whispered not too subtly. The waitress dutifully wrote down their order before leaving them to their complimentary bread basket.

“Ah, 2015,” the boss reminisced with a sigh. “The year my grandfather passed and I became the head of the Costa Family, what a tumultuous year!”

Yeah, 2015, the year I was kidnapped and sold halfway across the world to you, Khaled remembered. He tried to wash away the bitter memory with the water the waitress had given him, but the icy cold drink only numbed the sensation for a moment. He halfheartedly smeared some butter onto a piece of bread and picked at the marinated olives on their shared plate as his master kept reminiscing about how much time they had spent together.

“That was also the year I got you, wasn’t it?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you remember how small you were back then?” Thomas popped a salted almond into his mouth, chewing it only for a second before answering for him. “You were 5’1” and barely 90 lbs, a scrawny little thing. Then, with enough food and shelter and a stable environment-”

Khaled nearly choked on an ice cube.

“-you hit your growth spurt and made up for lost time!” The older man laughed, taking a hearty sip of his wine. “As soon as I bought you clothes that fit, you would need them replaced! You shot up like a weed over those first two years, and now look at you!”

Look at me now, Khaled bitterly echoed. His gaze flitted to the deep ruby liquid in his master’s wine glass, and then to the opaque green bottle set in the middle of their table. If he was going to make it through the rest of this dinner, he might change his mind about the merlot after all.

The man across from him helped himself to a slice of prosciutto from the side plate. “You’re a handsome young man, now twenty-two years old, 5’8”, 138 lbs. You’re built like a whippet, svelte and sexy in all the right places,” he crooned, throwing in a wink. “It has been nothing but a pleasure spending all these years with you.”

The bread on his tongue felt as dry as ashes in Khaled’s mouth. “I think I will take some of that wine, thanks,” he murmured. He leaned over the table to reach for the wine, but Thomas beat him to it.

Their hands touched on the neck of the wine bottle, two sources of warmth meeting on cold slender glass. Khaled shot his master a questioning look, only to receive a cryptically soft gaze in response. “Allow me.” Thomas took the bottle and effortlessly filled the spare wine glass. “Here you are,” he said, passing it to Khaled with a fond smile. Their hands met once again, the older man’s touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary on the neck of the wine glass as he stared into Khaled’s eyes. There was something softening the look in those steely-gray eyes, and it wasn’t just the candlelight ambiance. This look was warm and cozy, almost comforting like a fresh cup of tea; nothing like the fiery and lustful glances that promised Khaled equal measures of pleasure and pain. At least Khaled was used to the latter type of looks. The way Thomas looked at him now was almost as if –but no, Khaled thought, he’s just playing it up because we’re out in public.

“Aren’t you going to eat any more of this?” Thomas asked, waving down toward the sliced cheeses and grapes and nuts. Khaled hated how concerned his master sounded, making it sound like he cared.

“I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was,” he replied. He threw back the glass of wine and let the liquid pour down his throat, just to give his mouth anything to do other than talk to the man across from him.

“Oh, come on, Khaled, you know the dietary rules don’t apply on your birthday! At least eat something to absorb all that wine you’re inhaling?”

Brushing uncomfortably past the reminder that today was his birthday –the seventh birthday he had spent in slavery to his master, owner, and abuser –Khaled polished off the rest of his wine, instantly tipping his glass forward in a nonverbal request for more. “Why should you care?” he asked.

“Because maybe I care about you.” Thomas refilled his wine glass. He did that thing with his voice again, using the tone that sounded as if he were genuinely concerned. He was looking at him in that same soft and worrisome way as before. Khaled decided that he hated it. It made sense that the man would be concerned about his $150k asset, but anything vaguely resembling more than that was just …wrong.

He made a show of turning his head all about the restaurant, clocking how few patrons there actually were on a Monday night. “You can drop the act you know,” he murmured. “There is no one within five tables around ours, so you can cut the crap and just be yourself, Master.” The title left his tongue like a bitter epithet.

“Cut the –Khaled, what are you talking about?”

Oh, so he’s going to play dumb? Fine! You want to fuck with me, I’m the King of Dumb –wait, hold on. Khaled tipped back his second glass of wine, not stopping until the whole vessel was drained. Whether it was the insincere gestures of concern, or the accumulation of remarks about how much time had been stolen from him, or whatever the hell these soft and warm looks were, Khaled had decided he’d had enough. “I mean, stop being so goddamn nice to me, stop acting like we’re good friends or boyfriends or whatever lie you told these people when you made our reservations, and please, please, please, stop acting like you care about me beyond what I can do for you in bed!”

A few patrons turned their heads toward their table, since Khaled had raised his voice a little at that last statement. The mob boss glanced around with a flicker of nervousness in those gray eyes. “Khaled, baby, calm down,” he soothed quietly, opting to go for damage control.

Wrong choice of words, fucker! Khaled scoffed loudly, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. “You bought me, at fifteen years old, like an object, and you brought me into your empty, soulless home for what exactly? To leave me chained up and alone to slowly lose my mind for the first year I was imprisoned with you?” He slammed his empty wineglass against the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. “Nobody even treats their dog that badly!” he shouted.

“Khaled, keep your voice down, you’re drawing attention-”

The hypocrisy nearly made Khaled laugh. How dare you care about drawing attention onto us now, of all times! “And then,” Khaled continued, retelling his story as he raised his voice on purpose, “you took me to work with you and kept me on an extremely short leash, while the rest of the mafia treated me like the plague! Do you have any idea what they would say about me when you weren’t there? All the names they called me that I didn’t understand? Well, you made me understand, didn’t you?” His master reached out to hold his hand, but Khaled smacked it away, rising from the table to put even further distance between them. “Four years ago, this very night, the night of my eighteenth birthday, you made me understand, didn’t you?!”

“Khaled, shut up!” Thomas raised himself from the table, his livid eyes narrowed threateningly as he stared the young man down.

“You treated me like a whore –no, worse than a whore! You broke and violated my body nearly every night for years on end! You dolled me up and passed me around to your boys like a party favor until I was thrown away like garbage-” Khaled furiously blinked back the stinging sensation in his eyes “-back into your arms when they’d had their fill!”

A small squeak in their periphery interrupted their intense staring match. “U-um, excuse me, have you gentlemen decided on your entrees yet?” the waitress timidly interrupted. Both men fell silent as they realized the weight of a dozen stares were on their table, with both patrons and staff tensely watching them as they fought.

Thomas composed himself first. “No, thanks, I think we’re done here,” he answered gruffly. He reached into his coat pocket and fished out a few $100 bills. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered as he pressed the cash into the woman’s hands and strode purposefully towards the exit. Khaled himself muttered a quiet “sorry” before he followed his master out the restaurant, where they both picked up their argument where they had left off as soon as they reached the parking lot.

“What was that?” the mob boss shouted. “Fuck, boy, what is wrong with you tonight?!”

“What’s wrong with me?! I wasn’t the one who went out and bought a teenager to turn into their personal bed warmer!” Khaled screamed. “I wasn’t the one who stripped him of his clothes and wrapped him in silk and pimped him out to strangers he barely knew! I wasn’t the one who tore down everything he loved about himself-” Khaled’s voice broke on a wet sob he couldn’t suppress, “–everything that made him unique, to wring all the hopes and dreams from his broken body, just to build up whatever I wanted from his remains!” He raised an accusatory finger at the man he called his master. “That was you, you did that, that was all you!”

A brief grimace of an unnamed emotion flickered across his master’s face, disappearing before it could even be named. “You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” he defended himself. He shook his head as he grabbed Khaled’s elbow and started steering him toward the car. “See if I ever let you drink again, fuck,” he muttered.

“Get off me!” Khaled yanked his elbow away from Thomas’ grip. He bit his trembling lip and swiped away the tears in his eyes. Any and all pretense of wanting to appear strong was abandoned as Khaled angrily wept.

“I could have loved you, you know!” He wrapped his arms around himself as his posture crumpled, squeezing himself in a hug as if he were desperately trying to hold his shattered pieces together for a little longer, if only so long as it took him to finish his damning indictment. “You wouldn’t know this, but I don’t have a father, at least not anymore,” he shuddered through ragged breaths, “but for a little bit, I thought I had you. If you had just been a little kinder, a little more understanding, if you had never touched me like that at all, I could have loved you like a father, and I think I was about to! But you didn’t love me, and I know you never did!”

“Hey, that is just not true!” Khaled heard the crunch of gravel under expensive leather shoes. A shadow cast over him as the mob boss leaned over the young man.

“Why didn’t you love me?!” Khaled glared up at him through his mess of tears. “What was it about me that justified pouring out all your wrath and your lust against me?! Why was it so hard to love me?! Am I unlovable, is that it?! Why-”

A rough hand grabbed him by his hair and tugged him forward. Khaled’s rant was smashed against a regrettably familiar pair of warm lips as Thomas brought him in for a kiss. Khaled clawed at the front of the man’s chest, fighting with a fervor he had not had since the early days to try and put the distance back between them. He groaned in protest against those smothering lips as his master maneuvered both their bodies and flipped Khaled back-first onto the hood of a car. Thomas broke the kiss and quickly covered Khaled’s mouth with his hand before the young man could say anything else. “You want me to love you?” he growled. “What does it look like I’ve been doing?!” Khaled thrashed against the hand on his mouth and the body pressing him down inch by inch into the chrome hood of the car. “I have been nothing but sweet with you for months now, but if that’s not what love looks like to you, I could always go back to what I had done before!”

The statement that would’ve struck terror and fear into him before now just made Khaled even more angry. He had finally freed one of his arms from where it had been pinned and scratched at his owner’s face. Thomas recoiled and let go of Khaled’s mouth on instinct to catch Khaled’s wrist in a punishingly tight grip. It wasn’t long before he had both of Khaled’s wrists pinned in one hand in front of him.

Khaled glared at him as he struggled against his master’s hold. “Touch me like that again, and I will scream,” he promised.

His master scowled, but ultimately released him and stepped away, allowing Khaled to peel himself off the hood of the car. They were still in a restaurant parking lot, after all. “At least wait until we’re in the car, you fucking savage!” he muttered.

They had just made it to the back of the boss’ Bentley when Thomas tried to grab Khaled in one hand and open the backseat door with another. Khaled dodged, and as Thomas reached for him to pull him into the car, he pushed into the man’s body and sent him falling backwards. His back met the seat of the backseat with a satisfying thud. Khaled wasted no time in climbing on top of him and closing the car door behind him.

“Cut this shit out!” the older man yelled, trying to sit himself up from where he fell.

“No!” Khaled pushed him down by the sternum. His master, in turn grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back to bare his neck. The sudden pull made Khaled gasp. The warm, moist pair of lips kissing at his Adam’s apple made him involuntarily groan. He blindly clawed at his master while his head was craned up to the car roof. The pair of lips against his throat murmured a breathy request against his skin. “Let’s do it, here, now.”

Once the hand in his hair let Khaled go to begin tearing off his shirt, Khaled snapped his head back to stare down at him. “I’ll ride,” he said. Thomas blinked up at him as his hands retreated from Khaled’s waistband. “I’ll ride,” he repeated, his tone assertive and acerbic. His fingers moved over the button and fly of his pants before his brain could keep up with what he had demanded. Thomas mirrored the motions as he undid his pants and quickly whipped out his hardening member. “You have taken so much from me, you can at least allow me this, Master.” He pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles, taking them off entirely before climbing on top of the dumbstruck man again.

Khaled straddled his master’s hips, splitting himself in half on his master’s cock as he gripped the front passenger seat and the back seat to steady himself. A pair of roughly calloused hands maintained an iron grip on his hips, but Khaled had set the speed on his own, pushing himself up and down the rigid shaft at a brutally masochistic pace. The familiar stinging burning sensation accompanied every movement as he pushed himself to his limits, but Khaled didn’t care. This was the most control he’d ever had –more like the most control he’d been allowed to have with his owner, and as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of him with every punishing thrust, the repugnant act finally began to feel good.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He did both.

“Fuck me!” Khaled looked below, into the eyes of the man he was riding. The mob boss was a mess, with his short blonde hair mussed up, top three shirt buttons undone, and outer suit coat long forgotten. “I don’t know what I did to get you so worked up, but I should do it again if it gets you this eager!”

“Shut up!”

One of the hands let go of Khaled’s hips to slap him across the cheek. “That is no way to talk to your Master!”

Undeterred, Khaled kept riding. After every abuse that he’d endured, there was no way a mere backhand was going to stop him. He felt himself smiling, a dark and twisted little upturn gracing his lips. “Oh, I know you missed this, you sick son of a fuck!” he gloated. “I figured those girls in the whorehouses could only satisfy you for so long! I am your perfect plaything, doing exactly what you have trained me to do!” His pace was becoming erratically frenzied as he sought release from the ever-mounting pleasure. Thomas bucked his hips into Khaled’s, trying to keep up with him as he squeezed the young man’s hips impossibly tight. That’s right, I can’t cum yet, not until he cums at least, I’ve got to get him to cum first, Khaled reminded himself.

“So, so tight –you’re gonna rip my dick off, Khaled!”

“What are you complaining for?! You wanted this!” he screamed. He was close, so close, he just had to hold out a little more-

A strangled mix between a roar and a moan erupted underneath him as a familiar pulse of hot seed injected deep within. Khaled didn’t take much longer to cum after that, spilling himself over imported cotton as he rode through the high of his climax. His grip on the front and back seats slackened, knees and thighs trembling with the effort to keep himself seated on the man’s cock. When Thomas finally let go of his hips to gently guide him down onto his chest –face first into the puddle of his own spend –Khaled went down limply without a fight. He rested his head against his master’s chest, picking up the sound of the older man’s heartbeat and the smell of cologne and sweat and sex radiating off his broad body.

“Holy fuck, Khaled.” Thomas’ voice rumbled in his ribcage as his fingers idly played with Khaled’s hair. “That was kinda hot-”

“Nope,” Khaled cut off, “stop talking. Please.” Fortunately, this time, he listened.

The mob boss and his slave fell into a contemplative silence as they lay against each other. The silence only broke by the fingers in Khaled’s hair, stopping as they twirled a single lock of hair. “Oh my god, is that a gray hair?” the man asked incredulously.

Khaled laughed/cried again.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@defire

#whump writing #slave whump #captivity whump #emotional whump #emotional angst #defiant whumpee #sorta #whumpee loses last fuck to give #tw alcohol #food whump (briefly mentioned)#intimate whumper #tw dubcon #tw hate sex

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compacflt · 1 year

Note

The F-35 fuckup makes me wonder how Ice would deal with similar fuckups in the Navy. Or maybe when he sees Captain Mitchell's fuckups (like the darkstar) trending on twitter.

ahhh the f-35 fuck-up… someone asked me a similar question months ago about the f-22 balloon kills situation and i had a similar headcanon response which is, ice going “wow. hmm.” over their morning coffee and maverick groggily going “what. what happened.” and ice sliding his phone over with the CNN story pulled up, and mav goes, “huh. that’s not good.” and ice shrugs and sips his coffee and goes “well god help the poor fucker they draft to deal with it” and minds his own business and goes about his day. it’s the marine corps’ stupid autopilot stealth plane. not his problem.

(until it is, and then he goes scorched earth, ruthless fleet commander hours)

re: ice dealing with darkstar: i guess, number one, do we think the US military would memoryhole it? say some other military craft exploded & not give away the details of the program? “Air Force u-2 explodes over Rocky Mountains, one pilot ejects safely from 50k ft” or something. Twitter clowns on the air force & not mav. diversionary infosec tactics. number two, this is how ice deals with the darkstar issue

#Are you one of the like 3 people who follow me on both tumblr & Twitter? this is a timely ask #given my recent Twitter history of f-35posting #heartbreaking stuff #from an ‘i paid taxes for that’ standpoint and a ‘i can’t bear to see planes destroyed’ standpoint #stavridis’ tuberville dunk was also very good last night #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun maverick #asks #the navy times is under the military times umbrella making that sentence redundant.#let’s switch military times to inside defense.#all the damn edits i need to make to this fic. good lord

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barn-anon · 6 months

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A deep growl and he stops. He nervously eyes his brother before him, the blood on his brother's turquoise armour. He reaches out only to get another snarl in return, unable to move any closer.

Dead feral marines lay around them but it didn't matter in the end, how many they killed. They were never going to be in time.

A wheezing breath and his brother's attention is back to the bloody mangled lump that he's hunched over. He watches as his brother, so brilliant, so passionate, now coo to the shuddering bleeding torso. Turquoise armour turn redder by the second as armoured hands gently pat and try to soothe the fading life.

Weak whimpers are met with unnervingly sweet purrs. His brother scoots away with the torso in his arms, seemingly on autopilot as he starts walking back to the base. He hesitates but quickly grabs a discarded tarp to cover the remaining viscera before hurrying after his brother.

1 minute, wheezing breaths grow weaker.

5 minutes, those breaths are shallow and pained.

10 minutes, heart beats grow slow.

11 minutes, one last beat and silence. His brother stops. He sees him tremble and fall to his knees. Soft pained whimpers come from his strongest brother. He dares not go closer but he hears the wet squishes as his brother tries to hold the mangled remains of his human to himself.

Then his brother takes his helmet off and he watches as he takes a bite out of his own human. Bone breaks easily under the strong bite. He stays silent as his brother tries to savour this last gift from his human.

He looks away as his brother screams out into the night. Glad that he doesn't have a bonded human of his own.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts

Kit, I was thinking a little too much of your post regarding how Space marines deal with the death of their humans.

#space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer 40k #one off #not smut #mild gore i suppose #not happy

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witchofanguish · 3 months

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I think this is worth digging into because... yes. In the arguments which feed the roots of Vs Debates this is easier to ignore - if you're ultimately arguing about metal cans shooting each other in space then you can pretend they could exist in the same world, that what they are is comparable. However, this is a pretense. We can see it shatter obviously in cases like, say, Mage the Ascension, where the entire debate hinges on which cosmology you're accepting, because mages are only limited to relatively (by Vs Debates standards) limited feats due to an actively hostile environment, or TypeMoon. Is the Death Star an A-rank mystery? Would a Space Marine landing in MtAsc Manhattan explode from paradox? The answer is asking there questions marks you as deeply deranged. Okay, but Batman is a human, right? Supposedly made out of atoms and whatever? Why can't we compare him to humans? Well, no. To sound utterly pedantic, he's a fictional character, not a human. If a human kicks a tree and it bursts apart, we can conclude 'holy shit I do not want to be kicked by them, they've got TNT thighs'. We live in a world ultimately dictated by the standard model and general relativity. It has rules. The force it takes to blow apart a tree and to cave in a man's chest are relatable. If Batman kicks a tree and it flies apart, and you flip the page thinking 'oh man, oh man batman is going to cave in a man's chest in his next fight' you'd be wrong, you fool, he's going to get held up by a bunch of untrained dudes in sweaters holding pipes. The tree is for aesthetic, for looks and metaphor and style. It's an RPG character getting an unopposed roll against a piece of scenery and the GM saying 'yeah, go for it, break apart that tree in your rage, i'm not giving you a bonus to your attack rolls in the next fight'. Now, granted, if you saw Batman get held up by a couple dudes with lead pipes and figured a squad of ten ninjas or Darkseid, evil alien god, would destroy him you'd also be wrong. This is why 'feats' and 'calcs' for Batman don't matter. They aren't predictive. The aesthetic is. Some stories have calcs which meet their aesthetic decently well - the Culture, for example - and so we can use the calcs as a lesser substitute, sometimes. Other stories, like Mage the Ascension, have feats so contextual that a Vs Debate always starts and is mostly decided by which aesthetic you're letting predominate. So what's the aesthetic of Batman against 160,000 nerds? Well, it's... nonsense. That's not a number even the most ambitious comic book writer would throw at him, just use a decently big crowd of a couple hundred, and it's such a bizarre set-up that being 'in-character' is actively confusing things. But if Batman did have to fight a big crowd, how would he do it? Probably not with his fists. If he was in an enclosed area and it wasn't 100,000+ he might punch them out, one or two at a time, ending with a panel of the bloody, bruised Caped Crusader limping out of the basement of some seedy nightclub only to collapse into the Batmobile, which drives him back to Wayne Manor. If it was a bit more open - like a theatre, huh wonder if we've seen that - he'd fight for a bit and find some trick to escape and possibly trap/disable them. If it was really open he'd grapple out or call in his Batmobile's Tesla Autopilot Mode for pickup. If it was maze-like he'd use stealth. But in a big open arena, against 100,000, it's not in Batman's aesthetic to fight them at all. Edit: If the question that comes to you after reading this is 'why are you in Vs Debates, then?' And the answer is I'm looking for a good story about who would win. Or a good joke about how. The problem is a six megajoule kick, in this thread, is a joke being treated like a story.

#sufficient velocity #maybe I'll be able to find this post again someday #haven't the last three times

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birindale · 8 months

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This time: Catra goes fishing, She-Ra has most of Aquaman's powers, and the scripts get even more unbearable to type. We all learn a lesson about capitalism, but perhaps not the one intended.

Transcript/Image ID below the cut

[Image Description: 14 comic pages from the She-Ra mini-comic, “A Fishy Business”.

Cover: Mermista (in her mermaid form) and Starburst She-Ra swim around underwater, smiling at a school of seven bright yellow fish. The Princess of Power logo is up top as always, and at the bottom of the page in blue, outlined in a desaturated red, is the issue title, "A Fishy Business". Below that, the copyright info reads, "Illustrations: (copyright symbol) Mattel, Inc. 1986. Hawthorne, CA 90250 U.S.A. PRINTED IN TAIWAN. All Rights Reserved. (registered trademark symbol) and TM designate U.S. trademarks of Mattel, Inc."

Page 1: A desaturated pink caption box reads, "In the forest near a stream that began at Crystal Falls, Catra was busy making mischief. She stood back to admire her handiwork, a big waterwheel over the stream. Along the wheel were small fishnets, and on the bank was a giant goldfish bowl filled with water." We do in fact see Catra standing before a giant wheel, though it can't really be described as a waterwheel because there's no way for the water to turn it; its only adornments are the 'nets', which look more like baskets but you saw the caption! Who am I to disagree? A slanted, equal-angle channel runs from the wheel closer to the bank, a sort of reverse salmon cannon into the fish bowl. Catra isn't wearing her mask, her clawed gloves are only silver bracers here, and her outfit still strays closer to red than pink. She has a crosscut or rip-cut saw in her right hand (can't say for certain without a closer look at the teeth), and a claw (heh heh) hammer in her left. Her gloves are only silver bracers here, so she doesn't have any claws, and her outfit is straying closer to red than pink.

A yellow caption box at the foot of the page reads, "PRODUCED EXCLUSIVELY FOR MATTEL BY: PENCILIER—JIM MITCHELL. INKER—TODD KUROSAWA. COLORIST—CHARLES SIMPSON. EDITOR—LEE NORDLING."

"'There. As long as I don't get wet, this water-stuff is a snap to handle," says Catra, with an evil little grin.

End Page 1.

Page 2: ""Now to see if it works." She said. Catra pulled a lever that released the wheel, and the wheel turned in the water. As the wheel went around, the fishnets bought up fish from the stream. The fish were then dumped into a trough that emptied into the goldfish bowl." [sic] on that whole paragraph. It's like they took a concept script for a picture book and just turned it into a comic with absolutely zero editing or forethought.

Speaking of no forethought, Catra sure has made this contraption within sight of the Crystal Falls, notorious hangout of Mermista and Friends. She's gripping a lever with both hands (now gloved) and looking back over her shoulder instead of facing the wheel directly. Skip Simpson, bless his heart, seems to have colored her skirt black on autopilot despite Todd Kurosawa's careful delineation. In his defense, Skip was colorist for the whole first wave as well, so he's still getting used to Scratchin' Sound Catra's adjusted color palette. Four concerned-looking fish are scooped up and deposited in the goldfish bowl.

Catra seemingly lies down in the sand to prop her chin dramatically on one hand and smirk at the captive fish. ""You don't know it yet, Fish-face, but you and I are going into business together."" Seriously though, who put all of these quotation marks in the dialogue bubbles? Why didn't Lee Nordling stop them? What kind of editor are you, Lee? Whatever. Three of the fish gape at Catra in shock.

""I can see it now. I'll open the first marine world in Etheria," says Catra. This seems to be an attempt at genericizing Marine World (now called Six Flags Discovery Kingdom), which at the time of publication (1986) had just moved to Vallejo, California and was moderately big news, featuring such wild headlines 'professional basketball player called in to pull bolt out of dolphin throat', 'tiger bites the shit out of football player at pep rally' before Vallejo moved them over from Redwood City. The year after the move they dropped an orca on William Statner (who was, tragically, completely fine). Basically, I think Catra is envisioning an animal theme park with a heavy aquatic slant, rather than a flooded planet situation. But it's the kind of theme park which puts chimps on motorcycles and an elephant on water skis. So look out.

End Page 2.

Page 3: A pink caption box reads, "Catra saw herself as master of the show. The fish would do wonderful stunts! Catra herself would be the star. And how the crowd would cheer! Handsome men—maybe even Bow—would be madly in love with her." Oh so I didn't need to explain Marine World. Okay. Well I'm leaving that in anyway. This one's for you, Norcal.

Catra imagines herself in a series of fanciful situations, whipping the fish into a cheerleader-style pyramid (her gloves are bracers again, but the rest of her costume is Scratchin' Sound Catra-accurate, including ripped silver tights and a silver skirt); staring dreamily at Bow, who's offering her a bottle of milk; and waterskiing behind four moderately sized fish, which feels optimistic even for this fantasy.

""So do some aerobics while I sew up your little swimsuits," says Catra, actually looking pretty reasonable despite the fish's shock. Can a fish do aerobics? I guess it doesn't specify that you get your oxygen through air instead of water, but I feel like it's implied.

End Page 3.

Page 4: A pale pink caption box reads, "A few days later, Peekablue was riding in the Sea Harp near the beautiful Crystal Falls while Mermista swam alongside. Adora and Spirit stood on the shore. "Peekablue! Mermista!" Adora called. "Let's pick some berries for lunch." But just then a young seal swam up to Mermista with a message.

We see the Crystal Falls in the background, and Mermista with her seal friend in the foreground, but the midground is the Sea Harp sitting on dry land next to Adora and Spirit. Is it not a boat…?

""Oh no! He says his friends, the sunfish and the tuna twins, are missing. And no one has seen the bluegills since yesterday,"" says Mermista, translating for a distressed seal with emanata that seem to indicate seal-speech.

""Hmmmm, this could be trouble. I'll go look for help!" says Adora.

End Page 4.

Page 5: A pink caption box reads, "Hidden in a spot behind some trees, Adora raised high the Sword of Protection and said "For the honor of Grayskull, I am She-Ra!" And in a magical flash, she became the Princess of Power. Then, she changed Spirit into Swift Wind." Because god forbid we draw an action pose, I guess.

Starburst She-Ra raises both arms to show off her cape, and Crystal Swift Wind raises both wings. They're so sparkly that light refracts all around them, twinkling and vibrant.

End Page 5.

Page 6: A pink caption box reads, "Peekablue and Mermista were glad She-Ra had come to help. She-Ra suggested they split up. Peekablue said, "I don't want to get my lovely feathers wet, so I'll follow the stream leading into the forest. With my many eyes I'll be able to see any fish who went that way. Then I'll meet you later."" She-Ra stands beside Peekablue in front of the Crystal Falls, and Mermista watches them from the water.

A pink caption box reads, "Then She-Ra and Mermista dove into the Crystal Falls pool."

She-Ra dives, Mermista just looks like she's floating downwards. It must be hard to slow down enough for a human (super-powered or not) to keep up.

End Page 6.

Page 7: A pink caption box reads, "Deep in the blue-green world, the two friends passed great sweeping fronds of sea moss, sparkling stones, many-colored shells, and the broken columns of old ruins. But, oddly enough, no fish. And no one seemed to know where they were!" She-Ra and Mermista swim past a coral reef, some decaying, vaguely Grecian ruins in the background. There's not a fish in sight.

""Have you seen our friends, the fish?"" She-Ra asks an octopus, who shrugs and says, ""Nope."" Apparently She-Ra can breathe underwater in this one.

""Fish should stay in one place, like I do," says a bivalve, "Then they wouldn't get lost!""

End Page 7.

Page 8: ""Then I hope Peekablue has already found them,"" says She-Ra, looking concerned.

A pink caption box reads, "But Peekablue found something else. As she followed the stream through the woods, her eyes searched the water. "I can see all the way to the bottom!" She exclaimed. But then her special eyes noticed something further upstream." Oh shit. Her brand.

Peekablue is shown wandering alongside the stream, Catra's contraption bleary in the distance.

End Page 8.

Page 9: ""Why, it's a wheel! I wonder what…?"" says a pink caption box, which was probably supposed to be a thought bubble.

Another pink caption box reads, "Suddenly Catra rushed out of the forest. "What do you want, Feather-head?" "Catra! What are you doing here?" Peekablue asked. "I was taking a catnap. Now go away!" "Hummph!" Peekablue said as she walked away. But she thought, "I'm going to tell She-Ra about this.""

I really think they're doing this dialogue-within-captions schtick to torture me, specifically.

Peekablue is shown looking startled, the Crystal Falls once more in the background, as Catra leaps out of the bushes in front of her.

End Page 9.

Page 10: A pink caption box reads, "A little later the three friends met at Crystal Falls. Peekablue told what she had seen. She-Ra said, "I suspect Catra knows where the fish are. Let's find out." "Wait," Mermista said. "I want to go along." She dove, then flipped out of the water, her silvery tail dancing on its surface for a moment." We see Mermista, surrounded by a few perfect tendrils of water, suspended above the surface as Peekablue and She-Ra watch.

A pink caption box reads, "Then with a spin she landed delicately on the shore on two legs!" and we see a four-stage, Animorphs-style transition between her two forms.

""There. I'm ready!"" says Mermista, to a smiling She-Ra. Her hair is a little more purple than usual, but it plays off the yellow in the background well.

End Page 10.

Page 11: A pink caption box reads, "The friends soon found Catra's waterwheel and watched as more fish were caught in the nets. She-Ra said, "I thought so!" On the ground nearby were blueprints for Catra's plans, and She-Ra looked them over. "An amusement park! Leave it to Catra!" She-Ra stopped the wheel, but Catra, who heard their voices, came running. "

She-Ra stares at the plans in apparent wonder as Peekablue and Mermista look over her shoulder. Fifteen of the yellow fish are trapped in the fishbowl. Mermista's pants are orange. Peekablue is smiling for some reason.

""Just what do you think you're doing here?"" asks Catra, who looks mildly affronted with her hands on her hips and a single eyebrow raised. She's missing her gloves again.

End Page 11.

Page 12: ""Saving my fish friends from your clutches!"" says Mermista, with no expression whatsoever. Her necklace, which is a shell on the toy and a simple pendant in the Filmation show, is a tiny yellow fish. Presumably it spits water the same way.

""They're mine now, Miss Scaley-tail! Now go away before I…"" says Catra, with a mild frown.

A pink caption box reads, "But Catra had no chance to finish her threat because Mermista quickly drenched Catra with her water spray. "Yeee-ow!" Catra screeched, as she jumped back. "I think you're the one who should leave, Catra," said She-Ra "while we try to undo your mischief.""

Catra is soaking wet now. Would have been nice to show that action, instead of just telling us about it! Would have been a nice break from shot-reverse-shot close-ups! She-Ra, Mermista, and Peekablue all smile at her. Her gloves are still missing.

End Page 12.

Page 13: A pink caption box reads, "As Catra ran off, She-Ra lifted the giant fishbowl overhead and dumped it into the stream. "I think it's time you fellas went back home to Crystal Falls," she said. And the fish were very happy to do so." The illustration shows She-Ra doing that. You know, redundantly.

""I don't think we should leave this here either, She-Ra. Catra may use it again," says Peekablue, pointing at the wheel contraption.

""You're right, Peekablue. And I think I have a good idea," says She-Ra.

End Page 13.

Page 14: A pink caption box reads, "Later, under the water at Crystal Falls, She-Ra and Mermista turned Catra's wheel into a ferris wheel. The nets were replaced by little seats. Their friends rode happily 'round and 'round! Mermista said, "I wish Catra could see her waterwheel now!"" The fish have set up a tiny admissions booth and everything. Various sea creatures gambol about.

In an oranger-than-usual 'moral' font color, She-Ra says, ""Yes, and I wish Catra would learn that it's not right to use others to get ahead."" Girl, what? You mean the fish? You guys just assaulted her, stole her waterwheel, and undid days of work because she didn't immediately agree to your demands. Now is the time for a moral about how removing species can negatively impact a biome, or against cruelty to animals (not that 1986 was necessarily ready for that). Is this a good time to mention Mattel owned The Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus for a couple years?

""Now—how about a ride?"" She-Ra suggests to Mermista, beckoning her on. They won't even fit in the tiny little seats. Stop benefiting from using others, She-Ra. It's immoral.

End Page 14.

End ID.]

#minicomics #motu #a fishy business #she-ra #mermista #catra #peekablue #adora #spirit #the sea harp

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cairnsmarineelectronics · 8 months

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pickalilywrites · 10 months

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Aruani fic. Armin is nervous about his first date with Annie on Christmas. Asks advice from his friends.

i don't write aruani a lot so thank you for this!!! it was fun!!! happy holidays :)

holidate to-do list

aruani. college au. 2205 words. read on ao3.

Armin's friends are piled up on the couch. Some are even seated on the floor because of the lack of available seats, but they don’t seem to mind. They sit in the dark, attentive as if they’re waiting for a movie to start when in reality they’re awaiting Armin’s upcoming presentation. The nervous marine biology student fidgets nervously in front of them, adjusting his sweater vest and tugging at the sleeves of his button up. In one hand he holds a clicker for his upcoming presentation.

One of Armin’s friends, Reiner Braun, raises his hand. “Can I ask that we skip over the reproduction cycle of whatever rare aquatic animal you’re going to be covering today?” he asks. “Because I think all these fish are cool and all, but hearing about how they reproduce really makes them seem so much less majestic afterward and I would like to cling onto whatever little wonder I have left for the world.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you would fuck a mermaid or a fishman?” Ymir asks. She’s sitting on a stool beside the couch, one arm thrown casually over Historia’s shoulder.

“That’s different,” Reiner says dismissively.

Armin clears his throat. “So, two things. First thing: this isn’t about fish or any kind of marine life. Second thing: If I were to give a seminar about marine life, I couldn’t possibly leave out reproductive cycles as they’re essential to any organism’s life cycle.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Reiner sighs.

“We are gathered here today to discuss a very important issue,” Armin continues before hitting the button on his clicker so that the slides appear on the blank wall behind him. The title slides have falling snowflakes and the words Planning the Perfect First Date in Times New Roman. “I am requesting your input on how to plan my perfect first date with a Miss Annie Leonhardt.”

The group of friends let out a chorus of oohs and Connie remarks, “Oh, I was wondering why she wasn’t here.”

“Not me,” Mikasa says. “I just assumed that you intentionally left her out.”

Mikasa and Annie’s rivalry is a strange one. The two are very similar: intelligent, of few words, and intensely loyal to their friends. Maybe it’s because they’re so similar that they clash so often. If Armin were to pick an incident that instigated the unspoken rivalry between the two girls, he would probably have to cite that time in the freshman year when Eren had given Annie a passing compliment in the gym. The funny thing is, Eren had forgotten what he had said as soon as it left his lips and Annie didn’t care enough to pay attention to him. It’s a bit unclear why Eren complimenting Annie had soured Mikasa’s opinion of the icy blonde so much, but the memory of it had left a lasting bad impression. The two had never been on good terms to begin with, and that incident had permanently doomed any goodwill between them.

“Why can’t you just ask Annie out normally?” Eren asks, belatedly throwing up his hand. He only ever participates in lectures if Armin’s giving them out in front of friends, much to his professors’ exasperation. Otherwise, Eren’s brain goes on autopilot. The only reason he’s getting passing grades in his courses is because Armin keeps dragging him to study sessions in the library every other day.

“That is an excellent question, Eren, but I would appreciate it if you guys would save any questions you might have for the end of my presentation,” Armin says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one hand. “You may find that the answers will be presented in my slides, and anything that isn’t covered can be explored in the Q&A session at the end.”

“I’m confused,” Marco says. “I thought you and Annie were already dating.”

“You are one of the only person who can tolerate her for extended periods of time,” Mikasa points out, which isn’t … untrue. If there is one thing that differs between Mikasa and Annie, it’s that Mikasa is much more sociable than Annie, who prefers her social circles to only consist of two or three people at most.

“I thought you two were dating, and I’m pretty much Annie’s best friend,” Mina adds.

“I know that being best friends with Annie is impressive, but you do know that you’re only competing with Armin for that spot, right?” Reiner asks. Unlike Mikasa, Reiner is on good terms on Annie or at the very least Reiner doesn’t seem to butt heads with Annie as much as Mikasa does.

“No, we’re just … it’s not official anyway and I wanted to ask her on the perfect holiday date to cement our status as an actual couple,” Armin says. He’s desperate to turn the attention back to his presentation, but it’s difficult with a large group of people with short attention spans.

“Holi-date!” Connie and Sasha shout in unison before bursting out into laughter.

“Look, Annie is special to me and I want to show her that I think she’s special in return,” Armin says. He clicks through a bunch of his introductory slides. They might never make it to the end at this rate, so he should just skip to the most important slides.

Armin skips straight to the slides with a list of Christmas-themed date ideas and stands nervously at the side, his hand bouncing nervously against his thigh. He shifts from side to side and waits for his friends to read the slides.

“These are just a few examples of what I was thinking,” Armin says after an appropriate amount of time has passed. He fiddles with the clicker in his hands and looks down at the floor in front of him instead of his audience. His oral presentation skills have improved since entering university, but they’ve completely evaporated now and he can only stare at the floor and stammer like a new university student introducing himself at orientation and struggling to think of a fun fact.

“That’s more than a few. That’s an extensive list. I bet if you printed it out, it’d be a foot or two in length,” Jean says, and Armin winces.

“I suppose I was a little enthusiastic about putting this list together,” Armin mumbles. He looks desperately at his friends. “Can you please help me decide what I should do with Annie on our first date? Deciding is one thing, but I also have to prepare for it to make sure everything is absolutely perfect.”

“Armin, it’s a really long list,” Historia says.

The slide is filled from top to bottom with text in 8 point font. Armin’s friends have to squint to read the activities listed, and Armin curses himself for not printing out a copy of the slides for everyone like he had initially planned. No wonder this is going horribly.

“How about we all vote for the ones we like and whichever one is the most popular is the one Armin goes with?” Mina suggests.

It’s not the method that Armin would have went with. He would have preferred that people picked the date activity they thought would be the best and have everyone defend their choice in a structured debate, but Mina’s suggestion would probably save a lot more time and frustration.

“Does everyone have pens and paper?” Armin asks, although he thinks he already knows the answer. He and his friends may be university students, but they’re also horribly underprepared when it comes to the spontaneous need for writing tools. He sighs and passes out pens and paper to all his friends.

“In our defense, you told us we didn’t have to bring anything,” Sasha points out, and she’s not wrong. Armin just didn’t expect nearly everyone to come completely empty-handed.

“Sasha and I brought popcorn,” Connie says, holding out a bowl of popcorn that he and Sasha had prepared in the kitchen before the presentation started. He offers some to Armin, who shakes his head, and Connie moves on to offer it to the rest of their friends.

After everyone is done writing down their choices on their papers, Armin reads them all and tallies them up. Somehow, he ends up with even more choices for holiday dates than he had started with, but he probably should have expected it. It would have been too easy if things ran smoothly.

⋆꙳·̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Armin waits outside of Annie’s apartment complex, shivering in the cold. The outfit Historia had chosen for him is better than any outfit he’s ever put together himself, but it’s not as warm as the puffy winter coats he typically wears. He huffs on his gloved hands and his hot breath against his freezing hands gives him a little bit of warmth.

Armin had allowed Historia to pick his ensemble today because Jean and Historia had been fighting over what Armin should wear to his first date with Annie. Jean argued that he should be able to pick the outfit as a fashion design major. Historia made the argument that she was consistently the best dressed person in their friend group to which Jean scoffed and said if everyone had as much money as Historia then everyone would be dressed just as nicely. To prevent the squabbling between his friends from growing into a full-blown argument, Armin had quickly suggested that Historia choose his outfit for when he asked out Annie and Jean pick his outfit for the date, and his two friends grudgingly agreed. So far, Armin has found that Historia has great style but doesn’t think very much about the practicality of the outfits she puts together.

“If you were going to wait outside in the cold, you should have worn a thicker coat,” Annie says, her sudden appearance making Armin jump. She raises an eyebrow as she takes in Armin’s wardrobe. “You look … nice.”

“Th-thanks,” Armin manages to respond. He’s not sure if he’s stammering because of his nerves or because of the cold. “I probably should have asked to meet in a café or somewhere warmer.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t really mind the cold,” Annie says. She’s dressed in a knitted sweater and jeans, but she doesn’t seem to be shivering at all. “Did you want to go somewhere?”

“Ye-es,” Armin says, his voice breaking in the middle, and he coughs to clear his throat. “Actually, first I wanted to ask you out.”

“Ask me out?” Annie repeats. She purses her lips, head tilted slightly.

“Well, yes. Because, you know, I like you. A lot. And I want to go out with you,” Armin says. He had told himself he wouldn’t get nervous. After all, he and Annie spend so much time together that they’re practically dating already. Asking her out on an official date shouldn’t be that different, and yet he finds himself speeding through his words as if to get through his embarrassment as quickly as possible. “So I came up with a list of activities we could do together.”

Annie takes the list of holiday date ideas that Armin had printed out. It’s printed on two sheets of paper, front to back, and in 8 point font with half-inch margins. She has to bring the list closer to her face to read it. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking as her blue eyes scan the first page.

“They’re just … silly Christmas-themed date ideas, but I think it’d be fun if we could do one together,” Armin hears himself ramble. He doesn’t know if it would be better to just shut up or keep talking, but he decides that he’d rather avoid an awkward silence so he continues to talk. “I had a list and I had my friends vote on them. I thought they would all converge on one particular idea or maybe gravitate towards the same ones, but everyone had a different favorite. And then some people thought it would be a great idea to suggest even more date activities, and I couldn’t just ibgnore them after they’d been suggested -”

“Just one?” Annie asks, looking up from the paper.

Armin blinks. “What?”

“I can only pick one?” Annie asks. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t we just do all of them?”

“All of them?” Armin isn’t sure he’s heard correctly. “You … would you want to do all of them?”

Annie shrugs and glances down at the list again, flipping a page and then turning it to the back. “Well, I normally wouldn’t do a lot of these, but if it’s with you … I think it could be fun.”

Armin can feel his heart begin to flutter in his chest. “I … yeah, we could do all of it. I’d … I’d really love that.”

Annie smiles and raises a hand out for Armin to take. “Well, we’d better get started if we want to finish these anytime soon. You have a lot.”

Armin sees Annie’s hand extended towards him and he takes a moment to marvel at the sight of it before bounding over happily and taking his girlfriend’s hand, excited to begin checking off their Christmas date list together.

#aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhardt #snk #college au #requests #asks #answered #anon #anonymous

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