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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Crashing Waves (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @waiting4inspiration's 9K Multiple of 3 Challenge 🌺 Congrats again, love!

Prompt 16: Something red / High heels / A quiet place

@geekandbooknerd - thank you, darling, you're a wonderful beta 💖

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Bringing Ivar back to the place - Ragnar's hunting cabin - of his greatest failure seems pretty bold. Yet you are sure of your plan. It will work. And you will prove him wrong.

Warnings: smut; use of a cock ring; mention of Ivar's insecurities; no real plot.

Words: 2881

Sitting on the bed, Ivar swallows loudly, digging fingernails into his palms. "Why did you bring me here, Y/N? What are we doing here?" You watch the muscles in his jaw clenching and flexing as he grinds his teeth. You know he's trying very hard to control his anger.

Taking two steps towards him, you cup his face, "This is a quiet place," lean forward and your mouth grazes his cheek and then his earlobe. "You know how much I love quiet places."

"You love quiet places? Are you fucking kidding me??" Seething with anger, he gives you dagger eyes. "Of all the possible places, you really had to choose this one? This fucking cabin? You fucking know this is not just any quiet place."

Kneeling down in front of him – a task nearly impossible with your six-inch stilettos – you place your hands on the bed, on either side of his hips. Reaching up, your thumb strokes his cheekbone, your face peering up at him. "I know, my love."

Of course, you do.

You know exactly what Ragnar's hunting cabin means to your lover. You know what happened here – or rather what didn't. You know about his failure. You know everything because one night he told you, between sobs, and after way too much Akvavit. And that's exactly why you're here tonight.

"Why, then?" His knuckles white, he asks through clenched teeth, averting his gaze.

"Because," things are clear to you, so you don't hesitate, "it's time to start making some new memories, my love." Your right hand grabs his left and you intertwine his fingers with yours. "And because it's time I prove you wrong."

Ivar ducks his head down, unable to look you in the eye. His voice barely a whisper, you realize he is shaking. "I… You know I…", he releases a shuddering breath, his gaze finding yours, "I can't…"

The sharpness in his voice is gone, replaced by… despair… And the way he looks at you… Gods… His wide eyes are filled with fear, confusion and… tears? It's almost enough to persuade you to back off.

But no. You won't.

"I don't know that, my love. I only know what you told me." Carefully placing your hands on his thighs, you tilt your head to the side. There are a thousand questions in his eyes and he seems hurt, and self-conscious. Oh no, you won't allow him to go down this path. "Listen to me. I was not lying, Ivar – I never lied to you – with your dexterous fingers and your skilled tongue, you can pleasure a woman. You pleasure me each and every time, never doubt that. But I want more. For you more than for me."

"But… what…" He wraps his fingers around your right hand, squeezing it so tight it hurts, but you don't complain, not when you can almost feel the panic coursing through his veins, so you just keep looking at him, with a smile on your lips and love in your eyes. "What if it doesn't work? What if… I can't get it up long enough like… like with… with Margrethe…"

"Oh Ivar, stop dwelling on this old story, will you? You were so young, my love, still a boy. And she was just a girl. A girl you didn't have feelings for. A girl who didn't love you." Gently grabbing his chin, you bring his mouth to yours for a soft, light kiss. "I am in love with you, Ivar. And I know you're in love with me. That, my love, makes a huge difference. Plus, you're no longer a boy… And, as for myself, tell me the truth, my love… " You stand up and then slowly take off your long, black trench coat. "Do I look like a girl?"

The second Ivar sees what's under the coat, his mouth falls open. Gaping and gawking, he's literally gobsmacked. If you're being honest, that's what you were aiming for when you chose that red dress. Red is his favorite color and well, the dress fits like a glove and shows off every curve you've got. As he stares at you, his eyes wide open, you're pleasantly surprised to see more lust than fear, or worry, or anger in his gaze.

"So, do I look like a girl?" You ask once again, flashing him a cheeky smile while making your way between his thighs. Your hand grazes his crotch, but Ivar doesn't seem to notice, too entranced – mesmerized – by the sight in front of him.

"No," Ivar shakes his head and clears his throat but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks again, "No, you look like a fucking goddess."

"Then, you should help your goddess with the zipper." You pull away just enough to turn around and the next moment Ivar's hands are on you, roaming over your waist and back. He slowly unzips your dress, then slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms to remove it. "Fuck!" Ivar gasps as your dress falls to the floor, and you can hear him swallowing. "You're… you're naked."

"That I am." You turn your head just in time to see him licking his lips. His nostrils are flaring, his pupils are dilated, and the bulge in his pant is unmistakable. Good.

"Take off your clothes and then scoot over and lie down." You order, stepping out of your dress but keeping your stilettos on. Ivar barely nods, but starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Crossing the room completely naked, you can feel his intense gaze on you and as you bend down to pick up your purse, your butt on display, he makes a sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan. "Gods, woman!" He whines when you slowly come back, swaying your hips, your hand grazing his feet before putting your purse right next to him and dimming the lights.

Ivar, a white sheet covering his lower body, watches your every move, and even if his arousal is obvious, you can tell he's still scared, or at the very least, a little wary.

Kicking your shoes off, you climb onto the bed and straddle him. Careful not to put your full weight on him, you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Y/N, what are you planning to do?" His strained voice betrays his sudden anxiety.

Smiling, you brush his cheek. "Do you trust me, Ivar?"

"It's not about trust but about what I can or–" He starts but you stop him, a finger on his mouth. You then flatten your palms on his chest and soon your hands are venturing down. You explore the lines of his torso, tracing left and right across the ridges in his abdomen. Gods, you love his body! When your fingers come across the thin trail of hair leading lower, you tilt your head, your hand slipping under the sheet. Ivar's breath hitches in his throat as your hand meets his now half-hard cock.

"Answer me, Ivar, do you trust me?"

"Yes." Ivar breathes out his answer and, reaching out, he runs his hands up your ribs to your breasts. "You know I do." He doesn't have to say it for you to know he's referring to his legs. You know them; you're allowed to see and touch them and you know how big a deal it is to him. He does trust you.

"Then trust me, one more time, please. Trust me on this."

As you draw a finger up to the head of his cock and back down the underside, tracing a line around his balls, Ivar lets out a hiss, followed by a groan when you wrap your hand around him.

All of a sudden, he grabs your wrist, preventing you to move. "You know I can't…"

"Love, you're hard." Since you can't really move your hand, you squeeze your fingers around him to prove your point. You're rewarded by a deep, involuntary, grunt, but the next thing you know, Ivar is swaying his head from side to side. "It won't… last… long enough…" His words are barely audible; you know the admission kills him. And you know he's convinced that it is an unavoidable truth. Because that's exactly what happened with Margrethe.

"It will, my love. Have faith in yourself. And if you can't do that, then have faith in me."

Slowly, using your free hand, you unwrap his fingers from your wrist, your eyes never leaving his. Once he releases his grip, you give him a wicked smile and then scoot back farther while pulling down the sheet. Pushing his legs apart with care, you settle between them, reaching for his cock.

And then, you swallow him down and start to suck. Ivar gasps and pants, hissing breaths through his teeth. You know he never experienced anything like this. No one has never done that for him, and there's a sense of pride blooming in your chest knowing you're the one offering him so much pleasure.

Peeking up, you see your lover, propped up on his elbows, who looks at you as you really were a goddess. He's getting harder and harder, squirming underneath you. Pulling back reluctantly, you give him a sultry look, not missing how confused and… disappointed he looks.

"What… Why? I … Oh fuck… I think… Y/N… I… I was…" He stutters, struggling to gather his thoughts. You have to remind yourself of his reality. Your lover never had an orgasm.

"You were close, yes, I know, Ivar. And I promise you're going to come. But I want you to come inside me, my love."

Ivar swallows. "But…" Eyes darting all over the place, you know he's once again overcome with self-doubt.

"There's no buts, love." You cut him off, reaching out and then scrabbling around in your purse. When you find what you were looking for, you hold it triumphantly in front of you. "There's no buts because of this."

Ivar frowns, confused. "What's that?"

"A cock ring, my love. And well," you add, grabbing a small tube, "some lube too."

"A what?" Bewildered, Ivar sits up in the bed, but you push gently on his chest.

You did some research. The cock ring will help him maintain his erection. Not that he physically needs it – you're sure he doesn't – but emotionally, it's a different story. But since you don't want him to have time to rethink what you're about to do – and because you wouldn't want to waste such an impressive erection – you're not going to give him a lecture on cock rings right now.

"I'll explain later, love. It won't harm you; I promise. Trust me with this, Ivar, please."

When he nods – shyly, tentatively and almost sheepishly – you don't waste any more time and pour a small amount of lube into your hand. He gasps as soon as you wrap a slick hand around his still hard cock. Setting the lube aside, you slide the ring down his cock.

"Does it hurt?" Looking closely at his face for any sign of discomfort, you slowly run your hands up his thighs, and as he shakes his head no, you straddle him once more without ever breaking eye contact.

Ivar can barely breathe and doesn't even dare to blink. He can't believe it. Fuck, he can't. This is happening. This is fucking happening. He's rock-hard, harder than he has ever been and he feels like his pounding heart is going to burst.

Earlier, the warmth of your wet mouth on his dick felt insanely good. Your lips wrapped around him, your hand holding him, your eyes filled with an equal amount of lust and love… It has been almost too much, and heavenly as the same time. He would have wanted it to never end and had resented you for a moment when you had released his cock. But it doesn't matter, not anymore, not when you're just about–

"Aaaaaaaaah!" He closes his eyes, the new sensation incredible, otherworldly, overwhelming. He's dying. Or maybe he's already dead. He can't grasp what's happening, or what he's feeling. It's magic, like nothing he's ever felt before. His head is spinning and tears are welling up in his eyes. This… This must be Valhalla; it can't be anything else. Gods…

And then a distant voice brings him back to the here and now. "Ivar, look at me, my love." It takes him several seconds to understand that it is your voice, and that he's the one you're talking to.

Slowly, very slowly and almost reluctantly, because a part of him believes that what he's experiencing is nothing but a dream, he finally opens his eyes. What a glorious sight! You, the woman he loves, are sitting atop him, looking down at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. And you're… he's… fuck.

"I'm… Ah… Y/N… I'm…" He can't even form a coherent sentence but it doesn't matter, because you're so beautiful, because your face is radiant with love, because you definitely are a goddess. And because you know what he's trying to say.

"Yes, my love, you're inside me. And you're hard, and you're not hurting me. It feels so good, Ivar. You feel so good… Your home, my love…" Bending forward and weaving your fingers through his hair, you kiss him as you begin to move. He's at loss for what to do, and it doesn't matter, and there's fireworks in his heart, and you're fucking right, he's home. You're his home. His.

His hands on your thighs, he looks at you and you're so fucking beautiful it takes his breath away. And the feeling of you, wet and throbbing around his cock, is the most amazing thing he's ever felt.

Sitting upright, your back arches as you widen your legs. Your heat engulfing him, he stares at you, bewitched. You're riding him, hard, gasping, moaning, praising, your skin glistening with sweat.

Fuck.

The powerful thrusts of your hips coax his body to a place he's never been before. The sounds of your lovemaking are filling the room… The suction when he slides out of you; the slap of his balls against you when he goes deep. Your grunts. Your pantings. His breaths.

"Oh fuck… it's… oh gods..." You begin to move faster and he keeps his eyes on you. You don't shy away from his scrutiny, holding eye contact as you bounce on him. His hands now cup your ass cheeks, pulling you against him, and then they find your hips, guiding you. He's going to make you come, like a man. Like a whole man. He's going to make you come because he's inside you. The thought is exhilarating, intoxicating.

"Ivar, I'm close!" The way your eyes are half-lidded and lust drunk as you breathe out his name is the most erotic thing he's ever seen. When you begin to lose your rhythm, your moans morph to keening cries and finally you shout and he gasps and you cry out his name as you clamp around him, throwing your head back. The rush of your heat surrounding his cock is overpowering, prodigious, and he thinks he may be losing his mind.

Struggling to catch your breath and still trembling, you kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He groans when you lift off him but your hand finds his cheek, caressing it. "I want you to come, and you won't come with the cock ring around your cock, love." Your skilled fingers hastily removing it, you toss the ring on the floor and then you straddle him once again, sliding down his cock.

The tingling deep in his balls is nearly immediate and he's sure he's never felt this good. He kisses you like he's starving, and in some ways he's. His hands slide over your breasts, your hips rocking, and you're so fucking beautiful he can't believe his eyes. "I love you so much…" He manages to croak in a shallow breath.

And suddenly everything explodes and he loses track of where you end and he begins, and if you answer he doesn't hear it. His ears ring and his hips thrust up against yours and his whole-body shudders violently, once; twice; more. And then his eyes flutter shut as he comes, wave after wave after wave, until he feels disoriented and light-headed, his hot, thick seed flooding your pussy, and it's so powerful it's like a fucking earthquake.

When his whole body goes limp, he lets out a soft whimper as you rest your head on his chest only to reach up and toy with his hair.

When you look up at him, he's sure the whirlwind of his emotions is obvious on his face, but he doesn't care, just like he doesn't care about his tear-filled eyes, or his crooked legs. Truth be told, for the first time in his life, he doesn't give a damn about his legs. For the first time in his life, he feels whole and worthy. For the first time in his life, he feels like the happiest man on Earth.

And that could well be the greatest gift you, Y/N, the goddess of replaced memories, could ever give him.

He loves you.

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @pieces-by-me @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood

#multipleof3challenge #Ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar smut #smut ivar #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x reader #modern-Ivar #ivar imagine #ivar fanfic #Ivar fic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine

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chironshorseass · 3 years

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“I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” PLS

This is based on my canon fic about Estelle being a daughter of Poseidon. Yeah it’s canon!

writing prompts

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You don't even drink.”

“Maybe I should start.”

Annabeth gazed over at him, eyebrows raised. “Giving up already?”

“Paul having a thing for Chiron is one of the most traumatizing things I’ve ever heard. I have every right to start drinking.”

Annabeth snorted. “Is it okay if I tell you that some Hermes kids saw them yesterday? In the Big House? With Mr. D, might I add?”

He leaned back into his rocking chair, a heavy sigh leaving him at the prospect of this. Closing his eyes, he said, “You’re a horrible person, you know.”

“Hmm. And you’re too dramatic.”

His eyes opened, then. But they opened only to be greeted by her. Annabeth had always fit in with the summer, he’d come to think. It was just the natural order of life that she was the most beautiful in this season, to fit in like putting on a pair of shoes—her golden hair in a messy bun, grey eyes sharp as she kept watch over Estelle playing volleyball with the other kids.

“Anyway,” she said. “Love is love and all that.”

“Um, no. I never said it wasn’t. I’m strictly homophobic for only Paul and Chiron.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Go ask Stella. She thinks the same thing.”

“Stella copies everything you do. Cassie is no better.” Then, she muttered, “I can just imagine what will happen when she grows up.”

“You leave our daughter out of this. You might summon her, for all we know.”

“With Sally babysitting?” She crossed her leg over the other one. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Everything is possible with her.”

Suddenly, they heard a loud thud, then a grunt. Percy glanced at the volleyball court, only to find the ball bouncing away into the grass, some child of Mars he’d forgotten the name of lying face-down in the concrete, and Estelle apologizing profusely.

“Is everything good?” Annabeth called out.

Estelle jumped at the sound of her voice but composed herself quickly, throwing them a thumbs up. “All good! Just, um, hit too hard!” She walked over to the kid on the other side, who was already standing up. “Seriously, I’m so sorry! Oh my gods, are you bleeding?”

“She fits right in,” Percy found himself saying.

Annabeth made a breathless sound, something akin to a laugh. “Tell me about it. She’s worse than you.”

“And you.”

“Shut up.”

Their eyes met, and he realized something. Nothing had ever changed. Their smiles lingered in the warmth of July.

He tugged at her wrist. “Come here.”

And she did. Really, during the summer, Annabeth or Estelle weren’t the only ones that fit in. They’d always always fit, always clicked into place. Annabeth’s head rested in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around her torso. Pressing a kiss into her curls, he found himself forgetting about everything else. About Chiron and Mr. D and Paul and his unnaturally strong sister.

“So. Are you going to file a complaint against Paul?” Annabeth murmured into his shirt.

His fingers tangled into her hair, lightly treading on. “Someone else will do that. I’ve worked too hard to get involved with that horse again.”

“Hmm. Good.”

The wind picked up, another call of the summer. A reminder, that no matter how much he aged, Camp Half-Blood would stay as a magnet to him, forever pulling on.

“But maybe I should start drinking. I can’t be sober all the time. Not with this shit.”

“Keep talking.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Okay.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“The last time you drank, it was at Connor’s college party,” Annabeth said. “So yes, this is a challenge. And you cried like a baby after. And threw up. And had the worst hangover I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ll see. I’ll ask Clarisse later tonight. She’ll agree because she fucking hates me.”

That sparked out a laugh from her, which then sparked him to smile fondly at the sky and at the fading sun. And the wind picked up again. And July kept its candid pace.

#percabeth #percabeth fic #estelle jackson #pjo fic #writing prompts #look mom i can write #did i write in some cursed ships? yes yes i did #I love how I wrote this one at record speed

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Concert || Fic

Part 2 (oc) Part 2 (reader)

Content ║ Sukuna x Reader

His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

Count ║ 1,664 words.

Consider ║ Cursing. Sukuna being kind of being a dick. Female reader. Grammar issues most likely ^^”

Creator ║ So uh…. I saw a photo of Rockstar Sukuna and this happened. Enjoy my self indulgence. Also… Song for Reference.

Ryoumen Sukuna positioned himself on stage. The sea of people were glued to every motion he made. You were one of those people in the front. Dead center. Your editor paid a lot of money for that spot, too, but you still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, you needed a big story to get out of that damn plateau but this was not what you had in mind. You focused on fashion, not punk boys with eyeliner.

His face turned to the stage, knees rocking his body to the beginning of a simple, yet effective beat. Broad, muscled shoulder curled forward, securing his zone. But then the guitar came in. A near feral grin ricocheted onto his features as it did. In an explosive leap, his feet left the ground only for the scuffed Doc Martens to slam into the stage at the second beat. Right hand whipped the mic’s wire out of his way, left arm jostled as he started to sing.

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck

Docs crashed with every step, their synchronicity with the band behind. One hand kept on the mic, the other whipped its wire out of his way. It wasn’t that he was energetic, no. He was captivating, calculated in every step, yet casual. His control over his body and the crowd… immaculate. It was a precarious balancing act that he pulled off with little to no effort at all. Steps were to the beat, his entire torso being thrown into the movements.

He wore a white tank top with a breast pocket. The branding of it was recognizable simply by the pristine floral embroidery along the bottom and hems. It hung past the hem of black leather pants. A custom-made silver necklace beat against his chest with each toss of his built physique. You snapped a photo.

His prowess was obvious, even for someone like yourself who knew not a single lick of rock culture. Even with the vulgar and energetic lyrics, the whirling stop-start slow-fast tempo, Sukuna perfected the music as though he were at one with it. Embodied and embraced it. The sharp smile he threw to the collage of faces before him was the only thing you needed to know that he was in his element.

The song was strong, heady even. It buzzed throughout your mind and swung at your heart like a right hook. Each punch of the drums was exhilarating. Every kick of the bass left you wanting more. As alive as Sukuna was on stage, you were there feeling it with him.

The concert went on, moving through each piece like a surging smooth river. It was hard to tell when one song began and the other ended. Whenever you could, you’d snap a photo. There were some good shots in there. Some of his imposing form dangling at the edge of the stage, arms wide out displaying his designer bracelets. Others when he’d toss his entire spine back. The best, though, were when he’d come face to face with the guitarist, his brother, in a beck and call. In their wardrobe, they were a delicate balance of blacks, whites, and coral.

A certain thrill came about you as you realized the wardrobe of each member reflected their position. They weren’t to outshine him, but they all had a theme. Everything must have been custom ordered and hand tailored. Their entire image was just as important to the show as music. Every photo was set up to illustrated the complementing lights and darks they had set up on stage, a living and breathing portrait of youth.

You couldn’t help but notice how every time you’d point the camera at him, he’d lock those brilliant eyes onto yours. He recognized you before. How could he not? Out of everyone in the front row, you were the only one wearing some preppy knit dress. He never would have expected to see a face like yours in his crowd. Some rising reporter with a side blog. He never cared about press, but you’ve been making a name for yourself due to your precise analysis of social culture and clothes. He actually thought your last article on street fashion was interesting and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gawk at your Instagram after. All in all, he kept his glances for your camera instead.

The stage lighting shifted, illuminating the beads of sweat sparkling along his tatted skin like diamonds. The unnatural redness in his eyes blew an intense gaze across the still crowd. They came to a complete stop. Unease settled into your stomach. This was your cue to go. You knew what would happen next and you weren’t ready for when it did.

His foot tapped. The guitar started. A mosh pit rioted.

It was a concert tradition according to the fan page you looked at moments before walking through the door. ‘If you don’t leave with a black eye, did you even go to a Two Faced concert?’ they’d ask.

Your frame was shoved against the rail, knocking the wind out of you. Bodies collided behind and you felt trapped. Your lungs squeezed and your hands scrambled for your bag. Inhaler. Inhaler. Tightness inflamed your chest as a particularly bulky man squeezed you into the rail. Your hands clasped to inhaler, but before you could press it to your lips, another body collided into you. It clattered a few feet over the rail, hitting the stage. Fuck.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw it happen. Panic painted across your face as you hauled your torso over the rail. Your arm reached for what was dropped before it immediately covered a coughing fit. What idiot would come to his concert an, his domain, and expect to just come out unscathed? It was your own damn fault if you got the wind knocked out of you, but he had to give you credit for trying. Just as he was about to look away, someone grabbed the back collar of your dress.

Sukuna wasn’t one of those artists who genuinely cared about their fanbase or paparazzi. That was for the other members to do. It was well known, too. He didn’t indulge in pictures if he didn’t want to or wasn’t on stage. He didn’t sign anything without a check. No one knew music like he did. No one performed like he did. No one mattered like he did. Whatever it was that overtook him then, he wasn’t sure, but he dropped the mic. A sharp blare washed over the P.E. system. All eyes turned to him. Bandmates faltered for only a moment.

Two steps back. Sprint. The tips of his shoes left the edge of the stage. Ryoumen Sukuna took flight. Arm reached for him, stopping his prized body from colliding with the harsh concrete below. The hand on you left, desperate to make contact with The King of Curses. The band went on, the crowd’s scream piercing the air as they swayed the singers body this way and that. You clambered over to grab the inhaler, took a hit, and dove for an exit.

That’s how you found yourself where you were now, in a backstage hallway, staring directly into the fierce gaze of the lead singer. He smelled of sweat and cedar. A brow rose, hands stuffed into unimaginably tight pockets. Confidence wasn’t lost through Sukuna’s stature; shoulders back, weight slightly on one leg more than the other. What was lost, however, was the excitement. In fact, you felt like studied specimen, eyes scanning your limbs and stopping on your ribs. The bruise forming under your dress seemed to flare in response. His tongue clicked disapprovingly.

“What do you want? You’re not some rabid fan.” His voice was smooth as a sip of whiskey. He already knew the answer. For a moment you wondered why he didn’t just call for guards. He wondered the same thing. Just as he wondered why he leapt off the stage. Not that he regretted the act seeing as it got him trending for the umpteenth time.

Sukuna had become accustomed to certain responses. Some offered him their bodies in exchange for a few moments of his time. Shit like that was beneath him. If he wanted a quick fuck and a column, he’d find it himself. His free time was his and that was non-negotiable. So, he almost always cut them down to size. It didn’t matter to him if he made them cry or threatened their careers, he’d always say no. Pictures? No. Signature? No. Coffee? Get the fuck out of his face. Attention and fame may have been his drug of choice, but desperation and disrespect were one in the same and you do not disrespect the King.

“No. I didn’t even know who you were until 12 hours ago,” you admitted with a shallow breath. You stroked his ego like velvet rubbed the wrong way. He opened his mouth, ready to toss you out then and there. The look in your eyes was enough to shut him up. Hunger. And he was your dish of opportunity. “However, I do want an interview, maybe even film you for an expose,” Your hand reached for his.

His mouth pulled into a beautiful predatory grin. This one had ambition.

“I’ll allow it.”

#this is just me being indulgent #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🍺.fic #🍺.jjk #⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic

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kimnjss · 4 years

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together, with me | (requested)

⇢ pairing: seokjin x reader ⇢ fic type: one shot ⇢ genre: smut, fluff ⇢ word count: 4.7K ⇢ theme: boyfriend!jin, slice of life. ⇢ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap up lovelies), fingering, loss of virginity. this is highkey really tame. ⇢ synopsis: it’s been eight months since you’ve started your relationship with jin. he’s the guy for you, you’re sure of it. which is why you’re more than ready to take things to the next step. ⇢ A/N: this has been in my requests since last october :( and in my drafts for just as long- but im confident in this now, so i hope you guys like it as much as i do!! x

Eight months. Eight amazing months with the man that you were so lucky to call your boyfriend. Every single second, of every single day spent with him, was filled with laughter, smiles; he was able to make you feel such warmth; warmth you haven't felt... in a while. Maybe in your entire life.

Meeting Jin, you decided, was the best day of your life. He was different from the other guys that tried to impress you, get your attention. When he had come up to you that day, with that dazzling smile – you could easily tell that there was no agenda. He genuinely wanted to get to know you, so you gave him a chance.

Thought hanging out with him would just be some fun, trying out dating like your friends always suggested you should. You were in your 20s for crying out loud, no harm in having a little fun, right?

Except your relationship was far from a little fun. All too quickly, you found yourself falling for him. Walls crashing around your heart and you were letting him in, not a care in the world because you had him. And he had you.

What else could you ask for?

It was starting to get really hard to control yourself around him, too. You were starting to notice things about him that you hadn't in the past eight months. Like the sexy sharpness of his jawline, or the soft groans that left his lips when your hands were in his hair. Way too often, you found yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those plump lips that he always sweetly pressed against your forehead... pressed somewhere else.

Only natural, right? To start to desire your boyfriend in the way that you were. He was your boyfriend after all, right? Imagine doing things with him that could only be described as pornographic, but were you really the one to blame? Just one look at him, it was obvious that this wasn't your fault. This was Kim Seokjin we were talking about. It was only natural.

The small, minuscule, problem though was the fact that the two of you haven't really taken things to that level yet... you haven't gone that far with anyone yet. So guarded and cautious, there was no way you'd let someone in, in that way. But you wanted to with Jin, just couldn't shake the trickle of fear in your heart that it would go to waste.

You trusted him, but after waiting this long... it was a looming worry in the back of your mind. Wanted it to be perfect, your first time. Every last detail down to the guy that you were with. Was that guy really Kim Seokjin?

Did he even want to be?

[14:36] Jinnie: Should we go out to eat tonight?

The message lit up the glass screen of your phone, interrupting the YouTube video you had been so enthralled with. Instantly forgetting the concept of the tutorial, your fingers were quick to open up the new message. A smile spreading across your lips at the thought of spending quality time with your boyfriend.

It had been a few days since you saw each other last. You had gotten busy with some assignments and knowing how stressed and unhinged you managed to become, he decided that a little space would benefit. He was not wrong.

[14:37] You: Yes! What are you hungry for?

Only a second was spared to allow your mind to wander to the list of possible replies he could send to your question. The simple 'You' had your toes curling, mind reeling. What if he did say something like that? How would you even respond?

Was Jin the type to sext? Map out all the dirty things that he wanted to do to you through text? Express how hard you managed to make him through the screen? Show you. HAS HE SENT NUDES? Most likely, right? Guys were usually way too keen on showing their dicks, was Jin the same? Would he send you nudes if you asked him to? Could he convince you to send some back? Most likely.

[14:39] Jinnie: You decide, whatever you want. I'll come to pick you up in a little while.

Typing back your approval, your attention slowly shifted back the video that you had paused moments before. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the pretty beauty guru, you couldn't keep your mind from wandering to how good Jin would look sweaty and panting over you. Did you have a problem? Like a serious one, you were beginning to wonder.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours before you were pulling yourself from the comfort of your bed to get ready for dinner with Jin. Not in the mood to get all dolled up on a Tuesday night, you had decided that a simple burger joint would suffice for dinner tonight. Jin was more than happy with your decision, which you could've easily predicted.

Jin's familiar knock against your front door rang through your ears just as you were fastening the buttons on your jeans. Hastily, you ran your fingers through your hair, wide eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror. Did this top make your boobs look weird or was it just your eyes? Suddenly, you were regretting finishing that carton of ice cream last night.

With a dissatisfied huff and a few spritzes of his favorite perfume, you were making your way to the front door. Pulling it open only to be met by his big dazzling smile. Dark hair falling in messy waves, a loose white t-shirt covering his torso and form-fitting ripped jeans hugging his strong legs.

“Hey, baby.” His smile only grew as he stepped further into your apartment, an arm circling around your waist to pull your body close. Something that he's done countless times before, but this time was different. A liquid fire taking up between your thighs, your body becoming all too aware of the fact that your breasts were pressed against his chest. Even through the fabric.

“Hi,” You smiled, hands lifting to land on his covered pecks.

Soft lips captured yours, a happy sigh leaving his lips as he leaned more into you, easily spreading your lips with his. Your hands fisted at the fabric of his shirt, mouth moving over his slowly, lovingly while your body pressed against his, greedily, full of desire; need. “You smell nice,” He was mumbling, upon detaching lips.

“It's the perfume you got for me a bit ago,” He's nodding, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks within his palm. Jin is pressing his lips against yours once more softly, three innocent pecks landing on your soft lips.

“I missed your lips,” You find yourself saying on a pout, body leaning up on your toes to muffle the chuckle that slips past his lips with your own. The tips of his fingers run over the sliver of skin exposed from your top, the gesture lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

As if Jin can sense you're two seconds from tearing that shirt from his body, he's pulling away. Taking a few backward steps to, reluctantly, create some space between the two of you. Instead, he reaches for your hand, lazily holding your fingers with his. “You ready to go?”

You're nodding at his words, stepping forward to close the space between you two, and to be able to reach your shoes. He watches as you slip them on, leading you out of the apartment into his car with his hand in yours.

How he managed to make you so nervous, so on edge, without doing anything was a loss on you. Every last thing he did was like a trigger to these uncapped sexual thoughts in your head and you didn't think you'd be able to maintain control throughout the entire evening.

There had to be something wrong with you because this man was simply driving! There was no reason for you to be salivating at the sight of him switching lanes, or ready to risk it all and palm him each time he took a tight turn. Sexual frustration, clearly made you irrational, you were quickly deciding.

If Jin had noticed the odd way you were acting, he was doing a really good job at ignoring it. One hand gripping the steering wheel and the other wrapped around yours, he filled you in on the things that he did in the few days you hadn't seen each other. Jumping from stories of finally beating Jungkook in some video game to the triumph of getting Yoongi to admit his signature dish tasted better the way Jin made it.

You listened intently, laughed along with him. Found comfort in knowing that he had a busy last few days, it was no secret that you felt a little bad about canceling on him just as things started to overwhelm. Thank God, you had such an understanding boyfriend. Such a perfect boyfriend that understood you. That cared about you.

The smile on your face never seemed to falter as his laughter grew, the slight crinkle in his eye, the familiar squeak mixing with the chuckles. At the end of the plot of the movie, he wanted to watch it together with you sometime this weekend. Lost in admiring him, you were lifting his hand, pressing your lips against his knuckles.

“What was that for?” He was smiling, turning his attention down to you. With a shrug, you hid your smile with his large fist, planting more soft kisses against his skin. “I like the way you look when you're laughing,” You confess, loving the pink tint that takes over his cheeks at the compliment.

Pink cheeks rise at your compliment, his soft thumb brushing over the curve of your lips. Jin chances a moment to look at you, his eyes screaming every ounce of happiness, adoration, love that he felt for you. With you. You felt the rise in your chest, the uptake of your heartbeat. It had to be him. You loved him so much, there was no one else but him.

Dinner was nice to put it simply. Food was delicious and Jin kept you entertained throughout the entire meal. What you couldn't shake, though, was the anxiety prickling at the back of your neck knowing that tonight was going to be the night. You weren't even properly prepared, all you knew was there was no way you'd be able to go another moment without being with him in that way.

It was all you could think about.

Ever so gentlemen like, Jin was walking with you the entire way to your apartment. A large hand finding your waist once you were reaching the door. You caught sight of the cute smile on his lips, not being able to resist leaning up to press your lips against his.

He smiled against your mouth, free hand lifting to hold the other side of your waist. Liquid fire shoots through your veins as his mouth moves against yours. Something as innocent as a goodnight kiss, but he was driving you wild. The last thing you wanted to say was goodnight.

His lips melded so perfectly onto yours, and he's leaning into you. The gentle so great that you're back is being pressed against the door behind you. As if he had been in tune with your body all night, knew what was coming. What had been floating through your mind long before he came to pick you up.

The kiss changes, becoming hotter, needier, more desperate and it's him that makes the shift. Jin's hands drop from your waist onto your hips, fingers dig into your skin as he subtly pushes his hips forward. Half hard cock brushing against your thigh and you gasp, breaking the kiss with wide eyes.

You two stand there, staring at each other for a moment. Never had you seen this man look so starved, hands clutching the fabric of your shirt as if he was seconds from tearing it apart. Chest heaving as if you had been doing more than just kissing, then again you were. It was becoming very evident to you that he had been more than aware of the nagging desire you'd been feeling all night.

He had been feeling it too.

“Do you want to come in?” His face softens at the sound of your voice, eyes searching your features for any sign of uncertainty. Jin knew all too well about your want to wait to have sex. Didn't push it when you asked him if he would be okay with waiting, simply smiled wide, and told you he didn't care because being with you was more than enough.

You might've fallen in love with him at that moment, you were just too in your own head to understand.

Both of you knew what would happen if he agreed to come inside, and he didn't want there to be any level of doubt when it came to this. When it came to giving him your virginity. “Are you sure?” He was grinning at the sight of your quick nod, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

You're pushing the door open the moment he's detaching his lips from yours. The air changes with the slam of your front door. He's moving toward you quickly, arms circling around your waist to pull your body into his chest. He moves as if all restraint was left out in the hallway and your body is bubbling with such need you don't even think of the possibility of slowing down.

Jin's head is tilting, mouth connecting with the skin of your neck. Like he's done many times before, he places open-mouthed kisses against your skin, grazing his teeth against bits that he's sure would get a reaction from you. He's right, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth and fist tightening around the fabric of his t-shirt.

His hands are lifting, inching underneath the hem of your shirt. Slowly, as if he was waiting for you to voice your protest at any moment. You had none. There wasn't a thing in the world that'd make you change your mind. Not when you were so close that you craved so much. With him.

There's a visible shudder in your body when his cool hands meet your warm breasts, palms hovering over the pert peaks. His soft chuckle tickles the skin of his neck, the feeling of his grin warming your body. “You're so fucking clueless...” He groans, fingers flexing around your breasts. Warmth oozing out of you, puddling in your panties that were quickly beginning to stick. All that from the sound of his deep, gruff voice. The way he cursed.

“You have no idea the effect you have on me, I swear. Always walking around without a bra, can always see these cute little nipples.” He pinches one between his fingers to prove his point and you moan. “You're so hot,” Praise comes out through a whine, which had your entire body buzzing.

With one swift movement, Jin is pulling back to pull your shirt from your body. He groans eye burrows furrowing with pleasure at the sight of your naked chest. He's lowering himself onto your couch as he stares up at you, arms open to welcome you into his lap. You waste no time with straddling his waist, hands burying in his hair the moment his lips latch onto your nipple.

His free hand grasps and needs your neglected breast, lips wrapped tight and tongue rolling over the hardened bud. You can't keep your body from twitching, can't hold back the breathy moans that slip past your lips. Your fist in his hair holds his head in place, but that means nothing when he's rolling his hips against yours.

“Fuck,” The sound of his groan mixes with your surprised whimper. The feeling of his clothed cock brushing against your slit lights a fire in his belly. Your heart begins to sputter, a wild spread of lust you've never felt before warming your lips. Fueling your hips enough to push down against him again.

A soft moan escapes from his lips from the friction, mouth hanging open around your nipple as he pants. “Do that again,” He mumbles and you comply, loving the twitch of his hips the moment your crotches meet.

Quickly, his hands are dropping to your hips; holding your body in place as he draws back, thrusting forward with slight force. Your body jolts, the ridge of his cock nudging against your sensitive clit making you gasp. You see the grin on his face, the mischief in his eyes just moments before he's repeating the action.

He continues until he's full-on fucking against you, groans and whines leaving his lips and you have never seen him this desperate before. Usually, he was so composed and put together, but he looked as if he was moments from falling apart. All from a little dry humping? Never did you think how waiting would affect him, but in retrospect it had been eight months since he's been with someone... maybe longer.

But he waited, patiently for you to be ready. Waited until you gave him the green light and now it was like he couldn't control himself. You loved it. How unabashed you were able to make him. A sick trickle of dominance flowing through your veins and you wanted more of it.

With a newfound confidence, your hand was sliding between your bodies. Lifting your body slightly in order to fit your hand between his legs, grasping his covered cock in your palm. His body stills, round eyes watching your hand on him.

“I want to make you feel good...” You trail off, never knowing what to say when it came to dirty talk. Not like you've been in this situation before, but you were drawing a blank. All you could do was tell him what you wanted and hoped that was good enough. “Wanna suck you off,” He groans, whines at the thought.

A grin splits your face as you lean up to press a kiss to his lips. “I need you to teach me, though.”

Jin's nodding before the sentence can fully leave your lips, body sinking further into the couch as he looked up at you, eyes drooped and almost sleepy. “Okay,” He breathes, blinking as if he can't believe what he's hearing. “Okay.” He repeats with a laugh, body straightening slightly. “Okay, yeah. I can teach you.” He grins and you laugh, lifting your body from his body while he fumbles with the buttons of his jeans.

You watch as he tugs his pants down, following the movement by the inch. The soft patch of hair adorning his pelvic bone is the first thing you see before he's bobbing free from the restraint of his apparel. You can't help the way your jaw drops, and your eyes bulge at the sight of his cock.

Thick and veiny, resting lazily against his hipbone. There's a slight sheen to it that could only be from the precum that had leaked from the angry red tip. His large hand reaches down to circle the base, eyes lifting to trace your features. You watch as he gives himself an introductory pump, teeth scraping against his lower lip.

Instantly, you're being swarmed with nervousness; it nags at your throat and chest. Never have you seen a dick up close before and this big for one. You were supposed to fit all of that into your mouth? And then later inside of you? There was no way that was possible.

He's sensing your anxiety, “It's okay,” He whispers with a smile. Confusion dancing across your brow, no idea that your emotions were that loud on your face. Realizing you had just been sitting there, wide-eyed staring you force yourself to move. Hand covering his until he's moving it, allowing your palm to wrap around his length.

A groan falls from his lips as you slowly begin to move your hand over him. Eyes finding him, you waited expectantly for his instruction. “L-lick... the tip.” He mumbles and you're quick to lean forward, dragging your tongue over the wet head. His salty precum hits your tongue and you're deciding you like the way he tastes against his tongue, lips wrapping around the tip as you roll your tongue over it.

“Oh, fuck.” He curses, body flinching, and you grin. Daring confidence coursing through your veins as you stroke him while your hand works against his length. “Suck on it,” Jin speaks through a strangled groan and you're quick to comply, lips wrapping tighter around his shaft as you suck.

His head draws back, hips twitch as he reaches his hands up to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Eyes flash up to take in how good he looks from this angle, a heat pooling between your legs. Your thighs clench to each other as you're lowering your head, opening up your mouth to take more of him down your throat.

Jin's body sits up slightly, just enough so he can watch the way his cock disappears past your lips. A hand wrapped around the bit your mouth can't reach, you hollow your cheeks. “Your mouth feels so good, baby.” You're grinning at the praise, urging yourself to swallow more of him down.

You're careful to keep your teeth out of the way, head bobbing as you slowly settling into a pace that's comfortable for you. Your hand twists around his shaft, squeezing with each drawback of your head. It's not a long before Jin is falling apart underneath you, hips lifting and toes curling. Your tongue traces over a prominent vein along the underside of his cock and he's flinching a strangled curse falling from his lips.

“Wait, fuck.” His hand in your hair pulls your head back slightly. And you take in his fucked out expression. The flush on his cheeks, plump lips red from the way he had been biting into them. “I need to be inside of you,” His dick twitches in your palm and you're nearly moaning out at the thought of him finally stretching you out.

“We don't have to do this, though. If you're not sure...” Your heart warmed. Even with his hard pulsing ready cock between you, he was still so concerned with if this was what you wanted. “I'm sure.” Hands finding his shoulders, you press a soft kiss to your lips. “I want to. With you.”

A laugh slips from your lips from the quickness of his movements after that, his hands on your hips pushing your body down into the comfort of the couch. “With me.” He repeats, and it's obvious your words managed to tug on his heartstrings.

Jin mouths at your neck as his hand slips beneath the elastic of your leggings. “You're so perfect, you know?” He speaks as he lifts his head to look at your face. There's no use to hide the flush in your cheeks, half from his words and the other half from his fingers inching closer and closer to your throbbing heat.

You gasp the moment the tips of his long fingers find your clit. He draws slow circles over the sensitive button, watching as you moan and twitch beneath him. Mouth falling open as he reaches lower, slowly pushing a finger past your folds. Your legs spread, body rocks with the movement of the digit while whimpers fall from your lips.

A spread of heat is taking over your body, hands reaching for the tops of your pants to remove them. Jin notices your movements, free hand lifting to help you remove the offensive garment. Quickly after, sliding a second finger inside of you. “Jin!” You gasp, back arching from the upward curl of his fingers deep inside of you.

“I need you,” There's a slight plead and your voice that has a pang of arousal shooting through his veins. Slowly he's drawing his fingers back, grinning at the way your walls clench around them in protest.

Slowly he's positioning his body between your legs, thighs lifted to press against his thighs. You admire him as he looks down, dick in hand as he strokes his tip along your wet folds. “You haven't changed your mind?” He wonders, peaking up at your face.

“Nope,” His smile meets yours, slipping into a slow gentle kiss. He's pulling away, hips thrusting forward and you already feel the stretch from just his head.

“Tell me if it hurts... or if you want to stop,” You nod, mentally preparing yourself for the intrusion.

Inch by inch, the rest of his length is pushing it's way past your walls. The pain is blinding, starting from your core and spreading throughout your entire body; growing more intense the deeper he slides into you. A hiss escapes your lips, head falling back as you clamp your lips shut.

“Are you alright?” Concern laces his tone and you nod, trying to muster enough composure to actually speak.

“I'm okay. Keep going,” You speak on a labored breath, and though unconvinced he's drawing back and pushing forward again. Curses slip past both of your lips, reasons different. “I'll go slow,” He promises before slowly pulling his hips back again.

The amount of restraint he was applying not to just fuck into you. Wanting to allow your body to relax, desperately trying to keep his pleasure to make him crazed. It was hard with the tight grip around him, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

His thrusts are slow and controlled, mouth planting softening kisses against your skin in hopes to lessen the pain. There's a stutter in his hips as his pace quickens, paying great attention to your reaction as he rolls his hips into you. It's a few more thrusts before the pain is starting to truly lessen being replaced with a tingle of pleasure. A moan slips past your lips and Jin is snapping his head up.

“Faster,” You encourage.

He's groaning while pulling back to the tip, hips snapping forward into yours and he hisses. The restraint that he tried so hard to hold onto slowly slipping as he begins to lose himself in you, thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed. Face twisted with pleasure, fingers bruising your hips and skin slapping against skin, you can feel your orgasm slowly approaching, walls becoming tighter around him.

“Fuck,” He gasps. “You're squeezing me so... shit,” He's fucking into you with so much power, the pain of the stretch mixing with the pleasure and it's enough to make your toes curl. “I'm- gonna cum,” He manages to gripe out.

A large hand slithers down your body, fingers finding your wet clit; creating quick circles. A drawn-out whine leaves your lips, hips lifting to meet his. “Me too, baby... uh- fuck, I'm c-close,”

His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss, fingers rolling between your legs as his thrusts grew uncontrolled. “Cum... together, with me.” Pure want, desire flashes through his eyes, your heart welling up and exploding against your chest. All resolve snapping as your orgasm hits and he's not far behind you.

You feel the thick spurts of his arousal coat your constricting walls, legs shaking as his slowly thrusts help you ride it out. With one last powerful thrust his hips are stilling completely, body falling limp above you.

Jin's lips find yours, kissing you slowly. You can feel the heaving of his chest against yours, the fast beat of your hearts. A sheen layer of sweat coats both of your bodies. He's pulling back slowly, looking at you as if you were the one who had hung the stars. And there's no way you can hold it back anymore.

“I love you,” “I'm in love with you.” His words mix with yours, a grin spreading across your lips in realization that the same thing had been on his mind. He laughs, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I love you,” He repeats, rephrases and you giggle, arms wrapping around his neck.

“I'm in love with you.” You smile, loving the way his face lights up at your words, just before he's leaning down to press his lips against yours again.

requests are open

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syahaz · 3 years

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Trent/Trenton’s Design Evolution and My Camp TV Trenton Design Commentary

Camp TV Trenton (Beta Version): This is the very first version of Trenton that taken from Todd Kauffman's blog. Don't know why it never been mentioned ever but I'm glad to found it. Not a fan of his flat fingers tho. Reminds me of Salad Fingers pfft.

Camp TV Trenton (Final Version): I prefer this canon design of Trenton more. I like his sharp fingers, which commonly appeared on TD girls lol but I would say it's one of his canon unique features that differ from Trent by silhouette other than his shoe design.

Trent (Total Drama Version): A perfection. What else to say really? ;)

Camp TV Trenton (my version/redesign):

Silly thing about his redesign is he's the only character so far that I design my instinct like I didn't consciously think about his redesign or if it looks good then it's good instead of "how to make this look good?"

Also I didn't intend him to be taller, it's the result of me stretching his body to fit with his legs and making his body more triangular. But now him being like that making him like a big bro aha haa. His shoe design is kinda cool to me because it's a mesh between two canon design.

As much as I love his second shirt font, it's practically impossible for me to replicate it every time I draw him. Sure I can copy-paste it or trace it but what about traditional artwork? I ain't spending extraneous time just for a word on a shirt lol. So for that, I went for minimalistic choice (which I have love-hate with) for a practical purpose.

His skin has some yellow tint based on how he looks from the trailer, which I most familiar with. It also good for lineless artwork to differentiate between Trent and Trenton or if they don't wear their default cloth. Plus yellow complement green so that's a nice touch I guess.

The random features I add on him are his arched shoulders, torso line, whatever that called, and unapologetic sharp chin to make him more intimidating by one look.

Explaining this going to be tedious so I'm sorry: For other parts of his hair, first I'll start with the bottom spikes. The upper point is a half longer than the lower one. The hair across his face is drawn to be solid W-shaped. The hair down from the forehead to ear reduced from 4 spikes to only two for simplicity. Lastly, the sidelines of the back hair from head to neck and front hair from head to eyebrows were flattened for more rigid tone in his design.

Additional microscopic details:

Slightly widen his arms to match up with his broad torso. Tweak his nose a little. I add a hair notch on back part of his hair for silhouette alteration, rarely forget it when drawing him but I might not using it depends on the art style. Usually the kind that leaning more towards realism. I changed Trenton's canon signature cleft chin with tiny beard - that he having hard time growing because of his genetics barely able to grow body and facial hair which makes him insecure, not looking manly enough (my HC there hehe but don't worry he won't easily get bald or anything aha haa) - so that it can being his own signature feature. Contrarily, I get rid of it on Goth Trenton as Reunion Trent had it too. Since the former has different hairstyle than Trent, I feel like not having the beard is no issue.

TLDR: I want him to look like a stereotypical angsty teenage boy in 2000s with some threatening and mysterious traits or something along the line, acting cool and stuffs lol (funny that in canon people give annoyed look on him), so I don't need to explain much about his eyeliner pfft.

#total drama #camp tv #total drama trent #td trent #camp tv trenton #syahaz #Total Drama Island #camp tv island #character design #camp tv character design #firealpaca #wacom intuos art

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frunbuns · 4 years

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No Use Crying Over Spilled Nail Polish

Allison helps Five. They bond. That’s basically it.

Read on Ao3

Allison sighs. Some of her nail polish has vanished. Vanished might not be the correct word though, because Allison is fairly certain she knows where it's gone. Doesn't make it any less frustrating though.

If Klaus wants to paint his nails he could just come and ask her. She can even paint his nails and he can paint hers. But Klaus always has had sticky fingers. She's not terribly surprised.

"Klaus!"

She marches out of her room, towards Klaus', a scolding on her lips. Except, when she opens the door the room is empty. There's no trace of her nail polish either.

Klaus could be anywhere. The Academy is massive and it'd take her hours to search the whole premise. Just because they weren’t allowed in certain places didn’t mean Klaus wouldn’t go there. In fact, he’d definitely go there if he wasn’t allowed. Five and Klaus seems to love breaking the rules. They’d racked up more punishments to cover all seven of them three times over.

(Allsion has never understood why they do it. Dad’s punishments can be rough and it’s definitely not something you want.)

Even if the Academy is massive, Allison does not give up that easily. She’ll find the nail polish. It’s hers after all. One of the few things that are really her own. Which is why she finds herself stomping up the stairs.

"Klaus?" she calls out, but receives no answer.

Allison huffs to herself, rolling her eyes. She really does not have the patience for this today.

"Klaus?"

She walks down the hallway, quickly peering into each room as she passes. Somehow they're all empty, even though ten people live in the building.

And then she sees a tuft of dark hair.

"Klaus! I swear to—"

Except, it isn't Klaus. It's Five.

"Sorry, I thought you were—"

He’s slumped against the wall, looking half-asleep as his legs slowly shuffle down the hallway. There’s a thin sheen of sweat coating his pale, ashy face. His bangs are slick against his forehead. Five looks, for lack of a better word, sickly. Allison would almost say he looks dead. But that can’t be the case because she wouldn’t be able to see him, and while dad pushed them in their training, he surely wouldn’t kill them. Right? He wouldn’t do that. He needs them.

She recalls that it’s Five’s personal training day. He had been whisked away after breakfast that morning by dad and Pogo. They hadn’t seen him at dinner. Ben and Vanya had eyed his empty chair through the whole meal. It had been impossible to ignore the missing occupant.

(Why Five is friends with Ben and Vanya Allison doesn’t quite understand. Five is arrogant and smart and he never misses an opportunity to rub it in their faces. He thinks he’s better than everyone and talks back to dad. Vanya and Ben are very much not like that at all. They’re quiet and timid. Really, they shouldn’t be friends, yet here they are.)

"Are you...are you okay?" she asks him.

"I-I'm fine—"

He looks anything but fine. In fact, he looks like he's about to fall apart. Right in front of her.

"You're shaking."

Five's legs seem to be trembling with the effort of holding him upright. Even his arms shake as he uses them to support himself against the wall. His jaw remains tightly clenched. Allsion can't recall ever seeing her brother like this before.

Five is never vulnerable. He never lets himself be. Not in front of them at least. He always acts like he’s invincible. Sharp smiles and a smart mouth. Like nothing will get him down. Like nothing will crack him. (And they believe him.)

"What happened? Was it training?" she asks him.

"Passed out," he tries to explain. "All I need is some rest, and maybe some food."

That, at least, explains why he wasn't at dinner.

“Should I get Vanya? Or Ben?” she asks. “You look like you could use some help.”

Predictably, Five shakes his head.

Allison frowns. "Let me help you at least," she says.

She's not sure where her sudden desire to help has come from. Normally everything at the Academy is very 'every man for themself'. They've always had to glue themselves back together alone after training.

That doesn't mean that her and Luther hadn't lent a helping hand every now and then. And she surely hasn't missed how Five tends to reach out to them, in his own, special way, when they've had particularly rough days.

Before Five can protest she grabs his arm and lays it over her shoulder, getting a hold of his torso and slowly walking down the hall. Five leans heavily against her as they shuffle forward, nearly stumbling over his own feet multiple times. She pretends not to hear his quiet whimpering.

The stairs are difficult. Allison curses their father for putting Five’s bedroom so high up as she practically carries his weight up. She doesn’t blame him though, as his whole body trembles violently against hers for each step. He’s taller than her - not by much - but he’s also very skinny and gangly.

“It…” Five gasps softly. “It hurts.”

Allison frowns, swallowing heavily. “We’re almost there,” she tells him, even though they still have a flight of stairs left.

She doesn’t say anything about his tear stained cheeks. Just this once, she tells herself. Just this once she won’t tease and make fun of her siblings. Even though they’re all the same age, Allison can’t help but feel like a big sister. Five might be taller than her, but he’s still Number Five, and she’s Three. And three comes before five.

It feels like an eternity, but they eventually make it to Five’s room. Five flops onto his bed, face first. Allison snorts. She takes off his shoes and pushes him further onto the mattress so he doesn’t fall off.

“You said you needed food, right?” she asks.

For a moment Allison thinks Five might have fallen asleep, but he eventually hums at her.

She looks down at her feet, even though he can’t see her from the way his face is pressed against the covers. “Well, since you missed dinner I’ll go see if mom can make you something.”

She leaves before he can answer her.

- - -

On the way down again Allison hears Klaus chatting happily in a room with an ajar door. She looks in. Klaus is laying on the floor, waving his newly painted toe-nails in the air. On the floor is a tipped-over, green nail polish bottle. Over half the contents has spilled out onto the wooden floor.

Allison wants to scream.

“Klaus!”

Klaus jumps. “Christ on a cracker!”

Allison stomps her foot, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Anger bubbles up in her. “You spilled my nail polish!”

He looks down at the bottle. “Oh...sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?!” she shouts. “Klaus, I swear to god—”

Klaus quickly picks the bottle up, wiping the nail polish off the outside of the bottle with his vest. (Mom surely won’t be happy about that.) He quickly screws the cap on and hands it to Allison, looking mildly apologetic. She takes it from his hand with more force than what was probably necessary and stuffs it in her pocket.

“I hate you,” she says. Klaus stares.

Allison lets out a frustrated noise and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

- - -

Allison walks into Five's room with a plate in her hands ten minutes later. Five is still laying face-down on his bed. The same way as when she had left. She closes the door behind her with a soft click.

"Five?"

She sighs and sets the plate on his nightstand. She shakes him. He groans quietly and slowly turns his head to look at her through bleary eyes.

"I got you food. You better eat it before the bread goes stale."

"Oh," is all he says.

He slowly sits up. He still looks exhausted, but he seems slightly better than before. She places the plate down next to him on the mattress. He picks up the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich on it and starts eating it. It's disgusting.

Allison grimaces. "How can you eat that?"

Five shrugs lazily.

"Wha' 'appned dow'shtairs?" he asks through a mouthful. He swallows. "Heard you yelling."

Allison sighs and sits down next to him. "It's just…Klaus. He spilled my nail polish."

"Huh," Five says, though he doesn't sound like he cares all that much. "That sucks."

Allison nods, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Five probably isn’t the best person to confide in. He’s never been good with emotions. Or talking. (There's a reason he never is put in charge when it comes to interviews after all.) But at least he listens.

“I just—” Allison closes her eyes. “I only have a few, and they’re mine. And Klaus keeps going through my stuff.”

“You know how he is. Klaus is Klaus.”

She sighs. “I know.”

She takes the nail polish bottle out of her pocket and inspects it. It’s still usable at least. There’s still about half of it left. Maybe not quite half, but close enough. She doesn’t even like green that much anyway.

In the aftermath of it all, Allison feels foolish for the way she had reacted. Once the anger had deflated. Maybe she was a bit harsh on Klaus. He didn’t mean to spill it.

she unscrews the cap and, without warning, grabs Five’s free hand.

“What are you—”

He watches her with raised brows as she carefully starts painting his nails with the green polish. He doesn’t protest, or tell her to stop. Instead he fixes her with a curious stare as he finishes his sandwich.

It takes two coats to make it look okay, the polish a little opaque. It has sparkles in it. Little flakes that shimmers and glitters in the light. Allison can see why Klaus likes this one. It’s pretty nice.

“I think blue would suit you better,” Allison muses. “Not that green doesn’t fit you, I just don’t think it’s your colour, you know?”

Five looks like he does, in fact, not know.

She snorts. “Give me your other hand.”

- - -

The next few days Allison discreetly keeps an eye on Five. He looks better after food and some sleep. A little sore maybe, but much better than when she’d found him. She can’t help but wonder if it’s a normal occurrence if he bounces back so fast. Allison had never thought she noticed everything, but she likes to think she’s fairly perceptive.

She’ll catch his eye every now and then, and his lips will twitch into what looks like a smile. She’s never sure though. It’s always gone before she has time to acknowledge it.

In a lot of ways, it’s as if nothing’s changed since their little moment that day. It’s almost like it never even happened. But the evidence is there. In the form of green painted fingernails.

When Allison steps into her room she notices something on her bed. a small bottle of nail polish. She picks it up and turns it around in her hand. It’s blue. A dark, navy shade of blue. There aren’t any sparkles in it, but it’s still pretty. Even if it’s some unrecognizable drug store brand polish that chips after just a little while.

Allison doesn’t need to be a genius to know where the nail polish came from. She smiles to herself, clutching the bottle in her hand. She places it on her desk, next to her other polishes.

The smile doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the day.

A few weeks later Five runs out the door and doesn’t come back.

#the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #tua netflix #number five hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #allison hargreeves #fics #my fics #mine

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love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Wyvern Prince 20

M wyvern X F human, 3,060 words

Returning to the servant’s quarters wasn’t something that could be avoided forever. The next morning, it became clear that as much as you didn’t want to, you at least needed to get a change of clothes.

People looked at you. Stared. Whispered. They seemed to cut you a wide berth, too, as if worried about getting too close.

You had expected it, but that hadn’t really made it any easier.

At least, you had expected that the servants would be unsettled around you. To them, you were no longer on their level. You had more power than they did and getting too close to you meant that, if they offended you somehow, you could make them lose their jobs. You probably would have done the same.

What you had not expected was the amount of disdain you received from the nobles.

For a couple of days, it wasn’t apparent. You didn’t spend much time with nobles except for Davrakoss. But on the day of his lunch with the Queen, you noticed.

As was standard, you were not allowed in the room with them while they ate. But you were required to accompany Davrakoss, so you stood outside and waited.

Being in the main portion of the castle meant that you were privy to seeing the passing of other nobles. A good number of them ignored you. But a good number of them also looked at you.

Well. They didn’t look at you. They glared. As soon as they recognized you, their expressions would turn sour. Some of them sneered. Others turned their noses up dismissively. Most of them looked at you like you were a cat who had dropped a mauled bird on their shoe.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious. You were no longer on the level with other servants. Getting into a relationship with Davrakoss had pulled you above your station. But you were still beneath those who had been born nobles. And even trying to move above your station was a threat to them, a sign that the lower class was getting too uppity for their own good.

The door slammed open and Davrakoss stormed out.

For a second, you almost thought the storm was literal. His rage seemed to radiate out from him like a heat shimmer. He was still in his human form, but the way his lips pulled back over his teeth, the way his tail lashed, the way his eyes burned- he seemed much more like a wyvern.

One of his hands locked around your upper arm and he dragged you away. It wasn’t a painful grip, and he wasn’t dragging you so fast that you had to run to keep up, but his pace was steady and he was holding onto you firmly.

“Davrakoss, what is happening?” you asked. He growled, low in his chest. “Hey! Hey. Tell me what happened.”

He slowed a little and his hand loosened ever so slightly on your arm. You had marched into a more secluded section of the castle, so you were alone. “What happened? Did you just storm out of lunch with the Queen?”

Davrakoss took a deep breath. It was unsteady. He took another. Then another. Then his golden-orange eyes closed and he sagged a little.

“I don’t like humans,” he said. Despite his anger, his voice was oddly light. His eyes opened a crack. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“What happened?” you insisted. He let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall. His tail curled at your feet.

“She had a proposal for me,” he said. The anger had faded, judging by his tone. Underneath that, he seemed flat, affectless, like he was still trying to process what had happened. “And I do mean that literally. A proposal.” He looked at you steadily and a hint of anger crept back into his voice. “She wants me to marry.”

You opened your mouth, your stomach dropping to somewhere around your knees. “Oh.” This shouldn’t have been unexpected, but you felt utterly blindsided by it. It took you’re a moment to readjust. “And you just stormed out?”

Davrakoss’ eyes narrowed. “I expressed my… displeasure with the idea. She insisted. I left.” His voice was clipped and cool.

“That wasn’t the best idea,” you said as tactfully as you could manage.

“I am not getting shackled to marriage because it fits a queen’s agenda,” Davrakoss said. “That’s not what wyverns do.”

“You’d only be married for however long your partner lived. They’re not going to live as long as you are.” An odd expression flickered over Davrakoss’ face, but it smoothed over within a second.

“Regardless. I’m still not marrying because it is useful for the queen.” He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disdain on his face.

You rubbed your forehead. This wasn’t a great position to be in. You wanted Davrakoss to stay with you, of course you did, but if the queen was angling for some kind of political marriage, then there might not be much of a choice. And if it was a choice between Davrakoss staying with you or political friction with the wyverns that could eventually turn into a war… There was only one path that you could morally choose.

“And if it was the only way to brook a more permanent peace?” you asked.

Davrakoss’ frown deepened. “There are always other options,” he said. “Treaties. Signing papers. Humans like that sort of stuff.” He shook his head. “I will not marry for politics. I will not marry a human I do not know. It is idiocy. Peace can be attained another way.”

You let out a slow breath. “You need to go and smooth things over with the queen, at least.”

Davrakoss shook his head slightly. “She is aware of my position. I am not going to weaken it by returning.” His voice slipped into a growl at the end of the sentence and you realized that, as calm as he was behaving, he was still pissed. His tail twitched back and forth with suppressed rage and his fingers clenched. “I need a break from this.”

“A break,” you repeated.

“We already have an appointment with my parents. Let’s move it up a few days,” Davrakoss said. “Go pack. Meet me in my room.” You gave him an uncertain look. “I can also consult with them on the best course of action to take for this. Trust me, I know my position at least well enough that the queen won’t immediately declare war. We’ll both be consulting.” He took your hands in his, stroking his thumbs over your knuckles. “We both need time away from here. So, get your things.” He released your hands and gave you a nudge.

You left, hurrying down the hall and to your quarters. Packing took less than thirty minutes- you just grabbed the clothes you thought you would need. As you did, though, you realized Davrakoss hadn’t told you how long you were going to be staying. Ah well. There would probably be a local lake or river where you would wash your clothes off or something.

Davrakoss was in the middle of packing when you returned to him. He seemed calmer, the tightness and anger in his eyes faded. He smiled in relief when he looked at you. “I’ve got us a carriage.” He shot a forlorn glance toward the window. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to fly right now. But I don’t want to be shot down.”

“I don’t either,” you said. Davrakoss folded a few more items of clothing and placed them into his suitcase. “Why are you bringing so many clothes? Aren’t you going to be in your wyvern form most of the time?”

“I assumed you would prefer me in this form,” Davrakoss said, gesturing broadly to himself. “Was I wrong?”

“I like you in both forms,” you said. Davrakoss smiled, looking surprised, but pleased.

“I’m grateful,” he said, “but it is a little easier to interact when I don’t have to worry about squishing you.”

“You’re not that big,” you said. His head was roughly the size of your torso, which was large, but not so large you imagined he could kill you and not even notice.

Davrakoss placed the last outfit into his suitcase and snapped it shut. “It’s still easier,” he said. “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded. Davrakoss hefted his suitcase and crossed to you, taking your hand in his. “Then we’ll be off.”

The carriage was waiting in the courtyard. A servant opened the door and you automatically stepped back to allow Davrakoss in first. He entered, then turned and offered you a hand to help you inside.

The inside of the carriage was as small as usual, but it was a more comfortable closeness this time. Your knees brushing was a friendly touch, rather than a sign that you were too close together for a proper servant-prince relationship. Davrakoss sat awkwardly, trying to fold his tail into a better position. “I will never be completely comfortable in these things,” he said.

“They weren’t made for wyverns,” you said.

“Certainly not,” he sighed. His eyes closed, a little wrinkle forming between his brows. You were struck with the sudden urge to touch it and smooth it out.

The carriage rattled on, shaking slightly when it hit bumps or divots in the ground. Davrakoss looked like he was trying to sleep, but he shifted uncomfortably whenever the carriage jostled.

“Are you trying to sleep?” you asked him. His eyes fluttered open and he sighed.

“I am. Well. I am trying to rest. It’s a bit of a flight and I haven’t had a lot of practice recently. I want to make sure I can make it in one shot.” The carriage jolted and his tail smacked awkwardly against the wooden wall. Discomfort contorted his expression.

“There might be a more comfortable position,” you said, feeling a little brave. Davrakoss looked at you questioningly. “Come here.”

He stood, slightly stooped so his head didn’t hit the ceiling. You scooted over to one side of your seat and gestured for him to lie down next to you. He did so, turned so his tail dangled off the seat and onto the floor. His legs were folded a little uncomfortably, but his head rested in your lap. His horns dug into your legs, all sharp and bony, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. You stroked some of his hair back, pulling it away from his face.

He sighed, tension seeping from his shoulders. His tail relaxed, tapping against the floor. “This is more comfortable,” he said. You kept tracing your fingers across his scalp, playing with his soft hair. It was fun to loop it around his horns, preventing it from falling into his face.

His face relaxed into stillness and his chest started to rise and fall evenly. He looked almost ethereal in sleep; there was something both inhuman and beautiful in his expression. With a finger, you traced the plains of his face, stopping when he let out a contented sigh and nestled into your lap.

One of his hands tightened around your dress. It was the only part of him that wasn’t relaxed.

You let him stay on your lap, even as your legs started to go numb and cramps from sitting in the same position for too long started to creep up your lower back. His tail occasionally flicked in his sleep like a cat’s, but other than that, he seemed content not to move either.

When the carriage finally came to a stop at the edge of human territory, you nudged him awake. He yawned, showing off how sharp his teeth were before sitting up and stretching his limbs. “Thank you,” he said warmly. “That was one of the better sleeps I’ve had in a long while.” He stood up and offered you his hand.

You took it and your legs took their revenge for staying in the same position for too long. They cramped and you wobbled, Davrakoss only barely preventing you from falling over.

“Are you all right?” he asked, hooking an arm around you to hold you up.

“Fine! My legs just cramped,” you said hurriedly. Davrakoss took the majority of your weight, one hand falling at your waist. The warmth of his hand there made your face heat up. The tail brushing over your leg didn’t hurt either.

He eased you out of the carriage and waved off the driver. You took a few careful steps, stretching the last of the stiffness out of your legs.

“Ready to go?” Davrakoss asked as the carriage pulled out of sight.

“Give me a few minutes,” you said, bending your legs. “I’ll be sitting for a while again. I want to prevent any cramps.”

He nodded seriously. Despite the calmness of his expression, you could see his tail swishing rapidly back and forth over the ground. His claws scratched along the edges of his sleeve, threatening to undo the binding.

“Is there something bothering you?” you asked. You had been aiming for casual, but you hadn’t quite made it. Davrakoss blinked at you, eyes fire-bright.

“You know me too well,” he sighed after a moment. “Though I suppose it’s what drew me to you.” His nails didn’t stop working at the hem of his sleeve. “I had… a dream.”

You nodded, trying to spur him on. He licked his lips. “It reminded me of something I’ve been thinking about for a while. Something that you… mentioned in passing earlier.”

He fell silent. One of the stitches on his hem had snapped and he’d started pulling at it, gradually yanking more stitches free. You wracked your brain but you weren’t sure what you had mentioned that would have worked its way into his dreams.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” he continued. “But I’m realizing that’s not useful. So, it’s something we’ll have to discuss sooner or later.”

You had the distinct impression he was trying to avoid actually saying what he was thinking by talking around it. “What is it?” you prodded. He sighed and settled down on one of the logs nearby. You sat next to him.

“You mentioned that if I were to get married, I wouldn’t need to spend my whole life with them. They would die before I would.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed. “But you are also a human. You won’t live as long as I will.” He dropped his head, gaze landing on the ground. “Eighty years. That’s about how long humans live. If they’re in good health. Wyverns live to about three hundred. We’re not going to age at the same rate. And you’re going to die before me.”

“I figured that,” you said.

“And you’re all right with that?” Davrakoss said.

“I think so. I mean, I’m not happy with it. But it’s going to be harder for you than me, isn’t it?”

“I suppose that depends on what you mean by harder. I’ve been trying not to think about it. About the fact that I’m going to have to-” He broke off with a gulping noise and finished more quietly. “I’m going to have to watch you die. But it’s not fair to go into the relationship without at least talking about it.” He leaned against you, pressing his shoulder to yours. “I love you. I want to be with you as long as possible. Even if it’s not as long as I live.”

“I love you too. Even if you age slower than I do.” Davrakoss smiled, but it still didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked. “I’ll look young when you don’t. Eighty years is barely a third of my lifespan. I won’t look that much older than I do now. It might be difficult for you.”

“I know you won’t age the same as I will. But it still seems like it’s going to be harder for you. Are you sure that you’re all right with me getting older when you don’t? About getting attached to someone who’s going to die sooner than you will?”

Davrakoss took a deep breath and leaned in to touch your foreheads together. “I’m already terribly attached to you. It’s just a matter of how much time we spend together. And I want it to be as long as possible. Even if it won’t be for my entire life.”

He closed the space between your lips in one swift motion. A hand settled on your waist, another on the back of your head. For your part, you were clinging to him, fingers twisted in the front of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, Davrakoss’ grip tightening on you. His tail twitched back and forth behind him as he pressed himself more firmly against you. There was barely any space between you, so tightly were you locked together.

“Every minute we spend together is precious,” Davrakoss gasped as he pulled his mouth away from yours. “I’m not going to let any time slip away.”

You panted, nuzzling your face into his neck. “I love you,” you whispered, close to his ear, and you felt him shiver.

“Okay,” he said, pulling back with obvious reluctance. “Okay. We should probably get going. Before you convince me to stay here all night.”

He retreated a few steps, then shifted into his wyvern shape. He took a few careful steps, testing his limbs before he looked over to you.

You approached slowly. His scales gleamed under the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and his bright yellow-orange eyes provided a sharp contrast to the green. He watched you as you walked toward him. Your fingers trailed along his side, tracing the smooth scales. “You are beautiful like this,” you said. Looking into his eyes, the idea of being afraid of him seemed absurd. It was Davrakoss, and the tenderness in his eyes let you know that he would never harm you and never allow anyone else to either.

You carefully climbed onto him and settled down close to his warm back. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He took a few steps forward and, with a whoosh of wings and wind, he launched himself into the air.

#exophilia #wyvern #wyvern prince #monster boyfriend #monster lover #wyvern boyfriend #wyvern lover #MxF #reader insert

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bedbellyandbeyond · 4 years

Text

Mystery Baby Theatre, Part 5

(Short Story Post, 5/6)

“You think I have something to do with this?” Dusty asked, hands on his hips. “The nerve…” “We’re not accusing you. You’re just the only demon we have on file,” Korsy explained. When the agent got the family to APID safely, they got them set up in the hospital wing and called Dusty in while Carlos waited outside with his kids. He’d been at home putting his son to bed when he was called so he’d had to drop Grey at his other father’s house quickly before popping into APID. Now he stood in front of Reggie’s hospital bed, glaring at Korsy. He was in no good mood. “I am a succubus,” Dusty said. “This is clearly the work of an incubus.” “What’s the difference?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t succubi supposed to be female?” Reggie asked. He was set up on the exam table but the doctor wasn’t here yet to look him over. Dusty seemed to only get more ticked off. “Demons don’t have sexes. The latin ‘succubare’ means ‘to lie beneath’. It literally just means I’m a bottom. And looking at all those children lined up outside, I could say you’re more of a succubus than I am.” “Are you calling me a whore?” Reggie growled. “If the shoe fits…”

“Hey, none of that!” Korsy said. “Dusty, I get it. You’re tired. We pulled you away from your son for this. But we need your help if you can give it. Do you know what's going on with him?” Dusty crossed his arms. “I don't know much about incubi. What I do know is that they’re terrible testosterone junkies who couldn’t care less about anyone else and always try to get what they want whenever they want. So, I imagine, whatever one that’s after you wants that kid.” Reggie shook his head. “No, we made a deal.” “What deal did you make?” Dusty asked. “What did you give in exchange for this child?” “He asked me to sacrifice a goat in his name,” Reggie said. “So, I found one on Kijiji and did it. It was really really gross…” “So, he just wanted a goat?” Korsy asked. “Hard to believe…” “Naw, goats are pretty powerful…” Dusty said. “But this is an incubus we’re talking about. He’s probably found a loophole. What exactly did he promise?” “He gets the goat, I get to keep the baby,” Reggie said. “Simple as—” He suddenly doubled over, clenching his stomach. “Ahh… Ow…” Korsy was startled. “Are you okay?” “Y-Yeah, I…” Reggie grimaced. “…Just a bit of pain…” “You’re going into labour, aren’t you?” Dusty said. “No, I’m still a month from due,” Reggie said. The lights suddenly shut off and the room got cold. Reggie suddenly let out a scream of pain. “Oh god, it hurts!” Dusty and Korsy’s eyes took a moment to adjust but soon they could see. Reggie was still balled up in pain, but there was now a puddle of black liquid pooling under him. “Your water broke,” Dusty said. “You are in labour.” “I’ll get the doctor,” Korsy said leaving the room. As he did, Carlos came in. “What’s going on?” Carlos asked, blindly trying to find his partner in the darkness. “It’s too early…” Reggie whimpered. “Your partner’s in labour,” Dusty said. He grabbed Carlos’s shoulder and directed him to Reggie’s side. “I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think your incubus is forcing you into labour.” “You think right,” a deep voice said. Everyone was startled by the sudden strange voice. Dusty suddenly saw him, a tall dark shadow standing in the corner of the room, a huge grin on his face. Reggie screamed out in pain again. The contractions hurt ten times more than any of his other pregnancies and he was in absolute agony. The stranger looked over at Dusty then tilted it’s head slightly. “Succubus? What are you doing here?” “I’m just… I’m just helping,” Dusty said, feeling his body tremble in the presence of a much stronger demon. The other stared for a moment. “…Darathan?” Dusty lowered his eyes. “Who’s asking?” “Thaungal.” He raised a hand, forcing Dusty’s chin up again. “Don’t be rude. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Dusty whimpered, feeling the incubus’s invisible strength holding him up. “I’m sorry…” “You’re wanted back home,” Thaungal said. Dusty shook his head stiffly. “I’m not tied to home…I was bound…” “You’re not bound anymore.” Thaungal shrugged anyway and let him go. “What do I care. You’re not worth much…” Dusty immediately teleported away, leaving the humans in darkness alone with the incubus. Reggie was still clutching his stomach, his labour progressing quickly. Carlos was trying to soothe him, rubbing his back and whispering to him, though he was also frightened out of his mind. “Reggie…” the demon said in a low voice. “The child is ready for you.” He waved a hand over the labouring man, forcing his body flat against the exam table, his arms and legs out as if restrained. Reggie shrieked in pain, his body tensing in agony. He felt like he would faint from the sheer pain. The child within his stomach writhed and squirmed as if trying to rip out. “Oh, it’s alright,” Thaungal said. “I’m here for you.” He placed his hand down on Reggie’s belly and the hell spawn calmed down. The pain in Reggie’s body ebbed and he was able to regain his breath. “You promised…” he cried. “You promised not to take my baby…” “I promised you could keep it,” Thaungal admitted. “But I’ve decided I want it. But I won’t go back on my word. You can keep your child but I’ll take both of you.” “No!” Carlos yelled. “You can’t take him!” “Oh, can’t I?” Thaungal chuckled. “Perhaps you’d be right if you were married to him. But you’re not. Therefore, he can be bound to me.” Carlos threw his torso over Reggie’s body. “¡Demonio! ¡No puedes tenerlo! You can’t have him!” Thaungal let out a boisterous laugh. “Human, you’re very funny to think you have any power against—” Thaungal suddenly jumped back, narrowly missing the edge of a blade being swung at him. Dusty had reappeared with Korsy and the doctor, Sydryn, the former brandishing knives. “Stay away from them!” Korsy barked, holding his blade out to Thaungal. “Syd, take care of the patient!” “Obviously,” Sydryn huffed, moving over between Reggie's legs to check him. Thaungal eyes narrowed on Dusty. “You traitor!” “I work here, asshole!” Dusty said. “You don’t get to come to my job and just do whatever the fuck you want!” Thaungal started to approach Dusty. “You little—" Korsy lunged out in front of Dusty, slashing his knives towards Thaungal, the catching the incubus across the chest and making a shallow gash. The demon hissed, swiping a clawed hand at the agent, but Korsy ducked out of the way and countered with another slash of his knives. The demon dodged it easily and chuckled, but Korsy caught him off guard with a swift kick to the gut. What should've been a harmless kick for an incubus of his strength turned out to be fatal however and Thaungal staggered backward, black blood seeping out of his wounds. He looked at himself then glared at Korsy. “...You...” Before he could finish his sentence, he disintegrated into dust. The lights flickered back on and Korsy stood there panting. The grip on Reggie's body was lifted and he was able to relax a bit though still subject to his contractions. “What just happened?” Carlos asked, unable to have seen everything that had transpired. “Did you kill him?” “He did,” Dusty said. “But he shouldn't have been able to... Not with a kick...” Korsy caught his breath then slammed a fist against his knee. His right leg fell out of his pant and he picked it up, showing off the blade coming from his prosthetic. “Dark elf blade. Good for killing...bad things. Still sharp enough for everybody else too so watch out.” “Scary...” Dusty said, though he was a little turned on. “...You have my number.” “Thank you...for getting rid...of Thaun...” Reggie panted. “But I'm still...in labour!” “Right. Syd, how's he doing?” Korsy asked. “Crowning,” Sydryn stated. “Reggie, another big push.” Reggie grabbed his ankles and pushed hard. “Oh shit, it's almost here!” Carlos pulled out his phone and started recording, going around beside Syd to get a good angle. “You can do it, mi amor!” Reggie pushed harder, screaming in pain, and the head came free. He eased up and panted, tears streaming down his face. “Humans film these things?” Dusty critiqued. “Strange...” “Get out if you're not helping!” Reggie growled before starting to push again. “I concur. Darathan. Korsgaard. Out,” Sydryn instructed. “Köbi’s watching the children. Replace him and send him in.” Dusty and Korsy stepped out quickly and were replaced by the curly haired young man. Köbi stood ready by the doctor. “What do you need me to do?” “Prepare for the baby. Ready a blanket,” Sydryn said. “Ahhhhhhhh!” Reggie bore down with all his strength. Sydryn reached around the baby's head and helped guide it out. Finally, with a rush of more black amniotic fluid, the child was born. She was completely grey and squirmed in the doctor’s hands. “¡Una niña!” Carlos said happily. “Reggie, she’s so cute!” Reggie however didn’t respond. His energy was all drained and the pain had been unbearable. He was fighting just to stay conscious. “Reg?” Carlos dropped his phone and grabbed Reggie’s hand. “Reggie, stay with me!” “Köbi, take the child,” Sydryn said, being quick to cut the umbilical cord. “Quickly.” Köbi did as told, taking the newborn and wrapping her up in the blanket. Carlos pushed back his partner’s hair, watching as his consciousness faded. “Is Reggie going to be okay?” “He’s lost a lot of blood. If we don’t treat this immediately, it could be fatal,” Sydryn stated. “No!” Carlos’s voice shook. “Do something!” “I am.” Sydryn had already begun manually removing the placenta. “I suggest you go outside and take care of your children.” “I can’t leave him here!” Carlos sobbed. “I need him!” “I am no longer suggesting. Step outside, sir, or you will be forcibly removed.” “I can’t go!” “Köbi!” Köbi handed the newborn over to Carlos. “Trust us, okay? You have beautiful children to look after.” He placed a hand on Carlos’s shoulder which helped soothe the man. Carlos nodded and stepped outside. “Köbi, stop the bleeding while I get an IV,” Sydryn asked. “On it.” Köbi placed his hands on Reggie’s sternum and closed his eyes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

#lore #short story #mystery baby theatre #mpreg #Reggie #Carlos #Dusty #Köbi #Sydryn #Korsy

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alloveroliver · 4 years

Text

Gavin x MC “Handle With Care”

Rating: Fluffy, Smut 18+

WC: 3,300+

A|N: Hurt, comfort, & domestic lovin’ <3

Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Gavin clutched his side as he walked down the hall to his apartment. The keys seemed to jingle louder than usual in the dead of night as he carefully unlocked the door to enter his home. A quick glimmer on the watch atop his wrist caught his eye. The hands struck 4 AM just as he turned the knob.

Quickly looking around at his quiet apartment, he kicked off his shoes at the doorway. Gavin removed his jacket carefully and tiptoed to the bedroom. Small things in the home were in different places than he’d left them, and his chest swelled, seeing these out of place objects. This was his favorite part of having a partner truthfully, having a lived in a home that was sometimes messy but always full of love. It was a safe space for him to come back to, and each thing out of place reminded him of that.

A half-open book hung onto the armrest of the couch, an empty water glass sat without a coaster on the coffee table, and the pinned open curtains displaying the starry night sky. His absence from home was hardly noticeable anymore since she began living here. The kitchen was full of staple foods at all times, the house was free from dust, and the bed was always warm from her presence.

Gently clicking the latch closed on the bedroom door, he turned to the bed and noticed a small lump that barely took up any space under the covers. His lips quirked up into a smile. Gavin shuffled quietly over to the edge of the mattress and slipped underneath the sheets. He made sure to keep straight and not to bend toward his side that he still held carefully with his arm.

He felt guilty coming home so late, especially after such a long absence. He wasn’t able to call by the time his mission was over, and texting would be pointless since it was well past midnight, and he knew she’d already be asleep.

Slowly, Gavin slid into the space next to her. He debated whether to wake her up or not. In the end, he wrapped his arms around her and quickly tugged her to his chest, rousing her awake. He pulled hard, snuggling his face in her neck until she wiggled in his grasp.

“Gav?” Her tired voice peeped.

“Hey there.”

“You’re home!” She spoke groggily, keeping her eyes shut. He smiled against her neck at her cute sleepy voice. He’d missed this; He’d missed her.

“I am home, especially now that I’m holding you.”

“Hm,” She smiled, stretching her arms above her head. He felt her muscles extend and joints pop against his hands. Gavin roamed her torso, sneaking a hand up her shirt to rest on her bare stomach. “I missed you.” She yawned out.

Gavin traced her ribs with his pointing finger and nuzzled the side of her hair. “I missed you too.”

He drank in her unique scent, moving to trail his fingertips up her arm towards her palm. With his thumb and pointing finger, he teased the tips of her digits one by one. His heart rate picked up at their proximity. No matter how many months they were together, she still sent his stomach fluttering.

She turned in his grasp, situating herself while cupping his face. She paused with her nose touching his as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She wore his t-shirt to sleep, oversized for her smaller frame, and calf-high socks to make up for her lack of pants. One sock was rolled down to her knee due to her movement in her sleep.

“You’re head!” She gently slid her fingers over the edge of the butterfly grip. “What happened?” The bandage sat askew over his right eyebrow holding together an inch-long gash.

“Uh,” He tried to smile, but the worry on her face affected him too much. He resolved to a straight face and let out a breath. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

“They don’t usually take the time to seal up ‘just a scratch.’”

“Mmm, You’re right.” He pushed his forehead into her cheek. “It’s nothing compared to the cut on my side.”

“Oh, no.” She looked down toward his hips. “What happened there?”

“I got a couple of stitches. No big deal.” Gavin tried to downplay the injury. “Just be gentle with that spot, please.”

“Gavin,” Her hands slid into his hair, kissing his cheek, forehead, then nose. “Why did you get stitches?” Closing his eyes, he savored each kiss.

He paused, pursing his lips, thinking if he should insist they go to sleep and talk about it in the morning. However, he knew this wasn’t something she would let go that easily.

“I was…mmmbluggh” Gavin pushed his face into her neck, mumbling his words.

“You were what?” She pulled on his cheeks up to look into his weary eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“...” Gavin looked up at her face with the help of her hands, cradling his cheeks, smooshing them really. “I was stabbed…”

“WHAT!” The word pierced the silence of the night. Her whole body tensed while her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Gavin embraced her firmly.

“I know! I know it sounds bad, but it’s not that bad.”

“Bad enough to get stitches!” She argued, moving her hand down to the hem of his shirt.

Gavin took a deep breath and helped her carefully pull up his shirt. As the gauze came into view, she gasped. “It's huge!”

“I know.”

“You know!? It’s turning purple around your ribs!” She ghosted her fingers overtop his silky skin. Her hand moved down his side towards his hip, along the lines of his stomach, as if to examine him for any other injuries.

“Pfft” Gavin hunched forward with a chortle. “Stop!” His wholesome laugh filled the dark bedroom.

“Gavin, are you giggling?” She looked at him astonishment trying to hide her own smile. His laugh was contagious and it didn’t take long for her to join in.

“Don’t do that.” He continued cackling.

“Do what? Are you drugged up?” She giggled loudly. Gavin was laughing so freely; something a potent pain killer would allow him to do this easily.

“A little, just some minor pain medication.”

“Don’t downplay how much they gave you. It’s making you loopy! Is that why you are laughing so much?” She tried catching her breath.

“You just-” He pressed his face into her neck and could hardly speak. “You were tickling me!’ Don’t- Don’t do that. Hahaha~”

“Oh jeez” She tried to pout, but his laugh was too cute. Tossing her head back into the pillow, she held back her giggles. “Your gauze is way larger than just a minor wound. Don’t you think?” She tried to change the subject, but the two continued their laughing fit.

Gavin kissed her cheek and hugged her to him as laughter quieted down.

“You need to get some sleep. Sleep off some of this medication that's making you insane.” Her voice calmed him, while her fingers messed with the fringe on his forehead.

As laughing ceased, Gavin’s liquid gold eyes locked on hers. She yawed gently, stretching her arms around him in a tight squeeze. Her leg came up to wrap around his thigh, weary of his bandaging.

“We don’t have anything to do tomorrow. So, let’s spend the day together.” He twisted until he was lying on his back, and she was on his chest.

Gavin gave her a tiny peck on the lips. The sweet kiss was the punctuation to the evening, a silent goodnight, leaving the couple to fall asleep tightly woven in one another's arms.

No time seemed to pass as Gavin’s eyes flickered open to a sunkissed room. The warm rays rushed in to welcome the new day, aggravating Gavin’s measly 4 hours of sleep. He squinted as he peaked his eyes open. Her head was still resting peacefully on his chest, breathing deeply in her sleep.

Gavin began to pull the blanket up to cover his eyes from the sun in hopes of dozing off again. The tugging of the sheet had him letting out a painful hiss. Sharp jolts of heat shot from the epicenter of the stitches, and he clutched his side. The sound roused his girlfriend from sleep, looking around with her half alert eyes.

“Are you okay?” She croaked, widely yawning.

“Ah,” He started to wave her off, clenching his eyes shut. The wound on his side throbbed now that the pain medication had left his system. “Yeah Yeah, Just need a moment for it to pass.”

“Did you pull a stitch?” She moved the blanket out of the way wearily. He let her take a peek at the bandage.

“No, I don’t think so. But I haven't moved in a while, just…” He inhaled, looking down at the wound. “I just need a moment.” He forced himself to breathe evenly, deep breaths with long exhales.

“Do you have any more pain pills?” Her hand came up to smooth his messy hair off his forehead.

Gavin opened his eyes and looked toward the bedroom door. “Yeah, there's a prescription in my jacket pocket. It’s hanging in the entryway.”

“I’ll go get you some more, okay?” She placed her cool hand on his warm cheek.

He took in a breath through his nose and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.” She gave him a warm smile and jumped off the bed.

“Thanks.” Gavin watched her slip off the bed and straighten her oversized shirt over her smaller body. One sock had fallen down all the way to her ankle while the other held fast at her thigh.

His heart swelled with the knowledge that there was someone in this world that cared so deeply for him. Gavin had never asked, but she always went out of her way to take care of him. He smiled against the pillow, hearing her fill a glass with water before entering the bedroom with the pills.

She slid in close to him, holding the pills in one hand and the cup in the other. Birds began to chirp outside the window as the sun climbed into the sky. After taking the medication, Gavin placed the water cup onto his side table and turned slowly to lay back down.

“Try to sleep.” She urged, rubbing his chest with her warm palm. The heat radiated from her touch filled up his heart. He knew she loved him, there was never a question in his mind. She was never mean to him, or hurt him maliciously. She was an angel, an absolute perfect angel.

He ran his fingers through her hair and tried to let sleep take him once more. It was difficult with the dull ache that seared into his side. He listened to his girlfriend's even breath as she was swept up in a dream. He didn't dare move. Keeping his eyes closed, he held her to his chest and nuzzled into her shoulder.

As he lay there for several minutes, the medication rushed towards where he needed it the most. He couldn't seem to fall back into dreamland while the pain killers took its time to soothe him. It took the edge off after several minutes, allowing him to breathe deeper without the tinge of discomfort.

“I swear to god, Gavin. You better get some sleep.” She groaned into his chest.

Gavin’s brows lifted while his eyes went wide. “I-I thought you were sleeping?!”

“I was trying to, but I’m worried about you…” She looked up at him, hair falling in her face. Gavin haphazardly pushed it out of the way and held the back of her head.

“No need to worry. I’ll be fine. My boss gave me time off work until I’ve healed. Plus, it’s not life-threatening.” Gavin’s sleepy voice was more gravely than his usual tone.

He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead and sighed. “At least the medicine is kicking in. Maybe I can go back to sleep after all. But...”

“Buuuuut, You’re not tired.” She finished his sentence.

“I’m excited to be back home with you. It’s exciting for me. My heart won't stop pounding just having you in my arms.”

She fluffed the pillow he laid on and helped him turn all the way on his back. She traced the butterfly bandage on his brow and frowned. Moving down, her lips pressed against his neck. Gavin sighed at the loss of warmth from their embrace but welcomed the new warmth of her kisses along his neckline.

Gavin relaxed back into the pillow, letting the sensation of her feathery light kisses soothe him. But, he quickly snapped his eyes open when she began moving lower.

“What, uh, What are you doing?” He tugged on her shoulders to bring her to him once more, but his girlfriend didn't relent.

“I want to distract you from the pain.” Her hands brought the hem of his shirt up, and she kissed around his navel. “And hopefully relax you enough to make you sleepy. Sleep will help heal your wound.” She spoke quietly with a smile, tracing the tape of the gauze that concealed his stab wound.

Gavin’s adams apple bobbed when he gulped. A hand stayed on her shoulder while the other came up. He covered his eyes with his forearm when she unbuttoned the clasp of his pants. She kissed his exposed skin, then unzipped the rest of the enclosure. His suddenly pounding heart could be heard from a mile away.

His nervous and wavery breath came out in a long outburst. Her small fingers pulled the hem of his undergarment down, and Gavin buried his face in his arm even more. It was so much so fast. He felt heat lap at his cheeks and a blush tinge all of his pale skin a dusty pink.

They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and he missed her more than anything. The moments they shared were special to him, even the smallest ones.

How she kissed his lower tummy made him groan. She latched on to his skin gently and swiped her tongue over the sensitive skin. He couldn’t deny the attraction to the women he’d sworn to protect unendingly. How beautiful she looked with her eyes closed, lips trailing to leave small kisses everywhere, and her hair swooped over one shoulder.

He could feel the heat building, making his legs quake the farther she managed to go. Carefully, she ran her hand along his hips, swiping over his center slowly. Gavin twitched at her touch, knowing her lips were only going to trail even further. He peaked out from under his arm and watched her wanton eyes flicker up to his.

He quickly looked away, biting his lip to contain a groan. Her hair fell in wisps over her face, tickling the newly exposed skin of his hips. Gavin wiggled, digging his heels into the bed when her gentle touch finally aided his desire. She stroked him with her palm while kissing the base fervently. She’d move up, licking a small stripe before moving down to the other side.

Her lips and tongue worked him over while her hand lightly pumped the length of him. Each lick felt like silk over the sensitive skin, and every kiss was pillow-soft. He let a moan slip out, trying to contain his hips from bucking toward her.

She sucked the ridge of his head with her posh lips. Her tongue only came out to lick the leaking bead of moisture that ran down the edge. Gavin hadn’t realized his fingertips were digging into her so hard until he jolted his body.

“S-sorry, ah-” He ran his hand through her hair instead, feeling her twist and bob.

She didn’t stop kissing him, moving around the circumference of his girth. She teased him, and Gavin panted in anticipation for her to take him all in. The slow, methodical bobbing of her head drove him crazy, and her tongue running along his length with every movement set his body ablaze.

Every muscle in his body screamed for more. He held his hips down despite his instincts, gripping her hair in one hand and the sheet in the other. Gavin peeled his eyes open and watched as her lips wrapped sensually around his length. There was an innocent sparkle in her eye, making his stomach flip at her actions.

She hummed purposefully, sending pleasurable vibrations along his core. His forehead broke out in a sweaty sheen. The dampening hair on the back of his head began to stick to his neck. He gripped the sheets, pulling the fabric up as his hips pushed upwards against his will. His legs moved to encase her smaller frame, but he forced himself to relax and spread them again.

Gavin would be fooling himself if he didn't admit that he thought of this often. It was how she took her time to work him up before going full-on to get him off. He appreciated the attention to detail and the fact that she wouldn’t do this for anyone but him.

Her soft lips moved farther down until she took him to the back of her throat. The tightness over the tip made him see stars. The smooth friction of her tongue and lips mixing with the pressure of her hand at the base was blissful, to say the least. Gavin’s gasps and moans were out of his control the longer she pleasured him.

“I-” His chest fell heavily as he mustered the ability to speak. “I’m gonna…” He held the back of her head lightly with his palm as to not force her in any way, but to kindly ask her not to stop.

She didn’t slow down and consisted until his head came off the pillow. Gavin fell back to the bed, legs shaking and hands grabbing at anything they could. Pulses of pleasure radiated through his body, making him forget about his wounds entirely. Even the scrape on his bicep he’d yet to mention.

She waited until he came down from his high, then moved her kisses back up the path she took, moving to his stomach and chest again. Gavin laid there motionless. He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths while she nestled close to his side. His girlfriend laid her head on his chest and listened to his fast-beating heart flutter in his chest.

It was as if he were made of lead. His eyelids drifted shut while his arms wrapped around her frame. He twisted until he was able to nuzzle his face into her neck. He began to move away when her hair stuck to his clammy skin, but she reciprocated his hug and held him tight. Gavin could hardly believe how out of shape he felt. His body was useless after she was done with him.

His lips quirked into a smile while he caught his breath in her embrace. The room was silent, filled with only the hum of the AC unit kicking on.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” She whispered, rubbing his back with the tips of her fingers.

He didn’t even try to lift open his heavy eyelids. “Oh yes,” He nuzzled harder. “I owe you.” He added, slowly teasing the hem of her shirt with his thumb. “And I love you.” He kissed her heated cheek.

The pain was almost entirely gone, and Gavin wasn’t sure if it was the medication kicking in or the natural, pleasurable chemicals flowing through his veins. He huffed against her cheek, trying to get his heart rate to slow back down steadily.

“I love you too, Gavs.” She spoke softly, keeping her eyes closed and tugging him ever closer to her.

Orange hues of sunlight tinting the room began to grow brighter as the morning started to transition into the afternoon. It wasn’t long until a dream overtook him. He was lucid for a moment, realizing he’d fallen asleep. Gavin smiled into the illusion and allowed the dream to pull him deeper and deeper before finally sweeping him away.

So, I went to add on to this fic and I went back to look at my summary and I was like “.... What the actual fuck…” when I read it. It’s been several months since I started this fic and I wanted to finish it today and post it. I want to show yall the UNEDITED version of the summary for this fic….

->>Shss like, tou were hurtx let me make tou to feel. Better. Hes flustered snd like "are you sure…"

Kisses him all theway doen. Licks bis stmach and abs. Then kisses hi d as its revealed. Bj<<-

Im 100% sure I wrote this summary on my phone waking up at 3AM to get a drink of water before crashing mid-thought. Miracles do happen. lmfao

#mlqc #mlqc smut #mlqc gavin #gavin x mc #mr love: queen's choice #mr love queen's choice #smut #gavin smut

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offaeandcreation · 3 years

Text

Sleep-Deprived College Student Becomes World's Strongest Cultivator By Bullshit Means

Summary:The last thing WanLi An (Ani) expected was to a) die in the most pathetic and ridiculous manner, b) wake up in the body of a villain destined to be beheaded in a war of their own making. Of course with Ani's luck, that's exactly what happened. Now Ani finds herself the ruthless, morally-questionable at best, leader of Qishan Wen, rearing two bratty children, while pretending that yes, she is absolutely Wen Ruohan. Nothing to see here! Everything is just fine. Except the universe isn't done making her life hell. "For fuck's sake, I just wanted my degree!"

Chapter 1: Holy Fucking Shit

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11+

Content Warnings: Death, Mourning, Dirty Jokes

AO3

On my gravestone, I want the following epithet: Murdered by heels via the eighth floor window. Gravity was a co-conspirator.

There she flew, like an outtake of 'It's a Wonderful Life', skirt flapping in the wind harder than a can-can dancer's. Ani, known to her angry mother as WanLi An, was NOT about to become the world's next human pudding if she had any say about it. She reached for the psychology department’s brick edges, anything to stop the fall that ended in concrete.

Supergirl, now’s your chance! Fulfill my lesbian dream!

As she waited for the inevitable hero to come swooping in, a familiar object flew past her like from the Rabbit Hole scene in ‘Alice in Wonderland’: the softcover book she’d been reading, glossy title flashing its Chinese characters, ‘Mo Dao Zu Shi’.

Oh ya, I could learn to fly on a sword!

She made a grab at it but missed, watching the wind sweep it away. Another possession flew into Ani’s line of sight: a pink tote bag with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it – for A-Li. His meringues packed inside, made just for him to stuff his face with with the intention of proving that yes, he can fit five in his mouth now, all came flying out. The wind clearly wanted to take them for itself.

Those are for A-Li you air-bag!

Waving her arms around, she tried to reach for the helicoptering meringues with much gusto and much failure.The whistle in her ear might as well have been snickering.

A photograph slipped into Ani’s line of sight taken back in China of her entire family: her parents, grandmother, A-Li, days before her father died.

The wind stole the air out of her lungs. Ani lunged out for the photo, stretching as far as she possibly could while having no anchor. Fingertips brushed it as it flitted into the wind’s grasp, leaving her outstretched hand empty, small. She lunged again, muscles bulging as she strained towards the closest corner. Failure. The wind howled in laughter.

No! No don’t do this!

Ani screamed at the wind that tore at her, at the grey sky that looked at her with no mercy.

I’m going to die. I can’t die- Grandmother, I can’t! Not now. I have to take care of A-Li–

A single tear kissed her cheek before floating in the air, too light to fall, before she plunged into the concrete.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Ani’s eyes shot open, a gasp escaping her lips. Her heart pounded into the pillows she was lying face-first in, breathing as if she’d just woken up from a nightmare.

She was in bed. At home. Safe. Her muscles relaxed, sinking into the mattress beneath-

Something hard resisted against her body, as if the mattress was more akin to a wooden board then memory foam. She blinked, allowing her hands to wander the bed, pressing and feeling against silky bedding.

This isn’t my bed-

Wait.

She shouldn’t even be in bed.

Ani lunged out for the photo, stretching as far as she possibly could without an anchor. Fingertips brushed it as it flitted into the wind’s grasp, leaving her outstretched hand empty, small. She lunged again, muscles bulging as she strained towards the closest corner. Failure. The wind howled in laughter.

She should have died.

I fell.

I fell eight stories.

I fell eight stories onto concrete.

Ani sat up, finally looking where she was lying. She was in a large bed with a thick, silky, maroon blanket – something that her grandmother would have owned.

What the fuck?

Ani looked up. Wooden beams criss-crossed above her, holding up a low ceiling made of an unknown dark wood.

Why was there a ceiling? Wasn’t I just seconds ago falling out of a building into the concrete, outside? Where no ceilings could exist?

Ani crawled towards the edge of the bed to take a good look.

It wasn’t a ceiling, but a wooden canopy, with ostentatious diamond and floral engravings, accompanied by transparent red and black valance.

Where am I?

Ani finally looked up from the bed. Her eyes bulged. Three college classrooms couldn’t have fit within this single bedroom.

Beyond the bed, a built-in nightstand had been covered in glass bottles, some small as pennies and others like glass blown art, and torn white sheets .

Bandages perhaps? I’m supposed to be in a hospital…? This doesn’t look like a hospital bed.

Beyond, silky red and woolen carpets decorated the dark floors. Across the room, a large table sat perpendicular to the wall covered in stacks of scrolls.

Some regular-old New York City hospital most definitely wouldn’t have this – a waste of space and money.

Ani blinked. Where was the IV drip? The heart monitor? White curtains? The sink? The putrid smell of alcohol and plastic? Flowers? She definitely deserved flowers. Especially after everything.

What sorry excuse of a hospital is this?! An alt-medicine hospital?Did they give me acid? Was the whole accidentally-falling-out-of-a-building-from-the-top-floor-because-why-not sequence a dream?

Ani rubbed her eyes to make absolutely certain she wasn’t indeed hallucinating. Except, her hand felt strange, as if someone attached weights to them without asking her permission. Ani pulled at them with more force, until she smacked herself in the face. She hissed in pain, glaring at her stupid hand-

What. The. Fuck.

This wanna-be-Micky-mouse-glove abomination was abso-fucking-lutely not her hand. She brought it close, staring at the long pale fingers, razor sharp nails –absolutely a lesbian hazard – and delicate wrist. It was at least twice the size of her face, and felt…foreign. Flexible, catching more air. Ani was pretty sure she could make shoes out of these hands and comfortably walk in them and with room.

She brought up her other hand in comparison. To her utter horror, they matched!

Ani closed her eyes, hoping that somehow to conjure up her smaller, tanner, lesbian-friendly hands. She opened one eye, her kernel of hope popping

Nope.

Either Ani was tripping very hard on acid to the point that her brain forgot the importance of clipped nails, or she’d fallen eight floors and needed a transplant and the only thing available were these man-hands.

Cold pooled in Ani’s gut. Ani tossed off the blankets, scrambling to her feet. She ran towards the golden mirror attached to a nearby vanity. Despite skidding to a stop, her torso continued its trajectory until she face-planted into the floor.

“Fuck,” she bit out.

The sound that came out of her mouth was not the familiar timbre of her voice. She coughed and spoke again.

“Hello.”

It sounded so wrong. Ani spoke a few more words– “Hewwo,” “Nya-Nya,” “Nico Nico Nii,” “Motherfucker,”– before taking a deeper breath. No matter what sounds she made, the voice remained low like a choral bass singer. As low as her father’s had been. Tears welled in Ani’s eyes as she slowly tried to get to her feet, head spinning.

What’s happening? Why are my hands weird? Why is my voice weird!

Even her feet were weird: pale and big like her hands. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck, trickling down her back into the collar of white robes that fell to her calves. She never could afford something like this.

Nor did hospitals supply silk robes.

She brushed the robes aside as she got to her knees, her jaw throbbing, and faced the golden mirror.

The face that stared back at her wasn’t her own.

It was a face of man, with bright, unnatural scarlet eyes.

The mirror broke.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Ani flinched at the violent crack. She looked behind her, searching for whatever had broken the mirror. Outside of the table and a sliding-door that led to who-knows-where, there was nothing that could have caused the damage.

She closed her eyes, counting to ten. Reopened them. She closed her eyes, counting to twenty. Reopened them. The same unknown male face stared back at her: long oval face, messy bed-head black hair, and vivid crimson eyes, tinted slightly by the color of the mirror. Not the round face, short dark hair and eyes that she has seen in the mirror every day for twenty-three years. Not the face she preferred.

Red eyes? Seriously? Red? Hardly realistic.

Not even albino irises were this intense. She backed away from the mirror, coming into the body’s full height. At least twice her height - which explains the sheer size of her hands and feet.

At least I’ll be able to reach the top shelves without being laughed at.

The thought quickly scurried away the longer she looked at herself. The mirror mimicked every move she made. The cracks distorted her figure– no, the man’s figure.

What’s happening? What’s going on? Why am I in this body? Is this a hallucination?

Ani mentally ran through all her psychology courses until she had an idea.

Wait, there is still one more test. People who suffer from delusions often attempt to use other senses to figure out if they truly are seeing what is in front of them. So if this is all a delusion-

Shutting her eyes, Ani stuck her hand between her legs-

Yup. That was most definitely not there before. I’m in a man’s body. Confirmed.

She groaned, sinking to the floor in defeat, resting her head on the table. Leaning her head back, she noticed the scrolls wrapped in beige ribbons.

Perhaps these documents will tell me what the hell is going on.

She pulled at the ribbons, looking for something, anything that could give her answers. She scanned the unfurled parchment, noticing a collection of vertical lines, occasionally underlined once or twice that made no sense to her. Dates?

She could understand the Chinese characters, except the style was clearly more archaic, with words that would never be used in any book that would be found at home. Except the older poetry books, because poets like to be pretentious know-it-alls.

Ani looked for writing utensils, except instead of finding pencils and pens that every self-respecting person would have, she found only bamboo brushes.

‘Want to learn?’ a memory itched at the back of her mind, floating to the surface.

Her grandmother had returned from Beijing, eyes crinkling with a smile that her bright blue face mask hid. Ten-year old Ani cried out in happiness, rushing towards the open door in only her purple floral pajamas. Her father grabbed her before she could topple her grandmother with an unexpected bear hug.

‘Ani, Ani, look what I brought you,’ she said with a familiar grin the moment she pulled down her mask under her aging chin.

From a plastic bag, she removed several shiny brushes, the bamboo wood birch-yellow, polished to a shine, and the bristles a variety of browns and white, pointy like a pencil.

Her grandmother handed them to her, ‘Now Ani, these are the brushes of our ancestors, they used to work with these so long ago to make beautiful calligraphy. Want to learn?’

With careful fingers, Ani lifted one of the brushes, running her finger over the bristles and the smooth handle. These weren’t the brushes her grandmother gave her – the handles weren’t as dark nor as smooth as the wood lacked the sheen polish that modern brushes had, and the bristles were more frayed – not supported by synthetic material. These weren’t her grandmother’s brushes but-

“Am I…in the past?”

She scanned the space around her, searching for any sign of modern technology. A fireplace, a wardrobe that most probably cost at least a quarter of her tuition, mats that most definitely were made of organic material, not the synthetic fibers of the modern age. There wasn’t a single modern artifact in the room.

“I’m in the PAST?” Ani cried out, tearing at her hair, “How did THIS happen?”

Her heart beat pounded in her ears. How? How? How? How!

“Sect Leader Wen!”

Ani yelped, grabbing a bronze candle holder as the door slid open. She backed up into the mirror, glad it hadn’t shattered earlier. Assuming whatever entered the room wasn't trying to kill her, the last thing she needed was to pay for broken property just because she stared too hard at the mirror.

A man with dull robes walked in on his knees. Their eyes met and he fell into a bow, face first into the hard wooden floors.

“We are pleased to see you awake Sect Leader!”

Yes, I’m sure you are.

“Physician Wen is being notified now,” he continued. “Is there anything that we can do for you in the meanwhile, Sect Leader Wen?”

Luckily, the servant was too busy digging his nose into the floor and quivering like a vibrator to notice the way her mouth dropped along with the candle.

Sect Leader…Wen?

The name was familiar. Too familiar. She looked past the servant, above the door to the banner that decorated the walls.

The sun symbol.

A stone dropped into her stomach. She hadn’t just traveled into the past. She’d transmigrated into the world of Mo Dao Zu Shi.

As Sect Leader Wen Ruohan.

Who was destined to die.

#oc #wen ruohan #wen xu #wen zhuliu #wen sect #mo dao su zhi #wen chao #my writing

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athina-blaine · 4 years

Photo

hey kids wanna see a fic preview??

(howdy! for readers of my tma fics wondering what the heck ive been up to the last month, here’s a little something for you-- yes, you! the full chapter will be posted next week)

(preview under the cut!)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a man who wanted to save the world, and instead, nearly destroyed it.

Before he was forced to commit this great evil, the man fled-- but the failed ritual inflicted him with a terrible curse, and he concealed himself inside a dark, lonesome manor. As the years passed and the solitude ate him, he never ventured to the outside world, ever again.

But that was alright. The man preferred it this way. For there remained not one person, living or dead, who was better off for having known Jonathan Sims.

"Aren't you lonely, Mister Blackwood?"

THE MONSTER OF MAGNUS MANOR

CHAPTER 1

THE FOG

“Blackwood.”

Martin lurched upright, unfinished letter sticking to his sweaty face. Mister Griffiths was standing in the doorway, his scowl deepening by the second as Martin scrambled out of the desk chair and onto his feet.

“If you’re finished with your nap,” Griffiths snapped, “make your way down to the kitchens at once. Lord Barclay’s guests will be arriving soon.”

“Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

With one last, withering look, Griffiths turned on his heel out of the servants’ quarters, and Martin’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, or find a good rock to curl under.

At least he’d only been glared at this time.

Martin sunk back into his chair, eyelids threatening to slip shut again. Hard wicker had no right being as comfortable as it was. In all fairness, though, the cold stone floor of the refrigerator would be just as soft right now.

Peeling the letter off his cheek, he flipped it over and groaned. Oh, perfect. He’d gone and completely smudged the thing. Half his face was probably covered in a splotch of ink.

No wonder Griffiths had looked at him like he was dog shite underneath his shoe. At least the dog shite wasn’t going to be late to its shift, now.

He huffed.

At least he’d snuck in a few winks before he needed to get ready. Something was always better than nothing– even if the thick, pulsing needle driving itself through his temples disagreed. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him through today’s shift.

Especially today’s shift.

He tucked the letter underneath his pillow; he’d have to rewrite it later if he wanted it ready to send out tomorrow morning.

A new uniform was waiting for him in the communal wardrobe, one that Lord Barclay had ordered just for the occasion. His dormmates must have already grabbed theirs– aside from his, the wardrobe was empty.

Bit annoying that they hadn’t even taken the time to give him a quick tap on the shoulder. ‘Hey, Martin, rise and shine, big day today, don’t want to be late!’

Perhaps they’d figured it was best for him to sleep as much as possible. This wasn’t the day to get sloppy, after all.

Or maybe they hadn’t considered him at all.

He hoped it was the first one.

Uniform slung over his arm, Martin hurried toward the servants’ washroom. He was making good time; with any luck, Griffiths’ scowl would never graduate higher than mildly disappointed. On the scale of the head butler’s ranking displeasure, it wasn’t the worst place to be.

In his haste, however, he bumped into the shoulder of another server. Martin turned, an apology already on his lips, then paused.

“Charles?”

Charles spun around, and his eyes brightened.

“Look who decided to make their way out of bed,” he said, giving Martin’s shoulder a playful pat. “You know Jefferies is going to have your hide if he sees you like that, yeah?”

“Please don’t tell him. He’ll kill me this time, he really will.” His eyes flitted down Charles' figure, brows shooting up. “You … you’re wearing the new uniform.”

“I am, indeed. How do I look?” Charles asked, smoothing down the front of his chest. “Fetching, right?”

“I-I, uh, you …”

It was hard to get the words out. Anyone would look good in a uniform like that; that was why Lord Barclay had bought the bloody things. But the dark red jacket, white gloves, and navy tie complemented Charles’ ginger hair and smile in a way that tangled his tongue something fierce.

Martin’s face warmed, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“You look wonderful,” he said. Then, face growing even hotter, “I mean, um,” he coughed, “it looks really good.”

Charles’ grin widened, and Martin had to stop himself from slapping his own face. Get it together. There was something more pressing here.

“But you’re going to start serving? Today? You’ve barely even finished your apprenticeship.”

“Griffiths needs all hands on deck. I’ll be fine. You’re such a worrywart, you know that?”

Of course Martin was worried. Charles had only been working in the castle for a few months, and Griffiths was going to have him start now? On the night of Lord Barclay’s autumn soirée?

Martin was about to remind him of that when a wave of dizziness crested over him, weakness shivering up his legs. He would have tipped over if Charles hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? You’re looking a little …”

If Martin’s face was hot before, it was nothing compared to now. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Again?”

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had a wash up.”

Charles’ eyes lingered on him so long that Martin was sure he’d well and truly pass out. After a moment, Charles gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and withdrew.

“You’d best. Well, I need to be off. Ol’ Griffiths is on the warpath. Good luck tonight, yeah?” He winked. “Drinks on me at the pub later.”

“Y-yeah. See you.”

Martin tracked him until Charles left the room, eyes drifting on the corner where he’d disappeared until another dizzy spell swept over him.

Focus. Charles hadn’t been kidding about what Jefferies would do if he knew Martin still hadn’t changed yet.

The reminder had Martin rushing through his wash. Throwing the new uniform on was a struggle; all those foreign buttons and straps kept tangling together, and he got stuck twice before securing the last tie.

Martin paused in front of the mirror to check himself over. It was... nice enough, he supposed. The most expensive thing he’d ever worn, that was certain. Despite the custom fit, though, the torso still hugged too tight around his chest, and the material scratched at the sensitive skin on his neck.

Luckily, he’d only have to wear it tonight.

With one last glance, he smoothed down his hair and hurried out into the main hallway.

Chaos. The corridors were packed wall to wall with other servants, confused about where they should go, what they should be doing. The crowd smothered him; how had he managed to sleep through this? Now, in the thick of things, his ears were beginning to ring.

“Martin!”

Pausing, Martin scanned the sea of twisting faces. Angelica was elbowing her way through the swarm, drawing sharp cries of pain from her victims, but her expression of dogged determination didn’t change.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, as soon as she was within earshot. “I just wanted to say thanks for setting up the guest bedrooms last night. I would’ve been up ‘til dawn if I’d had to do it myself.”

Martin, who had finished outfitting the last of the guest quarters just as the sun was rising, smiled. “I’m glad I could help. Wasn't really fair to you, getting assigned something you aren't used to.”

She nodded in agreement, sage-like. “I swear, Griffiths is out to get me. I’d rather stay in the laundry room where I belong.” Then she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a bundle of cloth. “We had apple slices for breakfast this morning,” she explained, holding the bundle out. “I saved you mine. You know, as a thank you.”

Woken by the mention of food, his stomach spasmed. He hadn’t even spared a thought for breakfast– based on the sun’s height, the servants’ meal hour had long been over.

Eyes burning, he accepted the gift. “Thanks, Angie. I really needed this.”

She beamed up at him.

From somewhere within the clamour, an authoritative voice rose up. “Come on then, to your stations!”

The tide of the crowd was pushing them apart before the last word faded. “Good luck, tonight!” Angie called as she turned to follow some of the others into the laundry room. Martin waved back to her, and once she had disappeared from view, unwrapped the cloth and bit into one of the apple slices.

Sweet and refreshing. Martin let his eyes slide shut, savouring the crispness. Thank God for Angie. There was no telling when his next meal would be; Griffiths had informed everyone last night that they wouldn't have time for their regular lunch.

He finished the last slice just as he reached the kitchens. If the hallways had been chaotic, this was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Servers were shouting orders to the kitchen staff, the kitchen staff were dancing around the servers, and everyone inched a hair's breadth away from colliding into one another. It was only through sheer level of experience on the part of the servants that they managed to avoid absolute disaster.

And in the centre of it all was Jefferies, shouting directions and helpful threats in equal measure.

“If a single one of you even so much as serves a smudged glass,” he roared, “the Lord’ll have all our heads!”

The ringing in Martin’s ears had gone from loud to stringent. Bracing against a countertop, he dragged a hand across his face.

Focus.

Plate the food, take it to the dining hall, serve. He’d done it a thousand times. This was the exact same thing.

He just needed to stay focused.

“Here, Blackwood.” One of the servers pressed a tray of champagne flutes into his hands. Taking one more bracing breath, Martin shouldered his way back into the corridors.

Time to get this over with. The frantic noises from the kitchen fell away in increments until, at last, he reached the ballroom.

#the magnus archives #tma #the magnus pod #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #fic preview #whats a girl gotta do to get some line breaks around here

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emarislaughsmaniacally · 3 years

Text

Finders Keepers

Warning for blood, gore, dismemberment, references to torture, electrocution, disassociation, and murder.

Helmet tilts his head and stands very still, observing him from a reasonably safe distance away. Derek ignores him and stays sitting on the floor, back pressed tight to the wall as his ribs slowly start to shift and snap.

The most unpleasant part of healing misplaced bones is definitely how his skin rolls and shifts with them.

Plus the pain.

Yeah, that's crap too.

"You gonna be alright?" The voice is mechanical enough that he's tempted to sniff the air again but his eyes catch on the puddle Derek's sitting in.

It's admittedly a lot of blood so he just jerks his head in a sharp nod, barely feeling the fresh gush of blood from his chopped up larynx.

"You got anyone you can call? Friends? Work?"

Derek shakes his head.

“Want me to call the cops?”

He gurgles angrily and shakes his head hard enough to spit up more blood.

“Right.” Helmet relaxes, shifts his torso like he's stretching and then starts checking the bodies scattered about the dingy apartment.

Derek flexes his jaw, eyes glued to where Helmet is systematically rifling through wallets, taking photos of everything inside and pressing phones to a thick tablet-looking thing. It's fast and efficient as hell.

His jaw creaks when it fuses in place, face no longer looking like a dented can. Nerves along the cheekbone start reminding him to press the hanging flap of skin back up to knit together faster.

Finished with the bodies and quickly sticking a few more holes into someone playing possum, Helmet straightens and stares at him again.

He absently thinks it would be unsettling if he bothered to give a shit anymore.

"Change before you leave, you look like a murder victim."

Derek's eyebrows climb up as he pointedly sweeps a glare over the destruction.

"Huh. Yeah okay, maybe don't take clothes from an actual murder victim." The man makes a buzzing noise that Derek interprets as a hum and then there's a sudden crackle of victory.

"This jacket's good, yeah? Uh. Yeah, just snapped his neck. Hope it's dark enough outside no one'll notice your pants." Helmet says conversationally as he strips it off the guy and stuffs an enormous wad of stolen cash into the pockets.

This is probably one of the best rescues Derek's ever had and not just because of the considerate donation of money. Hemet waves, presents the jacket and drapes it near the door, not even trying to approach him. Minutes later, there's a collection of household cleaners that Helmet is liberally mixing and splashing around, concentrating on areas where Derek's been. It's reassuring that the guy doesn't gas them out with the chemicals.

It's all so professional and solicitous that Derek lets himself relax a bit, focuses on his repairing body to make sure it heals properly.

Then again, -he flexes freshly grown fingers- he's got to find the box.

He tries to be discreet, surreptitiously eyeing the chaos for it before he gives up. Helmet probably wouldn't want to leave the box behind either.

Derek makes to speak but the sound is harsh, choked and painful, gristle barely stitched together.

Helmet pauses where he's kicking liquid over cracked linoleum. "Christ, you're a regular Judy Garland."

"Box." Derek shakily mimes out the size of it and swallows down a clump of blood. "Can't leave it."

"Ooh, a box." Helmet shifts debris about, eventually digs out a duffel and crams three laptops inside. "Missing anything else?"

Derek checks to find his wallet is still there before he remembers what happened to his phone and keys.

"Sewer."

"Shitty." There's a loud buzz like maybe he coughed or snorted. “What’d you do to get them this pissed?”

He points to his healing face. “Existed.”

"Riiight. This Wolverine shit is kinda creepy.” His speaker crackles a little more, like it’s having a hard time picking up his voice. “You got anyone who can pick you up?"

Derek closes his eyes at a tangle of crushing emotions and shakes his head.

"Okay." The man's body language seems less aggressive, a little more careful to move. "You got anyone who's lookin for you? Anywhere you can go?"

Derek opens his eyes and stares at his dirty feet and clean toes, thinking about the little town in California and the arguments before he left.

"Not anymore."

Helmet sighs expansively as he wanders deeper into the apartment. "Right. I'll find a place. Just, ah, keep on with that healing thing. You're doin great."

The man is still searching for the box when Derek's spine pops back into place. He can't stop a yelp from the shock of it or the agonized groan when the nerves to his legs link up.

He almost forgot they drilled screws into that bone.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit

He pushes against the wall like it's the only thing holding him together, blinding pain burning through like acid until his nerves finish healing.

"Hey." His rescuer is suddenly there and looms a little closer than before. "You gonna be alright?”

Derek takes a ragged breath, eyes him warily, and… decides getting the metal out with help is more productive than not.

He tilts his leg a little to let the heads of the screws in a neat row down his shin catch the light against the dark of his jeans.

"Gotta get ‘em out."

The helmet is silent but Derek can still hear the faintest murmur inside. "Jumpin Jehoshaphat…"

Derek silently agrees and motions to the duffel bag now resting by the door.

"The drill there?"

Hemet's hands start clenching and relaxing at his sides, mechanical voice buzzing with a jerky negative exhale.

"I'll find it too." His fists shake. "We'll have to take em out somewhere else though."

There's a protest building in his chest but it slowly dies, pressed down by the pains in his body as the smaller hurts start closing up.

Derek grunts in acceptance, the bone would be weak and take a little longer to fill in anyway.

They're silent for a moment before the man starts his search again.

"So. What's in the box?" He probably means to distract him with a chat but the box is…

Derek looks at his hand and the clean pink skin on the new growths.

The room wobbles a bit.

"Me."

A stretch of silence.

"Well, okay then." The man flicks a switch on the helmet and Derek realizes the microphone is shut off, which would only make sense if the guy didn't know about Derek’s enhanced senses. He hardly has to strain to hear that there's a series of clicks before another mechanized voice rasps out a greeting.

"O, imma need a room. I've got a witness I need to stick to and I don't wanna spook him." The man's actual voice is raspy, almost gruff, and seems surprisingly young. “So I’d appreciate it if everyone would leave me the hell alone for a while.”

Whatever the response is, the mechanical tone is so strange Derek can't understand it so he just sags against the wall and rests.

Helmet guy is going to let him stick around and he's warning others away.

That's pretty great.

A small part of himself is soothed, comforted even, that this man who ripped through eight men like wet paper, has taken an interest in Derek’s wellbeing.

He slips down the wall a little and just… zones out for a while.

The big hurts have righted themselves so there's just a mild ache in a few spots. If he weren't so tired, Derek would be standing, anxious to leave, but Helmet doesn't seem rushed in the least and that confidence bleeds into him too.

He’s still worried though. "Cops don't investigate shootouts around here?"

"Wow, that's an entire sentence. You must be feeling better." Helmet is somewhere in one of the bedrooms still tossing things around. "People would have to call the cops first but, this is Crime Alley so, you know, they don't."

He feels a burble of puzzlement rise through the haze of fading pain.

"I've never heard of Crime Alley in New York." That's a ridiculous name for a place, but New York was filled with them.

"Yeah? Well, that's because you're in New Jersey. Welcome to Gotham, man.” More creepy laughter. “I'd say this is an unusual way to end up here but I'd be lying. You're lucky they came into my turf, anywhere else in the city and no one might've noticed."

"Your turf?” Derek echoes the term curiously. It gives the impression of a gangster or the mob. It seems reasonable because the guy has pistols strapped to his legs and another pair under his jacket. Also the professionalism reinforces the theory.

There's a pause in the sounds then a heavy scrape over carpet.

"It's just a little slice of this shit hole, but it's mine." There's more rustling, then a familiar clatter, like beads.

Derek registers the sound and waits. Hears the scrape of the lid.

"You." More sounds, louder and faster than before. "Hoo boy, can you take some damage."

Derek doesn't respond until Helmet stomps back into the kitchen, stained orange shoe box tucked under one arm, drill clenched in the other.

"Still hurts."

"I bet it does." He shakes the box enough to rattle. "There's more teeth in here than can fit in one mouth."

The atmosphere is tense now and Derek wishes the room didn't smell like death so he could better gauge Hemet's mood.

“I’ve been here a few days.” He shrugs minutely. “Electricity doesn’t really stop the healing, just makes it really slow.”

“So all of this... is from you.”

"Probably." He says, hoping that's the end of it, doesn’t feel like he’s calm enough to talk about the various bits of him in the box.

The man taps with the drill, a muffled beat against his leg like he's thinking it over.

“Police won’t like any of this.”

Derek shakes his head.

“You don’t have a place to crash here.”

Another shake.

“You got money though. You could get a hotel room, get a ticket out tomorrow.”

Derek lowers his eyes to Helmet’s shoes.

“I can do that.” He agrees quietly.

“You don’t want to though. Why?”

He lets his eyes flick back to the batteries. “Doesn’t matter where I go. They always find me.” He stares at a red terminal, almost feeling the current again. “Them or something like them.”

"Right. You're staying with me until you got somewhere to go and we know these fucks won’t come for you again. In the meantime, I need to replace my accountant. Thanks for volunteering."

"Am I being kidnapped again?" It comes out sardonically enough that the guy laughs.

“This sort of thing happen a…” Derek’s already nodding in response. Looks over at the car batteries before his eyes skitter away.

"Okay. Sure. No one lookin out for you means you're mine for now." He pauses at Derek's shudder. "Just for now, understand?” He waits for Derek to nod before he goes on. “My territory reaches down to the docks North East of here. Don't go outside of it. Anyone gives you shit, tell ‘em Red Hood's watching you. Not watching out, just ‘watching’. You see any more’a this crew and you let me know, they ain’t leaving this city with a heartbeat.”

Derek barely stops himself from looking away, from tilting his head to expose his throat.

He nods instead. A little more secure that this beast of a human has offered protection.

"Do I call you Boss now?" He means it as a joke but says it quieter than intended.

"You workin for me? Got a head for numbers?"

Derek nods again. “Bachelor’s degree says so.” Even the mob appreciates degrees, right?

"Oh yeah? Bonus. Then sure. Now get the jacket and find some shoes. We gotta go, someone's gonna come looking for these guys eventually." Red Hood snags a few more bags and goes to drop them at the door.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings, he’s pretty sure he’s got some sort of repressed emotional response that Derek’s just gonna… yeah, he’s just going to leave it alone and maybe never think about it again.

The puddle he’s sitting in is dark and tacky enough now that he isn’t afraid of slipping but it’s still unpleasantly damp along his back and the seat of his pants. Makes a sticky slurp as he stands and he tunes his hearing to Red Hood’s heartbeat instead.

“Ready?” The speaker suddenly sounds like the intro to some techno song and he inanely wonders if the guy sings in the helmet. Derek smiles a bit at the thought because the guy is taller than he expected and stacked like a tank. He probably would sing.

“Yeah. Found my own boots too.” He says for absolutely no reason. It feels momentous though that he didn’t lose all of his belongings.

“That’s great man. Never know what kinda fungus strangers got.” Red Hood hefts a few bags and hands over another. “I’m gonna drop you off first and bring back some Chinese. You like egg rolls?”

Derek gives another barely-there smile and very firmly doesn’t think of his blood soaked clothes or who’s got the bag with the box.

He wonders instead if Red Hood will judge him for the mountain of food he’s about to order.

#derek hale #red hood #Jason Todd #teen wolf #whump

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egoludes · 5 years

Text

crescendo.

note: yet another random piece based on conversations with friends, specifically @someoneunimportantxx & @mndes! thank you for the inspiration (read: naughty influences) + support/proofreading & big love to @shhhawnmendes as well for proofreading help + finding this really perfect picture. hope you all enjoy! wc: 3.2k warnings: nsfw, sex without a condom

You’re home a little later than expected, a couple bags of groceries in either hand and a million options for dinner on your mind. Your head’s so busy between them all that it takes a moment to notice the piano music rising from the back of the apartment. A couple more pass before you realize that it isn’t a recording or something on tv, but him that it’s coming from.

Dinner becomes an easy afterthought — but only briefly, you decide; your stomach’ll riot otherwise — and you take the familiar path to Shawn’s studio, shrugging your coat off along the way. The door’s cracked enough for light to filter into the hallway and, as you inch closer, you hear him singing lyrics you don’t recognize, but love all the same. There’s something unshakably romantic about hearing him over the low light; it’s got you starry-eyed, your heart three sizes too big, and the emotion only deepens when you see him.

The piano is new, a couple thousand dollars worth of elegance that he’d gotten during the last week on tour. But, when he’s hunched over it, eyes shut and body swaying, it fits right in, as at home as the guitars around the room or the plaques on the wall. You’re in no rush to announce yourself in a moment like this ---- when his voice fills the room, and you, with a warmth only he has, and he’s so far in his element it might be a crime to make him stop.

So, you don’t. Instead, you rest your shoulder on the door frame and settle in, head bobbing as he goes.

Shawn ends up seeing you on his own when his eyes open on a falling note, and he acknowledges you with a tender smile. “You’re home.” It’s more greeting than observation, his voice full of love at the sight of you. You can see his body move for a second, as if he’s weighing the thought of getting up to hug you, but ultimately decides to stays put. “Just got in?”

You nod, shifting from the doorframe to stand upright. “Yeah! Stopped at the supermarket for a bit to find stuff for dinner.”

“Were you going to start right now?”

This time, it’s your turn to give that soft smile, your head shaking as you rock on your heels. “No, not just yet.. I wanted to listen to you play some more."

If the way he brightens is any indication, that’s exactly the answer he’s looking for, and he calls you forward with a nod. “Come sit with me, honey.” He hasn’t stopped playing since he saw you, and right now, he’s only loud enough for you to hear over the music. Though he’s just speaking, his voice stays melodic, beckoning you in more ways than one. It draws you right in, a quick pause to leave your shoes at the door before padding over.

When you get to him, you lean down to press a kiss to his temple ( you don’t get to be taller than him often ) before perching next to him. You’ve barely settled when Shawn makes a sound of displeasure, a tsk he pairs with a shake of his head. “No, no.. com’ere.” Perplexed doesn’t even begin to cover it, and you’re about to ask him to explain when the arm closest to you lifts, stopping his music for the first time, and he angles his body towards you.

One glance at him lets you know what he wants, and you’re more than happy to oblige. A slight lift off the bench and step between his legs lands you firmly in Shawn's lap and he molds himself against you in an instant. His arm comes back down around you, palm to tummy to keep you steady, before it rejoins the other hand on the piano.

Once you're right where he wants you, Shawn starts up a new song, this one slower than the one before. Your eyes follow his fingers with a doe-eyed awe that only grows the longer he goes on. You see him play guitar so much, you forget how skilled he is at this, too. But, this is a more than welcome reminder; you lean back to enjoy the show.

Silence settles naturally after that, both of you too focused on the music to speak more than you need to. It takes three songs for Shawn to break that silence, his head tucking against your shoulder when he does. “Missed you today.” His words are muffled in your t-shirt, but you can hear the weight in them as clear as day. He always gets restless when he’s off and you aren’t, which is as endearing as everything else he does. And you reach down to offer a little comfort, a hand finding his thigh underneath you to rub loving circles against him.

“Yeah?” You turn to watch him over your shoulder, but the angle keeps you from seeing anything beyond a mess of curls and the tip of his nose. Even that is enough, though, and you reach your free hand back to find him.

“Mhm..” Shawn tips his head to meet your fingers and does nothing else. He’s only this quiet when he’s introspective, and he’s only introspective when something’s up. It can be anything, really — writer’s block, missing tour, general anxiety — but you won’t push him on it just yet. You can tell he needs this moment, this calm, so you’ll wait for him to come to you.

For now, you settle for a quick kiss to his cheek before returning to your spot nestled against him. He starts a new song — something from the radio, if you’re not mistaken — and you let your eyes close to take it in. The notes blend together artfully under his care and it’s not hard to get lost in it, thoughts carried off the more you relax. Dinner, especially, gets further and further away, replaced by how firm he is behind you. And that sense of dreamy weightlessness only grows when Shawn fits his mouth below your ear and starts to hum. There’s no rhyme or reason to it at first — but hums soon turn to words he’s singing, just for you, and you’re reaching for his forearm to get as close to holding his hand as you can without stopping him.

He responds in turn by rocking you, nose bumping against the slope of your neck here and there as he tries to keep close. You’re lost in this, hopelessly so - but you don’t mind it very much. It’s a moment just for you, and after so many nights simply watching him on stage, you feel blessed to have this all to yourself.

A side of him that’s as much yours as everything else.

Perhaps that’s why you can’t be mad at him when he pulls you out of your reverie with lips trailing lower on your throat. You come out of the daze with a chuckle, eyes half-cracked as you glance at him from your peripheral. “What’re you doin’, Shawn?”

He responds with another, rumbling hum, his breath fanning over you and sending a shiver down your spine. “Told you, babe.. I missed you.” His voice is quiet, hardly above a murmur, but it isn’t hard to tell what he means. Not when his fingers find your stomach for a second time, but with a touch that’s much more pointed, more deliberate.

You can feel heat radiating off his palm through the fabric and the touch stirs something in your chest that pools, quickly, between your legs. You draw a long, steady breath that smooths into a purr as Shawn rubs circles into your torso.

“Can we?” He asks, voice strained all of a sudden. You notice then that you’re less on his thighs and a little more between them, still pulled back as far as you can go to keep you against his chest. The shift makes it easy to feel him hardening underneath you, and when his fingers dip past your waist to the band of your skirt, his question makes a lot more sense.

Eager fingers hover, patiently, until you give him permission in a nod. Then, they’re all in, moving until he can find where your skirt ends and your bare thighs begin to press them apart. The pads of his fingers are rough against your inner thigh, years of playing molded into his touch. But, you’re used to that, crave it even — and the higher they trail, the more you want them.

Shawn reads that need in the way your breathing quickens. It’s a subtle enough change that he might’ve missed it if he was still distracted; but his focus right now is laser sharp and he knows this side of you well. So, when his fingers finally meet your panties — your whole body melting in relief — he’s not that surprised to find them well on their way to soaked through. Still, he’s expressive, a groan against your neck as he shifts you in his lap to hold you closer. “Fuck…already?”

You’d be sheepish if it mattered. But, it’s you and Shawn, Shawn and you; and you just nod and shrug a shoulder while your hips angle up against his hand. “What can I say,” you gasp in a breath, “I love watching you play.”

You don’t intend for it to mean anything more than just that - watching him play is your favorite thing in the world, and bringing it up now, well, that’s just supposed to be flirty. Playful, even. But, Shawn can’t help the way he shivers at the thought, cock twitching at the notion of doing this to you just by playing. There’s another curse, more guttural this time, before he pushes your underwear to the side with one hand and rests the other on the piano.

You want to question it, but there’s no time to before the first note sounds and his thumb meets your bare clit. You make sounds in unison — yours a surprised moan, his a blissed out sigh — that drown it out, so he does it again for good measure, to make sure you hear before pressing on.

Then, he starts tight, slow circles over the nub while his hand moves over the piano, the rhythms on beat and matched. You want to be impressed by the fact that he’s actually managing to play while touching you, but you can’t find the words to string a thought together, let alone say it aloud. Your hand tightens against his thigh with nails marking the flesh through his dark jeans. And the sting of it draws a hiss against the nape of your neck, his head moving to your shoulder as if better bracing himself. You’ve barely started and already, he’s overwhelmed — this is so hot, it’s dizzying, but he’s too greedy to slow down. He wants more, wants you and he’s slipping a finger down to sink into you without a second thought.

You let out another moan that falls easily into the melody he’s playing, the notes a bit faster now that he’s gotten a finger inside you. And the sound of it only spurs him on, another natural rhythm forming between the fingers on the keys and the one between your legs. Your hips join in before long, rocking in his lap to meet his hand every time it strokes forward; which only leaves you desperate for more, whining for it against his jaw when you lean back and turn into him.

Shawn’s always been good at giving you what you want; so, he’s adding another finger the moment you ask, and nearly groans at the way you arch from it. “’S good?” He imagines he doesn’t have to ask, but he wants to hear you say it — or try to, at least. And God, do you try — your lips part in a breath at first, something to steady you enough to answer him. But, it just turns into you moaning more, louder, and his fingers moving faster in response.

You don’t even know what song he’s playing anymore — just the way he fits against you, how good his fingers feel, and how badly you want more than this. Shawn’s still teasing, though, slowing to let him focus his energy on your clit again. His fingers pull out long enough to spread your wetness before his thumb joins in, flicking your nub a couple times to feel you tremble before his fingers return to their previous pace. “Not gonna tell me..?” He chuckles out breathlessly, knowing he’s being a bit unfair, but not caring enough ( yet ) to behave himself.

All the while, the piano playing mounts, growing faster and louder as though he’s trying to get you over the edge with that too. And in a weird way, it’s sort of working -- seeing his fingers play the piano with as much learned ease as they do you is almost too much to handle.

But, you don’t want it to end here, not yet, and despite the burning need for release, you reach for the hand between your legs, stopping it completely. Shawn immediately goes from enthralled to worried and is about to check on you when you beat him to the chase. “Please, Shawn,” you nearly beg, voice ragged and raw, “I n-need you..”

You don’t have to ask twice before he’s pushing you to stand, fingers slipping out of you in the process. The loss of contact makes you want to whine, but knowing what’s coming next keeps that urge at bay. You decide, instead, to turn to take him in, stepping forward until your legs hit the little sliver of bench between his open legs. His pupils are wide-blown, closer to black than their usual honey, and they just darken further when you push fingers into his curls. Shawn’s hands make quick work of his jeans then, fingers shaking over his zipper in anticipation. It takes some maneuvering, especially with you so close, but when he’s finally out, pre-cum already beading at his tip, it feels like more than worth the wait.

He’s always beautiful, you’ve found, but exceptionally so right now — staring up at you in reverence as his hands move to get to your panties. As he tugs them off, he dips forward to kiss the skin at the hem of your skirt, humming at how soft you are beneath his mouth. And once you step out of the underwear, hands on his shoulders to brace yourself, he lets his hands continue until they’ve bunched your skirt up around your waist and given him something to hold on to.

One tug brings you falling right back into his lap, knees settling on either side of him. The friction that follows is delicious, and though he hasn’t even made it inside you yet, you both suck in sharp, shaky breaths. You let them settle for just a moment before desperation rears its head again and Shawn’s hands tighten on your hips. “Condom’s in the room,” he mutters, head tipping so he can suck lightly at the underside of your jaw.

You shake your head at that, fingers fisting in the hair on the back of his head. “’s okay... don’t need it.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he’s guiding you with soft kisses sponged against your skin. You can feel his tip nudging at you for a second, missing once or twice before it finally meets the mark and you both shudder as he fills you up. Straddling him makes it easy to take him all in at once, so you do, head tipping back at being stretched so much so fast.

He’s equally taken, lips falling from your neck to settle, instead, on your collarbone. He wants to ask you to move so badly, but he knows you need time to adjust, time he’ll always give you, no matter how needy he is. He distracts himself with wandering hands, petting over your thighs, ass, waist and back again as he waits and watches.

Meanwhile, you’re savoring this, savoring him. And, before you can even think about moving, you want to taste him and use the hand in his hair to tug him up for a kiss. It’s the first proper one you’ve had all night, and you moan into it, hips bucking without you meaning to. The sound that gets out of him is too good to let go, and you find that’s all you need to slip into a rhythm over him, hips rocking forward and back with just enough lift to make you shudder.

“Oh, god,” he grunts against your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip as his hands scramble for purchase. They decide on a spot on your hips, tightening as your pace already starts picking up, and he ends up watching you in a daze. He doesn’t get to do this often, just take you in when you’re making love. But, you’re too caught up to hide away from him, so he gets a rare, but beloved, view of you letting him love you, no strings attached. “Mm, fuck.. look at you.”

You only realize how closely he’s watching you at that moment, eyes lidded and dark as they meet his. And though your first instinct is to distract or deflect somehow, there’s something in his eyes that keeps you steady. You take a beat or two to process, then decide you don’t mind his attention so much right now. You might even be basking in it, hands around to his shoulders to brace yourself as your hips go from rocking to the smallest bit of bouncing, just to give him a show.

The switch makes him whine, his fingers digging into your skin to help you move, and you can’t help the mischievous look in your eyes that follows. Shawn doesn’t miss it either and ends up nipping at you with an amused -- and enamored -- huff. “Be nice,” he pants, though he certainly doesn’t ask you to stop. If anything, he wants more, hands guiding you in hopes you’ll move faster, and you fall headlong into it, the pace of your bouncing just building.

It doesn’t take long for it to become too much, and you’re both gripping, pulling, grabbing for each other the closer you get to climax. Shawn wants you to finish first -- he always does -- and lets one of his hands shift to find your clit between you. The contact makes you squirm, heat building in your tummy, and it only takes a few swipes of his thumb for you to choke out a single word: “Close”.

Shawn’s only response is a nod and a groan, half-acknowledgment and half-agreement. He cranes his head to look for your mouth one more time, and when they meet, the kiss is fast, heady. But, there’s no part of it that’s haphazard -- you’re both careful in the way you move, the sounds you make, until the very end.

When you finally cum, it’s with your head thrown back in a loud cry, body reduced to trembles against him. Shawn isn’t too far behind, so worked up he ends up tipping forward and pressing you, and his hand, into the keys behind you. A mess of a sound fills the room, sharps and flats paired at random with your pants and final whimpers.

It’s the best thing the piano’s played all day.

taglist: @sinplisticshawn / @honestey / @heyits-claire

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes wiriting #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes smut

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vore-scientist · 4 years

Text

A Game Of Chase

(safe/soft - GT - M/f-fluffy - platonic - vore)

A (mini) tale of the mystic woods

Premise: A classic pred/prey past time! Lots of mouthplay!

Warnings: very small mention of blood, including tasting it. It’s NOT a result of the vore/mouthplay, Yonah is very careful! I promise it’s like, nothing. \

---

Zipping like a roadrunner the Princess Sophia’s footsteps made quiet the little ditty on the stone floor. A ditty that was overpowered by the thunderous stomping of the half-giant that chased after her. Pushing her short legs to their limit she increased her speed a smidge more. She wasn’t just small compared to the half-giant, she was small for a human, at 157cm (5’2”).

Yonah, not wanting to trip and fall on his princess from carelessness, tried to predict her heading so he could focus on his own feet. The bedroom maybe? They were currently the living room, but had been in the workshop. Sophia had practically fallen down the stairs, using some crazy and daring bounding that kept her ahead of Yonah.

Sophia had a wild smile on her face as her heart pounded with exhilaration. She made a sharp turn for the bookshelf and heard the little scramble as Yonah compensated for this new direction.

Baseball doesn’t exist in this world, and while similar sports do you wouldn’t get such references. So baseball it is. Not caring for her own skin she slid under the bookshelf like a runner racing a fast ball to home base. That stung; She’d be licking her wounds later for sure. Or rather Yonah would, she mused for a moment. Eh, that should be fine.

“Awww come on!! I’m hungry!!” Yonah knelt on the floor and glanced under the bookshelf at the princess who was crawling to the back.

“Too bad! Earn your food! It ain’t gonna waltz into your mouth!”

“But it-she can! She is just being a butt today; getting into places I can’t reach!” Yonah still tried to reach for her but she was too far back and his arm didn’t fit.

“And you’re not trying hard enough! Aren’t you magical as shit?”

“That would be cheating!”

“Says the giant who wants me to just offer myself up!”

Groaning he halfway stood up and grasped the side and bottom of the shelf, carefully moving it without letting any books fall. It was a slow process But when he was able to see behind it the princess was gone!

“Sophia?”

If he had somehow crushed her with the sliding wood (an absurd notion given how slowly he went) surely would have heard her scream and stopped what he was doing.

Something caught his eye on the table behind him and he whirled around. Nothing! Then something pulled at his hair and thudded into his back. He tried to reach for her but she was already climbing up his ponytail.

She clambered onto his head, under his hat. And snuggled into his hair in the dark. Hugging his head as he laughed.

Light returned. She had one last move, as a hand came up to snatch her off his head! She lept! Forward; into the air, aiming for the bookcase once more. And was caught in two callous but soft hands.

Now she dangled in front of his beaming face.

“Got you!” He said, opening his mouth.

But he didnt eat her. Instead he gently placed his lips around her side, delicately pressing his teeth in a love bite. Withdrawing his face he kissed her side, flicking his tongue out as he did, then under her arm to lap it up into his mouth. Her arm was still in his mouth, trapped by his teeth, thoroughly tasted, even as he sat down in his armchair with his prize. Wanting the use of his hands he pulled up the ottoman, took off his shoes, and put up his feet so that his knees were close to his head. He placed Sophia down.

Sophia yanked her arm from his teeth, it was starting to hurt. Not from the force of the bite, but her shoulder was strained by the awkward angle. She massaged her arm and wiped the spittle off on Yonah’s robes.

Yonah did not mind, he was happy to play. As soon as Sophia was relatively dry he licked her bodily. And froze with his tongue still on her. There was an unmistakable taste of iron. But surely she would have said something? He withdrew his face, but Sophia was smiling.

“Why’d you stop?” she asked.

“You’re bleeding somewhere.” it was not a question.

“Oh!” She laughed, she turned over a leg to show him “I scraped my leg sliding under the shelf, I’m fine. Unless you’d rather not taste blood… I didn’t think it bothered you.”

She’d gotten scraped up on patrols before, minor nicks from thorns or falling off rocks, and that had never phased him. Sophia was certain his preference for uninjured had more to do with making things worse, than an aversion to a little blood.

Yonah’s face turned red, “I was worried I hurt you.”

“Nope!”

She leaned against his face, and whispered “If I’d been hurt you’d be bleeding from your ears right now!”

He knew she was right, but didn’t like how she’d phrased that, so he licked her in retaliation, covering her face in slobber. She shoved the tongue away but it was futile, Yonah pushed her into his mouth, her hands slipping across the tongue as she yelped in surprise. Then he sealed his lips around her torso, holding her delicately between his jaws, his tongue under her stomach.

“Wow you got over that quickly,” she said, smacking his tongue rather loudly and elbowing his cheeks.

The only response she got was a giggle, though she was pressed up against the pallet and the laugh reverberated through her a bit, the tongue flexing. Then a humming noise, which was all Yonah could manage in the way of speech since his mouth was so occupied.

“I dont know what your fuckin saying!” Sophia said, doing her best to hug his tongue, wrestling it gently.

Such an odd texture. It was soft, but so lumpy, in a way that she couldn’t compare to anything else. She liked it a lot.

Then the jaws parted just a bit, enough so she could easily slide out. She sat in Yonah’s hand as he leaned back with a contented smile.

“Dude if you’re gonna eat me, eat me!” She was starting to get sore from laughing, and might have a bruise or two from his teeth but that’s what one gets roughhousing with a half-giant. In addition she was soaked in drool. it was getting uncomfortable. She wanted to clean up or just be swallowed so it wouldn’t get all dry and sickly sticky.

The wizard’s dark brown eyes glinted orange And she was held in front of his face.

With a gentle stroking he applied a dab of glass paste to her forehead and whispered the magic words. His stomach grumbled in a Pavlovian manner to the poof of purple sparkles and he wasted no time in lowering Sophia into his mouth. She smiled as she was swallowed down swiftly and smoothly.

Mmmmmm. There was a lingering layer of flavor on her glass form, which slid into his stomach, filling it up ever so nicely. He leaned back, stretching, clenching his gut so that it really squashed Sophia who chided him with a “HEY!” and some nice strong kicks.

“Scrumptious as always, Princess,” Yonah pat his stomach, “Nothing hits the spot quite like you do.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted something for all this flattery,” Sophia said as she stretched out and settled into the soft folds of the stomach.

Sophia was just tickled pink knowing that this place, a dangerous torture chamber for anyone else, was her secure little hide away made of plush walls and intense loving warmth. Sure it was Yonah’s stomach, and she was technically “his” princess, but he was her father’s wizard. He belonged to her father, sort of, so this half-giant wizard’s stomach was her father’s, sort of, and thus sort of hers. Sort of.

Yonah licked his fingers, not wanting to miss out on any of Sophia’s flavor, savoring it and the comforting feeling of his princess snuggling his insides.

“What could I possibly want other than you snug in my belly?” He asked genuinely curious.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” she said.

Now that the game was over and the adrenaline draining away, even from her cursed form, she was tired.

She yawned. For some reason, even if she couldn’t breathe and didn’t need to, her body did things just because it was what it felt it should do.

“Falling asleep already?!” Yonah nudged his stomach causing the princess to jostle around. He smiled as she moved to find a new position.

“Only if you let me apparently!”

She sounded just pissed enough to stop Yonah from asking for belly rubs.

Yonah considered for a moment, the prospect of a nap. And then he yawned a massive yawn. It filled his lungs and tensed his entire torso, including his gut around Sophia. She didn’t complain.

“See, you’re tired too,” she sounded pleased.

“Or yawns are infectious,” he noted.

He was a bit tired. Not enough to fall asleep so easily, even with his belly full of princess. But he wasn’t going to stop Sophia from sleeping just because he was awake. He was professionally evil. Not personally a jerk. So he got up and wandered to the bookshelf.

“Hey what’s with the movement?”

“Just getting some reading material.”

He has to choose between a arcanists journal, specially printed for his scale, the cover boasting new advancements in Prophetic Dowsing, and a storybook, science fiction but trashy romance set in space. Yonah wasn’t much for prophecies, so he chose the fiction. He’d read the first book in the series and bought the next 3, but hadn’t touched them.

The book was a bit awkwardly sized. Half-giant wasn’t a common enough scale to warrant consideration for printing.

Sometimes he could find things in “ogre” size. It had to be popular enough that ogres who could read at least one common smallfolk language would buy it to read to their fellows. But ogres didn’t really care for long prose stories about mostly smallfolk. They preferred shorter stories in serial magazines.

Giants on the other hand were a viable market for smallfolk fiction. Enough to even invest in translations into the various giant languages. The books still had to be popular enough, and the books were rather expensive. But worth it.

So what looked like a normal book in the hands of a giant, looked like a big college textbook in Yonah’s. Out of scale though not ungainly. Especially if you were a wizard.

Instead of returning to the armchair he opted for the couch. He would eventually fall asleep, he wanted to be lying down. Taking both throw pillows he placed them at one end of the couch and made himself comfortable.

“Are you done yet?” Sophia asked, recognizing the current orientation of her chamber and hearing Yonah sigh.

“Are you not asleep yet?”

Sophia was suspicious of his jolly tone.

“If you’re still awake you can give me belly rubs!” He said cheerfully, patting his stomach.

There was grumbling from his middle. He didn’t expect to get any belly rubs. He did expect the impressively strong kicks as the princess expressed her frustrations.

“That’s all your getting!” She declared and stopped moving once she’d found the most comfortable position.

“Sleep well my princess,” Yonah cooed and gently rubbed his stomach. Then reached for his book.

Obviously he couldn’t rest the heavy book on top of Sophia. And it was so heavy he wouldn’t have propped it up on his stomach regardless, those hard cover edges weren’t pleasant

He levitated it. Positioning it at the perfect height and angle so that he didn’t have to strain his neck or eyes.

Which worked great.

Until he fell asleep and it fell right on top of Sophia.

At least when she yelled from inside of him it was muffled.

[FIN] PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY

[Thanks for reading! please reblog/message me with feedback! for more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’ on my blog! For thief stories only search “MW Thieves”]

#safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #extreme cuddling #mouthplay #non fatal vore

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ladyramora · 4 years

Text

MerRam Part 2: the Plan

“If we die, I blame you.” Lolz grumbled as she hid behind a lump of coral, her finned ears slanted downwards as Ramora used her electroreception and superior sense of smell to check their surroundings. Her darker colors better blending into the murky midnight waters where the moonlight was too weak to go.

“Lolzy, have a bit more faith.” Ramora chided.

“I have faith that this plan is stupid and that I’m an idiot for going along with it.” Lolz deadpanned before asking, “The coast clear?”

“It would seem so. But remember, the others in the reef did say that the first party sent were probably captured at night.” Ramora reminded her before slipping from their hiding spot and swimming on ahead.

“Great. As if nets aren’t bad enough to deal with during the day!” She complained as she followed.

The spot they’d decided on was a bit out of the way for the netters, it was by a ship graveyard and farther south and west of the reef they’d stopped at to eat earlier.

“Okay, do you remember the plan?” Ramora asked her as they swam.

“Yes.” She groaned, “Reach the rock that the shopkeeper told us about. Drink the potion. wait for it to work. Climb up the rock. put on ‘clothes’…”

“Clothes?” the shark mer repeated with a frown, “That wasn’t part of my plan.”

“Surface dwellers don’t normally wander around without clothes!” Lolz cried, “I told you this before we left!”

“Well, maybe we don’t have enough clothes to cover us both, did you consider that, Lolzy?” Ramora countered. The eel mer frowned and glanced at her bag, thoughtful as she began counting off her fingers before hissing out a swear.

“Okay, so, before we drink the potion, we should check the ships. They probably have something we can wear in there…” Lolz said thoughtfully.

“I think the other mers would have picked those places clean by now.” Ramora said, surprised at her confidence that there would be anything left in the ships to take.

“Since when do mers wear clothing?” she pointed out.

“We do use the material they’re made from for other things.” Ramora reminded her.

“True, but surface dwellers’s clothing is made of different types of materials.” Lolz informed her, “Any mer could have not liked the feel and left it behind.”

“So we’re stuck with the uncomfortable left overs?” Ramora mused.

“It’s either that or being without any extra layer of defense against the netters.” She said.

Ramora pondered this for a moment, if they were going face to face against netters, it probably was best to have something extra to defend themselves with. Their magic and weapons aside, there was no telling what the netters had in their arsenals.

“Alright.” Ramora agreed, “We search the ships, find some clothes, take the medicine, transform, get on the rock, practice walking and then start calling out for help.”

“… You really think they’ll bother helping us?” Lolz asked, “I mean, i doubt any of the mers they pulled up were happily offering themselves up to them. What if they just leave us there? We only have one potion each. This will be our one shot at this…”

“I doubt that.” Ramora said, “We can always just get pulled up and fight them ourselves.”

“No.” Lolz said firmly, “We aren’t putting ourselves in that kind of danger. We can’t save anyone if we need to be rescued too.”

“Fine. if this doesn’t work, we’ll make another plan.” Ramora offered. Her friend nodded and they continued on their way.

—-

When they finally made it to the ships, it was already morning, with the sun already far enough in the sky that they could see it over head.

“Okay, let’s take a short break. Can you pull out what surface dweller clothes we have?” Ramora asked

“Yeah, hold on…” She said, opening up her bag and carefully pulling out several cloth coverings, pulling them out in the water so they could get a proper look at them, “Some of these seem to be made for parts we’ll only get after the transformation, so we should grab as much clothing as we can just in case it doesn’t fit either of us.”

“And it might be useful later on as something else if it’s not the right size.” She agreed as she helped her friend repack the wet garments into her bag and the two began searching for treasure in the sunken structures.

The first thing they’d found was a chest full of gems and shiny flat pebbles the color of the sun.

Nope.

The next, a few boxes filled with corked bottles with faded labels with roses on them and strange lettering.

Nope.

The next one had what looked like wet sand and leaves.

Nope.

Finally, Ramora sensed something in the water behind a wall and broke through it, finding the walls lined with containers and clothing placed on strange torso shaped things.

The two exchanged large smiles.

Bingo.

The two began inspecting the clothing around them, opening drawers and chests and pulling them out, starting to even have a bit of fun with this until they heard a voice cry out, “Hey! You need to pay for those!” They jerked a bit and turned to find a surface dweller’s skeleton in a colorful looking… dress? Maybe? It’s hands on it’s hips as it tapped it’s… foot? Yeah, foot. That sounded right.

“You’re alive?” Lolz murmured.

“No, but you’ll take those without paying over my dead body!” The skeleton snapped.

“… okay then…” she said, looking to her friend for a moment before Ramora swam closer to the undead creature, “Look, we meant no offense or almost theft. We just need some more clothes that will tempt some surface dwellers to let us onto their big ship and we can free our fellow mers and stop them from netting any more.”

The skeleton leaned closer at the word 'tempt’, “You two are going fishing?” she asked, an eagerness clear in her voice.

“In a way…” Ramora purred, “We also need it to be an armor of sorts, to keep us safe if attacked.”

The Skeleton turned it’s skull from one mer to the other before saying, “You said more clothes, so I’ll assume you have some on you?”

“Yes.” Ramora confirmed, motioning for Lolz to pull the garments out of her bag. The undead creature took the pile and began stretching them out and letting out a thoughtful, “Hmm… these aren’t bad, but they’re not in the best shape. If you two can bring me some gold, I’ll get you clothes that will bring every surface dwelling creatures in for miles!”

“Deal!” Ramora cried as she shook a boney hand and dragged Lolz out by her arm, “We’ll be back in a bit!”

“I’ll start laying out options!” The skeleton replied, sounding a bit excited at the prospect.

Ramora quickly swam towards the first chest they opened, “Lolzy, you said gold is the color of the sun, right?”

Lolz smiled broadly and nodded as they pushed it open and began gathering up as much as they could before deciding to change things up a bit and dumping the gold back out and carrying the chest back to the skeleton, who had changed some of the clothing on the strange chest shaped objects and froze in place when she turned to see them come in.

“Is this enough?” Ramora asked. The skeleton jumped for joy before she began pulling the strange outfit holders in front of a large mirror and had both girls float behind them to see how they’d look as they explained their plan to their bony fashion helper.

After explaining the plan and learning a few things about surface dwellers, they finally picked their outfits.

Ramora received a black top with silver designs down the sides with sleeves that she would have to put on separately, the top hiding thick leather armor around her chest and the sleeves hiding wrist guards. She also was given blood red skirt that was so short that she didn’t have to worry about any of her fins poking out, black and white striped stockings and long, black boots that covered the stockings entirely and had similar silver designs as the top did the designs made of metal and a thin layer applied to the front of each boot. The skeleton handed her a few pairs of the socks and boots and told her to leave them on the rock they were planning to crawl onto after they transformed and she’d collect them afterwards.

Lolz was given a white blouse with sleeves that covered the top half of her shoulders but not the bottom half. There was also a thick layer of leather over her chest under the blouse. She also received a white skirt with a small slit in the front and thick patches of leather on the inside of the skirt. She was finally given few pairs of sandals that were to be tied on by white fabric attached to the shoes that seemed to be also made of thick leather. She was told the same thing about them as Ramora was with her shoes and socks.

After they had their outfits, they were taught how to put them on (especially the garments that would go on their new legs) they stuffed them in bags and thanked their new undead friend before swimming up towards their rock.

Now that they had their clothing, they could finally start with their plan.

—–

Ramora and Lolz beached themselves onto a rock that was half covered in water and took seats on the edge that was still submerged, the two pulling out the medicine and looking at each other, Lolz looking a bit nervous. The shark mer knew that she’d probably have to go first or Lolz might not drink it, so she gave her friend a broad, sharp toothed smile.

“Down the hatch!” Ramora said, quickly downing the bottle. She struggled not to make a face. It tasted bitter and sour with a hint of rotting flesh.

Ugh!

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this…” The eel mer mumbled as she too, downed her bottle and then gagged at the taste.

The two waited for a moment, anxiously awaiting the transformation when Ramora suddenly felt a tickle at the tip of her tail. Her eyes widened as her tail seemed to split right down the middle, her fins shrinking away right before her eyes.

“Holy!” Her friend exclaimed as she watched her tail split too before the two halves started to shift and twirl until they had shifted into legs and feet… and these strange little things at the end of the foot that they could only guess were those 'toe’ things that the skeleton told them about.

Lolz looked over to her legs and pouted, “Hey, how come yours are longer than mine? I had the longer tail!” Ramora looked down at her own, now completely transformed legs. They really were longer than the eel beside her’s, which was a bit odd, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“It’s not the length that matters, Lolzy, it’s how you use them.” She stated simply, “Speaking of using them…” She pulled herself up a bit and struggled for a moment as she worked to gain her balance on the two strange limbs she was now sporting.

“Careful!” her friend cried before struggling to get to her own feet, the two grabbing at each other to help steady one another for a few seconds as they tried standing and walking. Once they got that down, they then struggled to stay upright as they put on the clothes, helping each other pull at the wet fabric to be able to put the soaked garments on.

The skirts were the hard part, the two sadly only realizing as they struggled to stay upright that if they’d simply put the blouses and skirts on underwater, they’d only have to put on the shoes after taking the medicine, and they could do that while sitting.

The shoes themselves were a whole other issue, as they had to relearn how to balance themselves on them quickly.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the two were dressed, able to walk without too much trouble in their shoes and they were almost dry.

“Being dry feels so weird…” Ramora commented as she touched her arms and neck.

“I know! And I can’t make a slime coat for myself right now either!” the eel mer agreed.

“Would you really want to right now?” the shark mer asked.

Her friend shrugged, “It’s just strange that I can’t make one for myself right now. Can you sense anything with your electroreception?”

Ramora puffed up and tried to use it, only she felt nothing, she couldn’t even use it to sense Lolz right next to her, “No. Which is a shame because it would be really helpful right about now…”

“Wait… so right now we’re surface dwellers who can hardly walk who have no way to tell if anyone is coming to get them or not?” Lolz summed up.

“I suppose so…” Ramora sighed as she began to rub at her temples, as if it would activate the glands she used as homing devices for the electrical currents other living beings gave off.

“Fuck.” Lolz said plainly before she began rubbing her chin in thought and looking around.

“Hey Rammy, what do you think lured all these ships here?” she asked.

“Hmm?” She replied, “Oh, probably Sirens. They have voices that can lure surface dwellers to their deaths.”

“Wasn’t that what that one netter called us when we were being pulled up that one time?” Lolz asked.

“Yes.” Ramora replied, annoyed at the memory, “How they can mix mers with bird people I’ll never know…”

“… maybe we can use that to our advantage.” Lolz suggested, “They think mers are the ones luring them to death with songs, maybe if we sing, they might think it’s a siren."

"But we aren’t sirens.” Ramora repeated, a little annoyed.

“No, but if they heard singing and saw a ship graveyard, what would they assume the voices to be?” Lolz pointed out, “And even if they aren’t stupid enough to assume that Mers and Sirens are the same, they might come over to see if they can net a Siren while they’re out!”

Ramora let her friend’s words soak in for a moment before smiling, “Lolzy, you’re a genius.”

“I doubt that, but I’ll take it.” she replied, “Now, I think you know what song I’m thinking of, but I just need to be sure…”

Ramora hummed the first few bars and her friend smiled, “Let’s lure some netters!”

____

(Lolz note:

did I add things like electroreception and slime glands to show off what a fish nerd I am? Yup.

Also reference for Ramora’s outfit:https://ffxiv.eorzeacollection.com/glamour/10345/flirtatious-elf

Reference for Lolz’s outfit:https://ffxiv.eorzeacollection.com/glamour/12573/white-sundress

Also check out the website, it’s really cool and a nice place to see different glamours!)

#lolzwaitwhat writes #submission

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