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iwonderwh0 · 10 months

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Another fic idea that I'll never write:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

#dbh #Fic ideas that I'll never write #hankcon #probably (although it can be platonic. I mean there is literally no physical body in question)#pocket ghost

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shunshunrika · 11 months

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Rin Itoshi stares at you during the party as rainbow hues of LED light up your face in fractals. You stare back, doe-eyed, unsure of why you're being looked at with such intensity.

You know him as the guy who is usually aloof and barely gives anyone the time of the day. He's beautiful af, everyone wants him. He knows that they want him. But if won't bat his long underlashes at them. Yet, he sits, slumped back into the couch, surrounded by a bunch of rowdy boys, sipping intently on his can of beer while looking directly at you.

You decide you need to ignore him and focus on the party and the music and the booze, but Rin is smarter than that and even more stubborn. He makes his way to you, one conversation at a time. He has spoken gibberish gossip to 3 people beside you until he finally gets to you and traps you into a talk. Surprisingly, he seems like a good conversationalist.

It isn't until you are deep into some topic that you realize that the party has moved on without you and now you are alone with Rin in the house, with a few passed out drunkards.

"Let's get out of here." he says, grabbing your hand and ushering you towards the door. He nimbly takes your hand and looks at you yet again.

"Is it just me or your name is really pretty, Y/N." he says, his eyes getting glassy.

"How do you know my name?" you ask, your voice rising in panic. He quickly shuts his ears with his hands and after seeing you gawk, smirks at you.

"I'm kidding." He says, raising his hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"I could really kiss you right now."

"U-uhm?" you hesitate but his hands are already around your waist, snaking up your back.

"Will you let me?" There he goes with his killer gaze again. You can only reply with a really embarrassed face. "O-okay."

He swoops down on you like a starved man. His hands coming closer to grab your neck and tilt your face to give him better access. You let your hands wander and find purchase in his silky hair as you deepen the sultry kiss. The two of you sweat in the humid weather as you can hear crickets fill in the silence of midnight, other than all the sloppy smooching noises the two of you are making. You can taste the beer on his tongue and wonder if he can taste your cherry lipbalm.

You soon hear footsteps and a familiar voice call out to you.

"Oi, Oi, Oi. I'll film this and put it on xxxvideos." It's Shidou who has caught you.

You finally separate after what feels like minutes and try to catch your breaths. Rin and you stare at each other, dumfounded for a minute before breaking out into laughter.

a/n: kind of a self insert drabble because this happened to me in real life lol. minus the kissing part because hahaha I can't, i ran away when I felt the sexual tension build up and he was staring too hard. But damn was that guy just like Rin - bitch exterior, warm interior. I keep seeing him every now and then, here and there, he's pretty.

#blue lock #bllk #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #x reader #x you #x y/n #smut #fluff #angst #drabble #imagines #headcanons #scenarios #fanfiction #fanart #anime #manga #shidou ryusei #ryusei shidou

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clutteredcollective · 5 months

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you give the vibes of a squeaky toy /pos

*insert absolute gibberish noises here*

THANK YOU !!!!!!

#giggling and kicking my legs #collectively answered #answered

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losangelestonki · 2 years

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Code cookbook for swift license

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE MAC OS

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE SOFTWARE

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE CODE

ImageMagick is thread safe and most internal algorithms execute in parallel to take advantage of speed-ups offered by multicore processor chips. Insert descriptive or artistic text in an image. Map visually identical images to the same or similar hash- useful in image retrieval, authentication, indexing, or copy detection as well as digital watermarking.īlur, sharpen, threshold, or tint an image. Support multispectral imagery up to 64 bands. Read and write the common image formats used in digital film work. Juxtapose image thumbnails on an image canvas.Įxtract features, describe shapes, and recognize patterns in images. Read, process, or write mega-, giga-, or tera-pixel image sizes. Secure methods and tools to cache images, image sequences, video, audio or metadata in a local folder.Īpply a mathematical expression to an image, image sequence, or image channels.Ĭreate a gradual blend of two colors whose shape is horizontal, vertical, circular, or elliptical.ĭescribe the format and attributes of an image.Ĭonvert, edit, or compose images on your iOS device such as the iPhone or iPad. Use adaptive histogram equalization to improve contrast in images. PNG to JPEG).Ĭorrect for, or induce image distortions including perspective.Ĭertain algorithms are OpenCL-enabled to take advantage of speed-ups offered by executing in concert across heterogeneous platforms consisting of CPUs, GPUs, and other processors.Īccurately represent the wide range of intensity levels found in real scenes ranging from the brightest direct sunlight to the deepest darkest shadows. Offload intermediate pixel storage to one or more remote servers.Ĭonvert ordinary images into unintelligible gibberish and back again.Ĭonvert an image from one format to another (e.g. In addition, the minimum bounding box and unrotate angle are also generated. Smallest area convex polygon containing the image foreground objects. Uniquely label connected regions in an image. Utilize ImageMagick from the command-line. Non-linear, edge-preserving, and noise-reducing smoothing filter.Īccurate color management with color profiles or in lieu of- built-in gamma compression or expansion as demanded by the colorspace.įorce all pixels in the color range to white otherwise black. Here are just a few examples of what ImageMagick can do for you:Ĭreate a GIF animation sequence from a group of images. We continue to maintain the legacy release of ImageMagick, version 6, at.

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE CODE

The authoritative source code repository is. The authoritative ImageMagick web site is.

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE MAC OS

It runs on Linux, Windows, Mac Os X, iOS, Android OS, and others. The current release is ImageMagick 7.1.0-47. ImageMagick utilizes multiple computational threads to increase performance and can read, process, or write mega-, giga-, or tera-pixel image sizes. It is distributed under a derived Apache 2.0 license.

CODE COOKBOOK FOR SWIFT LICENSE SOFTWARE

ImageMagick is free software delivered as a ready-to-run binary distribution or as source code that you may use, copy, modify, and distribute in both open and proprietary applications. ImageMagick can resize, flip, mirror, rotate, distort, shear and transform images, adjust image colors, apply various special effects, or draw text, lines, polygons, ellipses and Bézier curves. It can read and write images in a variety of formats (over 200) including PNG, JPEG, GIF, WebP, HEIC, SVG, PDF, DPX, EXR and TIFF. Use ImageMagick ® to create, edit, compose, or convert digital images.

#Code cookbook for swift license

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zetawilk · 2 years

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I put up an outline of the trailer for the Super Mario Bros. movie, guys:

[Scene opens on a dusty desert, the wind blowing. A figure steps into frame, wearing denim overalls. We see hints of a red sleeve and a white-gloved hand clenched into a fist.]

VOICEOVER: Nice of the princess to invite us over for a picnic, eh Luigi?

[Fade to black. We see a sped-up close up of some ordinary mushrooms blooming in the wild.]

VOICEOVER: I hope she made lotsa spaghetti!

[Fade to black. Open on a castle interior, showing us a high 3/4 overhead view. BOWSER sits hunched over a desk with a quill and parchment. We see a fire in a fireplace behind him. Outside a window, we see a volcano and a sea of lava.]

VOICEOVER: "Dear pesky plumbers..."

[Close-up on LUIGI's face from the brim of his hat to the top of his mustache. He is glaring angrily at the screen in a dramatic sort of movie trailer fashion.]

VOICEOVER: [That weird Luigi noise when he gets hit by a red shell in Mario Kart 64.]

[Cut to a science lab full of science. A WOMAN with BREASTS walks into view, wearing a lab coat and wielding brass knuckles. This is PRINCESS PEACH.]

VOICEOVER: [some bollocks about what you think is the first plot point of the movie but is, regrettably, a spoiler for the disappointing last act.]

[Various scenes of cartoon violence flash by too fast for anything to be made out unless you download the video from Youtube and try to freeze frame it, and even then it looks just like blurs of blue, red, and green.]

[A half-second clip of a CGI KOOPA TROOPA leaps down from the top of the frame.]

[Music swells, then stops. We see MARIO patting the shoulder of an off-screen LUIGI.]

MARIO: "Luigi...all toasters toast toast."

[Cut to preliminary title graphic, followed by a bunch of that gibberish tiny text nobody ever reads so why do they bother, also the rating is shown on-screen and is PG even though there's at least two gratuitous swears in the film and references to memes that no child should know.]

VOICEOVER: Coming [insert date of theatrical release except the actual theatrical release will be the very next day].

#Super Mario Bros.#Super Mario Movie #Super Mario

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darlingshane · 3 years

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UNBOUNDED | PART 3

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,2k

Summary: Frank tests your limits.

Content/Warnings: explicit, sensory deprivation, sensation play, subspace, ball gats, blindfolds, earplugs, butt plugs, nipple clamps, ice play, scratching, mild anal play.

– Links: Read Below or at AO3. You can also check out the series masterpost on tumblr.

Part 3: Sensory Deprivation

The only thing you can hear is the beating of your own pulse, accelerated by the fact that you’re left to rely on touch and smell only because tonight, Frank has deprived you from sight and sound with a blindfold and earplugs. Granted, they don’t necessarily block all the noise but enough to make you feel like there’s a storm in your head when your jaw tenses against the ball gag in your mouth. There’s that as well– he’s hindered also your ability to communicate verbally. You could talk though, but it could come out totally gibberish depending on your state. For that, he has given you a set of basic hand signals in case you need to stop.

If that’s not enough, he then bends you over the table and carefully inserts a well-lubed-plug in your ass.

Now that you're all set, he’s ready to strap you to the table. He helps you get on your back so he can secure your wrists and ankles to the cuffs attachments. As your wrists rest on either side of your head like a fork, your legs stretch wide apart across the padding.

Though you trust Frank immensely, the fact that you can't see or hear what he’s doing has you feeling more vulnerable than ever, and a little anxious.

He taps your hand when he’s done securing your limbs and you signal with your thumb as in– keep going.

The surface of your skin turns hypersensitive all of a sudden, and while he’s not touching you yet, it forms gooseflesh out of thin air, anticipating nervously for what he has prepared.

His fingers tentatively brush your neck and glide down the plane of your body, ever so softly, making you shudder. He repeats that same motion, going up and down your curves a few times, giving you time to get used to the situation.

It's daunting. You appreciate his slow approach. Anything other than that would probably startle you and he's well aware of that. You've done blindfolds, plugs and restraints, but never all at once. He likes testing your limits, and tonight he’s in for a challenge.

Your heart rate slows down with every caress. As you inhale through your nose, your body relaxes more and more under his care.

He stops for a few seconds and the next thing that touches you is soft like a feather, the texture seems just like it. There's two actually and they trace the same path his fingers did, brushing every inch of your skin from your neck to your toes. You smile around the gag when he brushes one of your soles. You’re not one for tickles so he doesn’t spend too much time in that area. He goes back up to circle your breasts, drawing small circles around your puckered nipples. It pleases you more than it should when one of them travels down your stomach to shyly stroke your groin.

When he’s done with the feathers, he leaves you alone for a minute or two and upon his return you catch his odd, now cold palm resting on your thigh before having a colder object at the base of your throat, melting as it meets your skin– an ice-cube. You’ve managed to stay still until that. You can’t help but shiver as it slides down your sternum and stomach, painfully slow, leaving a trail of droplets. It goes around your navel several times as you get used to the cool sensation. It feels less cold as it slips down one of your legs and then the other. Then, he leaves that one piece to thaw on the middle of your belly while he brings another one to rub on your tits. Your nipples grow harder at his will and when they’re completely covered in water, he brings his mouth to the mix, licking it all and scraping your skin with his teeth before trapping one of your nipples in his lips as one of his hands moves between your legs.

Your jaw tenses around the gag, muffling your moans, as his fingers stroke your pussy, pressing softly over your outer labia, enough to build up your arousal further. He also hits the plug a few times, adding that as extra stimuli to all those nerves around.

Releasing your nipple, his mouth moves to collect the remains of the first ice-cube that was on your belly button. He uses his tongue to slide it down your mound so it slips down your folds. It’s not as pleasant as the feather but you still enjoy the chill of having him driving you out of your mind. He holds it there until it completely melts with your slickness.

The next play is a combination of bites and scratches. He begins by bluntly running his fingernails all over your body, taking a few nibbles out of you here and there. The first few are very soft. It intensifies gradually by marking his teeth in different places– at the curve of your ass, on your upper arm, another on your shoulder... And you can note the flutter of a grunt sinking into your skin when he sucks at the crook of your neck.

You enjoy having him all over you, marking you with only his teeth and nails. It blurs out the cold of the ice-cubes and the fluffiness of the feathers. Out of the three, this is your favorite. It heats up your body nicely and you feel ready for whatever comes next.

His nails are scraping your thighs when his tongue juts out somewhere along your inner thigh and you can tell he’s moved to stand at the end of the table, where your feet are. He drags your ass down to the edge as much as the cuffs allow him.

Keeping his hand on your hips, he uses only the tip of his tongue to dive into your core. You hum deep in your throat as he teases all around, licking your folds, poking your entrance, circling your clit– killing you ever so slowly that you wanna scream out your lungs. You don't even dare to move your hips however, you can only wait patiently until he decides to wrap his lips around it.

He sucks your arousal with passion, as if you were the best thing he’s ever tasted. You can feel it in the way he clutches to your skin and that sweet rumble when he hums around your swollen nub.

He doesn’t finish you off though. He drives you to insanity by leaving you right on the edge of peaking bliss. Again, you don’t complain, you’re here for your master’s enjoyment only, and he’s here for yours, and he’s going to make it worth the wait if you behave.

He’s upping his game for sure. Now that he has you all warmed up, he slides your body back to your former position and sets you up with a pair of nipple clamps linked with a chain that falls in between. You do your best to keep your breathing even as he clasps the second one.

Before continuing to his next activity, he checks on you again by squeezing your hand. It takes you a beat to use your given signal for I’m okay, keep going.

One of his palms soothes your arm before having something spiky rolling right behind his caress. It’s the Wartenberg Wheel you gather. He doesn’t press it hard, just rolls it carefully, awakening every nerve end at its pass. You stay utterly still, focusing on your breathing, so you don’t accidentally prick yourself in it. He has it roll through the majority of your body, avoiding most sensitive areas. You shudder when it’s over and he quickly pulls you out of that trance by giving a quick tug to that chain laying flat between your breasts, causing you to whimper.

Frank absolutely loves having you at his mercy. It gives him a hard-on playing with your body like that, even if you can feel it or see it at the moment. He’s most pleased with how well behaved you are with him and how you’ve responded to every challenge he’s sent your way. He tip-toes around your limits without ever surpassing them and often looks at your hand from the corner of his eye to check if you’re signaling him. The confidence you’ve put on him means all to him and he aims to never lose it.

Now, he goes around the table, observing you react to a second surprise pull of that chain before grabbing the magic wand from the table he’s set nearby with all the toys.

Without letting you have a moment to recover from the sting on your nipples, he turns it on and presses the massage ball between your legs. The vibration is out of this world and it pushes you to fight in your restraints and just let go, but you're capable of going to that place in your head, and just be a good girl for your master to keep yourself from reaching orgasm.

It's not an easy task though, since he's determined on torturing you with it and take it away whenever you’re too close. It ebbs the pain in your nipples however. It all comes to that fine line of mixing pain with pleasure that has your cunt soaked and willing.

You are sweating when he pushes the wand for the sixth time to the higher setting and tugs the chain at the same time. You endure it a little longer, balling your fists and trying to push your knees together, as you moan around the ball gag, having your spit sliding out of your mouth.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come… You repeat like a mantra internally, straining every muscle from doing so, as he keeps it on you for longer than before.

Tears are soaking the mask covering your eyes, and you’re right on the edge again when he takes the powerful vibrator away for good, allowing you to finally breathe, kind of. So far, the most annoying thing has been the ball gag, the longer it stays on the more you hate not being able to swallow and exhale properly.

Your chest heaves as you inhale through your nose, while Frank gently removes the nipple clamps. It’s utterly relieving not having those on anymore.

He, then, takes off his pants and gets on top of you, tapping twice one of your elbows– one of the signals he made up, giving you permission to freely orgasm from here on.

You welcome his weight, straddling your thighs on the final stretch. He’s already hard as a rock when he buries himself inside you.

Keeping his torso straight, he immobilizes your hips in his large palms and promptly thrusts into you without wavering. His cock does wonders paired with the plug in your ass and you can’t even keep your thoughts straight now that you don’t have to limit yourself.

Suffice to say, it takes no effort for you to climax first.

He’s the ultimate endgame. He’s fireworks at midnight. Literally, he’s the cherry on top.

You shatter underneath him as you come undone but he doesn’t stop. He just leans slightly, grabbing your arms below the leather fabric surrounding your wrists and ups the rhythm of his hips, fucking you harder than ever. You now can hear his muffled grunts trespassing the foamy material blocking your hearing and, as overwhelming as it is, he forces a second orgasm out of you seconds before twitching inside you and coating your walls.

Once the scene is over, all the stuff you have on, including him, suddenly seems like a cage that you desperately need to break out. You wanna signal him but your hand feels useless, and your headspace is something else entirely, so you just zone out for a moment, at least that’s how it feels.

You don’t truly register when he removes all the plugs, straps, and anything constraining you. He cleans your face from spit and sweat after unfastening the ball gag, and massages your jaw while he praises how well you did. He wipes all the fluids off your body using a hand towel soaked in warm water before picking you up and moving you to bed.

He coaxes you softly to sip some water through a straw before you totally pass out on the mattress. You went in so deep at the end that you’ve probably lost consciousness partly, you can’t really tell.

It’s later that you find yourself resting on your side, with your hands tucked under the pillow and the sheets draped over your body. You notice Frank’s skin at your back and one of his arms curled around you.

“Frank?” your head jerks slightly.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

You sigh and turn around to face him. You’ve missed seeing his face tonight, he’s dimly lit by candles and tenderly smiling at you, as you go speechless.

“You were really out of it, I was starting to get worried. How do you feel?”

"Really tired... but good. How long was I out?"

“About half an hour," his fingers slide into your hair to massage your scalp," do you need anything?"

"No, not right now. Thank you, Sir."

Frank presses his smile to your forehead, leaving a small smooch in the middle.

"You did so fucking good. I'm so proud of you."

You curl tighter against his chest, as your lips pull up coyly.

"You getting shy on me now, sweetheart?"

"No, Sir. I just need you closer."

"I'm all yours," he whispers tenderly, wrapping himself around you, "and guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

#unbounded #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #reader insert #jon bernthal #fanfiction #darlingwrites

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alive-out-of-spite · 3 years

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Karasuno x witch s/o

Desc: I practice witchcraft and didn’t really feel like there are enough of these types of spiritual/witchy headcanons, so I made some. Please take into consideration that this is my first time doing this, and enjoy!

Daichi

Low-key wouldn’t believe you

Probably kinda confused

Would think about it later and would be like so that explains the candles

And incense

And crystals

Wouldn’t take long after that and would be really accepting

probably wants to see it-

Either impressed or confused by everything in your grimoire

Would probably end up asking for something to calm down Noya and Tanaka

Or good luck on a game

And let’s be honest, you’d low key jinx the other team

Like, not anything that would hurt them, but the ball just randomly goes to the side.

Or their spikes going just slightly out of bounds.

After this keeps happening, he’d just look up the stands to see you muttering something under your breath while staring at the other team

Would probably confront you about it

Might not ask you to stop though-

Probably doesn’t want the team to find out because they’d flip out

But they do

And they flip out

Would probably ask for different readings for games and how to help teach someone something

Sugawara

Really accepting.

Seriously though, it’s suspicious how you tell him you practice witchcraft and he’s like “oh yeah, cool, can I get back to studying.”

Once he’s done though, he starts asking questions. So many questions.

And when you bring up kitchen witchcraft, he just lights up

Okay but like, if you two don’t make way too much bread together then what, pray tell, are you doing?

Also, he is freakishly good at rune casting. You cannot tell me I am wrong.

Your deities (if you work with them) love him.

And he’d ask about them too. He’s probably not too good at communicating with spirits alone, though.

You guys would do ritual baths, though.

He’s so aesthetic though, and when he’s looking at witchy aesthetics and sees it, he just goes, “Y/n. Here. now.”

Would not so subtly say that he wanted to learn how to make one.

He ends up learning witchcraft too because he keeps doing little parts of it, and you have to teach him a few things so that he doesn’t mess something up, and then he ends up full on practicing it.

This is how the team finds out. They’ve seen you two hanging out, so Noya and Tanaka send Hinata as a spy. They bribed him with meat buns.

He ends up hiding behind a tree while ya’ll are walking around in a forest, picking flowers and talking witchcraft.

Hinata ends up screaming some type of gibberish and dragging you guys back to meet the team.

They are so confused.

He’s so calm about it though, just like, “This is my s/o, y/n, now back to what we were talking about.” You guys end up talking about your full moon ritual right in front of the team.

All hell breaks loose when they question what you guys are talking about and you just say, “Witchcraft.”

You two are officially the power couple no one messes with.

Like,, one witch is dangerous if pissed off. But there are two witches. And they are dating. Go against one of you guys, and suddenly they have four deities after them.

And the entire volleyball team.

Asahi

You have to kinda edge it on

Mention all the things you do kinda casually

Like seeing a crystal and listing off its uses

And after a while be like “oh yeah, you know all my hobbies and collections. I kinda practice witchcraft.”

You’d have to debunk everything he knows about it

Then he’d get it

He’d be kinda scared that you can curse

But would see everything else you can do and accept it

Okay, but hear me out here: anti-anxiety jars

He would learn more about witchcraft because he knows it can be dangerous and would low-key ask for one.

*excited y/n noises*

Would definitely meditate with you.

The team finds out when he slips up.

You go to pick him up from the gym, and Suga goes, “Hey Asahi, try not to stress out too much about the game tomorrow.”

He responds with, “Don’t worry, I’m meditating with y/n today and they’re going to do a spell to help me.”

[silence of realization]

Everyone asks him questions. You just walk in like, “Yo, Asahi, ready to go?”

“Woah Asahi, how d'you get a s/o that hot?”

Chaos erupts and you end up having to drag Asahi out of there, and it’s then that everyone realizes they still don’t have answers.

Nishinoya

So excited.

“Can you do a taroT reading?” he cannot pronounce tarot for the life of him

“Do you have a pointy hat?”

“Can I ride your broom?”

You definitely have to explain everything the movies got wrong though.

Will ask you to do a spell to make Tsukishima nicer.

I will fight you on that.

Low key shows you off to everyone.

And is like “my s/o is a witch”

If no one would believe him, you’d probably do something

Imagine the team being like “you can’t be a witch, witchcraft isn’t real, then the lights going out in the gym.”

He’d try to learn it at some point or another.

And would end up failing miserably.

Probably has to call you up to catch the demon he summoned.

Why did he summon a demon? You’ll never know.

When you get there though. . . there’s wax on everything.

And I mean e v e r y t h i n g.

Somehow it’s on the ceiling. It’s all over the curtains. It got in his hair.

Would watch in awe as you fix everything.

Please do not do spirit work while he’s in a five-mile radius.

He’d burst into the room like “YO, DOES THE SPIRIT KNOW HOW TO SHAKE ASS-”

“NOYA NO-”

He pissed off the spirit and his ass hurt for a week after that-

Tanaka

The first time you tell him, he just laughs it off.

“You’re literally the nicest person ever y/n, there’s no way you could be a witch.”

Until he buys you coffee one day and walks to your house to surprise you.

He walks in and starts noticing the incense everywhere.

And your excessive plant collection, and tea collection, and crystal collection-

He tries to bring you your coffee and mayhap walks in while you’re in the middle of a spell.

And then a spirit gets loose in the house and you can’t find any of your jewelry for a week.

You end up having to manifest it back after a while.

Still can’t find that earring though. . .

Would definitely believe you after that.

If you work for deities, it is over for this boy.

“wAIT A MINUTE,, YOU WORK WITH GODS?!?!?”

“Umm. . . yeah?”

Is so proud of you and is impressed by literally everything.

Will cry if you make him anything

You go to introduce yourself to the team with him one time and everyone already knows you.

Kinda creepy, but it’s just because Tanaka will not stop talking about you.

They notice how much better he plays while you’re at practice

They beg you to start coming to games. And when you do and they completely dominate Alba Josiah, you’re officially required to attend all games ever.

Not like you have any problem with it-

They do kinda wonder why Oikawa’s serve did nothing though-

One day though, you are talking to Tanaka about how the new moon is just as important as the full moon but no one will acknowledge it and he’s aggressively agreeing.

Noya sneaks up with the intention of scaring both of you, and then you just hear from behind you, “Hey y/n,, why do you care so much about the moon?”

Suddenly the wind starts going crazy and you shout in an annoyed voice, “Cut it out.”

The wind stops and you just smile at him, “Witchcraft.”

This boy literally drags you to the gym with Tanaka trailing behind ya’ll.

He gets there, stops, and just goes, “Y/n’s a witch.”

Tsukishima

This dude could go two ways.

Laughing and telling you you’re crazy,, or bringing out a list of people to hex.

I feel like he’d be good at tarot reading and find a way to make the cards even more insulting.

“The cards said it.” Becomes his number one excuse.

Would remind you of stuff really subtly so he could help you without seeming too nice.

Something like, “Hey, what do you do for the full moon again?” around two days before so you wouldn’t get that panic of having no clue what you’re going to do for it.

The team only finds out about you due to the second-years stalking him after they see him being nice to you and then they bring you to practice the next day to cause chaos.

Tsukki would be so confused but ends up just going with it because ya'll have a date that night and might as well go there together instead of meeting up again later.

He would bring you dried flowers and the team would be like ‘wtf Tsukishima you suck at this’.

And then they get so confused when you just respond with “oh, thanks, I actually just ran out of lavender yesterday.”

Everyone would get so confused when you bring up spellwork and just start talking about it like it’s nothing.

You end up casually dropping the fact that you practice witchcraft like you’re talking about the weather.

They mention to you that they don’t believe you, but then a volleyball hits Kageyama in the back of the head. Everyone put the volleyballs away. They are across the gym. Everyone is standing here. Yet there is a volleyball right behind him. You laugh. Tsukki smirks. Everyone is afraid.

The two of you just walk out of there.

Leaving everyone shooketh.

No one ever teases you. Or Tsukishima while you’re around. You have become a being of fear.

Kageyama

Huh?

This boy is so confused.

“You mean like magic?”

You knew this would happen, so you didn’t even tell him.

But then he walked in on you surrounded by candles with a book open putting stuff in a jar.

You only see him after you finish the spell and the moment of ‘oh no’ panic is ✨immaculate✨

Eventually, he’s okay. He’s completely clueless but is just cool with it.

Brings you random stuff like “could you use this?”

It’ll end up being something that you really needed or had been trying to manifest

*insert realization that your deities are sending you signs through him*

Probably isn’t too good with most parts of witchcraft, but once you explain numerology, he points every time he sees it.

The team finds out because Kageyama was bragging talking to Hinata about how he has the best s/o but told him not to tell anyone

He told everyone

The pressure everyone puts on him end up with him dragging you to practice one day

You just snap, “I was in the middle of a spell, why did you drag me all the way out here?” oblivious to the scene around you.

3. 2. 1. Chaos.

Everyone just starts screaming bloody murder. ‘Kageyama, you never told me your s/o was that hot’ ‘What do they mean ‘spell’?’ ‘Wait, y/n?’ ‘Who’s that?’

“Hi,” you almost snarl, “I’m y/n, Tobio’s s/o, and I’m going to get back to my spell before the Dybbuk haunting my best friend does any more damage.”

“What do you mean ‘spell’,” Suga asks, “and what’s a Dybbuk?”

“I practice witchcraft, and that’s not important.”

You walk away muttering something about warding.

“Definitely Kageyama’s s/o.” -the entire Karasuno team

Hinata

Shooketh

“WHAAAAA?!?!? Y/n, you’re being haunted? Are you possessed? Are you-”

You have to calm him down and explain everything.

Once he gets it, he brags to everyone he knows. His teachers, his team, the other teams, his parents, his sister- everyone.

After enough literally just a day of him begging, you finally have to meet the team.

“So. . . this is your s/o?” “Yup!”

Tsukki starts laughing, “I mean, calling them a witch is a little rude, don’t you think?”

“HAAAAAAA??!?!!? No, no, no, they practice witchcraft and do magick and-”

Tsukki laughs even harder. “I knew you were stupid, but delusional is-”

“Hey Tsukishima, there are cheap headphones at the corner store, the left ear of your’s aren’t working and that always sucks.”

“How did you-”

“Witchcraft.”

. . . “oh-”

He can never keep the attention span necessary to do anything involving witchcraft, but cannot not watch you do everything witchy.

He will literally sit like an excited child in the corner while you do your full moon ritual.

If you invite him to any witchy holiday he will be stoked and eat all the bread

Way too excited, but keeps eating your stuff. “I thought you said it was a luck spell?”

“I DID,, AFTER SAYING IT CONTAINED ESSENTIAL OILS!!!”

“They’re essential to my health?”

“N O -”

Literally so supportive through the whole thing, do not throw him away-

Yamaguchi

Dsfsgisnf

He is really confused

Witchcraft? You mean like magic? You must be confused, come here, do you have a fever?

It takes him a while to wrap his head around it.

Once he does though, he’s really curious. “Hey y/n, what are the properties of an apple?”

He’s another one who’s a sucker for kitchen witchcraft. He’s just like ‘I have a s/o who can make amazing food and make that amazing food help make my spikes more accurate.’

He’s mesmerized by everything you do, but when you offer to teach him anything, he’s too scared he’ll mess up and just says no.

He’s still kinda normalized it and accepted it as a part of your relationship.

It just becomes a normal part of his life, and he grows more comfortable with it, but still doesn’t practice it.

He just feels like it’s you’re thing and has no interest in practicing it, still loves watching you though-

You always involve him in you’re celebrations that don’t involve spells, like this year’s Beltane.

So you invite him to the park for a Beltane picnic where you both can do some fun activities to celebrate.

He accepts and is so excited (he never gets over his excitement to be around you).

So you are both eating and talking witchy stuff (Yamaguchi loves learning about it).

You’re just talking like, “Yeah! I seriously don’t get how no one knows that the veil’s thinnest on Beltane as well as Samhain-”

“Saw- what now?” You hear from behind you.

You turn around to see Tanaka and Noya eating ice cream and very curious about their junior’s peculiar ‘friend’.

Yamaguchi has a panic moment, but you just whisper a quick, “It’s fine, they were bound to find out eventually. Can I tell them?”

He nods and you turn to the chaotic duo. “Hello, I’m y/n, and I’m Yamaguchi’s s/o. Nice to meet you, Noya and Tanaka.”

“You know our names!” Tanaka muses. “Yup,” you deadpan. “How much does our kohai talk about us?” Noya asks, “I know we’re special, but this is another level.”

“Not much,” Yama replies, “They just know things.” Noya and Tanaka smirking: “What type of things?”

Yama.exe has stopped working. You sigh, “C’mon Tadashi, you couldn’t celebrate with me last Samhain, so you’ve never seen me do energy work when the veil’s this thin.” He immediately perks up, but so do the Duo, yet again. Here’s a demonstration, you smirk.

You start moving your hands, and the breeze picks up a little, not that the Duo would notice anything but you’re weird hand movements from where they’re standing. They’re about to laugh when the trees all around you start moving along with your movements.

Tanaka and Noya leave without another word.

You continue you’re date with him as normal, but make a point of showing up to practice to make sure you and Tadashi tell the team before the Duo can.

“Hey, Babe!” Yama calls upon your entry. Noya and Tanaka who were previously shouting at the top of their lungs for who knows why go quiet- something not unnoticed by Daichi. “Do you two know them?”

“Yup, we had an encounter yesterday.”

“It was kinda weird how it was raining yesterday though, it was supposed to be clear.”

“Oh, my bad,” you say, to which Tsukishima laughs. “What? Are you delusional or something?” Wordlessly, you start moving your fingers in a circular motion. No one notices, but they do notice how there’s a violent wind circling the court even though all the doors and windows are closed.

“Or something,” You deadpan, “Let’s go, Yama.”

His teammates look back to him, walking to you and lightly giggling, “Sure, y/n, you can stop it now, though.”

“Fine,” you huff and the wind stops immediately.

Thanks for reading, I hope you guys like this. If you have any ideas for another spiritual (or just random) hc, please make sure to submit it! Thanks for reading!

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funnyexel · 3 years

Text

Quiet Tsundere x Reader

A/n: This is a drabble. If you like it don’t be shy, leave a request. In the requests on my page. Enjoy <3333

Masterlist Mega List

Yawning, your locker slams shut. You jump at the sudden action, drowsiness present in your form. He towered over you. Looking down at you as if you’re a lesser being than him. You stared back at him. Silently having a staring contest until you gave in. Yawning once again, you lean against the locker. “Yes?” You grip onto your books as they slowly slip out of your hands. He only looks you up and down. Hitting your books with little effort nearly knocking them out your hand and poking you with minimal force. “I’m tired. I was up all night.” You rub your watery eyes. He walked away from you. Maybe onto his next class but it was beyond you as the bell rang to continue your tiring school day.

You sat in your usual choice of seats. In the back, you’ve been doing this since the first few weeks of school. The words coming out of the teachers mouth was equivalent to gibberish. You didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Sleep was taking over your body as your head met the comfortable school desk. And just like that you were back into dream world. How you ended up sleeping in class was an interesting reason. To think it’d be because of studying or something like that but no. It was because of dumb, never gonna happen fantasies. And with the last person you thought would be in your head in this type of way. How in the world did this happen? Funny story...

“You’re telling me. You have no feelings whatsoever. If he’s not sexually harassing you, they say it’s a sign he likes you.” You roll your eyes at her ridiculous accusations. In your mind, the day he likes you is the day pigs fly. “Mhm. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. He doesn’t utter a word to me. What makes you think he likes me.” You chuckle, hearing how crazy it sounds coming from your mouth. This goes on for days and days on end. Until you’re up at night, thinking if he really does like you. Making scenes and scenarios in your head about confessions, dates and other things.

And most unexpectedly fantasies about his voice, if it would be deep and smooth or high and premature. It really stumped you. You heard rumors around the school about how his voice is deep and gravely like concrete. Whatever that means, but then again it’s just rumors. Could be true, could be false but only the one the rumor is about will know. On the flip side, his “friends” were noticing his actions towards you as well. It was sudden nonetheless but it was frequently that they would see him around you. He had one true friend. One he knew since the crayon stage.

He’s the only one that he got comfortable enough around to speak and use his voice. Why is this? He was insecure about his voice. It wasn’t bad or anything but he thought it was super deep, so one day after puberty hit him he decided to stop talking and only talk around those he’s comfortable around. He wanted you to be one of those people. Oh, how it would overjoy him for you to be one of those people. He could talk for hours and hours on end if he had the right person. And in the back of his mind, you were his right person. Corny? Yes and he knew this so he kept to himself. Keeping it well hidden at that.

The girls that hung around his “friends” hung around him too and he disliked it. These wasn’t his kind of people, they were cool and whatever but not his type of crowd. They started to pick at you while he turned a blind eye. Saying small remarks like “such a pick me girl” and “she came outside wearing that?” It was subtle at first but became more and more obvious. Even though he wouldn’t talk, his body language spoke volumes. With a stare he stopped them from picking at you but it only stopped momentarily. Given they saw how it riled him up and they thought it was hot in a way. Very weird I know.

“Y/n.” What’s that noise? You thought. “Y/n L/n!” A pair of hands slam on your desk causing you to jump up. They could visibly see the tiredness in your face. “Y/n, go to I.S.S.” They demand. The class inserts cartoon like noises, while you pack up your belongs and make your way to the classroom. You huff as you close the door to your classroom. Sleepily walking to the I.S.S. classroom which is turning into a jog as the hall monitor cracks down on you. They follow you to I.S.S. and close the door behind you. You look at the basically empty classroom with barely anyone in it.

Sitting down at one of the back desks, you take out a notebook and doodle. A few minutes pass by and a piece of paper slides its way onto your desk. You didn’t see where it came from so you opened it. “how’d a goodie two shoes end up in here?” You lip sync to yourself, now knowing who its from. There lay, the way too familiar bookbag. You sigh and crumple the paper in your hand, putting it in your backpack. Now going back to your doodling activities. This time a paper ball hit your head and landed in front of you. “stop crumpling up my note, idoit.” You roll your eyes and write under his words.

“you spelled that wrong and I’ll keep crumpling it up if I want to.” You throw it into his lap. He sat at the desk, in front of you to the left. “I know I did, you autocorrect junkie. did you break a pencil or better yet fold a paper wrong.” He was messing with you. “shut up and stop throwing this back, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” You finally go back to your doodling. You feel a minor yet hard kick in your leg. You jerk up ready to place your fury upon the poor soul. He puts his hand up for you to stop then points to the teacher, she was pregnant and out cold. He throws the paper at your chest and turns back.

Frustratingly, you open and read it. “she’s not even paying attention. and you have nothing better to do.” The temptation to crumple this paper is unbearable. “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” You throw the paper at his head, turning your body to the right and continue your doodling. Now in peace, you realize what you’re doodling. It was a mini comic about confessing. Alertly looking around, you rip out the page and shove it into your bookbag. ‘I hope no one saw that.’ You breath out at the thought. You felt little hits at your head, again and again and again. It was slowly getting to you.

‘can’t this be over already.’ You bury your head into your arms. A soft tap is placed upon your right shoulder. Lifting up your head, an unbothered female rests the note on your desk. You’ve seen her before around the school, she was pretty antisocial as far as you knew. “Those group of girls in the front are staring at you.” At the last word, you lift up the note a bit to get the girls in your eye range. Placing the note on your desk, you reply. “nice to know...you wouldn’t happen to know why. would you?” You drop it on her desk. He stopped throwing paper at you.

Unfolding her note. “because of your friend. watch out for them, they’re not so...friendly.” You glance at the women again, this time they notice you. “he’s not my friend. but thanks for the heads up. I’m y/n. what’s your name? I’ve seen you around before.” As you pass her the note, he gently places a note on your desk. “This is alot of note passing.” You mutter to yourself. “look at the door, stupid.” Rolling your eyes, you look and see your best friend. A smile creeps it’s way onto your face. “What are you doing?” You lip sync to her. “Class is over come on it’s lunch.” She motions you to come out.

Shaking your head, you receive the note from the girl. “Vera.” You put the note in your pocket and look back to your best friend having a silent squabble with him. You motion for her to stop. The sound of the bell echoes in the class, awaking the teacher. Looking to the ground, a puddle of papers engulf your feet. Thinking fast, you move your backpack closer to the papers and shove them all in your bag. “Ok. I don’t feel like filling in a report so this time, I’ll cut you all lose. Out.” She motions to the door and she didn’t have to tell you twice. You dashed to the door, almost knocking your best friend out.

Taking her wrist, you pull her to the cafeteria. Sitting her outside at your usual table, she sighs. “He’s annoying....” You slowly nod to her observation. “Just right for you.” She adds to her unfinished statement with a devilish smile. You slap your hand to your forehead and shake your head. She chuckles, leaving to get lunch for you and her. You pull out the papers from your bag. All were blank except for one.

“This note is for the Idiot who finds it. You Lack In the brain department. Just so you Know. It Even hurts mY brain to talk tO yoU. Even though I don’t talk.”

This note made no since what so ever, some letters were written over as if he made a mistake. You put the confusing note in your pocket for later. Feeling the breeze, you close your eyes and relax. “What do you want with Arthur?” A girl in close contact, spits with a noticeable cruel attitude. You open your eyes and they land on the same girls that were in I.S.S. They stare at you intensely. Causing you to answer. “Nothing.” You awkwardly say, playing with a piece of paper. She snatches the piece of paper from you. “Like hell! You’re ugly. He doesn’t like you and would never like you.”

They encourage her hateful words. “Honestly, she’s the bottom of the barrel.” They begin to cackle at the ‘not so insulting’ insult. It was insulting but not so much for you to go crying to your mommy. Taking their leave. “And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” A snarky remark leaving your mouth, loud enough for them to hear. “What did you just say?” She turns her head, doll like. Reminding you of Annabelle. “I said, And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” You repeat yourself but speak slower so it can sink in.

“Can we help you?” Quinn says, placing the food on the table and standing by you with her knee on the seat. “Listen here, skank. He doesn’t want you.” You roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I can tell. I’m not interested in him. You can knock yourself out. Metaphorically.” You sigh and take a water from the tray. She gets visibly more frustrated and mad at your unbothered state. Scoffing loudly, she leaves you alone. Glancing at the surroundings, people were gathering around you. They soon realized it was just a disagreement and go back to their business. Quinn was very surprised at how you handled the situation.

Surprised that you even responded to her. “I’ll beat her up.” You chuckle at your best friend. “Words can’t hurt me.” You breathy huff and lean your head in your palm. Secretly staring at her approaching him, smothering him. ‘He looks so uncomfortable.’ You stop staring at her and look at him. He catches your eye and you revert your eyes back to Quinn. She was staring at you the whole time. “I’m not interested in him, she says.” She mocks you, even adding her own commentary. The end of the day came pretty quickly. The halls were practically empty as you went to your locker for the rest of your stuff.

“I just had to get held back by that teacher. Wasn’t I.S.S enough for them?” You say to yourself as you put your stuff in your backpack. The click of your lock, set about some rapid footsteps coming towards you. You looked and two people grabbed you by the arms. “Let go of me!” You yelled in her face. She laughs wickedly as you get dragged into the bathroom. They striped you of your bookbag and threw you into the stall doors. Your back hit harder than it sounded. As they started to beat you up, you reached into your pocket and pull out your taser, tasing someone in the ankle.

They dropped down to the ground and this was your chance. Hurriedly crawling to the bathroom door, you push it open. At that moment, you got away. A tight grip is placed upon your ankles with all your might you hold onto the door frame and scream to the top of your lungs. All the while, one of them were pulling your ankles with all their might. Your hands gave in as soon as another pair of palms gripped onto your ankles. Your screams echoed from the bathroom for a moment until an inhuman slam came across the door. Silence filled the restroom, you laid on the floor bruised up and lightly bloody as they stopped their movements to the new person.

Hearing yelps of surprise, soon enough you were being lift up bridal style in strong arms. Your left eye refusing to open, you stared at him with your right. A heavy sigh of relief, left your lips as you leaned into him a little closer than before. The far too familiar sound of cheap paper crumping fills your ears as he sets you down on the nurses table. The nurse wasn’t there but the door was unlocked. He got some band-aids and alcohol. Sitting on a chair next to the table, he patched you up best he could. You avoided eye contact with him at all costs. “This is awkward.” His voice shook you to your core. Though you were already shaking from the recent events.

“y-yeah.” Voice low and sore from screaming. He finished, putting all the stuff back, placing a ice pack to a huge bruise on your leg and giving you another for your eye. You stayed quiet for the most part, but you reached into your pocket and held out the crumbled note to him. He looked to you and took it. Leaving the ice pack on your leg, he unfolded it and immediately saw your writing on the bottom. “I like you too.” He lip synced your neatly written words. Shoving the note into his pocket, he gazed into your eyes with hopefulness. “can we leave?” You state, feeling like someone is watching you. He offered you a ride home which you gladly took, having already missed the public bus.

You both talked the whole ride. Getting used to his voice. He took you to get some food. Throughout the ride, you both established that you’ll keep this relationship on the down low. Arriving at your home, you invited him in but he politely declined. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You leaned in the window and nodded with a smile. “Bye.” You flash one last smile before turning and walking to your front door. Putting in the passcode and entering the house. Walking into the kitchen you but your fast food bag on the island and took a sip of your drink as you dialed a frequent number. “Quinn. You will not believe what just happened.”

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bjy-on-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Kinktober 2021, Day 3

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.) I read about spooning bondage while making my prompt list, and it sounded like fun to write. So we’ve got that mixed with some thigh-fucking here. Summary An evening with Solomon often meant experimentation. Sometimes that meant practicing spells, others that meant getting tied up and teased.

Tags/Warnings Blindfolds, Bondage. Creampie, Gags, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex

Kinktober 2021, 03: Bondage (Reader x Solomon | Obey Me!)

You paused at the edge of the bed, feeling it brush the back of your legs. You were lucky not to accidentally tumble backward onto the sheets as thoroughly distracted as you were by Solomon’s lips moving against yours and his hand on your waist. Clinging to him as if desperate until the kiss was broken from the need for air, you were left panting and flushed, heart thudding in your chest as you looked into cunning eyes cloud with desire.

You moved to kiss him again, but Solomon didn’t return as expected, much to your dismay. Instead, his fingers danced beneath your clothes, swiftly stripping them away. He tossed most of them into an untidy pile, placing one garment you were almost certain was your panties aside mindfully. With a fleeting look of craving, he pushed you gently, urging you back onto the bed. You fell down onto your back, scooting up the bed and sitting up on your palms to watch the snowy-haired sorcerer.

When your eyes moved to him, Solomon seemed preoccupied, gathering something from beneath the bed. His glance flicked up after a moment of search, meeting your curious stare. “I won’t take long. Can you roll over and wait for me?” he asked nicely.

Pursing your lips and furrowing your brow as you pondered what he had planned, you agreed with a quick nod, flipping over and easing yourself onto the sheets. You waited, enjoying the cool sensation of the bedsheets on your overheated skin. You tried not to think about the slick, pulsing heat between your legs or how pleasant but agitating the brush of the bedding against your pebbled nipples was.

Solomon’s fingers found your arms in a soft, firm grasp, and you nearly jumped. He guided them above your head, laying your cheek flat on the sheets without them to brace yourself with. There was an urge to twist your neck and see just what Solomon was doing, but you ignored it, trusting that whatever he had in mind was nothing to be worried about. You were used to Solomon giving you a surprise here and there, some of them greater than others, but almost all enjoyable, whatever they were.

After your wrists were pulled together, the coarse texture of what you could only assume was some kind of tether or rope coiled around them. The rope was quickly tied, tight, but not enough to chafe or sting unless you struggled dramatically. You wriggled your hands and fingers, testing the bonds curiously.

Solomon moved on, trailing his fingertips teasingly down your skin as he dipped toward your legs. He gathered your ankles next, and the same sensation of coarse ropes wrapped around them, a bit looser than the ones around your wrists. You tested those gingerly, too, finding them comfortable enough as well, and Solomon moved away. When your focus turned from the ropes, you noticed Solomon had come back into line of sight, and you eyed him with continued interest. He bent down, giving you another much quick quicker kiss, and lifting your head up. When the kiss came to an end, he slipped a band over the back of your head and slid an accompanying blindfold down over your eyes.

The blindfold left you in comfortable darkness, resting against the sheets, waiting for whatever came next. With only your ears to rely on then, you listened to Solomon walk around the bed, before feeling him climb onto it from the opposite side. He grabbed you around the waist, carefully coaxing you to roll onto your side so your back faced his chest. When you obliged him, he moved closer, and the heat of his own naked body greeted you. You licked your lips in anticipation, wriggling unconsciously against your ties.

Releasing your waist, Solomon pressed two fingers against your wetted lips, and you took them in, sucking on them for a second before he drew them back. Quick he replaced them with some sort of makeshift gag, a wad of cloth whose texture was suspiciously alike to the panties you had worn. You made a muffled noise of half-hearted protest at what you suspected was his choice of gag but made no attempt to spit it out.

Deciding you were bound well enough, Solomon turned to indulging himself, teasing you in the process. His fingers stroked along your skin again, light and unhurried. Starting at your neck, they swept down your body, pausing at the swell of your chest to grope and squeeze in a way that made you arch your back and moan into your gag. A stifled squeaked to squeeze past your gag when he tweaked your nipples roughly, before moving on again. His lips brushed your ear and jaw, and you could feel a smile on them

He continued, massaging your stomach and waist and hips, before one hand ghosted over the top of your inners thighs, alternating from one to the other, just as light and frustrating on either side. His other hand migrated back up, returning to cup your breast and roll the nipple between his fingertips once more. You squirmed against the ropes, against Solomon’s body, and into his teasing hands, wishing he would touch your boldly.

He chucked behind you, warm breath washing over your cheek. “Eager?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he had no idea what his touch did to you. “You’ll have to hold on a little longer,” he added, the hand on your thighs caressing a little more roughly, closer to their apex for a hopeful instant, before drifting away.

You whined petulantly, the sound almost completely drowned out behind the gag. As much as it frustrated you, Solomon was determined to tease and take things slow, the anticipation only making you feel more turned on as the seconds and touches went on. For a time, his hand crept too far down your thighs for your liking, and you let out another muffled sound expressing your displeasure. Another sharp pinch to one of your tits distracted you from the less than pleasing behavior of his lower hand, and you arched back into him.

When his hand moved back up between your thighs, finally dragging in an agonizingly slow line up your slit, he ground himself against your backside. Before, when you had squirmed and bucked into him, you had felt evidence of Solomon’s arousal. Now, though, he was using his erection as purposely as his fingers, just another tease and torment you with, while eliciting more pleasure for himself at the same time. It left you little way to turn his game in your favor, left only with the option to play along. He added his teeth and tongue, moving from soft kisses on your neck and jaw to sharp nips and sucking marks into your skin. Combined, all the sensations drained away whatever resolve you may have yet held on to. It reduced you to groans, writing needily against the sheets and his body.

You longed for him to stop playing with you, to fill you with something, whether it was a toy or his fingers or cock. You longed to escape your ropes and pin him down to the bed and give him a taste of his own medicine. To tie him up and take your time until he hadn’t a coherent thought left in his head, save for the thought of your body on his. But none of that was up to you, and you were left little time to dwell on what you wanted to do to him while he continued to torment you.

His hips pushed harder against yours, and his cock slipped between your thighs. HE thrust lazily, the heat of his erection brushing your dripping lips. You clenched your hands into fists as Solomon thrust, working into a slow rhythm, each roll of his hips rubbing him against your cunt, but granting you little satisfaction. You wanted to shout, to demand that he just fuck you already, but any attempts to speak only came out as muffled gibberish.

Finally, though, he granted you some form of reprieve when his fingered dipped between your lips, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. Your eyes rolled back for a second beneath your blindfold, and you arched into his touch again, chasing the new friction. It wasn’t long before your hips rocked as readily as Solomon’s, and he moaned against your neck. The sound struck you in the gut, adding to the fire mounting from his touch and the teasing rub of his cock.

He bucked harder, faster, and so, too, did you, bent on following the pleasure to its peak and beyond. His hand on your chest switched back and forth, more uncoordinated and less careful as his moans grew in your ear and his breathing hitched. You whimpered, an airy, almost pitiful sound that nearly cut through the gag, dancing just before the point of no return you chased so madly, the feeling coiling hotter and tighter until it all exploded.

When your orgasm swept over you, your cunt clenching frantically around nothing and your hips rocking wildly into Solomon’s fingers, you heard his breathing reach a fever pitch. His cock twitched hard against the lips of your cunt, and he shifted himself urgently, guiding the head of his length to your hole. He thrust up into you, hard and fast, and you cried out into the gag all over again from the intrusion that gave your pussy something to cling to.

He thrust a few more times, still rubbing your clit dutifully, before he stiffened, biting down lightly on your neck. A few more hard rolls of his hips, and he pumped you full of his cum in hot spurts. The sheer obscenity of your muffled groaned mixed with Solomon’s equally primal one sent a shiver through you, even as your orgasm wound down.

Solomon lay still after he had come, his fingers easing to a stop and then pulling away from your clit. He breathed hotly against your neck, his head tucked into the hollow there, his hair tickling your sweat-slick skin. You felt hot, over-sensitive, and sticky, your breathing matches Solomon’s own taxed breaths. He withdrew slowly, and you shuddered again at the sudden emptiness, feeling a trickle of cum seep down your thigh.

He kissed the marks he’d left on your skin, the touch of his hands returning to being light and gentle, soothing skin assaulted beforehand. “You always take my cum so well,” he murmured in your ear in praise, the affectionate lilt of his words starkly contrasting their lewdness. The words elicited another comfortable shiver, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

Solomon’s hands left you, and the familiar sensation of magic in the air met you. In an instant, the ropes binding your limbs vanished as if into nothing. He likely hadn’t felt like bothering to untie you in the traditional fashion. You laughed weakly at the thought, moving to pull your blindfold off as Solomon withdrew the makeshift gag from your mouth. With a quick glance, you confirmed it had been your underwear as you thought.

Your wrists weren’t completely free just yet, though, and Solomon languidly captured both in a hand. “When’s it your turn to get tied up like that?” you complained playfully, craning your neck to glance back at him.

Solomon smiled, answering you without skipping a beat. “When I’ve had enough of you like this,” he assured you confidently. “And I haven’t had nearly enough yet.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2021 #shall we date? obey me!#solomon #fanfiction #kinktober day 3 #day three #nsft #n/s/f/w/

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luvteez · 4 years

Text

easy

pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader genre + tags: smut, idolverse | studio sex, fingering and the audio is being recorded, rings, reader and hongjoong are both idols and have a collab track with bang chan, bang chan sadly does not make a guest appearance in this but there is a mention of his name (yes this was a necessary tag) wc: 1.1k

“You sound much better now. Let’s retake the chorus.”

The lyric sheet in your hands is crumpled up and slightly damp from your sweaty fingers. Not that you need it anyway, because the lines are simple to memorize and you went through them a dozen times before setting a foot in Hongjoong’s studio to record them for the upcoming collaboration with him and Bang Chan, but it’s hard to get your brain to work when you’re sitting on Hongjoong’s lap with three of his fingers buried inside of you knuckle-deep.

The familiar instrumental blares out of the speakers again, but you’re too dazed to process it completely. Hongjoong seems to notice that. He props his chin on your shoulder before peppering openmouthed kisses on your neck. His fingers start to move once more, albeit slowly, grazing all the right spots that send you to the stars and have you twitching uncontrollably.

“C’mon, baby. Sing your lines,” he mouths against your neck before nibbling on that patch of skin. You moan at the slight sting, bucking your hips forward in the hopes he’ll quicken his pace. He doesn’t.

“I’ll give you what you want once we’ve finished recording your part,” he promises, and you know he’s telling the truth. You still harbor enough self-awareness to realize that out of the ten attempts you recorded so far, not even once did you manage to sing the entire chorus in one go without breaking into sobs or forgetting the words.

If this is Hongjoong’s wicked way of making you slowly lose your mind, it’s working.

“I make you say wow—” your voice wavers when he sharply curls his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with full force. As you struggle to keep your head in place, all colors start to bleed in one another in your vision. “—look at me now—” You’re pretty sure you were a beat off when you sang that part, but he doesn’t comment on it. His fingers stop dead in their tracks after that motion, causing frustration to build up in you. As much as you want to complain, you don’t. You keep focusing on enunciating your lines as clearly as humanly possible given your condition because you want to be done with the recording session, good for Hongjoong, and good enough to be allowed to cum.

But then he goes hard.

Hongjoong wraps his free arm around you tighter as you begin writhing in his lap, his fingers thrusting in and out of you in a brutal pattern. You don’t need anyone to tell you that what you’re saying now is pure gibberish mixed in with moans that are too obscene for anyone’s sanity, nor do you need anyone to tell you that your eyes are glassy.

“Come and wat—” you cut yourself off with a loud moan when he ups his torture by ruthlessly flicking his thumb on your clit. The last remains of a logical train of thoughts are down the drain when Hongjoong groans against the crook of your neck, the vibrations going straight down to your throbbing core. “Please, I can’t anymore. Let me cum,” you cry. Bang Chan can wait another day to get your parts to insert into the final mastering.

To your dismay, Hongjoong begs to differ.

“Again. Do that last part again.”

His fingers don’t slow down as he untangles his other hand from you to replay the instrumental and shove the mic closer to your face. Then it strikes you; Oh God, the mic. The realization that every sound you’ve made is being recorded hits you like a brick wall all over again.

You doubt Hongjoong will delete all the audios that aren’t even eligible for the final cut. However, you trust him enough to save those recordings in a file that only he can access.

But what if? What if he accidentally sends Chan the audio where you’re quite literally begging him to cum? What if your moans aren’t the only sounds audible in the recordings? What if you can also make out the indecent noise of him fucking you good with his fingers alone? What if that accidentally wasn’t accidental at all?

You’re so lost in thoughts that you miss the beat. “Stop clenching around me and start singing,” Hongjoong orders and scissors his digits to get his point across. Noticing how you probably aren’t capable of finding the right timing to sing, he counts the beat for you in a tone too husky for your liking.

Your line is about to come up, but then his other hand reaches down between your legs — the hand that’s decorated with rings — and he grazes his pointer against your clit, making sure the cold metal of his ring touches you two. It’s the last straw that throws you over the edge, tightening around his digits and panting out mindless words as he fucks you past oblivion.

The music slowly fades into the background as your heartbeat starts to fall back into a steady rhythm. When you open your eyes, the mic is pushed to the side and Hongjoong is looking down at you in awe.

“I never knew someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers,“ He speaks up, pulling his fingers out, all drenched in your release. “Never knew someone could cum this hard.”

“It’s the ring.”

“The ring?” he echoes. You blink at him in confusion before it eventually hits you like a truck.

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Quiet.”

You keep your mouth shut. Hongjoong is still looking down at you lovingly, but you know the damage has been done already. His eyes don’t give him away, but the edge in his voice is more than enough of a confirmation that his ego was badly bruised.

“It took you ten minutes to come,” he states nonchalantly whilst taking off his rings one by one. You gulp, terrified of what’s about to come.

“Let’s beat that record. This time, without any rings on.”

#yes the song in question is skz's easy bc it's sexc #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #luvsmut

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olliedollie1204 · 4 years

Text

love is blind (everything fits oneshot)

Logan has a test for Janus.

Pairings: Romantic Loceit

Words: 2,839 words

honestly the entire reason i decided to start publishing this WIP was because I was sitting on this prequel oneshot that i desperately wanted to publish ajhdhsj. AU is Everything Fits, which you should most definitely read bc it is My Baby.

(Read it on AO3!)

“This is a very difficult decision, indeed,” Logan muttered. His eyes were narrowed, his brow was furrowed, and his lips were downturned. All signs that he was in serious deep thought.

Cautiously, he reached out his hands to grab the two items he had been looking at, weighing them in his hands and inspecting them more closely.

“What do you think?” he asked over his shoulder, turning around and holding the two objects out in front of him.

“Regular Cheerios or Honey Nut Cheerios?”

Roman and Remus looked at him from their position in the shopping cart. Roman babbled gibberish and waved his arms around, while Remus sucked on his fingers and kicked his legs out.

Logan hummed thoughtfully. “That is a good point, Roman,” he replied. “Although Honey Nut Cheerios are the less healthy option, the likelihood of the two of you actually eating your food as opposed to throwing it on the floor will increase exponentially if the food in question is yummy. And I think we can all agree, Honey Nut Cheerios are yummier than regular Cheerios.”

Remus interjected with a series of wordless squeals, pulling his hand out of his mouth and waving the spit-covered fist in the air.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting that we could pair the regular Cheerios with a healthier yummy food option, like bananas?”

Remus made a loud noise that sounded like an affirmation.

“A very good compromise, Remus,” Logan stated, dropping the regular Cheerios in the cart and kissing his sons on their heads. “Thank you both for your input.”

The twins smiled up at their Daddy, Roman leaning backwards in an attempt to place a sloppy kiss on Logan’s chin. Logan melted.

“Thank you, Rollypolly,” he cooed, his usually intelligent demeanor quickly losing the battle with his desire to babytalk his sons, and with that, he pushed the cart out of the grocery section of the Walmart.

“Before we go, I would like to browse through the infant section, in order to find the two of you some suitable outfits for the upcoming warmer weather,” Logan informed the twins, eyeing down at them as he walked through the aisles. They took one look at his face and broke into laughter for no reason Logan could think of. Nevertheless, Logan couldn’t keep up the stern facade; baby laughter was the most contagious sound in the world.

Despite Logan and Janus knowing from the start that they wanted twins (that was not the sort of thing that was left up to chance when going through a surrogate), there were minor complications to the parenting process that the two new fathers had to learn through trial and error.

For example: they had to dress the boys in different outfits.

It was simply a strategic move: even for twins, the physical similarities between Roman and Remus were striking. Same dark brown eyes, same curly auburn hair, same breathtaking smiles that took up their entire faces— and now Logan had to physically drag his focus away from his boys before he knocked over a display rack of sunglasses in his distracted stupor. The point is, they had to forgo dressing the boys in identical outfits, or else there would be no telling who was who.

Still, Logan thought as he maneuvered the cart into the infant section, part of the fun with babies was dressing them in the cutest clothes ever made, and the Croft-Sanders twins had many corresponding outfits that were sufficiently distinct while still being adorable. They often wore clothes that bore phrases like “Thing One” and “Thing Two”, “Prepare For Trouble” and “And Make It Double”, or “I’m With Stupid” and “I’m Stupid” (Janus thought those two were particularly hilarious, despite Logan’s amused disapproval.)

He browsed idly, flipping between pairs of overalls before his eyes fell onto a rack of simpler onesies. They were plain, each one a different solid color in a variety of hues. He normally would pass them by for something with a bit more flair, but the two hanging next to each other right in the front caught his eye… for a specific reason.

Logan looked at them for a second, the gears turning in his head, before he grinned, pulling the two onesies in question off the rack and placing them in the cart. The twins gurgled as he leaned over them, and he pulled back to give each of them another kiss on the head.

“Pay attention to Papa’s reaction when he sees your new clothes,” he confided in them. “I suspect it will be very funny.”

Later that evening, Logan was standing in the kitchen preparing dinner when he heard the door slam, two arms wrapping around his waist before he could react.

“Hey, handsome,” a voice purred in his ear, and Logan rolled his eyes, whacking one of the arms with a dish towel.

“Please release me so I don’t burn our house down,” he replied, straightening his smile into something neutral as he turned around to face his husband.

Janus grinned. “If you did, we could collect on the insurance and move somewhere nicer.”

Logan rolled his eyes again. “Yes, along with the myriad of backup funds we currently possess, I do think that uprooting our impressionable young children and separating them from all they are familiar with is a fantastic idea—”

His retort was interrupted with Janus pressing their lips together, which Logan was happy to reciprocate.

“Speaking of our children,” Janus said as they pulled away, and Logan still got a certain thrill in his chest when Janus said our children, “where are the little gremlins?”

“In the playpen,” Logan replied, biting the inside of his cheek. “Will you check Remus’ diaper? I changed Roman’s earlier but Remus didn’t need it, and I suspect he will by now.”

Janus sighed. “I’ve been home for five minutes and you’ve already got me doing the dirty work.”

“Thank you, Sanders,” Logan sang, ignoring Janus’ complaint in favor of moving away to turn off the stovetop.

He continued to bustle around the kitchen, but his attention was on Janus, who entered the living room where the boys’ playpen was set up.

“Alright, Reemypop,” Logan heard him say. “Time to face the music—”

He stopped suddenly. Logan waited in anticipation.

“Croft,” Janus said in a voice devoid of emotion.

Logan hurried into the living room, where Janus was looking down into the playpen. The two locked eyes.

“You must think you are very funny,” Janus remarked dryly. Logan couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face.

“Remus is wearing the green onesie,” he responded oh-so-helpfully, once again ignoring Janus’ statement.

“And I assume,” Janus deadpanned, “Roman is wearing a red one.”

Logan hummed. “Excellent deductive reasoning.”

Janus leveled his husband with an unimpressed look.

“I never expected to be mocked for my colorblindness by my own husband,” he finally said.

Logan flashed him a grin. “Come on, Sanders. Surely you’re able to tell the difference between your own sons.”

With that, Logan settled into the rocking chair, folding his arms and looking at his husband with amusement.

Janus looked from him, to the twins, to him again. He sighed, but Logan recognized that look in his eyes: he was ready to play.

“If you insist,” Janus drawled, before leaning forward and picking up the boys in one swoop. They made happy noises at being lifted in the air, and even more so when Janus pressed a kiss onto each of their heads.

He expertly turned them around so they were facing Logan, their backs tucked into Janus’ arms.

“Wave goodbye to Daddy, because I’m going to kill him,” he told the boys cheerfully. They each waved a hand in Logan’s general direction.

“No, don’t—” Logan protested, trying to quell his laughter. “They’ll remember that years down the line, you know.”

“Good. At least their therapists will find them interesting.”

He looked down at the two babies in his arms. He lifted each of them up and down, as if weighing them. They paid absolutely no attention to him: the one on his left continued to wave at Logan, while the other attempted to squirm out of Janus’ hold altogether.

“Remus,” Janus cooed. Both boys turned their heads in his direction.

Janus tsked, and waited for their attention to drift before he tried again. “Roman?”

Again both boys turned back to look at their Papa. Logan snickered softly.

“Darn,” Janus muttered. “I definitely thought that would work.”

He paused in thought, before sighing. “Well, Daddy said Remus probably needs a diaper change. So…”

He leaned forward to give each of his sons a preliminary sniff. Logan wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant, but usually necessary, task.

Janus leaned back. “No dice.”

“That’s good, at least,” Logan offered.

“That’s good, at least,” Janus mimicked, making a face at his husband. He looked down at his sons again, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, Sanders,” he muttered, making Logan snort. “Figure it out.”

He gently maneuvered the three of them to the floor, laying the twins side by side on their backs and sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of them.

He studied them closely. Left Baby reached out to him and made grabby hands, while Right Baby was focused on trying to insert his entire foot into his mouth, both of them babbling adorably.

“Now, Remus is more likely to ask to be picked up than Roman is,” Janus reasoned, pointing a finger at Left Baby; his finger slid over to Right Baby as he continued, “But Roman never tries to chew on his feet like Remus does, so the data is inconclusive.”

Janus tapped his chin, apparently deep in thought. He reached into the playpen, scrabbling around for what he needed for his next test.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, emerging from the playpen and placing the item in between the boys.

“Who wants the Dragon Witch?” he cooed. The twins whipped their heads in unison, eyes wide as they both caught sight of their favorite toy: a green stuffed dragon with a witch hat on its head.

Logan hummed deeply. “I must admit, that’s a good strategy.”

Janus shushed him without looking, his eyes on the boys as they both reached out their hands.

Left Baby reached the toy first, grabbing the tail in one pudgy fist and yanking it towards him. It tottered over, falling on its side just out of reach of Right Baby.

Deceit smiled. Now all he had to do was wait for Right Baby’s reaction. If Roman took a toy, Remus wouldn’t care in the slightest; if Remus took a toy, however, Roman would cry and scream like there was no tomorrow.

Sure enough, Right Baby began making a series of noises that were not quite cries, but were well on their way there.

“Yes!” Janus hissed, pumping his fist slightly. “That one’s Roman, and this one is—”

He cut himself off as Left Baby made a loud, short noise at seeing his brother start to cry. Still gripping the Dragon Witch by its tail, he swung his arm out as much as he could, and the toy flopped into Right Baby’s space, without Left Baby having to let it go.

Immediately Right Baby stopped crying, and he strained for a few seconds before managing to grab the Dragon Witch by its puffy nose. The two brothers stayed like that, holding the Dragon Witch between them, as they turned to face their Papa again.

Janus was gawking at the display. “Of all the times you two could’ve learned how to share, it had to be now?”

Logan hummed in response, preoccupied with taking several photos of the adorable scene. He watched with amusement as Janus’ brow furrowed in concentration, before he gave a triumphant laugh as he got a new idea.

Janus slowly raised his two index fingers, swirling them in the air above each of his sons.

“Here comes the tickle monster!” he growled playfully. The twins were both ticklish, but Remus specifically would squirm and flail and shriek whenever Papa would pretend to be the tickle monster with them.

Apparently Roman had caught onto that mindset, because both boys let out an identical series of squeals at the sight of the fingers hovering over their bellies.

Janus smiled, unable to stop himself from giving the boys a few seconds of tummy tickles, Logan snapping pictures all the while.

“Smile for the camera, boys,” Janus cooed, “because in about ten years we’re gonna use these pictures to embarrass the crap out of you.”

Logan snorted. “Please stop saying things that will scar them in the future.”

Janus only grinned, eventually pulling back his hands and peering down at his children.

“Maybe I could just leave them like this,” he pondered aloud. “I love them equally. I don’t need to know which one is which.”

“Are you admitting defeat?” Logan asked.

Janus scowled. “Never.”

“Then answer the question!”

“Fine!”

The two men glowered at each other.

Finally Janus broke eye contact, and, taking a deep breath, pointed his finger yet again.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo—”

Logan burst out laughing.

“No, no, no, no, no! I refuse to let you use Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo to determine which of our children is which!” His voice rose in pitch as he laughed incredulously at his husband.

Janus ignored him, continuing his game as Logan fell into hysterics behind him.

“My mother told me to pick the very best one and you. Are. It!”

His finger landed on Left Baby.

“That one’s Remus,” Janus declared.

Logan slowly stopped laughing and peered over Janus’ shoulder, eyes following his finger.

“Janus Sanders…”

A pause.

“That is Roman.”

Janus groaned, slamming his fist on the carpet. “No! Fu— falsehood!”

Logan sidestepped, reaching around to pick up Left Baby— Roman. He held the child up to Janus’ face.

“Roman is wearing red,” he said slowly, as if he were teaching his sons about colors as opposed to his husband. “Can you say ‘red’, Janus?”

Janus scoffed, leaning forward to pick up Right Baby, otherwise known as Remus.

“And Remus is wearing green,” he confirmed, rocking the baby into his chest. His son sighed adorably, and Janus pressed another kiss onto his head. He looked up at Logan, who was pressing his lips against Roman’s head simultaneously.

“You are a bastard, Logan Croft.”

“Takes one to know one, Janus Sanders.”

Janus stuck his tongue out at Logan. Remus mimicked him, causing both men to drop the act as they cooed over their son.

Until they wrinkled their noses in sync.

Janus’ eyes shot up to Logan’s. “Do you want me to—”

“Yes, please,” Logan finished with gratitude. Janus sighed, carefully standing up without jostling Remus too badly.

“How long until potty training?” he asked over his shoulder, exiting the living room and heading in the direction of the nursery.

“The answer will only disappoint you,” Logan replied, settling back into the rocking chair with Roman in his arms.

He smiled down at his son, placing yet another kiss on his forehead. He caressed Roman’s head as the baby babbled into his chest.

“Good job, Rollypolly,” he murmured, and as he slowly rocked the chair back and forth, his fingers traced the crown of Roman’s head to find the hidden birthmark that Logan used to tell the twins apart.

His fingers found nothing.

Logan paused in his rocking, and looked down into his son’s face. He gently brushed back his auburn curls, eyes searching for the distinguishable mark that lay beneath his hair.

Nothing.

Logan blinked. That was impossible. Roman definitely had a birthmark— small and temporary, certainly, but he had one. So why…

Logan’s gaze dropped back to examine the baby in his arms. “Roman?”

The baby stared back at him with wide eyes, scrunching the fabric of his bright red onesie in his tiny fist.

“... Remus?”

There was silence for half a second before Roman— before Remus— broke into loud peals of adorable giggles, his tiny smile growing wide as he laughed in Logan’s face.

Logan couldn’t help it. He started laughing, too, slightly sleep deprived laughter that made his chest heave, jostling Remus and causing him to laugh harder, which caused Logan to laugh even harder, on and on and on.

Several minutes went by before Logan was able to stop, and even then he had needed to close his eyes in order to avoid falling back into laughter at seeing his son’s happy face. He almost lost it again when he felt Remus batting at his face with uncoordinated hands, but he managed to calm the two of them enough to stand up from the rocking chair.

“You are a troublemaker,” he murmured against his baby’s head. Remus made little noises that sounded like agreement. Logan gave a contented sigh, a sheepish grin growing on his face as he realized what he had to do next.

“Sanders,” he called down the hallway, carrying Remus to join his Papa and brother, “I have to confess something…”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #my writing #my posts #everything fits

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nek-ros · 4 years

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heh what if i made a self insert oc/npc that's this "totally not an infested" ex-corpus nutcase who wont shut up about arca plasmor's glory days and something about bringing back the gas damage meta. which just translates to weird infested noise and gibberish when other npcs try to understand them

maybe i can use em for drawing that idea of visible infested progression on npcs since we never see npcs turned infested, just after they've already become infested

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

Wish on a Fish | Namjoon

→ summary: namjoon’s got fish-shaped pastries on the brain, and you’ve got namjoon-shaped space in your heart. you both learn to make do. → genre: fluff, humor → words: 3.9K → a/n: i had this in my wips since october 2018 and i decided to finish it because it’s loving namjoon hours (but when is it not?) also this was inspired by this galaxy brain quote from the man himself: “ain’t no fish inside”

“Y/N has a crush on you.”

The owner of the voice giggles when Namjoon lifts his head up in confusion, a sticky note with various mathematical equations hanging precariously from his forehead. An unflattering doodle of what appears to be a worm with Yoongi’s face has imprinted itself like a makeshift tattoo from where his cheek had rested upon his notebook. None of that information explains what year he has woken up in, what dimensions he has slipped into, nor why Hoseok has decided to tell him this very unlikely factoid when he was clearly busy with his guilt nap.

[guilt nap (n.) when Namjoon has kept his eyes open for an extended amount of time, to the point where colors start making noise and numbers start looking like letters, so he sleeps in various public places to reboot his brain; hardly ever works but he still tries.]

“Whuzzat?” Namjoon asks, verbose. The sticky note is on its last dredges of stickiness, and Hoseok watches it flop down from its perch and into his friend’s agape mouth. Hoseok plucks it away kindly, but Namjoon doesn’t even seem to have noticed its disappearance.

“You look like shit,” Hoseok replies instead, pulling a chair beside Namjoon and carefully pushing aside what appears to be a glass of curdled milk. Hoseok’s nose crinkles in disgust. “Dude. Was this the milk tea from free Boba Tuesday?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon blinks owlishly. It appears that his brain hasn’t fully awakened yet, because he goes to grab the cup and bring it to his lips when Hoseok saves him by plucking the offending object out of his hands too.

“Namjoon. Free Boba Tuesday was three days ago. It’s Friday evening. This is three-day-old milk tea.”

“No way. You’re kidding,” Namjoon says, peering into the cup and making a startled face at the solidified mass. He jiggles it in wonder, beholding in its jelliness. “Wow. Do you think I could donate this to the bio labs? I heard they were looking for more e. coli samples.”

“Why the fuck would this have e. coli in it? Unless you took a shit in—“ Hoseok begins, but clamps his mouth shut when it looks like Namjoon is about to defend himself. He backtracks, “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“Why are you here again?” Namjoon grumbles, trying to salvage his crumpled notes by smoothing them with his hands. He rips one of them in half, and he gazes at the mess with the eyes of a defeated man. He sighs. “Look, I’m really busy right now. I don’t have time to get roasted AND study for finals at the same time. You’re gonna have to schedule an appointment with me.”

“As much as I enjoy making fun of your poor hygiene and self-care skills, I have a reason for being here. Like I just said, I came here to tell you that Y/N has a crush on you,” Hoseok repeats, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Heard her talking about you in the labs this morning.”

Namjoon stares at him. Hoseok watches in worry as his friend’s irises start to become unfocused slightly.

“Dude,” Hoseok says, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you hear what I said?” Namjoon thankfully blinks back.

“Yeah. Okay, thanks.” Namjoon finally says, before grabbing his notebook to see where he left off. He doesn’t notice that his notes are upside down when he begins to write gibberish that must only make sense to him. Hoseok thinks he can see the word ‘churros’ somewhere in there, but he isn’t 100% certain.

Namjoon continues, “Do you think the cafeteria is still open at this hour? I don’t think I’ve drunk water in two days.”

“Okay, thanks? That’s all you have to say to my jawdropping discovery?” Hoseok exclaims, pinching Namjoon’s cheek. The Yoongi doodle on his cheek smudges from his fingers, making him appear even wormier than before. “Y/N is in your Chemistry class, right? The one with the serial killer professor?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon hums, scratching out the word ‘churro’ and replacing it with ‘grilled cheese’ instead. The amount of concentration on his face is disconcerting, to say the least. It looks like he’s writing down a grocery list beside his calculus homework. “Professor Kang isn’t a serial killer, by the way. He’s just stressed.”

Hoseok gives his friend a once-over, disbelieving. “Yeah, I can see why you’d defend him. Takes one to know one,” he snorts, grimacing at the pit stains lining his friend’s gray shirt. “Honestly, Y/N must be a serial killer herself if she thinks you’re worth any sort of attraction. You smell like the market, dude.”

“Speaking of, do you know what I want from the market right now?” Namjoon drops his pen, leaving an unfinished doodle of another portrait of wormy Yoongi screaming in terror under the heat of a magnifying glass. Hoseok reminds himself to tell his hyung to lock his doors later that evening.

“Uhh… No?”

“Those silly fish cake things, with the red bean,” Namjoon murmurs, determination set in his jaw. He stands up suddenly, slamming his notebooks closed and stuffing them into his backpack. In his hurry, he knocks over the cup of curdled milk tea all over the library floor, and Hoseok half-expects it to start melting the carpet like acid. “It’s funny though, because why the hell would they shape them like that? Ain’t no fish inside… Why would they try to deceive us like that?”

“Dude, you okay?” Hoseok asks, slightly worried for his friend but not worried enough to feel bothered to stop him from potentially running into oncoming traffic.

“Need a snack. Be back,” Namjoon says, rushing out of the library in a speed uncanny for the long-legged man. Hoseok watches as he reaches the front entrance of the library exit, before he inadvertently stops in his tracks, and looks back at the still seated Hoseok.

Hoseok raises a brow. “You forgetting something?”

Namjoon opens his mouth. Closes it. Scrunches up his face like he’s just released a fart. Then, “Hey. I just rhymed. That’s cool,” he says in awe of himself, before finally making his way out of the library without waving goodbye.

Left behind to contemplate his friend choices, Hoseok heaves a heavy sigh, staring forlornly at the abandoned doodle of worm Yoongi. He shakes his head, defeated. “I tried, Y/N. I really did.”

——***——

Namjoon makes his way to the market, after a quick stop to his apartment for a change of clothes. He had only thought to change when a woman and her young daughter had taken one sniff from his general direction and ran quickly into a nearby shop to avoid his cloying stench. He at least had the decency to give the duo a sheepish look before scuttling off to his apartment in embarrassment.

Now slightly better smelling but not any less sleep-deprived, Namjoon enters the nearby open market with an agenda. He passes numerous food stalls, almost being tempted by the loud aunties to buy every single food product that he can fit into his ink-stained hands. He can’t afford to settle for any other sugary product, not when he already has his eye on the main prize.

His torment does not last long because over in the corner of the street where a long line has formed, he sees the sign for freshly cooked bungeoppang.

He hurries over, almost tripping over his own feet when he makes it to the end of the line. For whatever reason, the entirety of Seoul has also decided that they’d also like to eat some bungeoppang today as the line was over 30 people long. Namjoon glances at his watch, seeing that he only has 5 hours left until his next final and he desperately needs to finish revising the last chapter of his notes.

He sees the stall for hotteok close by where the line is significantly shorter. He’s partially debating on switching lanes and settling for his second favorite treat when he sees a familiar head of hair standing by the bungeoppang stall, seemingly debating the same thing as himself.

It’s you.

“Damn, what a line…” Namjoon hears you say to yourself, gazing longingly at the piping hot red bean goodness. Shaking your head, you sigh deeply, ready to leave bungeoppang-less. You’re just about to walk out of sight from Namjoon when he finally thinks to call out to you in greeting.

“Y/N! Over here!” He calls out, and he wonders if you’ll hear him over the sound of the crowd. Surprisingly, you turn around swiftly at the sound of his voice, able to pinpoint his hoarse voice anytime and anywhere. Your cheeks darken when you see him, apparently blind to the fact that he did not look the least bit decent with his dark eyebags and the telltale sign of dried drool on the side of his cheek. To you, he’ll always look gorgeous, even underneath the dingy fluorescent lights of the night market.

“Namjoon? What a coincidence to see you here!” You greet back, walking towards him with a skip in your step. To the chagrin of the five other people behind Namjoon, you insert yourself beside him and into the line for the bungeoppang. Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind, but that could also be the fact that his brain was running on 2 hours of sleep and three cans of energy drinks, but who can say?

“Same here. Are you here for a pre-exam snack too?”

“Sorta,” you hum, smiling. “I was about to ditch this place for the kimbap place near the Arts building because of this line, but then I saw you here so I guess I’ll brave the wait time with you.”

“Oh, sorry to interrupt you from your plans, then.” Namjoon sounds genuinely remorseful, and you have to force yourself not to coo at his crestfallen face. “I just wanted to say hello, you know?”

“It’s no problem, really. I really did have a craving for some bungeoppang, so it’s not like I’m losing anything. Besides, I miss talking to you, so it’s no big deal,” you say the last part quietly, eyes turning downwards in embarrassment. “It’s just… I haven’t seen you in so long.”

However, you’re not really embarrassed––not quite. It is well known around your circle of friends that you have a massive crush on the Biochemistry major, much to the confusion of everyone who knows you. Not to say that Namjoon was terrible, but when you stop to think about how… out of it he was, it’s kind of hard to imagine why you would want to pursue a relationship with him. Dozens of people have already tried their hand at confessing to him, but to no avail. The dude is as dense as a rock, and perhaps that is part of the appeal to you. You always have been a bit of a morosexual.

Besides, you have an advantage: you’re blinded by a misplaced determination for all things Kim Namjoon. In your eyes, all it takes is a few psychological tricks to get his head out of his ass, and you are set for life. If treating Namjoon like a psychology experiment seems unethical to others, well. Let’s just see who is crying when you eventually snatch his heart and win his hand.

If Hoseok had promised his end of the deal, you know that he’s planted the seed in Namjoon already. Assuming things are going according to plan, then Hoseok should have told him about your not-so-secret crush on him, so Namjoon should be aware of your attraction to him. At a glance, Namjoon doesn’t seem to be treating you any differently, but that could just be his way of being polite. Or, you know. He could also be an idiot. Passing him at the market only means another opportunity for you to butter him up and make him yours.

“I miss talking to you too,” Namjoon replies, dimples showing from how hard he’s smiling. You feel your heart jump up to your throat and fall back down to your ass.

“Really? Could’ve sworn that you’ve been avoiding me. Haven’t seen you in two weeks!” you say accusingly, both as a joke but also for real. The hurt is probably evident on your face, even to the likes of Namjoon.

He pouts ruefully at you. “Aw, you know I don’t mean to. I have six finals this term, and I’m terribly behind because of all the extra-curriculars I’ve had to take. You know I could never avoid you on purpose,” he says, brows furrowed in concern. If that isn’t enough, he pulls the rug from under you by brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes and tucks it gently behind your ear.

Unbeknownst to the lanky brunette, his words and actions have caused you to start combusting on the inside with unbridled endearment. How the actual fuck could he say that shit with a straight face? And to your weak and fragile heart? Right in front of your bungeoppang? The nerve of this guy! There’s no way that your feelings aren’t unreciprocated––your plan must have worked!

You take a shaky breath, gathering your thoughts. As much as his words seem like an indication of his feelings, you have to make sure. You didn’t survive all these years as one of your university’s top student researchers without knowing the importance of testing your hypothesis. You need to run some tests first before coming to a conclusion.

“Speaking of avoiding friends… I haven’t seen Hoseok in a while. I miss hanging out with him and Yoongi,” you say as nonchalantly as you can, observing Namjoon from the corner of your eye. Namjoon nods in agreement, stepping forward as the line begins to shorten bit by bit. You can almost see the vendor flipping the cakes in their flat iron griddles from where you stand.

“Me too. I saw Hoseok just a few minutes ago before I left to go here. Haven’t seen Yoongi since that party at Seokjin’s, but that’s about it.”

“Oh? You just saw Hoseok? Did he say anything… in particular?” you ask. You feel sweat beginning to build along your palms, and you have to grasp the ends of your sweater to keep yourself from fidgeting. You wait with bated breath as the boy thinks of a response.

“Yeah actually. He mentioned something about you too––wait, hold that thought,” Namjoon stops himself, and you only realize then that you’ve arrived at the front of the line. He turns to you expectantly. “You wanna order first?”

“Huh?” You stare at him dumbfoundedly, your brain fighting to catch up with your surroundings. It isn’t until you hear the irritated sounds of the impatient customers behind you that you manage to snap out of your trance. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I just want one original flavor please.”

“I’ll have three,” Namjoon says, and neither you nor the vendor says anything about the amount he has ordered. Who was anyone to judge him and his fondness for fish-shaped pastries?

Just as you are about to hand over your own payment to the saleslady, Namjoon shoves a bill over yours, nudging your hands away. You squawk indignantly, your protests bubbling underneath your tongue before he gives you a firm look.

“No buts. I’m paying this time as an apology for ignoring you over school,” he says, grinning. You hear the vendor giggle at the two of you, remarking how cute the two of you are. “Thanks,” Namjoon replies, leaving the change for the auntie as a tip. The flush enveloping your face refuses to die, even as the two of you exit the market together.

“You really didn’t have to pay for me,” you mutter, nibbling the treat and letting the warmth envelope you in the cold weather. When you glance at him, you see Namjoon take a huge bite of his first fish cake, cheeks bulging in what most might have found unattractive. You, on the other hand, have to keep yourself from swooning in delight.

“Of course I did,” Namjoon says, or at least, he tries to. He speaks with his mouth full, but luckily you’ve lived with rambunctious males all your life and have learned the fine art of deciphering words even with chunks of food in the way. He successfully swallows the pastry down thickly, and you have to stop yourself from ogling his throat for too long. “You’re my friend, and I care about all of my friends.”

At his innocent admission, your mood is shot down almost immediately, the icy feeling of disappointment running down your back. You’re just his friend, your brain echoes unhelpfully. Your excitement a while ago had been premature––he had only said those sweet words as a friend. At that realization, you drop your gaze down to the pavement, unwilling to show him your sorrow.

Namjoon slows in his walk, noticing your sulking almost immediately. “Hey, you alright?” he asks, patting your back as the two of you stop at a crosswalk. You force yourself not to flinch at his touch.

“Um. I’m fine. Sorry, I just started thinking about the final I have tomorrow,” you lie, keeping your voice steady. The fact that your plan had failed before it even had the chance to begin makes you wonder why you had even thought you would be able to get Namjoon to like you back in the first place. What is the point, when others have tried before you and have failed miserably? What makes you special?

It’s hard to let go though, not with how gentle and kind his touch is as he smooths his hand over your shoulders, rubbing gently. It’s hard to not fall in love with this gigantic dork, with his wire-framed glasses and his ill-fitting flannel shirt. Hell, even the stupid doodle of Yoongi as a worm on his cheek is cute as fuck. Everything about this stupidly endearing genius makes you want to try and try again, even if failure is just around the corner.

Maybe the biggest idiot at the end of the day is yourself. Love really does make all of us stupid, and you are just another victim of one of Cupid’s arrows. That bow-wielding diaper-wearing man can kiss your ass, you surmise.

“Finals suck, but I know you can do it,” Namjoon says with painfully genuine confidence. You ignore the way your heart seizes, biting the head of your fish cake with much more force than necessary.

The two of you cross the street in silence, your forearms touching occasionally as you get closer to the library. You know that Namjoon is probably going to head back there, so you’re about to say your goodbyes and run to your dorm and sing along to some sad Adele songs when Namjoon’s voice stops you once more.

“Hey. I forgot to say a while ago, but I was just about to tell you about Hoseok before we got our bungeoppang,” he says.

You freeze immediately. In those crummy k-dramas, this is always where the girl gets her heartbroken, you realize. Under the streetlamps of a cool spring evening, with no one else in sight. Just you, him, and the remains of your dignity all over the floor.

You brace yourself for the inevitable rejection that you are sure that will follow. You grit your teeth, already rehearsing the jokes you’ll have to say to numb the incoming pain. You’ll have to pretend that everything Hoseok said was just a stupid rumor, that there is no way that you could ever have a crush on him. The both of you will laugh, with him unaware of the way your heart has begun to crumble into tiny pieces with every huff of air you inhale in his presence. You ready yourself, and you tell yourself that you’ll get over it.

But the rejection doesn’t come. Instead, you’re hit by a freight train.

Namjoon is totally serious when he says, “Hoseok told me it was Friday today and that Free Boba Tuesday was three days ago, but I checked my watch and it says it’s February 20, which is a Wednesday. Do you think he was messing with me?”

You gawk at him. You clear your throat. “I-I’m sorry, but what?”

“I’m not crazy, right?” Namjoon pulls out his phone, showing you the home screen where it clearly says the supposed date today. He points at it, finger trembling with an inordinate amount of vigor. “Am I blind? That says February 20!”

Your heart, which once was ready to burst, slowly reassembles itself with frightening speed when you finish processing his words. No, it is not because you have been reinvigorated with the hope of possibly having your attraction reciprocated, but rather, because you can’t believe you have ever decided to give your heart away to a man who didn’t even know that today was, in fact, April 5. Oh my god.

There is absolutely no need to fear that Namjoon might be swept away by someone else, because only you would be dumb enough to have a crush on someone so absolutely, mind-bendingly, idiotic as him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah?” he looks at quizzically, neck tinted a soft pink from the cold. The soft glow of the streetlamps gives him a soft halo as he proceeds to stuff his mouth with a large bite of bungeoppang. He smiles through the fullness of his cheeks, dimples ever-present and endearing as they always have been.

Your mouth opens, then closes. Your resolve to confess to him has long since dissipated, but your adoration for him does not waver in the slightest. All you feel is fatigue and a dire need to snuggle into your warmest blankets and dream about fish pastries and a lanky, bespectacled man. Pursuing Namjoon can wait another day, maybe when both of you are a bit more lucid and free from all your pressing assessments. For now…

“Namjoon, I want you to go home and take some rest, okay? If I hear from Hoseok or anyone that you’re still cooped up in that library, I’ll ban you from bungeoppang for the rest of the semester, is that clear?” Your voice is authoritative, but the tenderness in the way you caress his cheek gives you away. Namjoon swallows his bite, blinking owlishly at your sudden display of gentleness.

“O...okay?”

“Good,” you nod firmly, patting his cheek once more and swiping away some stray red bean on his lips. Your fingers burn where they touch him. You step away from him, heading towards the opposite direction. “See you soon, Joon?”

“Y-yeah?” Namjoon stutters out, still at a loss from your odd behavior. “See you, Y/N.”

When you are nothing but a speck of blue amidst a sea of darkness, Namjoon brings a hand to where your fingers had brushed his lips, tapping against it thoughtfully as he stares after where you had been moments ago.

He smiles to himself, shaking his head. “Nice rhyme,” he chuckles, walking away from the library and towards his own apartment. Even with his mind still foggy with math equations and chemistry nomenclature, his heart still manages to do a flip at the thought of seeing you again soon.

Only two finals away.

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wokeastroke · 4 years

Text

Oubliette

Tirian had never expected to own a dungeon. He never saw the need. When a man kills, when a man steals, he is either killed or beaten within an inch of his life. Why would he want to keep them? Why torment them further when a beheading was arguably cleaner, less expensive, easier?

But the beast had long since turned his mind into it’s stomping grounds. It’s violent and eternal brain set on very simple and easily accomplished goals. It recognized the enemies about it, the weak ones, the loyal ones. And it recognized itself. When Tirian’s black, dead end eyes met the shining, glittering ones of Riva Ban’dinoriel, there was kinship. The predator that had taken her was a cousin, a sister in murder that thrives on the more subtle methods of domination. In a way it felt weaker, it’s slithering, snake-like appearance easy to stomp underfoot. But never would the bull stomp upon the snake, for fear of the poison in its fangs.

“Oh Tirian, do not look at me with those dark eyes. I’m tired of feeling like you’re going to sling me upon my table and ravish me. Or kill me.”

Tirian scoffed at the doctor, sitting upon her much-to-big leather chair, writing in her leather bound notebook. He was, conversely, seated on a hard wooden stool. Of his own choosing, as before they ever descended into the bowels of Ghostlynn, he needed clarity. It appeared a hard wooden surface under his ass was helpful in that regard. “Never either, Riva. I adore you but I wouldn’t want to break you. And gods know we’re close as can be without blood in the mix.”

Riva made a noise of annoyance. She never enjoyed being told she could not handle something, even if it was a coupling she had no desire to enjoy. Sex was a tool, as much as any drug, and only one had ever enjoyed Riva’s attentions without ulterior motives driving the doctor’s movements. The very thought brought a sigh to her precious lips and a purring from within her, her own beast remembering and appeasing itself with that memory. The doctor scratched a few more things into her notebook, in a script that she’d developed for note taking of this caliber. The symbols were foreign, the entire book looking more like the scratching of a madwoman than the murderous, bloody examination of a gift she and the broad elf before her shared.

A gift, she called it. As it was. It was through the beast that she’d survived being locked underground with a beast of nightmares, it’s mouth vomiting viscous purple slime and it’s wails loud and haunting enough to drive most mad. She tittered to herself, drawing a flick of an ear from Tirian. Perhaps it HAD maddened her. What other than a madwoman would claw her way through half a mile of dirt, stone, and mud with nothing but her nails? She’d broken, that terrible day. And then she’d been remade. A darling, precious doctor turned into a... well.

Tirian cleared his throat, pulling her from her musings. As much as he enjoyed sitting still and watching her quill’s large and ridiculous feather bob and bounce, he did not come down here to watch it. He was here for another reason entirely, one that left his knee bouncing impatiently and his brows furrowing further with each minute he was made to wait.

Riva was the master of the Oubliette, a dark pit where the worst of the Blackrose Duchy found themselves. The worst that could not be turned towards something useful of course, or be caught and gifted to the more elegant dungeons of Vynlorin. Killers had their place, beneath Lord Felo’dorah. If they could not be tempered, would not submit to the king of murderers, they were no better than rabid dogs. They were worse, as even Primrose had been capable of controlling the hounds of the woods. No, this scum had no purpose other than one, one he and Riva had begun to take part in together. A strange sort of bonding, one part madness, another part hunger. Altogether, purely violent. Tirian had come to make good on this violence, to enjoy it to its fullest in a place where not even the guard could save their shared prey.

“You’re taking too long. Make your notes when we’re finished, but I’m hungry now and I know you are too. Get up, let’s go.”

Without waiting for her, Tirian rose to his feet. The room they were in was dark and cold, burrowed and constructed beneath the grounds of Ghostlynn by a thousand worker rats, all vehemently loyal to their god-queen. Tirian’s lip curled up, exposing his teeth in disgust as the vermin skittered about, on various tasks for her. They gave him a wide berth, respectful distance. They were loyal, yes, but not stupid. Even the lowliest rodents knew predators when they saw them, and he was more deranged than any they knew. Riva stood soon after, dusting her already pristine surgeon’s scrubs off. She gave another sigh of annoyance, but he could see it in her eyes as she gifted him a small key. Her shining, predatory eyes. She wanted this as badly as he did, perhaps more so. He could contain his hunger for a time, a week, two. But madness could not be contained. He knew for a fact that Riva fed her beast multiple times a week, sometimes twice daily she indulged her devilish delights. For a moment he wondered what it would be like, to be beneath her scalpel. He shuddered. There was sharp pain, the drag of nails or gnashing of teeth. And then there was the clinical precision of the Good Doctor’s blades. They were not alike.

He inserted the small key into a hole within the center of the wall. Twice to the left, once to the right, pull, once more to the right, push. A delicate system of gears and pulleys allowed even someone as small and thin as Riva to push the great slab of stone inwards. The wails began almost immediately. Men and women screamed and writhed in their cells, the light of even the small office unbearable after so long spent in the dark. Cells lined both sides of a long hall, rats still scampered about in the endless task of feeding, watering, and ventilating the shit-stink of the place. The last task, it seemed, was near impossible.

Their prisoners howled and cursed and gnashed their teeth. Knowing only the beast eyes of rats, their swarming caretaker, they had long forgotten the sensation of foreign bodies. However the malice was palpable. Neither the lord nor the doctor ever came here for good things. Tirian started down the hallway, head held high, as if to rise about the scents and sights of filth and mud. It wasn’t that he was disgusted, no, he was their lord. Even the prisoners of his lands would see him as he must be. Strong, tall, untouchable. They did not deserve his kindness, so none of it graced his face.

“Tirian, if you would, our subject for this morning is a man seen poisoning the crops of your furthest village. Crops that you know are already meager. Their output has been slowed by at least half, and will likely be so until Primrose is sent to usher new growth.” She spoke in a crisp and clipped tone, all pretenses lost as she had already given into the snake in her eyes. It cared for nothing but it’s venom and the venom’s effect.

“So close to war, all crops will already be taxed to feed our men, the alliance’s men. Do they not know that they will simply die second?”

“He speaks in gibberish, most days, yet appears to believe that a life served in undeath is payment enough for his services. Immortality, it seems, is too holy a grail to give up. Even if the means by which it is given are unholy.”

“He is mistaken if he believes his life will be anything other than cut short.”

They lapsed into silence as Tirian led them down the damp and dark hall. The wails of the damned had lessened now, returning to the pitiful mewling, the animals crouching low in their burrows in an attempt to escape the ire of the twin pair of beasts in their proximity. None had the mind left to hurl even insults. A result of the mixture of drugs and restorative that was mixed into their food by the very doctor that stalked them. Enough to ensure they died only when it was wished. At a short clearing of Riva’s throat, both stopped before the cell of a man dressed in ragged farmer’s wear.

It appeared he had not been given a change of clothing when he arrived. None the entered this hell were. His beard had grown unruly and matted, his hair hanging long and dirty and in his face. He did not react as the gate was unlocked and opened, a large and intricate lock falling to the ground with various metal noises. That alone seemed to startle the man. He rose from the ground, a mad dash for the entrance that only served to earn him a fist to his jaw. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard asTirian rubbed at him knuckles, growling slightly as the popped and cracked from the surprise usage.

From the ground, the farmer could only look up and blink in the darkness as the pair entered the cell and stood side by side, looking down on him. Riva spoke first.

“Hello, Mister Demps. I must admit you are looking worse for wear. It has only been a week since your internment, you know. What have you been doing to yourself?” She was sure to keep Tirian within fleeing distance. Proud as she might be, she knew her physical limitations well enough to know to avoid being within grabbing distance. Better to simply watch as Tirian worked, until he was prepared for her own brand of feeding.

And work Tirian did. He stepped forward as the good doctor spoke, taking the bruised and weakened farmer by the throat and twisting his arm behind his back. With this control over the mute fellow, the elf was able to shove him against a nearby wall, holding him steady with a steady application of pain.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” He observed as the man only gasped and murmured. A turn of the head and the night eyes given by the void clarified the reason behind this trait, however. “You took his tongue.”

Riva tittered as she worked behind him, her voice the only sound that told that he was not alone in the cell. “He shouted awful, hurtful things when he was placed within the cell. You must forgive me, but insults must be met with punishment. I believe he has long learned that screaming will not aid him. Tirian didn’t look convinced, even as the doctor arrived beside him, a silver syringe held between delicate, gloves fingers. The needle proceeded dreadfully slow to Demps’ bulging neck, likely for her own enjoyment. The bull didn’t at all kind, as the fear radiating from the farmer was enticing in its rawness. What did the doctor do to the fellow that could neuter him so? He found he did not want to ask.

Instead he breathed in, the antennae-like tendrils on his head weithin as they soaked up the raw terror from their meal. They always seemed more lively during feedings. Then, all at once, the needle found Demps’ carotid artery. Even to the lord, this seemed ill advised, but she was the expert here. The blue liquid pumped from the syringe and into their shared prey’s bloodstream, diffusing almost immediately, traveling to the brain, seeking the neurons that would activate-

Tirian groaned aloud as the concoction worked its magic. The sudden burst of vile and primal fear that coated the cell made his legs shake. The light gasp from behind him was evidence of Riva’s own reaction to the stench. The aroma he’d come to associate with energy, peace, sleep. Food. He stepped back, throwing the farmer to the ground and standing away. His shoulders heaved with his heavy breaths, his head growing light. Riva stepped beside him, grasping one of his strong arms as her own sort of feeding took it’s toll. It always did, for her. Her body was weak, as if her mind was the only muscle she sought to improve. Besides her ass, of course.

He found himself intoxicated as the human scrambled to the wall of the small cell, turning his face and closing his eyes as the wails and moans began to leave his throat unbidden. He looked down, noticing a tightening in his pants as his heartbeat quickened. He always got like this after feeding.

Riva fared no better. Her legs failed her, and only her grip on Tirian’s muscles arm was keeping her afloat in this sea of control. She didn’t care for fear, emotion, especially human emotion, was a waste unless utilized. But the sight of her control, her mastery of chemicals and minds, was orgasmic. Her tongue escaped her open mouth. Her tongues. She’d long ago split the muscle in two simply because she thought it would look good. Her smile was gone, replaced by a look that any would describe as hungry. Horny. But neither wanted sex. They wished to feed. And only when Riva finally patted his arm, signaling that she was fit to burst with the emotion of control, of subjugation, did Tirian raise a hand to the man against the wall.

Long ago, he had had to be close to his meal to devour them. His eyes and mouth had been the only point fear could flow into him, where sustenance could be gained. But he’d grown, since then. He was a bull, a lord, and he would not sully himself by coming closer during his feast of the senses. The power radiating from him coalesced in a simple point upon his palm. It flowed from his eyes, over his tongue and teeth. Cold and dark and sinful, it washed across the room at an unspoken command. Eventually, the energies that eddied and slithered across the ground met the prey, as it sat there and begged the gods for forgiveness with a tongue that could no longer speak. Tirian answered, instead.

“Do not beg the gods for release. In this moment, we are your gods. Tell whatever deity takes you who sent you to them.”

The draining process was swift, pulling the raw mass of terror from within his soul and sucking it across the cell. It was an ugly form of writhing screams and dripping piss and tears. The very essence of fear and anxiety rolled within the air until it was dragged back into the lord’s eyes. The sound was not unlike a predator breaking the bones of its catch to suck the sweet marrow away. It was was gone in an instant, and Tirian’s eyes and mouth were as ‘normal’ as a void elf’s could be an instant later. His hand dropped as he turned away, uncaring of the outcome of the broken, shell of a beast that sat within the cell.

Demps lay against the far wall, having curled into a ball to protect himself. When the attack was over, he merely sat up and stared at the pair. There was no life in his eyes, no pain, only the clear confusion that one feels when they know they must feel something else. He would never feel this anxiety again, damned as Tirian was to a life without fear. This proved a blessing, however, as Riva leveled a pistol to his chest.

The shot rang out, answered by the cries and screams of the forgotten, freshly reminds that beasts stalked their unwilling home. Their prison. The hole blown into the man’s chest cavity was ragged and wide, large enough for a rat to crawl within. It appeared this would not be far off, as Tirian could already hear the screeches of hunger and skittering paws.

“I’m leaving. See you again in two weeks, Riva.” He murmured before stalking off into the darkness. Riva called back a moment later, speaking in her regular, energetic, sing song voice.

“Oh do wait for me, Tirian! Who knows what sorts of monsters lay here, hiding in the dark?” Doctor Riva Ban’dinoriel tittered as she stepped lightly, neatly skipping from the Oubliette.

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lizzy-frizzle · 3 years

Text

Here’s the second piece! It stars one Deidre Hunt from @smallest-turtle

Lizzy was walking around the ishgard markets, looking for anything interesting.

[Hmmm. No, no, that’s gaudy, no, ew do people wear that?]

She sighed, exasperated, “Nothing. Nothing is good enough to get for Sadu. Maybe I should just make something?”

There was a light commotion as the most horrendous shroud accent tears through the scuffle, “I didn’ do anythin’!”

Lizzy, having spent most of her youth in the shroud, recognized it immediately, but to ishgardian ears it must’ve been gibberish.

Lizzy steps toward the noise, and pushes her way through the crowd, the source of the commotion was a young hyur woman was grabbed by the arm of an ishgardian market guard.

“Um, hello, is there a problem?” Lizzy asked the guard.

The guard takes a step back, “I, uh, oh Lizzy. I caught this one stealing from the stall.”

Lizzy looks at the woman, then back at the guard, the guard was easily twice the height of her, “Mhm. Well, I can take it from here.”

Lizzy stares the guard down, knowing the guard doesn’t want to just let this go.

He takes a moment, and begrudgingly throws the arm down, “Fine.”

Lizzy takes a breath, “You know, I’m just saving you.”

The guard looks confused, but waves it off, and walks on.

The woman turns to Lizzy, “I had it und’r control!”

“Well, I don’t think a person with the echo should be composing themselves like that.” Lizzy measures the woman with her eyes, “Wait, how old are you?”

“18, why?”

[This is a child.]

“What’s your name?” Lizzy asks, as gently as possible.

“Deidre.” she starts analyzing Lizzy, “Who’r you?”

Lizzy shudders, [This child speaks like my grandmother.]

“My name is Elizabeth Frizzle, but you can call me Lizzy, everyone does.” Lizzy stops for a second, “Wait, Deidre, that name...Aren’t you the one the scions have been getting to curb the primal threats recently?”

Lizzy knew that there had been others, and honestly was happy to let them take over while she focused on her more romantic endeavors.

“Ye, ‘ave you any idea ‘ow frustrat’n it is?”

Lizzy parses the information on her ears, “Uh, yea, the scions had me take down a couple primals, then I was pulled away by some issues elsewhere, then more issues, and I suppose you took up my responsibility.”

[If I had known they would make a child…]

Lizzy continues, “Hey, would you wanna come with me while I shop around?”

Deidre was about to turn and run.

“Hey, I’m not going to force you to fight anything, I just want some company while I shop, my chocobo isn’t allowed in the city, so I don’t ge-”

“-Chocobo?” Deidre perked up.

“Oh? Yea, her name is Valerie. I’ve raised her forever, I don’t leave home without her.” Lizzy looks at Deidre, “Would you like to meet her?”

The hyur nodded, and started following Lizzy.

Lizzy begins to talk as they walk through the market, “I’m looking for a present for my girlfriend.” she stops to check out some jewelry in a stall, “Normally these kind of markets can have hidden gems, but I haven’t found anything today.” she holds the focus of her necklace out to show Deidre, “Sadu got me this necklace, and even got it engraved, and I can’t find anything nearly half as meaningful for her.”

“Wha’ kind’o girl i’she?” Deidre asks.

“She loves to fight, she challenged me to...7? Or 8, fights before she accepted my date proposal.”

Deidre nods knowingly, “Why’nt get’er a new weap’n?

Lizzy stops, shocked, “Why didn’t I think of that...”

[Sadu has always used that staff though, I don’t know if she’d like a new one. Maybe the gesture is enough though?]

“Ok, let’s go somewhere else then, you can teleport yea?” Lizzy looks at the scars on Deidre’s arms.

“Ye!”

“Alright, let’s go to Gridania then. They make the best staffs.”

With that they were whisked away.

~New Gridania~

“So, I think a staff with this one tree...” Lizzy trails off, half-talking to Deidre, half-thinking of what she needs.

“Do y’always talk t’ yourself?”

“Well,” Lizzy starts to defend herself, but alas, “I guess I’m so used to traveling alone I do...huh.” Lizzy thinks about it for a moment, “Well, anyway, I got the wood I needed.”

With a flash, Lizzy starts carving the wood into a staff right there. The movements being rapid, but carefully calculated, the form of a beautiful staff forming. A thin pole, with the focus point having wings and twin serpents coiling up to a slot where a gem should go.

“Now I just need to get a special type of diamond.” Lizzy stops, “Hey, I’m gonna go fight a god real quick, can you stay here for a moment?”

“Uh, sure?” Deidre sat down on a log.

“Alright,” Lizzy disappears.

Deidre notices the dark blue chocobo standing there, waiting for her owner to return. She beckons her over, and the chocobo gently sits down and rests her head across Deidre’s lap.

10 minutes later, Lizzy re-appears. Now she’s holding a pristine looking diamond.

“Wonderful.” Lizzy takes out the rod and inserts the gem.

“Who’d y’fight?” Deidre asks.

“Kefka, that stupid clown always uses diamonds in some of his attacks, so fighting him allows me to get them for weapons.” Lizzy stops, feeling nearly insane, “They’re really good weapons.”

“Ah, can I meet y’girlfriend?”

“Uh, sure, I don’t see why not. Have you been to the Azim Steppe?”

~Dotharl Khaa~

As soon as Lizzy spots a specific Au Ra, she leaps into her arms.

“SADU!”

The smiles on both their faces is near infectious, and Deidre can’t help but smile at the sight.

Sadu let’s Lizzy down, “I wasn’t expecting you to visit today!”

“Well! I made you something!” Lizzy notices the standalone hyur among everyone, “OH! This is my new friend, Deidre. She’s from the Shroud too.”

Sadu looks at her, “Are you strong?”

Lizzy begins to scold her, “Sadu, she’s a child.”

“And children can’t fight? She looks like she can topple some beasts.”

Deidre confidently says, “I bet ah’ve kill’d more than y’have!”

Sadu nearly steps back, “What.”

Lizzy translates, “She thinks she’s killed more creatures than you.”

Sadu nods, “See? That means I should challenge her.”

Lizzy gets a worried expression, “Can I at least give you your present first? I think you’ll love it.”

“You got me something?” her eyes flicker with excitement.

“Yea! Actually, I made it.” Lizzy takes out the diamond infused black mage staff, “Here!”

Sadu takes it, and examines it. Carefully tracing the notches and patterns in it. After a moment, she casts a spell on a nearby shrug, igniting it instantly.

“Ooooo, I like this! The magic flows so easily, and so potently!”

Sadu hugs Lizzy again, this time punctuating it with a kiss.

She let’s go of Lizzy, “Thank you so much!”

Lizzy seems lost in a daze, cheeks flushed.

Sadu turns her attention back to Deidre, “Ok, so about that fight then?”

#ffxiv #Lizzy Frizzle #Sadu x Lizzy #Sadu x WoL #Deidre Hunt #my writing

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