#scraps and bones are off limits

[neteyamm]

untitled bc yeah

pairing jake sully x na’vi!reader (female coded)

warning(s) nsfw, minors dni, oral, kinda na’vi heat?

author note this was literally going to be in a fanfic i was writing, but then, i like scrapped it and wrote this in thirty minutes. lol, is kitty offensive? jake’s great great great grandparents x20 was gen z. think on that. this is actually like crack? like crack wit smut? idk. enjoy i guess. jake’s pussy whipped, sooo. lol accidental third person? well, its third person limited, bc it’s jake pov? that happened accidentally tho. soz <33 unedited … yeah <33 my descriptions are actually shit and i think i gave jake adhd? lowercase very much not intended. i spent too much words on fucking silk. that had no reason being there :) it was fun tho. somehow past tense but not? idk not edited so yeah. enjoy again ig.

that small area, filled with overgrown trees, bushes and plants, lush greens and illuminating purples, had already been claimed before jake stumbled into it. it was hard to find, and it had been a mistake on his part in finding it, he’d took a tumble from the tall trees, fell through some pretty hard branches, and landed before the slender covered entrance. at first, jake thought he was looking at cloth, that somehow the na’vi had created silk fabric. he’d touch it, shocked and slightly excited, only to feel as if he’d touched a spiderweb. the silk, he’d realized, was natural — made from a bug larvae, most likely. jake had pushed the silk aside to the reveal small area. the ground was the most softest marsh he’d ever stepped on, nearly tickling his feet when he dragged them. the plants, the bushes, the trees, everything was alive and glowing, the ground tracking his footprints, it was nothing short of amazing.

he’d turned to leave, wondering if neytiri had ever been here, when his ears perks up. the tall tale sound of a hiss. it sounds like bees in someone’s throat, and escapes in a bone-chilling sound that even now, as a true na’vi and could very much make the sound himself, leaves him nervous and admittedly a little weak in the knees. he could remember when meeting the clans with tsu’tey and neytiri, asking them to fight the humans, he would steel himself when hearing it. there were so many different sounding hisses, and yet jake thinks his clan took the cake for the scariest ones.

he shakes his head. the point being, the sound makes his hairs stand and his tail to swish nervously. he turns, looking up to see a na’vi woman, an omaticayan, squatting in one of the lower branches covered in illuminated moss. she holds a dagger carved from their newest hometree, after many months of searching, tsu’tey found one suitable for their many people. she hisses again, defensive, and he smells it then. it’s like a light switch goes off in his mind. the reason he hadn’t seen neytiri, or any of the unmated women, it was the change of the tide — they called it — and when that happens, unmated na’vi women go into heat.

it’s also the reason he hadn’t seen tsu’tey all day. it makes sense now, he honestly thought they were avoiding him. he wants to slap himself now. how disrespectful of him to stumble into a woman’s marked territory, during her heat no less. he holds his hands up and walks backward, barely withholding a flinch when she hisses again.

“uh, sorry, ma’am. so sorry, didn’t mean to … what’s the word? hm, uh, embark? no, definitely not the word. uh. sorry to invade your territory?” he backs away slowly, least he accidentally starts a chase he did not want. “i’m just gonna—”

“are you mated, toruk makto?” compared to her hiss, her voice is quiet nice, hm, like honey he thinks, smooth sounding, sweet tasting, almost like her scent—he snaps out of it. her words correlate in his mind.

he honestly forgot he was the toruk makto for a moment. the war had been months ago, and despite the fact that many people won’t let him forget that he was the sixth, it was easy to forget when people got over the awe. got over the awe and saw that he was really just a clumsy guy, with a too big heart, a little too smart mouthed, and great enough warrior. he takes pride in being the head warrior, just beneath tsu’tey.

“no…?”

“was that a question, toruk makto?”

“no?” he looks around for a moment, before back to the woman. he noticed it then, she was actually quite beautiful. huh. her hair wasn’t braided, and from the slight waves, he assumed she’d just taken them down. oh, he abruptly looks away. she wore the customary loincloth, yet only a single beaded necklace, with tiny beads extending from it like dripping water, covered her nipples.

“do you want a mate?”

now that he thinks of it. he hadn’t really been looking for someone to mate with forever. once he realized neytiri was destined for tsu’tey, and they had some odd partnership going on between them—he got over that crush painstakingly slow. not to mention, tsu’tey could be scary, and jake didn’t want to mess up his position as the next olo’eyktan. no, no, jake wasn’t looking for anyone, despite the obvious looks he was receiving. he looked back to the woman, she was staring at him with clear eyes. wait. . . was she offering?

“what’s your name?” he questioned, dropping his hands when realized he still hand them up like a idiot.

“(name) te tshaka de mo’at’ite,” she says, confidently. he blinks. now, why has he heard that name before? oh, oh! the mystery woman! he remembers it clear as day now. the younger sister of the three sisters, the deceased one, the next tsahik one, and the mysterious one. that’s what, he couldn’t even remember the dead avatar driver’s name now, had said, anyway. the avatar driver had thought he was being funny, until grace practically kicked his ass and nearly cut him off.

jake couldn’t for the life of him remember seeing her, he could remember hearing her name being called, her voice talking, but she was never in sight. “neytiri’s sister?”

“yes, neytiri is my older sister by a single cycle,” she grits her teeth, a hand briefly pushing at her lower belly. “you did not answer my question, toruk makto. do you want a mate?”

“uh, are you sure this isn’t your heat talking?” jake couldn’t help but wonder. what if it was someone else that barged in, would she say the same?

“i have seen you—”

“you have?” jake raises a brow.

“i have watched you—”

“you have?” jake raises both brows.

“i have followed you—”

“you have?” jake couldn’t help the voice crack or raise in pitch. he never noticed anyone following him. oh man, this shouldn’t be as flattering as he’s taking it.

“i decided that i will have you,” she finishes, not an ounce concerned with just how odd she sounds. she is confident, jake will give her that, to outright tell someone that you will have them is ballsy.

“you will?”

“I will. I am glad it was you who stumbled upon my thicket. otherwise, i would have injuried them.”

well, that settles it. jake always liked a woman who could kill him, and well, (name) looks fierce and ready to kill him. besides, jake’s a simple man, someone willingly to be with him? forever? hah, if his old buddies from earth could see him now. they were always saying jake would never find a girl or guy, he wasn’t the best at flirting.

“well, here i am, have me?” he understands his old buddies, now. he cringes, by eywa, did i really say that?

(name) gives a rich laugh, it causes a shiver to run down his spine, and he only has half a second to catch the lunging woman. they tumble through the soft marsh, nearly sinking into it as she settles quite contently on his lap. she brings her quene around, and jake does the same, watching in morbid fascination as the tendrils coil and link around the other.

it only takes a second for their minds to connect, emotions bursting full and richly around their interlinked minds. there’s no love there, not yet at least, but its overwhelming, heartwarming and thrilling all at once. he could feel her brushing against his mind, squeezing around his brain, settling into the missing blanks, melting into the crevices and nooks. it feels good, it feels right, and he’s suddenly heavily aware of the stabbing pain in her lower belly. amazing how she kept a clear mind with that amount of pain, geez.

he wonders, briefly, if this would have felt more special if they took things slow. but then, he’s struck by unbridled lust, and forgets his wonderings. well, it’s been years since he’s last did anything, really, and her scent was starting to coat the air thickly.

“so,” jake starts awkwardly. does this count as a one night stand, we just met, and now we’re about— his thoughts blank when she grabs his hands, pressing them against her tits. the beads dig into his skin for a moment, but they’re easily removed, and suddenly it’s skin on skin contact. he squeezes, instinctively really, and draws out a breathy whimper from (name). his eyes widens briefly, and he feels like inexperienced teenage boy again with his fast he hardens.

she must have felt him, there’s no way she hadn’t, her hips move upwards slightly, then back down. it’s his turn to whimper at the friction of the cloth and the pressure of her weight on him, practically suffocating his cock. he decides, last minute, to give her perky nipples a little twist and he savors her sounds. she really did sound good, like — his eyes caught the silk curtain swaying gently — like honey dripping onto silk.

her scent rolls around his nose, strong, thick, and heady. he rolls them over without a second thought, hands sliding down to her loincloth. his eyes meet her’s, and he raises a brow. “may i?”

she twists her hips a little, impatience nudges against his mind, “please,” she purrs, litreally, it starts in her chest and settles in her throat. like a cat. like a kitty. oh, he shudders.

he makes easy work to untie the strings, the cloth falling away aimlessly, and that is all it takes for her arousal to truly be smelt. he gulps, swallows harshly, gulps again. shit, is it hot? why does it feel like his control is breaking? her inner thighs were glistening and as she happily, and proudly spreads her legs, he couldn’t help the groan of utter pain. his cock throb painfully, his chest ache painfully, this has to be a crime. he’d never once in his life seen a cunt so pretty.

his mouth waters, and he swallows again, least he starts drooling everywhere. he knows that wouldn’t be an appetizing sight. he shakes his head, back on track. he clenches his fingers, before scooting himself back, settling on his belly, and eye level with this beautiful, beautiful cunt.

“pretty,” he unconsciously mutters, mesmerized. her pink bud peeking out between her puffy lips, his eyes catching sight of tiny droplets sliding down and disappearing into the marsh below them. “god, such a pretty pussy.” it felt wrong to call upon eywa, what if she heard? what if she saw? he doesn’t think the mother goddess needs to see this.

“hurry, jake,” she whines above him, twisting her hips again, and his eyes tracks the movements. she’s practically waving her cunt in his face. he groans.

“patience, kitty,” he mutters, debating if he should eat or finger, hm. shit, he really wants to taste her. “you want me to touch you?”

“yes, please,” she whispers, sounding shy all of a sudden. he chuckles at that, barely dodging the thump from her tail against his face.

jake uses his index and thumb to spread her puffy lips, his eyes flutter, his breathing is caught, he could die right here, he could die a happy man right here, right now. jake can’t even call it glistening anymore, she’s practically a river, so wet, dripping and dripping, her pretty hole clenching around nothing.

he leans forward, flattening his tongue, and giving her a generous swipe. her taste melts on his tongue, heady and sweet all at once, he swallows like a man starved and does it again. his tongue nudging against her hole, catching the juices that exit. “ooh, fuck, you taste so good, babygirl,” he groans. he really feels like praying.

“j-jake,” her whimpers and mewls were like music to his ears, and the moment she grips his hair, his hips jerk and he has no choice but to eat her like a man straved. he slurps as much of her juices as he could, before turning his attention to her neglected bud, swirling around the engorged bud slowly, eyes fluttering open to watch the way her body responded.

he swirls on the left side, her belly clenches. he swirls on the right side, her thighs shudder against his head, a true moan ripped from her throat. “so pretty, you moan so prettily,” he grins against her cunt and attacks that spot with vengence.

he uses his free hand to wrap around her thigh, prying it open as they begin to close around his head. she shudders above him, fingers tightening around his hair, pretty sounds trembling from her lips. he swirls and slurps, sucks and nips, and he could only feel himself growing harder by the second. “j-jake—haah!—m’gonna cum!” she warns, spreading her legs a little wider and practically shoving her cunt into his face, and he happily takes advantage of it.

he wraps his arms underneath her thighs, hands settling on her hips in soft grip, locking her in place as he brings her closer and closer to her release. she’s not quiet anymore, sounds ringing above them, her mind is blissful against his — thinking of nothing but the strings of pleasure. it only takes a well placed swipe of his tongue, a tiny nip of his fangs and—

“j-jake—m’cumming!” she cums with a sequel, thighs nearly locking around his head, but he grabs them in time. he’d seen what a na’vi women’s thighs could do to a head. he happily licks up the steady trail of white leaking from her hole, listening to her soft whimpers and satisfied purrs.

“good, kitty?” he asks, propping up on his elbows to get a good look at her. he nearly starts kicking his feet at the satisfied expression on her beautiful face.

“mhm, very good, jake,” she grins, fangs on display, and goddamnit, he’s going to burst from that image alone.

“you want some more, pretty girl?”

her cheeks bloom like anemones, eyes casting downwards, and her grin turning shy. she’s so fucking cute, it hurts, really. “i need your cock, jake.”

“oh?” he raised a brow, condescendingly, “you need it?” she nods, eagerly. “if you didn’t need it, babygirl, would you want it?”

“yes,” she shudders, “please, jake.”

“hm, let me see,” he mutters, dragging himself onto his hunches. he chuckles when she props up on her elbows eagerly, watching his fingers untie his loincloth with lustful eyes. he sighs when the cool air hits his cock, the tip an angered magenta and leaking clear pre-cum. air sucks through his teeth when she reaches forward, grabbing his cock in a tight grasp. “careful, kitty, don’t hold too tight for me, yeah?”

she leans down, mouth dropping open, and he stops her, index underneath her chin. “later, pretty girl,” he promises.

her lips pout, slick from spit and brusied from biting, “but, you—”

he gives a quiet tut, “i’ll train your pretty throat for me, later. right now,” he grabs her waist, forcing her on to her back. she gives a startled look, pretty eyes wide, and mouth popping open. “i need to fuck your fat cunt, until the only thing you remember is my name, hm?”

she shudders, hands reaching for his. “please,” she begs prettily.

ugh, he hopes na’vi can’t have heart attacks.

#avatar smut #avatar way of water #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake smut #jake sully smut #babygirl only sounds right from jake’s mouth #avatar 2009 #he’s literally it #.masterlist.

[animeyanderelover]

It is Muzan so read with caution.

@leveyani @kanaosprotector

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, control, gaslighting, manipulation, death, Nsfw, choking, non-con, blood kink, sadism, dacryphilia, overstimulation, oral sex

Nsfw Hc’s

🩸Muzan’s everyday behavior that he presents to his subordinates as well as to his darling is something that you are even confronted with when it comes to the sexual aspects of the life you have now. Nothing changes. Instead it only turns out so much worse for you as your consent isn’t of any importance to Muzan. From the very beginning of his immortal life Muzan has always taken what he has desired. You are something that he desired and so he tore you away from the familiar and normal life you used to live only to satisfy his own greed. His ego knows now limits, his thirst for control and possession is never quenched. So be a good doll for him and let him do whatever he desires to do with you. It has never been about your dreams and hopes, it has only ever been about his own desires and now it is about his sexual needs. Helpless to defend yourself, the only choice you have is to let him ravish you until you lose count of time. Until you pass out from overstimulation. Until Muzan is satiated.

🩸The pain and the terror you experience throughout all of it is something that only turns on Muzan. The helplessness and the feeling of weakness that always forces the tears of frustration down your cheeks only feed his inflated ego as it is a searing reminder for you that you are nothing underneath him. He knows that you are his little plaything with which he can do anything he wants and it is this feeling of ownership and utter control that makes your cries and tears of anguish and the vile act of raping you all the more appealing. He loves to remind both of you that you are vulnerable and helpless to bask in the feeling of his own power and at the same time to break you and teach you to fall in line. Sexual punishment is something that exists with Muzan, especially if he knows that it terrifies you. And let me tell you, it will be anything but a pleasant experience for you. As he only cares about his own pleasure, he will ignore gladly the condition of your own body until he leaves you a broken mess.

🩸You have made horrible experiences during sex with Muzan. He’s oftentimes verbally bullying and degrading you whilst he brutally knocks the air out of your lungs with every harsh thrust of his. He very rarely preps you for his cock as he just shoves the entire thing into your dry hole. He has a terrible temper that tends to burst out during the heights of his own pleasure. A feral look is then on his face, his pupils narrowing to slits as his claws grow and scrap your neck as he starts choking you or just grabs every fleshy body part available to him whilst his teeth dig into your flesh and blood seeps out. The taste of your blood is truly remarkable for odd reasons and the sweetness of it goes straight to his hard length as an ache that has to be taken care of. It almost always hurts more for you when he tastes your blood and presses you even further into the mattress, his hips snapping rapidly against your own until you feel like your pelvis bone will shatter.

🩸The worst experiences that you have made though are those when he forced you to suck him off or take him in front of someone else. Sometimes you were forced to cockwarm him whilst he was in company of his Upper Moons, fully dressed whilst you were placed naked on his lap. You will never forget how you were forced to face his subordinates, all of them bowing their head to their master although you could still hear the occasional giggle or the brief glance some of them gave you whilst you were aching due to your walls keeping his manhood inside of you for so long. You will never forget how you had to do your best to not start whimpering whenever he would suddenly start rolling and grinding his hips against you whilst calmly giving orders to his Upper Moons. The most scaring memories you have are those where he forced you into sexual activities with him whilst another human was watching with the great purpose of breaking your own spirit.

🩸You especially recall it when he brought over one of your close acquaintances or even family member during your first few months with him where you wouldn’t stop begging him to let you go or cried because you wanted to return to your friends and family. Didn’t he do you a favor by reuniting you with them? Sure, you might have been too busy then choking on his cock as you sucked him off with tears streaming down your face to properly converse with them, but he brought you the people you had so desperately missed. If only they would still be alive… It truly is a cruel game he plays as he forces you into humiliating deeds only to kill every human he brings right after or even during the act. You hate the latter option the most when his body is mounting you, covered in the blood of the human he just killed with their dead corpse within your vicinity. The stench of blood and guts and the burning pain you feel every time he thrusts inside of you have either caused you to vomit or pass out.

🩸Whether you pass out because of sheer exhaustion from overstimulation or your brain shuts down due to the horrors he has committed whilst hammering himself inside of you, Muzan only stops when he feels like it. He is the Demon King, his stamina is limitless after all. You don't expect him at all to give you any aftercare due to his horrible personality and you get the expected neglect of any care quite often. Perhaps it is the fact that you are so used to this cold side of his that any attention and care directed at you makes you even more wary of him, although a desperate and tired part just wants to enjoy the love Muzan gives you in such moments. What does he want from you in such momenths? You can't help the caution whenever his thrusts are smooth and slow instead of harsh and bruising or when he actually draws a bath for you and cleans you up after a long and sweaty session instead of leaving you alone in your misery.

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere muzan #yandere kibutsuji muzan

[drivinmeinsane]

Hot Chocolate ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day One ※ Officer K / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: It has taken months of trading and seeking but you finally have all the ingredients for a special surprise just in time for the winter holiday.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: K survives, Fluff, Established Relationship, Generic Winter Holiday

※ Word count: 1480

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Gnawing on your lip, you examine the careful line up of ingredients on the counter in front of you. Cocoa powder, honey from K’s bees, salt, milk, vanilla extract, and marshmallows. All real, not fabricated, and painstakingly collected. You’re all too aware of the cost of the items. Everything has to be perfect and it has to rely on your faded memories of a paper recipe card from your childhood. It, along with the rest of the recipe cards in your family’s possession, had eventually been used as tinder for a fire. You sigh, more of a growl than a quiet exhalation of air. 

“I told you not to fuss,” K says from the other room, his voice gradually getting louder as he comes to stand in the doorway. He leans on the frame, finger marking his place in the paperback he’s holding.

You look over at him and are about to lean to block his line of sight to your kitchen project when you realize that his eyes are solely focused on you. Warmth bubbles up in your chest. “And I asked you to stay on the couch.”

He shrugs, unbothered. You approach him, knowing that he will be a silent observer until he gets a scrap of attention. K never asks for it directly. You’re barely to him before the replicant extends his arms and pulls you to his broad chest. You encircle his waist and find comfort in his warmth. Heat is a rarity this time of year. Central heat belongs only to the wealthy. He allows you to turn the two of you so his back is to the kitchen and to the surprise that you’re so worried about. Thankful for his patience, you press a kiss against his collarbone where the neck of his shirt has loosened up enough with age to expose it. K shivers and his arms tighten around your body, but one of his hands comes up to cradle the side of your face. His fingertips gently trace the shell of your ear.

“What are you working on, sweetheart?”

“It’s a surprise,” you say, closing your eyes contentedly.

K is all but petting you. His fingers leave trails of heat in their wake as they course new paths over your skin. The weight of his gaze bores into you, equally heated. He always looks at you like he cannot believe you’re present, tangible, able to to be touched. Filled with regret, you extract yourself from his embrace. His hand lingers, sliding across your jaw as you take a step back to gain much needed distance. If you weren’t careful, you would spend the rest of the holiday in his arms. Not a bad thing, but you want to give him even a small token of your affection in the form of a new experience. You’ve spent many hours discussing the flavors of different foods with him. He had been limited to the tasteless, synthetically produced excuse for food from his inception date to the time Deckard gathered his body off the stairs outside Satelline Labs.

Catching his free hand as it falls from your face, you give it a firm squeeze that he returns, careful to not crush your considerably more fragile bones in his grasp. His eyes are darting, examining every facet of your features. You bring his hand to your lips and give it a soft kiss across the scarred knuckles before letting it go.

“I won’t be long, honey. Put something festive on?”

He nods, relieved to have a task. You retreat back to the kitchen while he starts to flip through the collection of records that you and K have slowly been building together since he came into your life all those months ago. As with most of the objects in your shared home, they were scavenged from defunct buildings or traded for.

Turning on the burner, you place a pan with milk on the slowly heating element. You let the milk reach a near simmer before turning it off and slowly add the cocoa powder and salt to the liquid. You whisk it thoroughly, breaking up any clumps, and stir in the vanilla extract and then a reasonable dollop of honey. You scoop up a little bit into a spoon, blow on it, and sample. You add another pinch of cocoa powder before gathering up a second shallow spoonful and having checking it again. It tastes good, real.

From the other room, you hear music start to play. It sounds like the opening notes to Jingle Bells. You smile. Of course he chose the Frank Sinatra album. 

You move the pan to a potholder on the counter and take a mug down from the cupboard. You’re careful when pouring the hot chocolate into it, not wanting to waste a single drop. It is just enough to fill the mug with a finger’s width of space left for the marshmallows. You pick up the pillowy shapes with your fingers and gently deposit them on the surface. They float on top of the concoction like the seabirds you and K saw over the edge of the sea wall during a calm morning not so long ago.

Before making your way to the living room, you pick up the mug. Its chipped porcelain is warm against your knuckles when they brush against the side of it. K is sitting on the couch, drumming his fingers on his knee. He’s watching the record leisurely spin.

“Honey,” you say, coming to a stop in front of him.

He looks up at you with a crooked smile. “Darling.”

“Happy Holiday,” you say, offering him the still steaming mug, “Here. Be careful. It’s hot.”

The replicant takes it from you with a steady hand. He peers curiously into the vessel and pokes at one of the marshmallows with an exploratory finger. “What did you make?”

“Hot chocolate,” you tell him.

K brings the mug to his face, inhaling the scent deeply. He presses his lips to the edge of the cup and takes a pull. He doesn’t swallow right away and insteads lets the hot chocolate sit in his mouth for a brief moment, savoring the flavor. His eyes slip closed when he swallows but when he opens them, he looks dazzled. He rushes to take another drink of it. 

“Thank you,” he says once he has swallowed the second sip.

“Anything for you.”

The former LAPD officer reaches out with the hand not holding the mug and draws you to him, not standing. You come to rest on your knees between his spread legs. He leans forward and tips your head up with a still calloused hand, once from a firearm, now from farming a few select crops and tending to bees. You meet his gaze and hook your arms around the outsides of his thighs. You’re waiting for him to make the next move and he doesn’t disappoint.

He leans over further and presses a kiss to your mouth. His lips are hot against your own, and he tastes of sugar and chocolate. You can’t help but brush your tongue against the seam of his lips, swiping your tongue against his when he willingly opens for you. You’re fighting to not pant into his mouth and instead force yourself to withdraw, consoling yourself by sucking on his bottom lip. His grip on your chin tights slightly, just on the edge of too tight. He pulls away. You rise onto your knees to chase after him but he sits up just enough that you can’t capture his mouth in another kiss 

His blue eyes scan your face, tenderness etched onto his features. His lips are kiss-swollen and glossy. “What can I do for you?”

“Read to me?” You ask. You get to your feet, using his sturdy legs as an aid. You take a seat on the couch next to him.

“Such a simple request, sweetheart,” he says softly, picking up the book he was holding when he sought you out earlier. He shows the cover to you and you nod your approval before shifting so that you’re pressed against his side. You are all but curled up in his lap. 

K puts one arm around you, holding you close. His body temperature runs slightly higher than yours and you sigh into the warmth of him. He parts the pages of the book with his free hand. The book is splayed open on his knee. He seeks out the first page and upon finding it, he begins to speak.

“‘And still I dream he treads the lawn, Walking ghostly in the dew, Pierced by my glad singing through,’” K reads steadily. The soft tones of the album playing on the restored record intertwine with his voice. He reads long after the needle reaches the end, long after you’ve dozed off against him.

#12 Days of Goosemas #Blade Runner 2049 #br2049 #Officer K #officer kd6 3.7 #Officer K x Reader #Ryan Gosling #Ryan Gosling fanfic #blade runner #blade runner 2049 fanfiction #.my work #.my posts

[melodiousmonsters]

I'm going to be honest I didn't do as much research on this as I probably should have and I may make my Reebros a bit more mechanically accurate in future illustrations. But it's done now and I made an oath to myself to not redo any monstiary pages until all the ones I can do are done. Also going to rewrite the two paragraphs in the image in the post because it looks good to me.

"Reebro (J. Mentacorpus) average around 4ft/1.2m tall with a roughly 2.5/.7m circumference, not including the mech suit of course as that’d vary the measurements too much.

The body of the Reebro is composed of an oversized brain, brain stem, and an approximately foot long jumble of nerves. They come in an array of different colors and patterns, each Reebro is unique. Though all of them have only two eyes, one mouth, blunt teeth, and of course their overall body plan.

They are in the Jellatinous family as they have no bones besides their teeth, and they are composed of a fatty jelly not dissimilar to the tissue of the brain.

To be able to do anything, Reebros fashion mechanical suits that are biomechanically integrated to their bodies by their nerves, allowing them to control the suit as if it was a part of them. Their mech suits consist of three main parts, the engine, base, and a form of locomotion. The base is what holds the body of the Reebro and connects their nerves to the mechanics of the suit. This is always right below the body as it's the most convenient for nerve connection.

The engine is what processes the Reebro's lifeforce into energy the suit runs off of. It's done by the largest nerve being connected to a small egg-sized chamber. As the shape of an egg is made to draw lifeforce from the things around it, the chamber will fill itself from the Reebro's energy. This pure energy can then be conducted through wires to do whatever the Reebro needs it to do.

The locomotive parts are the most diverse parts of a Reebro, they can be wheels, treads, or standard mechanical legs. Most often the mechanical legs are hydraulic as it’s the easiest to set up and get the resources for as they just need pistons, water, and tubes. Wheels are a bit more complicated as they require a motor so they are less common. Most often older, more technologically advanced Reebros have them.

Reebros are usually blunt with very little personality in their speech. They are very logically intelligent but not often emotionally or socially, making them come off as very annoying and cocky when they say how smart they are in their early age. Most of the time they learn not to be like that the hard way.

Their logical problem solving skills are very sought after and often a Reebro will be bombarded with questions and requests to assist in fixing or building all sorts of stuff.

Reebros like dry mineral rich environments as it allows for their machinery to function better and for them to get resources to make their machinery. They tend to at least frequent the weird “scrap deserts” in the pocket dimension, which are environments caused by the mech elements being highly present in an area. 

Reebro eggs need to be around a lot of minerals to hatch, most often done with a fancy metal casing that covers about half the egg. As hatchlings they have strong telepathic abilities that allow them to assemble a mech suit to be able to navigate the world. They lose these abilities after about a year. Sometimes the parents will assist in making their mech suits as well. A baby Reebro acts like a computer with very mild human traits. They run near solely off of logic and have a very hard time understanding things like emotions, other monsters, art & creativity, etc. Once they’re around ten or so they’ll start developing those skills if they are exposed to them enough.

The larger a Reebro gets the more machinery they can power, so their mech suit size is limited by their body size. They will eventually always be forced to change out their suits as their body will get too big to fit in their old one."

This is the first monster to not have any variants! If I feel like it I will make it so a monster doesn't have variants if I want to, also it's more fun that way as any Reebro imaginable rather than only three types existing.

#my singing monsters #beezleart #art #melodious monster chronicles #reebro #monstiary

[high-voltage-rat]

One of the more niche things about writing RvB fic that I love to chew on is the weird overlap with Halo lore. Because in most cases it's never openly stated whether the Halo canon applies and you have to decide what makes sense based off the box of scraps you have and what's shown on screen.

Like. The MJOLNIR armour they all wear is, in Halo canon, unusable by a normal person without their bones being shattered and muscles or ligaments being torn, let alone having the mental processing and reaction time to function. But in RvB, it's worn by simulation troopers, who almost certainly wouldn't even qualify for the augmentation needed for its operation in Halo lore. But then after the loss of a set of armour, the UNSC launches an investigation into project freelancer- they go on an entire extremely dangerous mission with the primary goal of recovering lost armour. So clearly it is cutting-edge, important, dangerous enough to warrant that kind of treatment. But then later, an entire planet of people wear the armour despite being an outer colony abandoned by the UNSC to fend for themselves.

So the questions remain. What do we chalk up to a limitation of the engine, a limitation of the machinima medium? What do we carry over from Halo lore? What do we treat as RvB-specific room for headcanon? What do we regard as an oversight by writers who didn't think anyone would think this hard about things?

Do we treat the reds and blues as spartans? What about the freelancers? If they had the ability, would some of these characters actually have been normal people in poorly fitting marine armour?

There's just so many questions like these to play around in, and I find that a hugely enjoyable part of RvB fandom.

#not video games #late nights with ali #ali watches rvb #not to red vs blue post on main incessantly but I am THINKING about this SO MUCH #there's so many ways you could take the little details and that's so fun!!! #red vs blue #rvb

[lunarfeat21]

Hiii it's me again, here to ask about Yan Tugs. You've written alot about the Stars... but what about the Zeds? I assume they'd be much more brutal considering Zeros implied connection to the mafia I'd think they'd resort to violence quicker than the Stars.

Welcome back!!!

Oh, I haven’t forgotten about them. When I originally answered, I included them and their life with y/n, but scrapped it due to my habits of long and detailed paragraphs (nowadays I tried to simplify, but it didn’t seem to work well).

I’ll try to memorize what I wrote down for the Z-stacks + Captain Douchebag Zero:

For being tough looking and (likely) dangerous, the Z-stacks seem to hold a soft spot for y/n. Under one condition: don’t run away, be well behaved, and show your affection to them and them only.

Show any affection to any outsiders (mainly the Star Fleet), or misbehaving, and it’s the Dark room for you (will explain this later).

Captain Zero may lose his temper and toss papers at y/n out of frustration (either from his fleet’s stupidity or whatever), he always apologizes y/n in private and washing them with gifts.

When y/n escapes the Star Fleet, they ran to a canal, tripped on something, and fell aside towards the canal. Luckily y/n landed on a floorboard, but quickly realized how a floorboard be in the watery path and a chuckle was heard. Y/n landed on Zorran’s floorboard and now is stuck with the Zero Fleet against their will (again).

The Z-stacks and their captain are paranoid, but Zero and Zorran are the worst. Zero had y/n surveillance nearly every day (forcing them to be his assistant), only left y/n to sleep (plus he locked them in their little bedroom every night). Zorran always takes y/n with him under Zero’s request for fresh air. If either are extremely busy, they pawn them up off duty zs.

Zip & Zug are Zorran’s go-tos, Zeebede sometimes watched them, and Zak is the last resort.

The remaining stacks were more chill than their leader and captain, but that doesn’t mean they get out of pocket.

One time Zak, Zug, and Zip were chasing down a not one, but TWO TRAMPERS for looking y/n and breathing the wrong way (not really the reason, but in reality the trampers quietly asked a distraught y/n with concern, and that’s when the z-stacks screamed like banshees and started chasing them)

Once in a blue moon, horror finds y/n when they witness Zak and the rest squashed a random foul mouthed sailor to death, because that bastard came out of nowhere and start swearing at people (and y/n was in the wrong place at the wrong time). Y/n won’t forget the crunch of broken bones and the deranged laughter of the Z-stacks, and had since desensitized.

When y/n isn’t watching, a Z-stack or two are always hidden in plain sight, watching and hearing. If they heard something y/n say they don’t like (i.e. talking to strangers, Star stacks, purposeful food strikes, or planning to escape), they report and punishment is awaited.

Depending on y/n’s ‘crimes’, minor punishments including are: scolding, revoking y/n’s outside privileges, and silent treatment. Median punishments are more silent treatments, withelding food, limiting drinking of water, and revoking bed privileges, and a hand smacking by Zero.

Final and most max are: yeeting y/n to the Dark room and locked them in (4-10 hours at best, nearly a week at worst in isolation)

The Dark room is a tiny cramped room by a small door, inside is mostly empty and a bit dusty. There is no natural light source, no flashlight, except for six tealight candles and a flatted out hayloft as a bed.

The Dark room is located near an abandoned building next to Zero Marine, nobody knows what it was used for, but the Zero Fleet now used it as a solitary confinement for a particular Little Z (a.k.a. you).

Y/n will be release from their prison and rejoice with the Z-stacks once they gave an apology and doing office chores to earn back their rights, they until then y/n must behave. Or back to the Dark room…

Man, that was so much to type on phone. I barely realized how little I wrote about the Z-stacks (minus Zorran), but that’s fine, I’ll write more about them in another post hehe.

If you guys want another post about y/n and their interactions with each Z-stack or want a short story about them, you can via asks!

Have a great day! <3

Recap: my silly headcanon

Ask #1

Ask #3

Ask #4

Ask #5

Ask #6

Ask #7

#this is tugs #platonic yandere #feat21 speaking #ask #ask and ye shall recieve #Sirens of the Crimson Sea #yandere tugs #tugs x reader #platonic yandere! tugs #z stacks #familial yandere

[eldritch-spouse]

Thinking bout pulling Livius's arms and then tie him up shibari style

But then that just made me think how is he stretchy? Is the meat stretchy? The skin? If I stab him will the knife just not go through cause the knife bounces off? No blood? :((

Also Dorem is fucking hot and I just wanna eat him

(violent urge anon)

What exactly would you be tying though? Shibari usually involves the arms, but if you're using the arms as a rope, you might as well just twist him into a pretzel.

His "flesh" is pliable. To be fair, calling it flesh is a stretch (hah). It's not muscle mass that's present in Livius' limbs, more so a blend of plasma and fatty tissue. It passes as flesh, but it's less consistent. His pain tolerance regarding these parts is greatly diminished, as you could just about crush Livius' hand and he would only be upset that it'll take a while before he can regain motor control of it.

A stab to these body parts, albeit faintly painful, generally wields no results beyond limiting his dexterity. Livius doesn't bleed from these limbs, though it's unclear if this is due to some form of hyperfast coagulation or if there is genuinely no bloodflow in these areas. Similarly, these limbs are devoid of bones.

[Oh anon, there's very little to eat off Dorem, truly. You could settle for the gross, slimy scraps of unwanted flesh clinging to his head, but there's no telling what'll be of you once the deed is done.]

#Livius oc

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Does anyone else want a gritty version of The Bad Batch or is it just me?

Don't get me wrong, I love The Bad Batch series exactly as it is. Found-family is my weakness. But I really want to see these guys covered in blood and sweat; rated R and primal.

More thoughts under the cut.

(cw: blood mention, graphic descriptions, PTSD mention)

The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch are both war-centric television shows marketed towards an adolescent audience. Even though some themes are mature, they censor the graphic nature of the base subject material, war.

War is ugly. War is gruesome. War is difficult. War is painful. War is bloody. War is stressful. War is emotional. War is psychological. War is disturbing. War is morally ambiguous. War is winning. War is losing. War is everything and also nothing.

I think back to war media I've seen for World War II, Vietnam, and Korea, and they unequivocally show war's true nature. Even war-comedies, like MASH, had downright upsetting and heartbreaking episodes that put the comedy in its place when needed to bring things back to reality.

I think a MASH-type treatment of The Bad Batch would be a fascinating watch. You get the found-family, you get the comedy, and you get the nitty-gritty painful realities of war as well.

Realities like you can't fall down an entire mountain and not break something or get shot point-blank and keep moving (looking at you, Hunter)

Realities like seeing your femur poking out of your skin with blood dripping down your pants while using a stick to limp away and trying desperately not to scream (looking at you, Tech)

Realities like having a plasma engine melt a part of your face off, and your skin literally boils and drips onto the ground (looking at you, Crosshair)

Realities like ripping your arms out of their sockets as you desperately try to hold onto someone(s)/something(s) to keep them from falling (looking at you, Wrecker)

Realities like having your skull bashed in by a blaster and not being able to wake up because you're stuck in a coma (looking at you, Echo)

Realities like watching real people die in front of you, for the first time, and living with the nightmares of replaying what happened in your head (looking at you, Omega)

There can be arguments to all of these, of course:

"They're genetically breed clones!"

"They're specially enhanced clones!"

"They're breed to only be soldiers!"

"They have special armor!"

"Echo is part machine!"

"Hunter has amazing reflexes!"

"Crosshair has great spacial awareness!"

"Tech has a fortified mind!"

"Wrecker is super strong!"

"Omega is a clone, too!"

But in reality, no matter how much technology you have, you can't breed the human part out of a human. They are still made from the human species. Yes, they are enhanced in certain aspects to help in the battlefield, but they are NOT invincible. They have limits to their enhancements.

They do not have enhanced healing capabilities. They do not have enhanced bone durability. They do not have enhanced emotional capacities. They may be enhanced clones, but at their core, they are still human. They can die in the cold, and they can die in the heat. They can have broken bones and they can have broken hearts.

As Tech pointed out in season 2, just because he doesn't process things like everyone else, doesn't mean he doesn't feel things any less. They still feel. They are NOT machines. They feel everything. They don't express it because they are soldiers, and that's why PTSD is so lethal.

I want to see more of the reality of war and its effects on them as individuals and as a group. I want to see the blood, the sweat, the bruises, the scars, the broken bones, the mental breakdowns, and the tears (physically or metaphorically).

They didn't get a 100% mission success rate by playing it nice or safe. They're the Bad Batch for a reason. They do whatever it takes for the mission to succeed. They will scrap, and tumble, and kick, and bite, and fight dirty to the bitter end. Relinquishing nothing.

How terrifying would it be to see Hunter stabbing someone in the neck with his knife? Or Wrecker squeezing someone until all their bones were broken? Or Crosshair sniping someone's head clean off? Or Tech brutally torturing someone to get information? Or Echo stabbing someone in the chest with his droid hand and tossing their lifeless body aside? All the while, Omega is getting splattered with the blood of their enemies.

Imagine all those horrendous things are just normal. A part of their daily grind. There is nothing to talk about, nothing to mull over, nothing to bat an eye at because it's what they do. The mission was a success. Then, coming back to the Marauder, changing out of their bloody clothes, and having a family dinner. It would be an eerie dichotomy.

Again, don't misunderstand me. I love space dad and mom, and their kids. I love domestic Bad Batch fluff. I love the series as is. Moreover, some of those episodes were hard to watch and ripped my heart to shreds, leaving me absolutely gutted.

However, I want to see the R rated version that would put it on the same level as real-life war media. I want to love it and hate it at the same time.

#the bad batch thoughts #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbbb speaks

[zhalfirin-binds]

Making paper backed cloth for bookbinding

I tried my hand recently on making my own book cloth, not because I can’t get any, but because there are so many fun patterns and colours around. To be honest, I expect bought book cloth to be superior for all the ways it’s finished to be more resilient towards dirt and and such, but that doesn’t say self made cloth is bad at all! There are different ways to achieve a paper backing, I went for the backing with paper and starch paste because a) if I mess up I can always do it over no harm done, no material lost b) I have my doubts about the durabilty of heat activated glues and their durability c) using paste is just so much cheaper

So first up was cooking starch paste. I don’t have a ratio for that. I put a spoon of starch into a pot, add some water to get rid of any lumps and let it soak a few minutes (usually just long enough to get some water boiling), then I slowly pour over the boiling water while stirring the starch and at some point it turns from white to translucent and lumpy and I stop when there’s a certain thickness. When the paste has cooled it press it through a mesh and add some more water as needed. (It’s usually rather thick at that point.)

(and yes, my mesh is a nylon sock. I don’t own a fancy horeshair sieve and this stores much easier) Then I prepared my cloth and the paper I was going to use for backing. The final sheets have the warp and the grain direction run parallel for better usage and less warping (at least that’s the theory, I have yet to use that selfmade cloth to find out). The limiting factor here was the width of the web of tissue paper I used. Because I also need the paper to be 2,5cm -5cm larger than the piece of fabric in order to get a smooth sheet of book cloth. Having around 5cm for an edge makes it far easier to get the paper on the cloth even if there is a little skew.

I moistened the pre-washed, but un-ironed fabric (I have some cotton and synthetic fabric, none of them are elastic) and smoothed it down to a flat surface that won’t be needed for a couple of hours (preferably over night). Glas would be best but I didn’t have that, so I picked two work benches for that. I used plenty of water, which was a good thing, I’d say because even when smoothed down, a bit more water made the synthetic fabric wrinkly again. 

I sprayed the later front side, turned the cloth around and sprayed the backside. Brushed the water in with a clean brush until the fabric clung smooth to the surface.

Then I spread the paste on the paper and put it on top of the backside of the fabric, brushed down the paper on top of the cloth with a clean and dry brush to get rid of any airbubbles. Starting in the middle of the fabric and brushing along the long side to the sides to push out the air. Then I gave it a brush down along the short side too. (the slightly brighter stretches of paper on the left are where the air is still caught under the paper, on the right is the paper all smoothed down)

Sometimes I had to lift the edfe of the paper carefully to let out some air or get rid of a too large wrinkle that was building up in the paper.

I weighed the cloth and paper down with blotting paper and blotting board as well as some wooden boards, but only to make them dry faster. In consideration of the table surface I cut only one corner loose after the coth had dried and loosened the rest by running a very flat bone folder all around the edges.

I had great success with the cotton fabric. only minimal bleed through of paste at the edges and a slight smudge in the middle of one sheet.

the synthetic fiber...   not so much. While others before that one had taken well to the paste, the one with those shades of blue and purple did not. it was a mess to smooth down and apparently not smooth enough. when I pried it loose it was all bubbly and a lot of fabric was not adhered to the paper backing.

I scrapped that one, I pulled the paper off, washed it out again and this time pressed it while drying, so it would be smooth before the next attempt.

Cleaning up the surface was easy by the way. It was all plastered with dried starch paste, but I simply sprayed it with water, let it sit for a bit and wiped it off. No scrubbing needed at all.

#bookbinding #paper backed cloth #book cloth #making starch paste #cotton cloth #synthetic fiber cloth #again this has gotten more lengthy than I anticipated...

[happyk44]

Feral!Jason and the underworld crew:

Menoetes hates him. He chases the chickens, bullies the other dogs, bites him all the time and doesn't listen. He can hold his own against Jason and usually manages to wrestle him into submission long enough to kick him out of the designated cattle area and back to Pluto but always comes out of it bruised, bitten and burned.

Pluto thinks he's a dog. He's the only person who doesn't bother treating Jason like a person. Jason doesn't care. Jason will camp out with him in his office, curled into a tight ball at his feet. He will get a little bit to excited at the idea of going on a walk. He will chase and demolish the tennis ball Pluto throws. He will throw his upper body onto Pluto's lap and growl loudly until he's given pets.

Mors likes to use him to corral spirits that refuse to be collected. For Jason, it reminds him of when he was used for quests. Except this time there's no muzzle, no leash. He's given more freedom with the underworld crew and he loves chasing down rogue spirits trying to avoid the afterlife. He has to wear clunky shadowy gloves in order to catch them and he can't really bite or tear at them like he would with his other prizes but Mors always hands him a bone as a reward and will let Jason gnaw on it as long as he wants before they head out to the next soul. He will talk to Jason like a person during these moments - explaining what he knows about the soul's history, or talking about how his siblings annoy him.

Proserpina understands Jason's limits. She's the one who starts teaching him to be more personable. She understands that he never really will be a person, but that he has the capability to learn - just as any creature does. She gives him treats and helps tame his raging force. When he's feeling destructive, she directs him to his own spot in her garden, where he can destroy flowers, rip at the ground, break down trees, and murder the punished who've been revived just for this moment. She finds his wild nature similiar to her own. He, in turn, adores her - although not as much as he adores Pluto. Adoration works differently with him - not quite human, not quite dog-like. But he listens to her, is quick to snarl when someone upsets her. Sometimes she takes him up to her cottage so he can enjoy the sun like he did when he was young.

Cerberus also thinks Jason is a dog. A weirdly shaped dog but a dog. They playfight a lot. He's the only dog that Jason can't bully.

Somnus finds Jason's presence tense. Jason has a lot of difficult thoughts, his mind a whirlwind of trauma and pain and his dreams even more so. Jason does not appreciate his mind being poked out and avoid Somnus, avoids his children and his wife. If he feels they're getting to close to his dreams, he'll wake up, hunt them down, and bite them until someone pulls him off and puts him in the time-out cage.

The Furies like Jason. Sometimes they'll pull him along into the Fields of Punishment and let him loose on unsuspecting souls. Alecto always sneaks him treats while Megaera likes to fistfight with him, which thrills him, being able to go head to head with someone who can finally hold their own against him and isn't just trying to drag him away from the chickens. Tisiphone is actually the one who suggests they start teaching him sign language so he could try to communicate with everyone else. If only to get his needs across - after all not everyone can stare into his living soul and see what he wants. He finds them similiar to him - not quite monsters but not quite people either.

Charon doesn't really interact with Jason much from the other side of the river but he does greet Reyna when she comes down to visit. Sometimes he'll bring Jason over to the lobby area so he doesn't have to cart Reyna across the Styx, and he'll throw him a couple scraps from his plate at dinner but otherwise they don't do much together. For this, Jason tolerates him but would never listen to him.

Mercury likes Jason too. He's adamant that if their father asks, he will have to tell him where Jason is but since Jupiter could care less about Jason and doesn't know that Mercury even knows who Jason is, the likelihood seems low. Like Mors, he talks to Jason like a person, regaling him about his day or what he got up to at his other job. Jason likes to bite him, for no other reason than he looks biteable. Everyone makes jokes about dogs and mailmen that Jason doesn't understand and that annoy Mercury, because fuck your stereotypes. Jason was actually very reticent to trust Mercury in the beginning, choosing to nurse his wounds himself but after a few bandaged arms he began to appreciate him (as much as his battered mind can really allow).

#feral!jason #jason grace #happy talks pjo #underworld jason au

[pipii]

Chapter 3 of Cringetober 2023!

Queue the outfit montage. I'm really happy with the outfits for this one, I love concept designing so this was really fun! I really struggled with the final design, more info after the chapter though!

Prev

Read below

The outfits were really fun to make, I might share some sketches later of the scrapped one that played off of old fanfic tropes, but it was too boring. Instead, for the "settled on" outfit, I wanted to try thinking about clothes I wish I could've worn back when I was a young teen in 2014 if I hadn't been so scared of branching out of my tomboyish ways.

To clarify: Malee is generating these outfits out from deep inside of her desires somewhere. The outfits do give a certain power up!

End notes:

My director brain keeps kicking in and wanting to board more scenes more dialogue/actions. I keep reminding myself that I'm doing this project to make something imperfect, but it really gets frustrating sometimes! People know I work to the bone and love good writing, but I can't really do that with the 9 limit panels + spontaneous regime I've set for myself + the fast deadlines. Anyways, I really hope if you're reading you're enjoying!

I think I'm going to really challenge myself to do multiple prompts to catch up, but I'm taking a break tomorrow!

If you are enjoying, please share around! It makes things a lot more worth it for me to know people are actively having fun with this too!

#art #my art #artist #artists on tumblr #digital art #cute #illustration #comic #webcomic #cringetober 2023 #cringetober #cringetober day 3 #cringetober complex fit #cringetober comic #scene girl #magical girl #Fat oc #I really love showing diff body types off in fashion I think it's just so fun #Unfortunately I don't draw many ocs other than my cat guy so it's nice having Malee!

[nolivingunderstarlight]

In the universe of the Locked Tomb, I would be in the Sixth House

Situation 1: I am at work, stripping stalls. (For the non-horse people among us, that's when you fully empty all of the bedding and feed out, sweeping and scooping up every last speck, so the stall is ready to powerwash or disinfect or sit empty for a while or whatever.) I'm scooping old hay scraps and dust out of a feeder, when I find bones! I take a picture for my friends to look at and then hide them in the truck until lunch, when I can look at them properly. We discuss possible animal options, not convinced of any of them. At lunch, I have a better look: two long bones, connected at a joint with some of the small bones and limited ligaments remaining. The small bones in the joint are clearly the bones of the knee (or the human wrist) and the length of the bones mean I am either holding the radius and ulna of some kind of predator or the radius and metacarpal of some kind of herbivore. After some more examination, I realize it's the radius and metacarpal, as the distal tip of the ulna is still attached to the radius, but the head has fractured off, so I likely have most of a deer leg.

No, the horse did not eat a deer leg. Sometimes deer die in hay fields (or died in the past and happen to be brought to the surface as the hay grows) and their bones get baled up. This also happens with cow bones, when a field that was once for cows becomes a hay field. Also, sometimes snakes, birds, mice, and other small critters can get baled up.

Situation 2: we live in rural Nevada. Our across-the-street neighbors, ah... majorly fucked up a lot in the last 3 years, culminating in getting evicted in November. The owners of the property have come to begin demo on the property, which the tenants took from "old, worn, but serviceable" to "absolute pile of trash, house unlivable" in a few years. The owners are lovely folks and had us over to see the damages and to let us know we could take anything we thought was useful, since they're planning to just take everything away and start over. The one owner, after showing us around, mentioned finding some bones in an area that we pointed out was originally where the tenants had kept goats. I, of course, went "BONES! I'd love to see them!" so away we went. In a 20ft radius, we found:

a damaged skull

half of a lower jaw

neck vertebrae

probably lumbar vertebrae

sacral vertibrae

one rib

a part of a pelvis

most of a hind leg (half of the femur through the metacarpal)

It's definitely a goat, and telling the owner this really eased some of her tension. She was afraid it was a dog or something worse; based on the state of the property, they wouldn't have been shocked to find a human body. But no, just a goat. We assume the rest of the bones got scattered by the dogs. (I will be taking the bones to add to my collection of Found Animal Bones.)

#kiowa babbles #i love bones #comparative anatomy is my jam so as long as it's similar enough to either horse or human bones i can figure it out #so now my bones collection is the deer leg #a cow rib we found on our property #two cow metacarpals i found at the farm we used to keep the horses at in maryland #and soon i'll bring home all those parts of the goat #also i have a small collection of horse teeth #a baby tooth from a two year old #and both of my geldings' wolf teeth #plus a few other wolf teeth from other horses

[froggibus]

Can I request Kiriko, Roadhog, Dva, and Pharah's reactions to meeting their S/O's dog who's LITERALLY 200+ pounds of sheer muscle? The dog can be Chill and Cuddly but if he needs to get violent he won't hesitate. Say a Talon assassin tried to pull up? The assassin's entire front portion of their neck might fuck around and go missing, let's just leave it at that.

Also I'm sorry, I don't know you character limit, if 4 is too much then just do the first three I requested please.

hope you having a good day

Meeting your dog - DVA, Roadhog, Kiriko, Pharah

Genre: fluff, kinda crack? i think

Summary: how they react + how they treat your ginormous dog that they didn't expect you to have

CW: some crack, mostly just wholesome doggo stuff

DVA:

she is so taken aback when she first meets your dog 

from the way you’re always talking about your sweet precious baby, she somehow assumed it was a golden retriever or something 

she did NOT expect the giant bully breed that weighs more than she does, complete with sharp teeth and bulging muscles 

she recovers from her shock quickly though, and before you know it, she’s kneeling down in front of your dog and giving it pats on the nose 

your dog ADORES her

as your sort of guard dog, it knows when someone has bad intentions and it will hate them right from the get go

But Hana and it become best friends immediately 

Even when it bares it’s teeth and growls at a rowdy dog that gets too close, she’s unwavering in her affection for it 

honestly watching her walk it is hilarious too. she’s just…so little and your dog is so big

one time, the two of you are almost mugged while out on a walk with it but the second the mugger saw your sweet little baby’s sharp teeth and jowls, they took off running 

she’s only known your dog for five minutes, but if anything happened to it, she would kill everyone in the room and then herself. 

Roadhog:

He LOVES your dog

like they are instantly best friends

he was not expecting the dog to be so big but he does not care

it just makes it easier for him to play with

“This is not what I pictured when you talked about your ‘precious little pumpkin’.”

it’s hard for your dog to get properly played with considering it’s size and how scary it looks

but Hog fears nothing

they play wrestle all the time

like full on wrestling

Mako is probably the only person in the world who can keep up with your dog’s rambunctious energy

whenever you’re too tired, all you have to do is say the word and Mako will be there to walk, feed and play with your dog

sometimes you think he loves the dog more than you

he’s honestly happy that you have a big dog because then he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting it

Kiriko:

she is FLABBERGASTED

from the way you talk about your dog, she was expecting a small breed

NOT the ginormous dog who looks buffer than the Shimadas combined

she’s a little hesitant on the inside but she knows how much your dog means to you so she forces herself to interact with your dog

and of course your dog LOVES her

Kiriko warms up to your dog really quick too

she’s always inviting it up on the furniture with her or to cuddle her in your bed

she always jokes that she only comes over to see your dog now

or at least you think she’s joking

definitely brings homes all sorts of bones and treats for it whenever she comes over

she’s like the grandma sneaking treats to her grandchildren

you don’t really mind though cause you were worried she wouldn’t like your dog

Pharah:

honestly nothing phases her

but when she sees your GIANT dog, she’s phased

of course she doesn’t let you know

she just smiles politely and goes to pat your dog on the head

imagine her surprise when your murder machine is cuddly and sweet and absolutely loves her

spends the rest of the night playing and cuddling your dog

similar to Roadhog, she LOVES to wrestle and play rough with your dog

they’re pretty evenly matched too lmao

she will always feed your dog scraps from whatever she’s cooking

also loves to treat your dog and make tiny versions of whatever she’s cooking

honestly turns your dog into a spoiled brat but it's okay because she looks so damn cute cuddling it

trying to sleep in the same bed as your dog and Pharah is challenging to say the least

[moonfeatherblue]

I must be honest with you: I've about hit my limit. I'm nodding off as I'm typing. There's just so much now happening in and around NaNoWriMo that's taking all my energy and focus, not to mention I am truly pining for my Main Magical Project, which I'm planning to return to this week once my NaNoWriMo adventure ends on 27 November. To achieve that 50,000-word goal would be incredible. But my brain... she protests on so many fronts. I do want to write this story - I promise you, I do. But I've hit a 'not right now' wall, which isn't useful with only two days left.

I'm planning to attempt the construction of a few future scenes. Nothing in detail, notes only. Rough events and vibes are about all I can expect from myself at the moment. And that's okay. Even though this can barely count as a novel as it stands, they're still words and work and effort. And story. At least, about a third of a story skeleton with a few scraps of skin and sinew clinging on to alabaster bones.

Or something like that.

The stream starts in about 5 minutes, if you'd like to join me ~

#writing #writeblr #indie vtuber #vtubers of tumblr #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #fantasy #vtuber uprising #english vtuber #envtuber #vtuber community #books #books and reading #bluemoonlanding #blue mooney #moonfeatherblue #Youtube

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Finding Family (Fizz's Found Family)-Chapter 4 pt. 1

Fizzarolli didn’t have many outfits to choose from. If he was meeting with Lust and Greed tomorrow, he should likely be in one of his uniforms. None of his personal clothes were really appropriate anyway: mostly pajamas, shorts, and crop tops. The choice of uniform was obvious, too. He only had two of them. Fizzarolli was trying to market himself as a clown, not as a brand baby for LooLoo Land. His Little Top costume it was, then. That one was colorful, entertaining, somewhat creative. His other uniform was also distinctly clown, but remained red and white, with accents of green for when he ran games or concessions.

Barbie stayed up after Fizzarolli went to sleep and managed to make a few patches for the threadbare pieces of his costume with scraps of fabric she managed to steal off tourists from wealthier rings. She made three diamond shaped patches to stay on brand with Mammon and one heart for good luck.

She really wanted this for Fizzarolli.

Barb painted Fizzarolli’s face with the limited supplies left in his Mammon Branded Clown Cake palette that had been issued to Fizzarolli when he accepted the job. Only one per year unless he wanted another one to be taken out of his salary at double the retail rate, so they had to be frugal with it. Thankfully, with his neck ruffle, most of Fizzarolli’s natural red pigmentation was covered. He didn’t need to cake his face with white to give off his clown appearance, he simply needed to cover up discolored gray spots. Barbie added purple to his eyelids, lining one eye with green and the other with blue.

“Are you sure?” Fizz asked, as if he could stop her.

“You’re going to Lust. That’s all about confidence. And don’t tell me you don’t want to be wearing more colors. You always did like more than just the black and white.” Barb booped Fizz’s nose, just to annoy him.

“I don’t want a full color clown face.”

“I’m touching up your white and doing your eyes. Calm down, princess.” Barb put her brush down and held up her compact mirror for Fizzarolli to see.

It was actually quite nice. The purple was diluted enough that it was sort of a light lavender, which complemented his uniform in the way that it also used to be a deeper shade but had faded. The two toned eyeliner was an interesting touch, it complimented the new patches that had appeared on his suit overnight.

“You sure this will give a good first impression?” Barb looked him over carefully, taking much consideration in it. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Fuck no. You need glitter.”

The First Meeting

Lust is all about confidence. Back straight, head high. Deep breath, you can do this.

Fizzarolli had only ever been through the Lust ring to get to Sloth before, he’d never actually stayed. He liked the blue skies, much like the pink skies of Sloth he found them calming. The rain alarmed him at first, he worried about the ache that would start to settle in his bones the longer he was here, but he found when he got out that it was relatively warm and comfortable. Interesting.

Asmodeus’s palace was huge. The ceilings taller than any of Mammon’s spaces that weren’t practice locations or stages. It was cleaner and well taken care of. All of the Lust ring seemed to be. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn’t to feel so….comfortable. The waiting area outside of Asmodeus’s office was haunting. If he were alone, he might have worried that the room could swallow him whole. Mammon sat beside him babbling on about his own ideas on….Fizz didn’t know, he’d stopped paying attention. He tuned back in when he realized Mamm’s babbling was about him again.

“And the fucking glitter, interesting touch. What are you planning to do, Fizzy? You want to fuck him?”

The large double doors opened and save Fizzarolli from having to reply.

“Mammon” The deep voice carries crystal clear through the large room. Fizzarolli had never seen Lust himself, he hadn’t considered what to expect until this moment. He was huge, just as large as Mammon if not bigger. He was styled. Fizzarolli couldn’t help but admire how his outfit complimented his natural colors. He realized that the ram and bull’s head on the double doors were actually in his image, their colors complimenting his outfit and general color scheme. The heart at the base of Lust’s jacket mirrored the hand stitched patch over his own shoulder. Fizz realized what Barb meant when she told him it was for good luck now.

Asmodeus was commanding of a room, he had Fizz’s full attention. So much so that he hadn’t realized he was supposed to stand up and walk inside the office until Mammon was kicking him in his spot. He stumbled, but was thankfully able to catch himself. He didn’t catch the concerned glance that the Ram’s head gave when they noticed what had happened.

The office was even larger than the waiting room had been. Blue flames taller than Fizzarolli roared in the fireplace. He nearly made it to the sitting area without stumbling. He’d promised Barbie that if he stumbled more than twice he’d use the collapsible cane he had tucked away in his jacket. He’d now stumbled twice, even if the first time wasn’t entirely fair, and decided that he’d use it if he stumbled again.

Mammon sat in the large, velvet backed chair opposite Asmodeus’s seat, leaving Fizzarolli to lean awkwardly against the coffee table. He wouldn’t admit to being in a flair because he could still walk, but he was pushing it after yesterday. Fizzarolli’s eyes widened as he watched a chair appear next to Mammon’s. It wasn’t outrageously large, either, it was something Fizzarolli could climb into relatively easily. When he did, he couldn’t help but laugh as the chair grew in size so that he was more or less on an equal playing field with the other two. It was the closest he’d felt to flying in a long time.

“So, Mammon. Yesterday when we spoke you said this was urgent. Seeing as you’ve come out of Greed to meet with me, this must be important to you. What’s going on?” Asmodeus addressed Mammon directly, but the bull and the ram are looking at Fizzarolli. He isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Yeah, mate. Well, look at him. You think he has much fucking time? Hit the lights, Oz”

Fizz shrunk as he saw the faces staring at him grow in concern. He fucking hates pity. The blue flames dim with a clap of the sin’s hands and Fizz soon realizes what Mammon’s approach to this pitch was going to be.

A screen appears from Mammon’s phone and projects into the air for all of them to see. The music starts, Fizzarolli hides his head in his hands but only for a few moments. By the time the emcee in the video speaks, Fizzarolli is back to sitting upright and forgetting about the video that was about to explain his entire history to the King of Lust.

“Introducing The Buckzo Family Circus’s own Fizarolli!” The familiar tune began to play. A young Fizzarolli stands on the high platform with a rope in his hand. He jumps off the platform easily, flying around the big top and making it look like anyone could fly if they just smiled big enough. The screen cut and changes to Fizzarolli balancing on the big ball, Fizz making balloon animals, Fizz uni-cycling and juggling flaming clubs, acrobatics on horses, more trapeze, some pantomime, a cream pie or two. “What couldn’t this little clown do? Dedicated, talented, destined for stardom. Raised by the Buckzo family as an orphan, he was the family’s pride and joy…...until..” Photos of Fizzarolli and Blitzo appear on the screen. Silent clips of Blitzo faltering at a routine and Fizzarolli saving him were scattered in-between. “Jealous by the talent and fame, Fizzarolli’s life went up in flames…” The newspaper page with the pictures of the accident flashed across the screen. Tents on fire, horses running to escape, fire crews getting there entirely too late. Photos of Fizzarolli in the hospital came next. Nothing but bandages, tubes, and wires. Headlines reading “We Thought He Was Dead” and Circus Star Medical Miracle. Video clips of Blitzo and Fizzarolli playing as children replace the images of damage and destruction. The emcee becomes vicious. His best friend turned enemy…….The Great Fizzarolli has lost everything: his family, his home, his livelihood but not…”

“Is this necessary?” Asmodeus hadn’t agreed to this meeting to watch tacky, exploitative, inspiration porn. Especially when he’d looked over at the jester and noticed the hollow, glazed over look in his eyes. How many times had he had to watch this video already? “What was it you came here to ask?”

Lust was angry. Fizzarolli could pick up on the tone, it’s what brought him back into the moment. The video had stopped playing before Fizzarolli’s cue. Mammon looked pissed. Fizzarolli’s heartbeat picked up pace. This was his only chance, he hadn’t even been here fifteen minutes and he was going to lose it.

“I-I came here to ask, Sir.” Fizzarolli interrupted. He wasn’t sure if it was rude or not, he hadn’t been given an etiquette lesson before coming here. Confidence Fizzarolli reminded himself. Lust is about confidence. If there’s anything Fizzarolli knows how to do, it’s fake confidence. He just needs to get himself into the right headspace. He needs to get into clownspace. It’s harder to do than usual when there’s two deadly sins staring at him, waiting for him to make the pitch that will save his life, hopefully get him some mobility again. One deep breath, and then another.

Asmodeus leaned back in his chair. He’s given the floor to Fizzarolli.

“I’ve always been a performer.” Decent start, Fizz. Keep going. “And I always will be one.” His contract with Mammon ensures that but Fizzarolli doesn’t feel that’s an important detail to bring up right now. Mammon doesn’t seem to be Lust’s favorite subject. “I used to be good, Sir. I’m sure you could see that from the video.” Granted, Fizz was much younger in many of those clips. A lot of the stunts he’d been seen doing were likely ones he’d never get to perform again. He was hoping Asmodeus wouldn’t know that, or wouldn’t care. One deep breath.

“It has been my dream since I was five to perform. To inspire others, to bring smiles to people, to make things better in the only way I know how.” Asmodeus’s eyebrow flicked up in amusement. Fizzarolli kept going. “I still try. I do 50 shows a week. One an hour, down at LooLoo Land? But…..I want more than that.” Breathe, Fizzy. “I want to be the best performer in Hell. I want to win Mammon’s contest. In order to do that, I need to be able to do more than sit on a stool and crack jokes.” The anger that he had yesterday wasn’t present. Fizzarolli had the feeling that Asmodeus wouldn’t take too well to anger, and Fizzarolli wasn’t feeling spiteful. The anxiety was there, yes, but he didn’t feel the need to fight his way out of it quite like he did with Mammon. Things felt calmer.

“Mamm told me you had ideas…..” Fizzarolli can’t tell if Lust is curious or cautious. Maybe he’s bored? Perhaps it was best to not try and read tone right now, he was letting Fizzarolli continue.

“Well, King Asmodeus, Sir. I know you have your deal with Mammon. About the customizable-”

“Robots, yes” There’s definitely annoyance in his tone. Shit. Breathe, Fizzarolli. The show isn’t over yet.

“They’re very advanced. Excellent design work, from what I hear. Water resistant, fully articulated, and smooth. I’ve seen the advertisements, there’s very little they can’t seem to do.” Fizzarolli wasn’t sure who’s ego he was stroking more, but if nothing more it served as a nice distraction and a good segway. “I was wondering, Sir. What the possibility would be of…..re-purposing some of the robot limbs into prosthetics?”

The room is silent, but not hollow. Asmodeus is thinking. Fizzarolli’s eyes are locked on the other’s face, studying each micro expression he can catch between the three faces.

“I’ve never thought about using the technology in that way….” That wasn’t a no. “It’s an interesting concept. I’m not sure how it would be done.”

“I have ideas for that, too, Sir.” Fizzarolli is desperate. He doesn’t have blueprints or sketches written down, his ideas are all theoretical. He doesn’t have the engineering background that he assumes Asmodeus or his team does, he’s never even taken a science class. But his ideas have gotten him places before. He didn’t have to have the solution to be part of it.

The room is silent again for a moment. Mammon won’t stop staring at the two of them. Lust is examining Fizzarolli. He could understand why Mammon had arranged for this meeting. Fizzarolli was something special, there was no denying it. Creative, resilient, hard working and dedicated…..Asmodeus wasn’t sure he could fulfill this imps dreams, but he was interested in hearing more about them at the very least.

“I’d like to hear those ideas.”

Fizzarolli’s eyes went wide. Did he manage to win over Asmodeus? No, no of course not. But this is good. This isn’t a no.

“Does this mean we have a deal, Oz?” Mammon takes the opportunity to butt in. He leaned in with his pointed grin and stretched a hand out to shake with Ozzie. Asmodeus does not take his hand.

“It means it might be possible.” Asmodeus glared at Mammon, then turned his attention back to Fizzarolli. “Do you have time this afternoon? The sooner we can go over your ideas, the sooner I’ll have an idea on what I can do to help.”

Fizzarolli wanted to say yes, but he’d taken on a shift at the milk rings stand at the theme park this afternoon. He’s not sure if Mammon knows or cares, but his attention shifts to his boss. “I-I’m supposed to work games tonight, Sir.”

“So be back tonight, Fizzy. Shit. What’s the big deal?” Fizzarolli swallowed and nodded. That isn’t an unreasonable ask. Hopefully it’ll be a slow night at the park, moving might be hard by the end of his shift.

“As long as I can get back to Greed by 4:00.”

Asmodeus nods. “I’ll clear my lunch.”

Asmodeus didn’t really have to clear anything. He hated mid-afternoon meetings and often blocked out an hour or two to be unavailable in the middle of the day. He usually spent that time finding something entertaining to do between the routine monotony that his day could become. He felt blocking out his afternoon to be with the jester would be more entertaining than anything else he’d planned on doing today.

“Are you hungry?” Asmodeus asked. Mammon had since left to go back to Greed but not before telling Fizzarolli that he better make this work on time or else his wages would be docked for the day. Fizzarolli wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him if he couldn’t convince Asmodeus that they could pull this off.

“Oh, I ah…..” Starving he wanted to say. The pizza he’d had last night was all they had in the house that hadn’t gotten raided by vermin or spoiled in the broken fridge. But he didn’t have money for food, there was no way he could pay for anything in this ring. It was all too nice. “No, I’m. I’m okay. I’ll have some popcorn when I’m back at work.”

Asmodeus’s eyes narrowed in confusion. It took him a moment to remember that Fizz was from Greed. His expectations were probably much different.

“You won’t have to pay for it. I’m offering.” Now it’s Fizzarolli’s turn to be confused.

“Mammon…”

“Mammon isn’t involved in this. I’m the ruler of this ring, I am more than allowed to offer my guests lunch. I’m keeping you during lunch hour, it’s the least I can do.” His voice was firm, but not controlling. And Fizzarolli couldn’t really argue with a single thing he had to say. Asmodeus repeated one more time. “Are you hungry? Because I could eat.”

There was no menu, Fizzarolli was told he could order whatever he wanted and it would be brought up to them. This had to be some sort of test, but what Asmodeus was testing, Fizzarolli had yet to understand. So he decided to test Asmodeus back and call his bluff.

“Are you sure you’re not from gluttony? That’s damn near Bee’s order and she’s four times your size, at least.” There wasn’t a hint of frustration or anger in Lust’s voice. Curiosity, confusion perhaps, but not anger. Fizz took that as enough of a sign that he was passing, he could continue on how he was.

“You told me to order whatever I want. If asking for robotic limbs wasn’t enough of a clue, I have expensive taste.”

“An interesting idea” Asmodeus guides the conversation back to business while his kitchens go on and prepare a feast. “I’d like to hear more about your ideas. Where did you get the inspiration?”

“I mean, you market these bots as the most advanced sex toy in the seven rings. What can’t it do?” Fizz started reciting Mammon’s commercial for the clown robots in a horrible accent. “Sixteen different positions and a customizable amount of holes! These freaky fucks can get you off standing up, laying down, while running! Program your bot to do anything you can do! Fully articulated fingers allow for extra pleasure for any type of sick fuck!….”

“That’s enough” Asmodeus commanded. Fizzarolli stilled immediately. They sat in silence for a few moments before Fizzarolli decided to speak.

“I figured if these robots could do anything you can do….why couldn’t I? I mean, I don’t even have fingers, Sir. Your robots already have an advantage.”

The silence that follows this statement isn’t tense but Fizzarolli felt his chest tighten regardless. The air in the room was cool despite the fire roaring on beside them. Each of Asmodeus’s faces appear to be thinking something different. This wasn’t the perfect pitch he’d imagined. He hadn’t even prepared a perfect pitch, he’d had so little energy in the time he’d been given. Had he fucked it up with the accent? Maybe pretending to be Mammon was a little bit too far. What was his deal with Mammon anyway?

“You make a very good point” When Fizzarolli only looked at Asmodeus in response, the sin continued on. “Now, you said you had ideas for logistics?”

Asmodeus listened. He was agreeable to this. Fizz considered this a win. Asmodeus was agreeable to it. The hardest part was over. Now they just had to figure out how to get his plans to work.

“I think the biggest problem would be the power source.” Fizzarolli started, to which Asmodeus nodded in agreement. “I don’t mind having to charge at night if that’s necessary” That was a weird sentence “But I’d like to be able to get through a day without having to be connected. Especially if I’m going to be a performer.”

“A reasonable request. The bots have a battery life averaging 30 hours…”

“But.....there’s a catch?” Fizzarolli caught on to his tone easily.

“The battery is large. It’s stored in the chest cavity.” Where Fizzarolli was made of flesh and a battery very much couldn’t go.

Fizz stuck his tongue out in a moment of contemplation. “Any chance you could make it slimmer? If you could sew it up in some cloth and make it a back brace I’d marry you.”

Asmodeus’s cracked a smile at the demon sitting across from him. He considered the idea. It wasn’t horrible, though he wasn’t entirely keen on him having to keep a battery that close to him, or having to keep a battery at all.

“And I’ve heard you have these crystals? What are they for?” The sin chuckled to himself “What I mean is, could they harness energy?”

“You really did come with ideas” Asmodeus mused. “Do you have any sketches or plans?”

Fizzarolli paused. He didn’t, he wasn’t that prepared. Confidence. “No, sir. But give me a pen and paper and I can draw up some sketches.”

The sin leaned back in his seat and nodded. Fizzarolli wondered what he was thinking.

“Alright. Would you like to see my workshop?”

#fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #asmodeus #first meeting #ao3 link in title #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #fizzarolli x asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #mammon #barbie wire #fizzmodeus fanfiction #helluva boss fanfiction #found family fizziverse

[strawhatsoraya]

Nanami Kento x Reader | JJK Series | Fem! Reader, She/Her Part 2

WORD COUNT: 4,658 words (too many)

CONTENT: NSFW / bad driving do NOT attempt in real life, a bratty y/n is bratty, slightly sadistic nanami?, dom nanami, bondage lite, groping, oral female receiving, fire, explosions, a little bit of public nudity, smoking

A BAD SUMMARY: The one where y/n sets the rental car on fire, nanami gets choked with his own tie, and both end up smoking by the fire.

prompt was picked by and for @soleilnomoon. once again I deliver a little late but it is here!

you and your infinite patience were at your limit. 

the heat was insubordinate. the uniform was unnecessarily restrictive. this pairing? simply the worst case scenario. 

brown eyes reflect back at you through the rear view mirror; you look away from your own to stare at the knitted brows of the driver. he hasn't said a word since he started driving twenty minutes ago. part of you is thankful for the quiet; a nice little reprieve for gojo satoru constantly reminding you how much he loves the sound of his own voice. 

nanami’s voice; however—low, and thick like raw honey—always oozes around you when he speaks. for his words, no matter how curt or succinct, you never minded getting sticky.

the only problem was that the air in the moving car was bone dry. 

you swallow a sigh and roll your eyes away from the reflection of his forehead in the mirror. you focus instead on the moving cars flying past you, the blurry trees and buildings in the distance; buildings full of people living their quiet mundane lives unaware of the evils you and your comrades face regularly. perhaps if you focus your bitter feelings on them, and not on the electrifying presence of the person next you, you can muster enough courage to start a conversation yourself.

words purr like a starting engine in the back of your mouth, and falter there, sputtering back into nonexistence.

you were starting to wonder if you were an idiot. a massive one at that.

the weight of your blush crushes your cheeks. the heat inside the car intensifies; drops of sweat slide down the back of your neck, and down your chest where they lay down to die between your breasts. without thinking further, you undo the top two buttons of your white dress shirt. once again you were reminded of how unreasonable the uniform was. in whose right mind did they think this kind of business attire was appropriate or even efficient?

a thirst gnaws at you with dull teeth; not sharp enough to draw blood but enough to bruise. you lick your lips at the discomfort, anything for some kind of reprieve. 

“Nanamin!” you sing, turning your torso to place an elbow on the headrest of the passenger seat. lips stretch into a mischievous grin. 

Nanami Kento looks at you sideways behind his dark glasses; not that you notice. he finds your facial expression absolutely predatory; a hyena waiting for scraps. 

“Nanamin?” he repeats tilting his head slightly as he focuses on the road ahead of them. “You’ve been spending too much time with Gojo.”

you sigh before you can help it. your body instinctively moves away, and turns to face the front of the car once more. “Ehh,” you whine with a shrug. “I can’t say you’re wrong but it’s not like I have a choice. Nobody else wants to partner with me.”

pitiful, that's what you were. not strong enough to go on solo missions, but too intolerable to have a steady partner. you prop your elbow on the passenger door and cradle your chin on a closed fist. once again the quickly passing scenery makes you feel a tiny bit nostalgic.

“That’s because you don’t know how to follow orders,” Nanami responds hotly. this was the reason he had moaned when given the mission details, and the knowledge that you had been assigned as his partner. “If you would just listen and think before you–”

“What's the point?” you cut him off, dark eyes still cast on the distant buildings. “You told me yourself once. All of us in this line of business will die one way or the other. It’s not a choice. The only thing we can choose, the only thing we have control over, is how we die. So let me die how I want.”

“Did I say that?” he retorts. he feels his jaw tense as he bites down. he doesn't recall and he usually remembers everything he says, but with you, every meeting was always a heated blurr of strange occurrences. he would feel dizzy for days after, thinking of you in the middle of work. it annoyed him almost as much as working over time did. why would he have to preoccupy himself with you off duty? it was simply unacceptable.

“Didn’t you?” you spit back, and look over at him with raised brows. your head tilts, almost mockingly and he glances at you briefly. his fingers flex and grasp the wheel tighter. it was all he could do to keep himself from smacking the back of your head. he grunts in response if only to get you to stop staring at him.

you consider this a little victory and smile to yourself as you kick off your kitten heels. you stop to think about his reaction for only a split second before you put your feet up in the dash. you hear him start to protest.

“Oh, come on!” you beg. your hands clap together once and remain there to pray for a miracle. “It’s so hot, it’s so hot. They’re just feet!”

what you really wanted was to take off your blazer and button down shirt but that was inadvisable. Nanami would most definitely be uncomfortable with that and in turn that would only excite you more. just thinking about his flushed face forces you to take a deep breath; anything to slow down your racing heart. 

appearances were everything so you place your folded hands behind your back, feet still on the dash. your eyes search for any crack in nanami’s facade. It was hard to find anything from his profile; all you saw was a sharp jawline and a fleshy bottom lip.

you stare a breath too long, and he looks over at you briefly.

“What is it?” he asks, a  brow high on his forehead, challenging you. your tongue darts out to moisten dry lips. it barely helps. you still feel parched and you were still, last you checked,  a feen for challenges, impossible and possible alike.

“I’m really hot,” you state in an uneven tone. breathing suddenly felt complicated. how the hell did that happen? “Do you mind?” you don't wait for his answer and take off your blazer, stretching white fabric moistened with sweat against your chest as you move.

Nanami didn’t often curse but he felt this time would be appropriate. still, he refrains, glancing desperately between you and the road. knuckles turn white with worry as he grips the steering wheel tighter and tighter.

“What are you doing?” Nanami spits between clenched teeth, every syllable forced and controlled. “Put it back on.”

“I refuse,” you say, throwing the blazer towards the backseat with one hand. Your other hand found more buttons to undo, at least two more. cleavage exposed now, you breathe a sigh. The cold air coming from the air conditioning vent caressing the top of your breasts felt as if heaven sent. you could only think of very few things better than this.

as if possessed, your eyes glance at nanami’s face, and his mouth—the divinity of which you only wish you knew from personal experience. his face was covered in pink splotches. your eyes dart from his cheeks to his neck. you can’t help but wonder if his chest is the type to become splotchy as well. you desperately want to find out. the longer you stare, the more you see the vein on his forehead bulge. you try to bite back a chuckle but it doesn’t work very well. you hope he didn’t hear but you know he did. you can tell by the way his shoulders tense further.

he moans your name like a curse, like a burden. you feel your stomach dip uncomfortably. guilt wades through the mess of emotions filling you, trying to ruin your bit of fun. you try to squash it, stomp it out, chewing desperately on the inside of your cheek until you draw blood.

“Tell me something,” he finally says in a guttural whisper. 

“Mmm?” you’re distracted by the taste of iron in your mouth, by your own thoughts. perhaps you had gone too far–again. perhaps this will be the last time. the real last time. 

“Do you not see me as a man?”

“Huh?” 

the question was unexpected. you find yourself unable to respond. static noise fills your brain. there's a vague sense of urgency. you feel as if you need to say something, quickly, before he is offended.

“An old man, maybe,” you finally say with a crooked grin.

“Am I a joke to you?” 

no. absolutely not is what you wish to say but once again the words remain stagnant in your throat, choking you and depriving you from air. it was all you could do to blame your sudden stupidity on. 

“You’re a man, Nanami Kento,” you sigh and glance out the window. it is your attempt at ignoring the blazing heat scorching the skin of your cheeks. “Do you really have to make me say it out loud?” you mutter, drawing nonsense circles on the passenger door window with your finger. “So embarrassing.”

there was silence after the confession. your heart plummets to freezing depths. you wish you could take the words back. you try to think of a solution. maybe you can jump out of the moving car and pretend nothing happened. maybe die? both situations seem infinitely more favorable than staying in this steel ton death trap with a silent and pensive nanami kento.

“Good,” his voice cuts through the silence, deadly and icy. “Since you’re aware,” he drags his vowels. Your eyes dart from his face to the road, to his hand sliding towards your knee. “You understand the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you question quickly. it was in your nature to question, debate, to doubt even now as Nanami’s warm hand, large and calloused, grips your knee.

the car swerves, cutting from one lane to the next. your head snaps to glance at the rear view mirror, and to look behind you. fortunately, there was no traffic to be seen.

“You’re driving kind of–” you don’t finish your sentence. Nanami’s hand is sliding higher up your leg. his thumb is drawing slow large circles on the outside of your clothed thigh.

the car comes to a stop at the side of the road. behind Nanami you can see the stormy sea, brewing, thrashing and deadly–so was the look in his eyes.

your instincts scream; they kick their legs and draw their claws. your throat seizes as you swallow back the smart remarks, the funny quips threatening to bubble out; your defensive shield at whoever dares to intrude on your vulnerability. intimacy was a forbidden subject; taboo. you always skittered around it, chasing highs while they were uncomplicated and moved on to the next victim without a goodbye. the last person you wanted to become entangled with, despite what your night fantasies would say, was Nanami Kento.

you felt safe with him. it would be too easy to stay.

he moves slowly. you can see the muscles of his shoulders rippling under his shirt; lethal and lithe, like a large feline. you want to smile at the realization but his hands start treacherous fires where he touches your thighs. he grips them and pulls you towards him—in a quick move—he turns you and your back slams against the passenger door. you’re not sure when he had the time to unbuckle himself, or to measure the distance between you and him. all you know is you can’t move from where he has you—trapped between the blistering heat of his body and the passenger door.

“Should we–Should we talk about this?” you stammer, lightly placing one hand on his chest. your fingers fiddle with his tie; ever so formal. you smile and pull at it with both hands, tightening it just enough to cross the edge of reason. Nanami’s eyes narrow at the tightness around his neck, gagging and choking slightly. he groans after clearing his throat and  slaps your hands away only to seize your wrists with thick fingers.

“No,” he says in a disbelieving tone; one hand keeps your wrists at his mercy, the other undoes his tie. “You’re already breaking rules.” you frown, confused more at these supposed rules than at the fact that he was tying your wrists together with the tie he had removed.

“What rules? You didn’t tell me there were rules,” you complain petulantly. your bottom lip sticks out in a dramatic pout. you feel nanami’s  eyes landing on it. heat pools at the bottom of your belly. you shift your weight in your seat, feeling a pleasurable wetness starting between your legs. you thighs rub together in anticipation. if he didn't kiss you soon you thought you might just catch fire. he must have read your thoughts. his mouth clashes with yours in a tight lipped kiss; a little clumsy and more forceful than you expected. he pulled away enough to punish your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Must I spell everything out for you?” he asks, nipping at the corners of your mouth, dropping soft feathery kisses on your cheek. his hands had found your neck and they held you in place, as if you would run away from his affections. you smile derisively at your thoughts, even as goosebumps rush up and down your arms at the feel of his hot open mouth on your neck. 

he fights intoxication. the taste of salt on your skin becomes his newfound obsession. tongue pressed flush against your pulse. his eyes close as he feels your heartbeat getting quicker and quicker. lashes flutter at the feel of your breasts under his hands. he had dreamed of this. he wasn’t proud of it. not at all. in fact he was quite disappointed in himself.

how could he lack such imagination? 

not a moment of his dreams could compare to the weight of your breasts as he palmed them under your bra. they couldn’t compare to the warmth and softness he felt as he kneaded them. you mewl gently, wriggling underneath him. his mouth becomes hungrier, he devours what’s near it, biting and sucking. fingers are adept at finding your weaknesses, pinching hardened sensitive nipples between thumb and index fingers. he twirls his fingers gently, and sometimes with a little more force.

your legs move in an attempt to get closer. It's all you can do. your hands are tied, and you begin to hate it. you hate the way his face is buried in your neck, sucking and biting and  you can’t bring him closer to you; can’t run your fingers through his thick dark blond hair the way you’ve always imagined. you can’t run your palms down the length of his back, feel the muscles that keep him alive. want piles and piles inside of you in a perilous tower, tilting and swaying, waiting for the least opportune moment to collapse.

“Nanami,” you hiss, as he rips what’s left of your shirt. you wanted to tell him he owed you a uniform but you loathed it anyway. he pushes your bra up to expose your breasts. whatever you had wanted to say is already forgotten. you are entranced by the way his eyes darken at the sight of your breasts, the way his tongue dips out to moisten his bottom lip as if preparing for an unexpected feast. plessure gnaws at you again, pulling at your navel making you feel as if you could plummet to whatever darkness hid behind Nanami’s eyes.

whatever it was, however dark, you wanted to follow him through.

his mouth met your breast like a long lost lover. your back arches at the feel of his tongue pressing and sucking against your nipple. moans leave you before you can even think to hold them. fire burns between your legs, and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. you crave him. this is not enough. he holds one breast with one hand, opening wide to suck in as much as he can. his free hand holds you up, pressing against the small of your back, trying to bring you even closer to him, as if he could devour you whole if he tried enough.

your fingers curl and close trying to clutch and hold, but they grasp nothing.

“This isn’t fair,” you whine, tossing your head as he rips another olundating moan from you. he releases your breast with a pop and looks up at you through blond lashes. his face is flushed, eyes dark with lust, lips moistened by his own saliva.

He couldn’t look more delicious if he tried.

“I told you there are consequences,” he says, rubbing one scruffy cheek against your sensitive breast. The prickly sensation makes you squirm, and you swallow a gasp, trying to keep your composure.  he kisses the bruise he left on his current favorite breast, and moves on to the other one, leaving a wet trail behind him. “If you had been good, things would be different.”

you roll your eyes. just as well, since he takes your attention deprived nipple between his teeth and tugs. “Ah!” you yell, and your back snaps. you feel him smile against your breast before he kisses around it, leaving your nipple alone. he bites, and sucks, using a hand to expose the underside where he becomes stubbornly obsessed with leaving a hickey. “Don’t just—” why would he stop? 

Nanami sucks his teeth. his hands are under you as he sucks on your breast, he finds the curve of your ass and grips. he mumbles against you. his words don’t register, you’re just trying to keep him where he is, hands tied, pressing against his back.

his hand is fumbling with your back pockets and for a moment you wonder what he is up to. was this some other trick of his? he releases your breast, drool hanging off his chin. he lifts up the hand that had been in your back pocket and he holds up a lighter.

you feel slightly embarrassed but find it impossible to care for long. after all, you were itching for him to continue. you rub your legs together and whine.

“Yes, yes I know,” you say, aware of the inflection in your voice; petulant and childish. “Smoking is bad. Can we get on with it?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says, not so eager to let it go, as he wiggles the lighter in the air, dotting the I’s and crossing the t’s in his sentence. you watch as he tosses it unceremoniously on the dashboard. you quickly grow distracted. his mouth is back on your breasts and you shudder, feeling the heated coil within you tightening and tightening. at this rate, you were about to plummet into ecstasy before you could lay a single finger on Nanami. his fingers slip under your waistband and he pulls down your pants, roughly tugging until you are free.

you see him toss them to the back of the car where your blazer had disappeared earlier. Heated fingers dance over the skin of your thighs. they press against the inside of them, pushing your legs apart. you try to hide your face, somehow finding the energy to feel embarrassed. you want to beg. you want to ask him not to say anything about how wet you are but his fingers are reaching out, pushing against the wet stain on your panties. you bite down a whimper. 

“Look at you,” he breathes, using his thumb to draw a line up and down on your covered slit. “So wet and I’ve barely started.”

you gasp as he presses against your clit. he rubs lazy circles over your panties with his thumb, his free hand teasing, following the wet slick trail your cunt left on your underwear. you try swallowing your moans but it’s no use. he takes them from you with little effort, and you choose to stop fighting. 

he leans forward and presses his mouth against the inner side of your right knee, then left. he kisses sloppily up your inner thigh with a hot open mouth. you feel him leaving his scent on your skin and the thought somehow makes you hornier. you want to feel him everywhere. you want to go home and smell him on your skin, in your hair. hot mouth finds  the space where your hip meets your thigh and he licks up and down before sucking, eager to leave his mark there as well.

after having his fill, he pulls your panties to the side, and dives into your heated pussy. another moan, louder than before, forces you to arch your back. you hook your tied hands over his head as he laps at your pussy, tasting your wetness, taking in your musky scent. your fingers aren’t long enough to reach where you want them so you grasp at bits of hair in hopes of grounding yourself. he slips his tongue between your lips, teasing your entrance, and your hips buck. you want him more than anything at the moment. you want to feel him inside you. you gyrate your hips as he works his tongue up and down your slit, wanting to take control. he laughs and grasps one hip to push you down.

“That’s enough,” he whispers to your clit before sucking it. you scream out at the sensation. you can feel it throbbing, aching. you’re so close. your fingers tug on his hair and pull as you push your hips up, chasing the high of your orgasm. you cry out, his name a song on your lips. he smiles against your pussy and hums.

“Good girl, I’ll give you what you want now.” his voice is a low growl and it brushes your skin. you are aflame. you hold your breath as he unties your wrist. you remind yourself to breathe in as he unbutton his shirt. his smile is crooked and wicked as he leans forward, guiding your hands to his chest. you are beside yourself. the warmth under your palms makes you shiver. you feel the quivering in your thighs as your hands draw down, fingertips rolling over chiseled abs. you trail the sharpness of his muscles with both hands,  that form together to create a villainous V. 

Oh how you despised it and the way it made you want him more and more.

you look up in time to see his dark gaze on you. There is a soft smile dancing on his lips. he leans forward and captures your bottom lip, sucking it in, grazing his tongue across it.

you melt under the heat. he is on you, feverishly leaving kisses all over your face as he gathers you in his arms. he pulls you on his lap and helps you straddle him. your hands are grasping everything in sight, everything they saw and wanted but could not have. you grip his biceps, admiring the thickness of them. your hands comb through his hair as you kiss him, tongues clashing, teeth clumsily biting and scratching lips. you allow fingertips to dance around his jawline, committing it to memory. 

he tries to catch your fingers, nibbling at them when they get close to his mouth.

“Are you almost done?” he asks impatiently, pushing up against your crotch. you hum, feeling yourself bush. you hide your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder. you can feel him, hot and hard, ready. this isn’t your first time. far from it, yet why did anxiety flutter in your chest?

“N-not yet,” you stall, grinding your hips as if to keep him satisfied. he moans, holding your head closer to him. you drop kisses on his collarbone and allow your hands to roam around his lower back. you’re busily suckling on the hollow of his clavicle when you hear him hum and sniff. you lick your way up his neck and to his pulse, where you suck greedily. you too are eager to leave your mark. his hand is in your hair and he tugs at it.

“Smell that?” he asks. 

your sniff, unsure if this was a trick question. You pause and smell it: smoke.

“What’s that?” you ask, sitting straight up. Nanami moans as he holds your thighs and gives you a look that reads–don’t do that if you plan on stopping. “I’m serious.”

you glance behind you and see a tiny gray trail of smoke growing bigger and bigger on the dashboard. your mind is foggy. your lips are swollen, and your sensitive vagina is throbbing, aching for release but there was smoke in the car. your brain couldn’t click the thoughts together to form the complete puzzle.

“Get out,” you hear Nanami say close to your ear. he is reaching behind the driver’s seat. he grasps a black blazer and opens the driver’s door with his other hand. you’re pushed out of the vehicle and stumble forward braless, in soiled panties on to the road. you run towards the side, hoping no traffic comes.

“Nanami!” you hiss, covering your tits. “What the fuck?”

he is following you, putting the blazer around your shoulders. he gives no answers as he speeds up, and drags you along, a quick sprint.

“Move. Fast,” he says with urgency and your legs, weak and trembling, carry you as best as you can. the smell of smoke intensifies and you dare to look over your shoulder.

the rental was on fire.

your eyes widen even as Nanami urges you to keep going. your legs pick up the pace. a resounding boom fills the open space by the sea, and you can hear the ocean pushing back. you lose your balance, and Nanami is quick to hold you, pulling you up by your arms. you look past him, and see the sad remains of the rental vehicle, still on fire.

“How much do you think that costs?” you ask him with a sour taste in your mouth. he looks down at you and takes in your downturned lips, and wide eyes.

“I don’t know, several thousand?”

“There goes my whole paycheck,” you whine, covering your face. “Was it even worth it?” a split second after speaking you realize you might have misspoke. an apology is about to fly out of your mouth but Nanami’s still face suddenly changes. his lips split and he laughs, a hearty belly laugh. the corners of his eyes crinkle. your hands found his chest and let them rest there, feeling the rumbling underneath them. you allow warmth to spread through you.

“Oh,” he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Nobody’s ever made me laugh like that in a long,” he pauses to brush his nose against yours ever so lightly. “Long time.”

his hand rests on your cheek and you take it in between yours. you have no funny words, no smart remarks. no defensive tactic is left to hold him back.

“That’s still coming out of our paycheck.”

you groan and reach inside the pocket of your blazer. you pull out a pack of smokes and smack it on your hand repeatedly. Nanami’s eyes are heavy on you. you glance at the ground as you pull out a cigarette.

“Might as well,” you suggest with a shrug, tilting your head back to appeal to Nanami. you grab another cigarette and offer it to him. “You blew up my lighter so…” you walk towards the fire and reach out to light your cigarette. Nanami sighs beside you and plucks the other cigarette from you.

“Just this one time,” he says with a pointed stare.

cigarettes lit, you both stare at the fire. 

“So, absolutely no chance in writing this off as a business expense?” you ask Nanami, cigarette hanging from the corner of your mouth.

“Am I a joke to you?”

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