#this whole sequence made me shiver

[telamons]

No matter how bitter the truth that awaits me, I will press on.

#final fantasy xvi #clive rosfield #ffxvi #ffxvi spoilers #gamingedit #mine #ffedit #ffgraphics #final fantasy #xiv #don't really know how to tag anymore #if i messed up something tell me i'll rectify #btw if you want me to tag you please tell me so! #i can't believe how gorgeous he looks really #LOOK AT HIM #this whole sequence made me shiver #i'm gonna start giffing the hell out of this game there's just too much to tell #(i'm only halfway but i already got so many recordings.... takes too much space on my ps5)

[luxtrys]

ani just screams corruption kink i feel so dizzy

AHH U FUCKING GOT ME WITH THIS (added a bit of innocence kink because i can't handle myself) also got carried away like i always do, sue me.

also didn't want to write any p in v because i've already written a first time with anakin fic that knowing me would probably turn out super duper similar to this. it's right here if you're interested!! ♡

pretty baby, best friend!anakin skywalker x reader (18+, smut)

you were panicking. you tried to keep your short uncontrolled breaths at bay as you made your way down the halls of the jedi temple. you nearly tripped over your own feet multiple times, your body carrying you straight to anakin's quarters like you were on autopilot.

you had known anakin since he arrived at your home planet of coruscant when he was nine years old. you were only a year younger than him, but you were always a bit naive and innocent, floaty as anakin would call it, so you always felt like he knew best. like he was in charge and in control.

naturally, you felt like anakin knew your body and your feelings even better than you did. so when you felt odd tingles rise in your downstairs area, you didn't know what was going on in your own body. but you knew only one person you could go to, because after all anakin was your best friend.

you tried to ground yourself as you rested your hand on the door handle to anakin's private chambers, closing your eyes for a moment and breathing in and out in a sequence. you slowly opened his door, peeking in to see ani's shirtless figure on his bed, his eyes glued to the book in front of him.

as you stepped in, his head turned in your direction, a handsome smile gracing his face as he quickly bookmarked his page and made his way over to you. "hi angel, how was your day?" he asked, his heavy aura engulfing you when his arms wrapped fully around your body and he bent down to rest his head on your shoulder.

he quickly rose back up when he didn't feel you hug back, you were always hugging anakin, so something was definitely wrong. guilt washed over his face for not noticing your quivering lip and watery eyes.

"baby, what happened?" he asked, rubbing his thumb on the side of your face to try to offer you any bit of comfort he could give. "hurts ani" you whined, taking your palms and placing them on his chest, trying to push his body away from yours as the contact made your brain even more fuzzy than it already was.

"what hurts? did you trip? did someone do something to you?" he glanced over your whole body for any bruises or visible marks, even going so far as to kneel down slightly to gaze over your thighs because you were almost always falling over. your statement nearly gave him the shivers, the mere thought of something happening to you made anakin go crazy, and you knew that.

"no-no didn't fall." you shook your head, still pushed up softly against the wall in, what to him, looked like clear agony. "angel, you gotta tell me what's going on so i can help you, yeah? can't fix a problem if i don't know what it is"

you were embarrassed, because as innocent as you were, you knew that private parts were private, and you didn't know how he was going to react to sharing information about the feelings in your panties. but as conflicted as you were you needed these tingles to stop.

so you took his wrist, guiding his hand up your thigh and past your skirt, resting it to cup your heat through your panties. he looked up at you in realisation, biting his full bottom lip softly as his eyes narrowed in on you like a predator looking at his prey.

"it-it started yesterday when you came back from training and we were cuddling. i don't know what's happening ani, is there something wrong with me?" he let out a small 'fuck' at your statement, cursing himself for not noticing your state sooner, like the way your thighs were clenched and how you clung to him. even though he had known you for more than half of his life, he had no idea that you didn't know anything about the feelings you were having.

"no baby, there's nothing wrong with you. but you need to trust me if you want me to help you, ok?" he tried to be as soft as he could because he knew if he was too quick or aggressive in any way, you would turn into a pile of tears and embarrassment. you nodded with teary eyes, melting back into his touch and wrapping your hands around his neck.

he took this as the chance to slid his hands on the back of your upper thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as your legs wrapped around his waist. he swiped his thumb across your cheeks, softly wiping the tears that were running down your face, cooing to you to stop crying, and that it was all okay.

anakin placed you softly down on his bed, resting your head on your favourite pillow and kissing your bare midriff as he positioned himself above you. goosebumps trailed your skin as he slowly unzipped your skirt, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. you couldn't even describe the feelings you were experiencing as you ended up only in panties, socks and anakin's shirt on his bed. in all fairness, you slept like this with him all the time, but with his hands toying with the waistband of your pink underwear, this felt a whole lot different.

"i'm gonna touch you right here princess, is that ok?" he said as he placed his finger right to your heat through the thin cotton on your underwear. it wasn't as though anakin was an unserious person, at all, but right now, you had never seen anakin look so stern in your life. you nodded quickly, ready for him to cure this unsettling feeling in your core. "words baby." he replied to your nodding.

"yes anakin, its ok." you giggled, using his full name to annoy him. it worked. you watched as he pulled your panties off, the cold air making you shiver. after pulling them all the way off your body, he threw your underwear somewhere in the room, too focused on the site in front of him to care.

"can't believe you're letting me do this baby, been dreaming about this pussy for years" he wasn't lying, he had been thinking about what you would taste like, feel like, moan like for years. he always knew you were innocent, and he did a lot to keep it that way, but the way you came to his room, thighs clenched and clueless at these new feelings made his dick strain in his pants.

but he knew you weren't ready for all of him just yet, because not to be obnoxious, but there was no way even a quarter of his cock would fit inside of you without making you scream in pain.

he leaned forward so his head was now between your legs, licking a thick stripe up your folds as you threw your head back in pleasure. he nearly let out a groan at the taste of you, dipping back down into your heat and moving his tongue all around your pussy.

"oh my- ani!" you had never felt a feeling like this ever before, like you were on a constant wave of euphoria that you were never going to come off of. he flicked his tongue on your clit multiple times, watching attentively as he made you putty in his hands.

he continued eating you out for what felt like hours until you were practically sobbing with pleasure. "stop fucking squirming" he spat, placing an iron grip on your waist as you moved below him, seething like you were holding the most desirable thing in the world away from him.

he took the time while he threw your legs over his shoulders to smile at you, his chin and lips practically glistening from your juices, making you whine. "makers, you taste fucking heavenly baby, can't believe you were keeping this from me" he groaned, his tongue now reaching unimaginable places inside of you as you felt even less grounded with your legs stretched over his shoulders.

"ani s-stop! feel like i'm gonna pee" you whined, desperately trying to push his head away from your core as you squirmed in embarrassment. "you're not gonna pee baby, you're gonna cum. that's a good thing yeah? just let go for me." you nodded unsurely, biting your lip as you let go.

you tried to muffle your moans as you felt the most immense feeling of pleasure you have ever experienced, scared you were going to wake the whole jedi temple. anakin flicked his tongue up and down your folds, exploring every inch of your heat as he worked you through your orgasm, wishing he had his camera to capture the look on your face.

"god baby, you're so pretty like this" he sighed, pushing himself up as he hovered above you. he passionately kissed you, letting you taste yourself as you whined. you let your head lull to the side of your pillow, momentarily shutting your eyes and only opening them as you felt anakin wipe a damp towel down your folds. he was smirking at you as you finally looked at him dazed, running his tongue across his bottom lip teasingly.

"can't believe i finally corrupted you pretty baby."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker drabble

[mvrtaiswriting]

So excited for the writing event!!! Can I please request drunk prompt #7 with Zoro or Kid? I think it would be super funny for either of them to be really awkward the next morning after drunkenly kissing someone. Or maybe the reader drunkenly kissed *them* and now they don't know if she actually likes them or not.

Eustass Kid x prompt 7 (drunk prompts) - “did i… did we kiss last night?"

HELLO HELLO! thanks for requesting this i love this psycho bitch so much. hope this meets your expectations eheh this was slightly longer than others cause you know i love my characters to overthink everything just like me <333 enjoy!!

gender neutral reader | 913 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

The softness of the blankets was gentle against your skin as you woke up from one of the best nights of sleep you ever had. That, if only the terrible headache that held you hostage in your bed would disappear. Even the tiniest glimpse of light filtering through the curtains was too much to bear - it only made your headache worst. Yet, there wasn't the tiniest residue of energy in your body for you to get up and block out the sun - so you laid in bed, throwing your blanket over your head and waiting for the pain to go away.

Enjoying the quietness of the ship, you closed your eyes trying to remember what had happened the night before - memories of the party came to you in a blur. They flashed before your eyes in a confusing sequences, making it hard to distinguish what really happened from what might have been just a dream. You didn't even remember how you made it to bed - the last thing you remembered was laying against your captain's shoulder, probably too drunk to sit still in your own place.

Yet there was something more to it, a memory that you couldn't quite grasp - a memory that felt more like a feeling, a phantom sensation still washing all over your body. It wasn't the nausea, nor the terrible headache; it was different, it was better.

Grazing your fingers against your lips, memories from the night before became clearer - did you dream it like all those times before? Was it all on your head? Or did you really kiss Eustass Kidd? These questions pounded your head as a subtle anxiety settles into your heart - the room around you starts to spin again, but this time not because of the alcohol. The idea of confessing your feelings to Kidd, to your captain, sent you spiralling - it was only a crush, after all.

Right?

Wrong. It wasn't only a crush - it was shivers down your spine every time his strong hands laid on your shoulders, it was your heart running faster every time he'd fight against an enemy, it was you melting into a stupid puddle every time he'd call you brat or some other stupid nicknames that you really should have minded but never did.

Forcing yourself out of bed, you dragged your body to the kitchen. The insufferable headache you woke up to was now gone, and you definitely needed a good meal and some water. You almost forgot about the whole kiss thing when you heard familiar footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Your fight or flight response was activated immediately, quickly slamming the door of the fridge and ready to leave the room before he could catch you.

"Took your sweet time to get up, uh?"

Kid roared from behind you, making you jump, a small laugh leaving his mouth making him less intimidating. Yet, you could feel his body almost pressed against yours, his taller figure towering you and making you feel ridiculously small even without having to look at him. Nodding in response, you were quick to move away from his trap, taking a few steps back.

"Yes, I.." you stumbled on your words, scratching the back of your head, panic quickly settling into your chest as you try to come up with something.

"Drank too much. I know."

Kidd cut you off, an unusual reassuring smile forming on his lips as he took a bottle of water from the fridge, throwing it at you.

"Don't even know how I made it to bed."

"Anything else you don't remember?"

Kidd asked. What you heard, however, was more similar to the sound of a ticking bomb about to explode.

"Don't think so." You chuckled, praying you were right - that there was nothing else to remember from the night before, that you didn't stupidly spread on top of him and slurred god knows what to him. Kidd only nodded in response, looking somewhat disappointed - there were no jokes, no sarcastic remarks, no angsty comment. Just an uncomfortable silence and an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Kidd?" you called, causing him to turn towards you once again. He only raised an eyebrow in response, waiting for you to continue

"Did I.. did we kiss last night?"

You finally blurted out, your words rolling off your tongue before you could think it all through. Kidd's features immediately softened, his usual cockiness coming back to surface.

"What if we did?", he barked back, staring up and down at you.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he laid against the doorframe of the kitchen as the most annoying smirk appeared on his face - this was fun, seeing you blushing like a teenager without being able to look at him.

"I don't know. Sorry, stupid question."

You tried to brush it off, faking a smile and waving him goodbye - you just wanted to run, wash off the horrible wave of embarrassment and just forget about the whole thing. Kidd, however, was not really thinking about letting you go. His hands were quick to grab your wrist, pulling you closer to him. In a fraction of seconds he had you trapped in his embrace, your body pressed against his muscular chest.

"Want to give it another try?" he whispered, one of his hands already cupping your cheek whilst the one lazily slid down to the small of your back.

"If it wasn't that memorable, I must make up for it."

#eustass x reader #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid #kidd x reader #kidd pirates #eustass kid fluff #eustass kid smut #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid one piece #one piece fanart #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #straw hat crew #straw hat pirates #marta's 1000 followers event

[wonysugar]

it’s so over for me…. ch. 21

a date!! no shivers

word count : 1.1k

you stared at her latest message, “only if you want it to be<3” before scoffing.

ugh. who does the fuck she think she is?? making you giggle like an idiot like that.. embarrassing, really..

upon sending your latest message, the one containing your dorm number, you immediately threw your phone on the bed and rushed to your closet, already thinking of a possible outfit. this exact sequence of actions gave you very vivid flashbacks of the night of the party, which made you scoff.

cause, yknow, that was the same night that an intoxicated aeri was tongue deep inside you.

that really wasn’t relevant at the moment, what especially mattered was the amount of bomb ass ice cream you were gonna eat later,

with a very sober aeri.

you giggled as you looked into your closet, smiled wider when you thought of a potential cute outfit (thanks to that one trip to h&m), grabbed the necessary clothing for it, and quickly got dressed, enthusiasm and excitement definitely showing through the speed of your actions.

after getting (very nicely) dressed, you patiently waited for an indicator that aeri was here. thankfully, it didn’t take long at all for her to show up and be at your door, the sudden sound of the doorbell getting you even more excited about the ‘date’ in question.

“hey whore.” she said, wearing a wide grin, so wide that it made her look stupid. 

“hey slut.” you said back, grinning just as much as she was, because you apparently didn’t mind looking stupid, either.

she stood there, stared at your outfit with a dorky smile, then subconsciously, slightly, nodded her head at the sight. i mean, you dressed up for her, she’d be crazy not to notice that. what she didn’t notice, though, was that she was staring for a bit longer than she intended to. you internally laughed, god she really was a dork.

in response to her staring, you teased, “didn’t think i could wear cute clothes, huh?” 

snapped out of her trance, “yeah.. y-yeah, nice to see you at least have some fashion sense.” she nervously giggled, attempting to seem just as rude as she always is, stepping aside from the doorframe, leaving you space to leave your dorm. “anywaysss uh– after you.” she added, avoiding your gaze.

you could’ve sworn you saw a tint of red on her face, she was blushing at least a little bit, you were certain of it. 

with a grin, you walked out of the room, the action followed by the sound of her gently closing your door, her rhythmic footsteps so loud, so loud that they were practically resonating in the hall. 

or was that your heartbeat? you really couldn’t tell.

-

“yeah so then i was like… ohhh my god like please shut up and just let me copy your homework, like it’s really not that deep, you know?” she explained, sitting on the driver’s seat of her fancy car with you, by her side, as she took occasional licks from her very basic, very vanilla ice cream. you, on the other hand, were already done with your food, and waited for her to finish.

you nodded, “so you were the exact same in high school. you never change, huh?” endlessly teasing her as she laughed with you.

“basically, yeah. it’s in my blood.”

“you know, if i was your classmate in high school, i would’ve let you copy any sort of homework you asked for.” you said, trying to get another one of her flustered reactions out of her. which very much worked, as per usual, considering she quickly stumbled on her words and slightly fidgeted with her hands. it was a thing she did whenever she got nervous. 

oh it was so fun seeing her like this.

“oh if i did ask you it’d be a way of flirting, probably— anyways uh!! so like i was saying–”

you smiled warmly as you listened to her every word, looking at her eyes, her lips, the structure of it all, her whole face in general. you even watched her body language, the way she paid close attention to not breaking her nails whenever she did any sort of movement, the way that, despite that, she’d still dig them into her fingers whenever she fidgeted with her hands.

god she was really cute. the best way you could describe it is… yknow– if a loser girl randomly woke up in the body of a super attractive mean girl one day and asked no questions, just quickly took advantage of the fact that pretty privilege existed and did whatever she wanted? yeah, that was her.

that was aeri uchinaga.

she was a huge bitch, yeah, but once you got to actually know her? once she let you see what was behind that ‘bad bitch’ facade she always seemed to have, she was a sweetheart. for example, she definitely didn’t want you to notice, but she got you five extra napkins and asked for extra sprinkles when she ordered your ice cream; but you did, you did notice.

in other words, she was a softie, she just didn’t wanna show it.

you’d get it out of her one day, though! you were determined.

“–like i get reading books, but if you seriously expect me to read planet of the apes and enjoy it enough to answer stupid fucking study guide questions about it, you need to be locked up as soon as possible?? like, how is someone as sick and twisted as yo–”

“wait, books??” you quickly exclaimed, your selective hearing really coming through on this one

she sighed, “yes, y/n, books. were you even listeni–”

“oh aeri i love books!”

oh there you go.

“i don’t think you read much but god, reading is so fun! especially romance books and especiallyyy sapphic books!” you added, rambling, on and on, as she listened to you, on and on.

“okay– well…” she quickly cut you off before you continued, you stopped, worrying that you might’ve talked too much. you truly never shut up about your interests, particularly books. 

“ugh okay– hate to admit that you’re right but yeah no i don’t– i don’t read. so do you have like.. any recommendations? like, what a beginner should read and shit?”

oh my god.

oh my god?

is it too early to propose??

-

“aeri, you really didn’t have to get me a&w, you know that?” you stated, holding onto the bag of junkfood before settling it down on the drawer next to the door.

“we drove around for like 2 hours y/n, i’m not making you go back home on an empty stomach, i’m not a man.” she joked around, smirking and leaning into the frame as you giggled at her words, mentally high fiving herself for making you laugh at one of her jokes. 

“well, it’s not like i can eat this whole thing alone.” you muttered, making her eyes perk up at you. 

“h-huh, what do you mean, do you not have a big appetite?”

you smiled, she really was clueless,

“i’m asking you if you can stay the night, aeri.”

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[standfucker]

White Out

Characters: Marco, Ace, Thatch, Izo

Reader: AFAB, GN pronouns (they/them)

Word Count: 10,427 (I'm sorry.)

CW: Explicit N.SFW content, PWP, gangbang, double penetration, knifeplay (light), oral, anal, deepthroating, breast fucking, degradation, praise, roleplay, CNC, bondage, BDSM, short reader (mentioned briefly, not size kink though)

Summary: I have nothing to say for myself.

Actual Summary: You and your four favorite people try your hands at a little roleplay.

AO3 Link

The safety discussion had been summarized one last time, preferences and limits clearly defined so there was no confusion.

You’re still not sure how it happened–sure, you could name the sequence of events that led up to it, the friends-with-benefits relationships with each of them, the drunken admittance of your deepest fantasies that one night–but it still didn’t seem real.

But there you were, perched on the edge of Marco’s bed before all of them:

Marco. Ace. Thatch. Izo.

As the first mate, Marco had the luxury of his own quarters, and offered them as a setting for your scene. The room seemed smaller with the five of you in it, but that was fine. Should things go as planned, you wouldn’t be needing extra space.

Thatch cradled your face in one giant hand, tilting your head up so you looked him in the eye. “Ready?”

You swallowed and nodded.

“Are you sure? You look nervous.”

“I am,” you admitted, “but that’s okay. It… It makes it…” Your cheeks grew even warmer than they already were. 

“Better?” Izo finished for you, smirking despite himself.

“Yeah…” It was so much easier to be honest under the influence of alcohol, but for this, it was important that you were all sober. “I’m ready.”

For a moment, no one spoke, unsure of how to start. You weren’t normally that shy, but the thought that this was really happening, and in front of all of them, had you momentarily frozen. Nervousness twisted up your insides and intertwined with the heat between your legs, making it all the more responsive. Nothing had happened yet, but just the anticipation alone made you wet.

Izo found his voice first, clearing his throat before speaking. “Well, well, well,” he said, pitched low with an eagerness that made your heart pound, “what do we have here?”

As if breaking a seal, Izo’s commencement spurred on the others.

“A Marine,” Ace’s voice dripped with disdain, and he looked down at you, shocking you at how easily he fell into the roll, “sailing all alone…”

“...and ripe for the taking,” Thatch concluded, eyes half-lidded.

A shiver ran through your body, and you wondered if they had talked about this behind your back, because they were working off each other maddeningly well already. You sucked in a shaky breath. “You might as well kill me–I’ll never talk.”

Marco chuckled darkly. “Hear that, guys? They said they’ll never talk, yoi…” He approached the bed, suddenly grabbing your shirt by the collar and yanking you onto your feet. He adjusted his grip, taking a bigger fistful of the fabric, then pulled up, until he was lifting you entirely off of the ground, bringing you face-to-face. “But I bet I can make you sing.”

You knew he was strong, but this–this was showing off, impressing the power difference between you. And it was working, your stomach flipping in place at the thought of how easy it was for him. For any of them. You weren’t weak by any means, but the Division Commanders outclassed you.

“N-Never,” you bit back, despite the obvious effect his manhandling was having on you, “I could never be affected by the likes of your kind, pirate scum!”

“Hm,” Marco leaned his head even closer, lips barely hovering over your own. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you–and then he bit your lower lip, just short of breaking the skin, making your whole body tense and drawing out an involuntary whimper.

“We’ll see.” He dropped you, and you stumbled back, into someone’s chest. You hadn’t even noticed Ace moving behind you with Marco commanding your attention.

Ace ran his hands down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps despite the heat of his skin, until he reached your wrists, where he tightened his grip and forced them behind your back. He nosed into your neck, inhaling your scent before dragging his hot tongue up the side and growling, “Izo, pass me the rope.”

You were already trembling from it all, Ace’s iron-like grip, his tongue, the heat radiating off his body that always seemed to intensify whenever you slept together. The scene must have excited him, because he was raising the temperature of the entire room, not to mention the hardness that pressed into your rear.

Izo plucked the length of rope from Marco’s desk and stepped over to you, handing it to Ace with one hand while the other gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to look up at him. “Poor little thing, shaking like a leaf. Are you that scared?”

Of all of them, it was Izo, surprisingly enough, who had the strongest dominant streak. He was entirely in his element as he smirked down at you, not giving you a chance to reply before he continued, “you should be. You got caught by the wrong pirates, my dear.”

Your trembling had nothing to do with fear, of course. The nerves were there, but the knowledge that you could stop at any time was a reassurance that only made everything hotter, in a way. You gave Izo a defiant look, even as Ace worked on tying your wrists together behind your back. “I’m not scared of you.”

Izo’s smirk widened. “No? Maybe I should tell you what we have planned for you, then… See how you feel after that. Do you want to know?” He leaned in closer. “What it is we’re going to do to you?”

Anticipation made your heart pound like a hammer. You weren’t sure if you were meant to respond until Izo’s grip tightened almost painfully on your chin. “Speak,” he ordered, the command sending a jolt between your legs.

“I d-don’t care,” you spat, “It doesn’t matter what you do–I won’t submit.”

“Is that what you think?” Izo purred, “then I think I’ll go ahead and tell you…”

Ace finished tying your wrists, the rope snug but not too tight. You pulled against it, testing the hold, but as an experienced sailor, there was no chance of the expertly-tied knot coming undone. “How’s that?” Ace whispered into your ear, momentarily breaking character.

“Green,” you responded, then tensed when he licked the shell of your ear, resisting the urge to whine.

Izo leaned down further until he was speaking into your other ear, voice husky and dark with promise. “For the next few hours, you belong to us. And we’ll do whatever we want with you. You’re going to be stuffed full–in every hole–until you can’t think about anything but our cocks. We’re going to fuck you so well that for the rest of your life, you’ll have to live with the knowledge that the best orgasms you ever had were at the hands of pirate scum.”

You could physically feel yourself getting wetter with every sentence, breath catching in your throat. He was too good at this, evident in how his words were affecting the others, as well. Thatch was palming at his crotch, breathing less evenly. Marco bit his lip, the fingers of one hand curling and uncurling repeatedly. You had the sudden mental image of a bird of prey’s talons closing around a mouse. The thought was not helping.

Ace’s lips attached to the side of your neck then, and you clamped your mouth shut to muffle the whine that rose in turn, but it was still audible. The men reacted like dogs to a whistle, eyes locked onto you at the sound. Ace didn’t let up, sucking and nibbling until your legs were shaking, one hand holding the rope around your wrists and the other clasped onto your hip.

Among your partners, you normally only let Marco leave bruises, as he could heal them after a session, leaving nothing for your crewmates to potentially tease you about. For this scene, it was allowed for the same reason. As a result, this was the first time Ace got to indulge, and you suspected he had a kink. He was clearly into it, grinding his hard-on into you shamelessly as he started on another mark a little higher up your neck.

Izo let go as he stood back to his full height, appraising your reaction, desire simmering in his dark eyes. “Look at you. We’ve barely started, and you can hardly stand.”

It was getting harder to think with Ace chewing up your neck while Izo talked down to you, but you managed to play the role despite it. “S-Shut up. The others will–mm!–will come looking for me.”

“Oh? When will that be, exactly? You aren’t scheduled to arrive at your destination for days, pretty thing. And we’ve taken your transponder snail.”

Ace broke away from your neck to growl into your ear, “No one is coming to save you.” And then his tongue was on your neck again, licking his way to a new spot to bruise.

You almost lost composure at that, briefly considering just stopping the scene and begging them to take you on the spot. Sheer force of will held you together at that point. You wanted to see it through to the end, though, certain that if you just held on, the reward would be well worth it.

Izo reached into his kimono, and your pulse quickened, knowing what was coming next. The sharp edge of the dagger he withdrew glinted in the lamplight.

“I’d try and hold still, pet. Get those legs of yours under control, hm?” Izo said to you, but he glanced at Ace as he spoke. Ace got the message, pausing his ministrations and pulling you tight against him to keep you still. He did not remove his mouth from your neck.

Izo touched the tip of the dagger to the base of your throat with the barest pressure, feather-light and not enough to break the skin, before sliding it up, slowly, all the way to your chin. You were thankful for Ace’s hold on you then, because you were sure your knees would give out. It was almost embarrassing how badly it made your cunt throb.

Izo smirked like he knew.

Lowering the blade to slide flat under your shirt, he pulled it toward him, turning it so the sharp edge of the dagger was against the fabric. In a single, downward motion, he cut through the front. Then he cut through your sleeves, until the shirt was only being held in place by Ace’s body. Izo grabbed the shirt and pulled it from between you two, so you could feel Ace’s bare skin against yours.

“Oh,” you breathed, never quite able to get used to Ace’s change in temperature when he was aroused. His skin against yours was like sinking into a hot bath, contrasting against the cooler air on your chest. In any other situation, it would have been relaxing. But your focus instantly went back to Izo as he cut through both bra straps next, then the center band. He ripped that off, too, exposing your chest. He did not miss the way your nipples had hardened, and you had to bite back a pitiful noise when he touched the tip of the dagger to a nipple.

You shut your eyes, briefly overwhelmed, and the touch moved away. A moment later, you felt him pulling the hem of your pants away from your skin so he could safely slice through those as well. Soon you were only in your underwear, which Izo left alone. Satisfied, he walked over to the desk and set down the dagger, then stepped into place beside Marco and Thatch. “Who wants to go first?”

Ace resumed his steady devouring of your neck, shifting the hand on your hip forward, along the hem of your underwear, and then under it, trailing a blazing path down your mons until his fingers were separating your outer lips. He paused at feeling just how wet you were, and you felt his lips curl into a smirk against your neck.

“Looks like Ace is,” Thatch muttered, not actually sounding all that bothered–he liked the show. “Look at his grin… I bet they’re soaked.”

You had to bite your lip as Ace’s hot fingers delved between your folds, stroking idly and making your knees weak. The very wet, very lewd squelching that arose only confirmed Thatch’s words. The sound had a visible effect on the men, the air in the room seeming to thicken with combined desire.

Ace let go of the rope with his other hand, moving it to your head, and he grabbed a fistful of hair close to the base before harshly forcing you to bend over. “Their mouth is free, Thatch.”

The pulling on your scalp and the roughness with which Ace handled you only fueled your fire. You thought you couldn’t possibly burn any hotter, but then Thatch approached you, unbuckling his belt, and your body was searing. He freed his cock, stroking it with one hand while the other replaced Ace’s in your hair, and leaned his hips forward until the tip pressed against your mouth.

“Go on, then, make yourself useful,” Thatch said, the tremor in his voice betraying his excitement, “you know what will happen if you bite, so why don’t you just take it like a good little prisoner?”

You met Thatch’s eye, but your glare quickly faltered due to Ace suddenly penetrating you with his fingers. Your breath hitched, momentarily unable to respond with the pressure and heat now massaging so expertly inside you. 

“You’re okay. Come on,” Thatch murmured, pupils blown wide at the sight of you buckling under the pleasure, and then his voice dropped low, “open.”

The deep pitch cut through the haze and into your head, the command reaching that part of you that you couldn’t let out anywhere else, the part of you that longed to listen and obey, that wanted nothing more than to cede control. You opened your mouth, tongue sticking out, unable to stop the whine that followed.

“There you go…” Thatch praised, pushing himself into your mouth with a hiss, “fuuuck…”

He was already leaking, pre-cum salty on your tongue. Your noises were quickly muffled as he inched in further, then pulled out a little, only to push back in even deeper, lubricating himself bit by bit with your saliva.

It was difficult with Ace casually fingering you, but as long as he didn’t touch your clit, you were pretty sure you could focus on both things. You relaxed your jaw, letting Thatch reach the back of your throat, and then you sucked.

“Fuck!” Thatch cursed, fingers tightening in your hair in an attempt not to ram himself down your throat, the pain making you moan around his cock. Thatch eased his grip on your hair only slightly, keeping you in place as he started to thrust shallowly into your mouth. “That’s it… Fuck, just like that…”

Ace rested his free hand on your hip, and you felt him press a kiss to your back before licking the skin there. “Heh… They got wetter,” he announced to the others, “you love this, don’t you? Such a cockslut… I bet you let all the other Marines use you like this.”

You normally couldn’t reach orgasm without touching your clit, but with Ace gleefully degrading you, you thought for a moment you just might. It was all you could do to stay on your feet.

“Nng! I’m gonna… Go deeper,” Thatch panted, “one of you, watch for their signal for me… Ace, let up, will ya?”

With your wrists bound and your mouth full, the safety signal was you stamping your foot. You idly wondered if you’d need it–deepthroating wasn’t new, but it was always a challenge, and Thatch–all of them, really–were worked up from the scene, less prone to holding back.

Ace slowed his strokes so you could better focus on the task. Thatch pushed deeper and deeper with each thrust until you were fighting the urge to gag. You willed yourself to relax, focusing on your breathing, and Thatch eased himself into the tight canal of your throat.

“Oh, fuck!” He moaned, shutting his eyes as his grip in your hair tightened again. He opened one eye to take in your expression, making sure you were still okay, before starting up gentle thrusts. “So good. So fucking good, there you go… Taking me so well…”

Spit and pre-cum combined and dribbled down your chin, and your eyes watered reflexively until tears ran down your cheeks. Off to either side, you could see Marco and Izo, standing closer than before, both of their gazes fixed onto you. Marco was desperately rubbing himself over his pants while Izo had already disrobed, both kimono and undergarments forgotten on the floor as he stroked his cock.

Thatch had his eyes shut again at how good it felt, but a muffled moan from you had him look down at you. At the sight of your tears, something must have awakened in him, because his grunts tipped into something guttural, and he went a little faster, cursing weakly. “Fuck, oh, fuck! Not yet-!”

His hips began to stutter in their pace, and then Thatch let go of your hair and pulled out with a gasp, stepping back, his cock visibly throbbing. You coughed and caught your breath, switching back to breathing through your mouth, head hanging down.

“That was close… I almost came,” Thatch panted, crouching down next to you and cupping your cheek. He tilted your head up so you were looking him in the eye, thumb stroking your temple lovingly. “I want to save it… I want to cum in your cunt. Wanna fill you up, deep inside… Wanna see it dripping out of you…”

You could only whimper in response, thighs pressing around Ace’s hand. Now that you didn’t have to focus on deepthroating, he started pumping his fingers faster, and when he curled them just right, you stood up straight as if electrocuted, pressing back into him with a shaky whine.

Thatch walked over to a chair and slumped into it, taking a break so he could come down. He let out a sigh and groaned, “What a mouth…”

You leaned your head back on Ace’s shoulder, closing your eyes and generally trying to keep it together. Ace turned his head to kiss your temple, then whispered into your ear, “Eyes forward, captive. You’re far from done.”

You opened your eyes to see Marco approaching you, Izo following close behind him. Marco rested his hands on your hips, squeezing them before running them up your sides and to your front, where he groped your breasts. You bit your lip as he massaged and fondled them, but gasped when his thumbs started rubbing your nipples, the sensation like a current that ran from your chest straight to your cunt.

“Ah! N-Not there! No!” You cried, the touch igniting your whole self, a full-body sensation that spread out from between your legs.

Marco stopped immediately, going to lower his hands, but Izo caught his wrists, keeping them in place. “It’s fine, Marco. They didn’t use the safeword. You can keep going.”

Marco hesitated, then started rubbing again, and you all but thrashed, body jerking from the onslaught of stimulation but unable to escape it due to Ace’s firm hold on you.

“Oh, god! No, no, it’s–ah! It’s too much!” You pleaded, tearing up again. The attention to your nipples was making you drip, even with Ace’s hand in the way, a few clear drops on the floor beneath you slowly becoming a small puddle. Izo glanced down at it, then at you.

“My, my. So sensitive,” Izo mused, “is that really as much as you can handle? I thought surely a Marine would be tougher than that.”

“I… I…!” You started to say, then cursed, jerking again as Marco bent down to drag his tongue across a nipple. “Fuck!”

Marco licked your nipple over and over, alternating between pressing his tongue flat against it in slow passes, then using the tip to flick and circle the nub, and all you could do was take it. Your legs grew weak once more, and threatened to give out entirely when Marco closed his lips around your nipple and sucked.

Your back arched, and then your legs finally failed as Izo crouched down to suck on your other nipple. Ace held you up easily with one hand, completely unbothered by your weight as he continued to finger you all the while.

The combined sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alight as they messily sucked on your breasts, your whole cunt throbbing and clenching. Through the haze of pleasure, you wondered vaguely if you’d join that small percentage of people who could come from nipple stimulation alone–but it never happened. Instead, you only stayed torturously worked up, almost to the point of edging.

‘I bet you wanna cum, huh, babe?” Ace whispered into your ear. “We won’t leave you like this forever, don’t worry… We’re pirates, not monsters. Here…”

Ace’s thumb found your clit, rubbing in practiced circles, and you jerked again with another strangled cry. With all the prior buildup of the scene, much less the current multiple points of stimulation, it didn’t take long for your body to start its climb and rapidly ascend. Every bit of pleasure seemed to accumulate between your legs and build and build, with only one end in sight.

“I’m–I’m gonna cum, I’m–!” Your words turned into a broken sob as release crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure euphoria that radiated out from your clit and spread to every inch of your body. Ace sank his teeth into your shoulder, growling at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his fingers, slowing but not stopping their movement so as to draw out your orgasm. He didn’t stop until you were no longer grinding your cunt against his hand, at which he finally pulled out.

“Marco, Izo. Stop,” Ace directed, although the other two were well aware that you had finished and had already detached themselves from your chest. “Sixty seconds, remember?”

One of the rules you had in place was that after an orgasm, you needed a minimum of one minute to come down before you could be touched again, with one exception–if one of them was close, they could go past the limit, as you could always use your safeword if needed.

You slumped back against Ace, trembling and panting, your clit still pulsing with aftershocks.

“Easy does it,” Ace murmured, thumb rubbing circles on your hip, “we’re not finished, so just take a breather for now.” He brought the hand he fingered you with to his mouth, sucking your fluids from his fingers with a debauched groan, and you felt his body temperature raise another degree.

Izo stepped closer, until his cock pressed against your stomach, and he rutted against you with a pleased sigh, warm pre-cum smearing on your skin. He took your face in both hands, angling you to look at him. “Look at you. You love being our plaything, don’t you?”

Your head was swimming, but you knew he wanted an answer. The only thing adhering you to the scene at that point was the others keeping it up. “I don’t…”

“Hm, still a little fight left in you,” Izo remarked, thumbs brushing away tears, “no problem.”

“We’ll fuck it out of you,” Marco promised. “Thirty seconds left, yoi… Then you’re ours.”

Your eyes widened, because how had thirty seconds already passed? Sighing, you let your head rest in Izo’s hands, soaking in the affection that was admittedly out-of-place for the scene, though contrasted with his animalistic rutting. Gradually, your breath returned, and even though your legs found strength once more, Ace didn’t stop holding you.

“Five,” Marco counted down, sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine, “four… three… two… one.” 

Marco grabbed your underwear and ripped it off your body as easily as if it were made of paper, tossing it aside. He ran a finger through your folds, just to feel for himself how wet you were, sucking his lip between his teeth once he found out.

Ace’s free hand squeezed your ass, then trailed between the cheeks down to your puckered hole. A swell of panic rose within you suddenly, and you called out, “Yellow!”

As if a switch was flipped, everyone stopped instantly, pulling away from your body aside from Ace holding you. His other hand came to your shoulder, turning you so he could see your face, his own written with concern. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong? Do you need to stop?”

“I’m okay,” you assured, “and I definitely don’t want to stop.”

“Change your mind about anal?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not it. I–I want that, too.” You raised your voice enough for Thatch to hear from his spot in the chair, a few feet away. “I just wanted to remind everyone, before we go any further: Anything that goes in my ass–tongue, fingers or dick–doesn’t go in the front or in my mouth afterward. Okay?” That was a lesson you had to learn the hard way, a triple infection that led to a humiliating visit to Marco. It was he who taught you how to play it safe.

The other four all agreed, verbally confirming that they understood.

Ace thought for a moment. “Unless we use a condom first, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay,” Ace said, “hey, Thatch. Pass me a condom.”

Another shiver ran down your spine at that. Thatch stood up, and Ace added, “And a glove, and the lube, please.” 

The requested items were wordlessly grabbed off the desk and brought to Ace, Thatch pausing to trace your lips with his index finger before he returned to his seat.

Ace turned you to face Marco and Izo again, so you could not see, but only hear the noises of him setting up: the snap of the latex glove on his hand, the squirt of the lube bottle, the wet smear of it between his fingers. You started to tremble again, and the men in front of you noticed, Marco petting your head while Izo’s smirk returned.

Ace’s fingers, now slick with lube, found your asshole once more. You expected the lube to be cold, but Ace had quickly warmed it to a comfortable temperature. He traced the ring of muscle teasingly, enjoying the way you tried to stifle your noise as a result, before penetrating you slowly with one finger.

You tensed, not meaning to make it difficult, but it felt so good you couldn’t help it. “Oh…”

“Relax,” Ace said softly, “just let me in… There, just like that, good…”

You bucked your hips back into his hand slightly, whimpering through a closed mouth and straining helplessly against the ropes binding your wrists. Ace probed deeper, until he reached the knuckle, then pulled back out, squeezing more lube onto his finger before pressing back in.

“You really like that, huh?” Marco commented, glancing below you, “dripping again, all over my floor.”

“Such a slut,” Izo’s grin was wicked, “getting off on being used by the enemy. You needed this so badly, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, both in response to Izo and to the fact that Ace inserted a second finger.

“Tell me how much you love it, and maybe I’ll touch that needy little clit of yours, yoi,” Marco said, voice low in a way that was unlike him. It seemed the scene was teaching everyone something new about themselves.

Like you needed any more prompting. “I love it,” you moaned shamelessly, “please. I love it so much, please touch me, sir…”

“Sir, huh?” Marco’s lip curled in satisfaction before he reached between your legs, finding your clit on the first try. He rubbed slowly and gently, adding to the sensation of Ace fingering your ass rather than distracting from it. It was almost unfair how well they worked together. “That’s Commander to you, Marine. That goes for all four of us.”

Ace kept applying lube intermittently, more than he really needed for just his fingers, and you realized his intent when the characteristic sound of a foil wrapper tearing hit your ears. You could hear his breathing get heavier with excitement as he unrolled the condom onto himself, then added a generous coating of lube.

“Gimme a hand,” Ace spoke over your shoulder, at the other two. Even as the shortest one among them, he was still tall enough compared to you that he needed to pick you up to bring his hips level with yours.

Marco abandoned your clit in order to grab your hips, lifting you effortlessly. Ace placed one hand below Marco’s on your hip, the other lining himself up. The blunt head of his cock pressed against and then slowly penetrated your asshole. Ace threw his head back with a curse as Marco helped ease you down, lower and lower until Ace bottomed out.

Ace’s other hand came to your other side, and when his bare fingers dug into your hips, you realized he had discarded the glove at some point. “I–” Ace had to pause, briefly overwhelmed. “...I got ‘em, Marco, th-thanks.”

“Sure.” Marco released his hold, letting Ace support you, and you were certain he’d leave bruises with the strength of his grip. Not that you minded–the pain enhanced the pleasure the same way sweet and savory food complemented each other. A little bit of one (or even a lot, depending on your mood) went a long way in increasing the other.

Ace pulled back his hips just slightly before snapping them forward, like he didn’t want to be outside of you for a second, gasping as he did. “Tight! Oh, god, that’s tight. Fuck…”

The action drew a small moan out of you, a second following shortly after as Ace started up an easy pace. With his strength, he was able to hold you steady as he went, your body only moving forward a little when he bucked into you. You wondered why he didn’t just bounce you on him, until you realized he was attempting to make it easier for the other two to touch you.

Marco must have realized it, as well, because he went back to rubbing your clit a second later, making you twitch and keen under the dual sensations. Ace was splitting you open so nicely, the lube ensuring he slid in with little resistance. The slick, wet noises of his cock pistoning in and out seemed to amplify the feeling of being filled, your sensitive passage contracting around him without rhythm. His grunts and groans in your ear only made it better, voice raspy with the enticing sound of his unraveling.

“Beautiful,” Izo crooned, jerking himself off to the sight. His free hand grabbed your jaw, and then he was kissing you, firm and demanding. You moaned into his mouth and he licked at your tongue, tasting you for a breathless moment before biting your lip. He moved the hand on your jaw to the base of your throat, making room for him to kiss along your jaw and work his way down to the side of your neck Ace had left untouched, eager to sow his own field bruises.

The third point of stimulation was enough to start working your body up again, a slow but sure swelling that smoldered with the promise of ecstasy.

“Izo!” You cried as his teeth dug into the delicate flesh of your neck, “Ace… M-Marco!”

Izo bit down a little harder, as if in admonishment, at the same time that Marco growled, “Commander,” in a corrective tone that made your clit throb against his fingers.

“Commander!” You gasped, voice quivering, “please!”

You did not know what you were asking for. Whatever it was, they did not give it to you. The three of them continued their relentless onslaught on your senses for what felt like hours but could have only been minutes. Behind them, Thatch must have come down enough, because he was now stroking himself with one hand while he bit into the other, absolutely enraptured with the show.

Izo marked his way both down and up your neck, leaving behind a trail of dark marks and red paint until he was back at your lips. His lipstick had smeared, and combined with his messy hair, it was the perfect image of lust indulged, the sight alone pulling a desperate noise from you.

“What, you want more? It’s still not enough for you?” Izo spoke against your lips, the taunt not at all diminished by the heaviness of his breathing.

With Ace fucking your ass and Marco teasing your clit, you couldn’t form the words, only a pitiful, needy moan.

Izo laughed softly. “I know, sweet thing, I know.” He grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs wider for him to fit between them, and lined up his cock with the dribbling entrance to your cunt.

Ace only slowed down, unwilling or unable to stop, as Izo’s cock parted your folds. He slid inside easily, thick girth posing no problem with how ridiculously wet you were, and the both of you cried out at the sensation, a harmony of high and low pitched sounds. Izo stayed still for a moment, savoring the snug, warm fit, before the feeling of Ace’s cock through your thin internal walls made him grit his teeth and rest his forehead against yours with a groan that Ace echoed behind you. 

With Izo and Ace being similar in height, they were lined up perfectly, neither slipping out even as Izo started to thrust. His strokes were deeper than Ace’s, unconcerned about leaving your heat when he was only going to sheath himself again, and again, knowing he could indulge in you at his leisure. Ace had far less impulse control, fucking you with little thought but to his own pleasure at that point, leaving Izo to pace himself so they could take you with some semblance of coordination.

“C–Comman…” You couldn’t even finish saying their title, the words devolving into helpless little moans and whimpers as they ravaged you from both ends.

Marco stepped closer to keep his fingers in contact with your clit, his free hand coming up to flick one of your nipples. It sent a jolt of electricity through the cloud of pleasure that was currently your brain, making you tighten up around the dual cocks in you, Ace and Izo both gasping or moaning in turn. Finding both hands occupied but craving friction at the sight of you getting tag-teamed, Marco was glad for his significant height advantage right then, as he was at the perfect level to press his still-clothed dick against your thigh and rut.

Your body was a brewing storm, made up of hazy clouds of pleasure, bolts of nerves lighting you up brighter and brighter with every thrust and touch inside and around you, more and more intense, building, building, building. The only thought in your head was the goal, the crest over the hill, so close you could cry from how badly you wanted it.

For a wonderful, terrifying moment, you were stuck at the edge, that desperate moment right before the peak, riding the knife’s edge of bliss without truly attaining it. So good, but not enough, a taste of liberation that only made you long for nirvana. You couldn’t hear anything but the rushing blood in your ears, pulsing in time with your heart and your cunt. And then Izo angled just right against your g-spot and Marco rubbed your clit just so and Ace just kept pounding your ass like he’d never get to fuck again in his life, and you tipped over and were gone. It was easily the strongest orgasm you’d ever experienced, momentarily separated from the outside world and all stimuli but the intense throbbing of every part of your cunt–everything, centering from your clit and rippling through your entire pelvic floor. Only the parts of the men inside you or on you existed, everything else fading behind the raw euphoria of the present. You didn’t make a sound–couldn’t, realizing you had been holding your breath throughout the whole thing.

Suddenly aware of the need for air, you gasped, deep breaths coming out shaky and uneven. Vaguely, you could hear the three of them saying something, but you didn’t process the words. You realized they had stilled, holding you in place. Then Ace and Izo pulled out, and the sudden stimulation of the still-tender nerves made you yelp in discomfort.

“Sorry,” Ace apologized, kissing the back of your head. “That was a strong one, huh? The way you gripped me back there…” Ace set you down on your feet carefully, helping you stay upright with one arm.

“Breathe slowly, Y/n, you’re okay,” Izo instructed, taking one of your hands in his and rubbing the back soothingly. “Do you need longer than a minute?”

“Yes,” you said gratefully between pants, “yeah, just… Wait…”

Marco used his sleeve to dab away the sweat on your brow, then ran a hand over your head affectionately. “We can stop here, if you want.”

If you hadn’t just had your world rocked, you might have embarrassed yourself with how quickly you rejected the notion, but you were still reeling, so what would have been a passionate denial came out as a calmer, breathy “No, I’m okay.”

“Color?” Marco asked, just for a formal confirmation.

“Green.” You were kind of amazed that this was still continuing, but when you saw Ace peel off his condom, you realized that none of them had cum yet. You pushed away the urge to feel bad–they had the control in this scene, everything was going how they wished.

“I have an idea,” Thatch spoke up from his seat. “What about this…”

You all listened to his proposal, the words bringing a fresh wave of heat through you despite the fact you were still coming down. The four of them discussed positions while you caught your breath, until they came to a decision they were all happy with.

“How much time do you need?” Thatch asked you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on yourself and listening to your body. There was a muted tingling between your legs, but it was hard to tell if it was oversensitivity or a new thrum of desire. Regardless, you wanted more, not satisfied unless you got to see them finish as well.

“Three more minutes,” you decided. “Starting now.”

“Three minutes, huh?” Marco pet your head again, but this time, he paused mid-way to dig his fingers into your hair, gripping hard and pulling your head back so he could kiss you roughly. His tongue and teeth violated your mouth, probing and nipping until you were moaning weakly into his. He broke away, looking down at you almost coldly, a hungry, mean look in his eyes as he pushed down on the top of your head.

“Get on your knees.”

The look alone sent a pleasant chill through you, much less his tone. It was a bit of a shock–Marco had been the most reluctant about the scene when you all first talked about it, concerned for your well-being. Seeing the wet spot on the tent of his pants, you wondered suddenly if this was why, if he knew he might like it a little too much. It was certainly not a problem.

The rule had been that no one could touch you–specifically between your legs, or your chest–while you were cooling down. You realized you never said anything about touching them during that time. Locking eyes with Marco, you sank to your knees obediently, licking your lips in anticipation, the action making Marco’s fist tighten in your hair for a moment.

“Good, that’s a good little captive. You belong to us now, don’t you? You’re all ours,” Marco growled, “I don’t think we’ll be giving you back to your fellow Marines. I think we’ll keep you, forever, as our personal fuck toy.”

You didn’t think you could really get any wetter, but Marco swiftly proved you wrong, your cunt clenching with need as fluid continued to leak down your thighs. The floor was hard on your knees, but you kind of liked that, the light pain contrasting with the haze of sheer want.

Marco let go of your hair in order to strip from his jacket and unzip his pants, pulling out his straining cock. “Open wide, love. Prove that this is all you’re good for.”

You’d barely opened your mouth before Marco’s hand was back in your hair and he was pushing his cock in, forcing your mouth wider as your cry of surprise was muffled. He had never been this rough with you before, and it was a side of him you hoped you’d get to see again sometime. Having not had any attention during the whole scene up until now, he was needy and eager, practically shoving his way to the back of your throat. You were almost dizzy from the action–Marco, your gentle Marco, fucking your mouth like you were nothing but a whore.

Maybe you were–the way you sucked him was more than a little depraved, unable to hide how much you liked it, messy and ravenous. He hadn’t even gone deep yet and you were already breathing through your nose in anticipation, tongue curling along his length as you went. Marco had a slight tremble in his legs, biting back moans that slipped out as terse grunts. Soon spit was trickling down the corners of your mouth again, and you didn’t bother hiding your moan, knowing it’d be muffled around his dick anyway.

“Fuck, Y/n,” Marco cursed, your only warning before he pulled your head down and pushed himself deeper, penetrating your throat, “fucking take it.”

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as he entered your throat, grip in your hair deliciously painful as he pulled until your nose was pressed against the curls of his pubes. He thrusted shallowly, moans pitching higher at the sensation, and you pulled against the ropes binding your wrists, wanting to touch him, to make him feel even better.

If only someone was touching you. The thought surprised you–you normally preferred the opposite, needing to focus while you were deepthroating so you wouldn’t gag. But being used so thoroughly was making you contract around nothing, craving to be filled. Only the thought of what was coming next, and Marco plugging up your throat, kept you from begging for more.

“Five,” Izo counted, “Four…”

“Shut up–I don’t care. Fuck,” Marco groaned, not intending on stopping after three measly minutes. You wondered if he would finish right there, abandon what you had planned next. It certainly seemed that way, his control slipping as he thrusted harder and harder, tears spilling down your cheeks. You weren’t sure how much longer you were there, only that eventually the strength behind his hips was too much, causing you to finally gag. You were about to tap your foot in signal when Marco pulled out, a rope of spit connecting his dick to your lips.

Marco took a step back, a shudder running through him while you gasped and coughed for a moment. You swallowed the spit and pre-cum that had accumulated in your mouth, then tilted your head back to look up at him with nothing short of adoration. Marco was panting, but smiled down at you, wiping the drool from your mouth. “Well done, sweetheart. You ready for the next part?”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re ready,” Izo said, still in character, trying to sound cold but unable to hide his excitement. It had the desired effect anyway, your thighs squeezing together. “They’re going to take us all and they’re going to love it.”

“Please,” your beg was barely a whisper, but they all heard it regardless.

Marco helped you to your feet, and when Thatch approached you, your heart leaped to see him holding the dagger from earlier. Unfortunately, he only meant to cut your bindings, and Ace laughed at your resulting expression.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” he grinned, taking your face in his hands and kissing you. “If you want to play with knives, I’ll indulge you another time, I promise.” He bit your lower lip, drawing a small, needy sound from you, before his voice lowered. “If we include Marco, I could even cut you a little… What do you think?”

“Ace,” you whimpered, your tone telling him exactly how you felt about such a proposition.

Thatch finished cutting through the ropes, and you rubbed at your newly-freed wrists, the skin there a little raw but not too tender. Ace had tied it perfectly.

Anyone who hadn’t disrobed all the way did so, clothes discarded onto the floor or on the chairs, before you all moved to the bed. Marco hopped on first, laying on his back. You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and facing his legs. Ace passed you the lube, and you took a minute to apply it to Marco, fingers gliding up and down his twitching cock. He couldn’t help bucking into your touch, trying and failing to suppress moans.

You tossed the lube aside, wiping the excess onto your thighs, before lifting up your hips. Marco helped guide you down, one hand on your hip, one around the base of his cock, positioning it against your ass. You sank down onto him with a gratified sigh, Marco gasping as his thick length breached your hole and filled you slowly, the delicate passage lighting up with pleasure.

Now seated in his lap, Marco took a few breaths before placing his hands on your shoulders and easing you back until you were laying on him.

“Still–ah!” He stuttered as you clenched around him just to get a reaction, “–still green?”

“Mhm.”

In retaliation, Marco gently pinched your nipple, but it only made you tighten up again, the both of you moaning in turn.

Thatch mounted the bed next, at the foot of it, crawling between yours and Marco’s legs. There was just enough space for him to sit on folded legs, and he rubbed your thigh fondly before lining himself up with your cunt. He sucked in a breath as he parted you, biting his lip. Halfway in, he paused, pulling back out before pushing in again, this time not stopping until he was fully sheathed inside.

The noise you made was almost embarrassing, a debauched keening that could only come from being filled up so entirely. You were so full, so perfectly stuffed, the feeling of being stretched to your limit nothing short of bliss. You laid your head back on Marco’s shoulder, shivering with satisfied lust as you clenched around them.

Thatch threw his head back, too, groaning. “Shit, I can feel Marco twitching.”

You thought you could, too, though sometimes it was hard to tell if the little pulses were coming from yourself or from them.

“Here we go, love. Just relax and take it,” Marco murmured into your ear.

Thatch started moving first, slow pumps of his hips to ease you into things. But you did not want slow or easy, especially not at this point in the night. He felt so, so good inside, and yet you needed even more.

“Harder, Thatch!” You pleaded.

“No. It’ll be too much–” Thatch started to reply.

“Please!”

Thatch clicked his tongue. “Sheesh, needy little thing. Fine.”

He grabbed your hips and picked up his pace, upping both the speed and force of his thrusts until his hips were smacking loudly against yours. Below you, Marco started to move, too, working his cock in and out in perfect rhythm with Thatch. You gasped at the change, toes curling at the flood of sensation.

You reached to touch your clit, but Marco suddenly grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your sides. The strength in his grip only made you wetter, a jolt of desire making you clench up, your moans rising in volume.

You didn’t even notice Izo taking his place on the bed, perched right above Marco’s shoulder, until he bent over you, filling your vision, in order to kiss you once more.

“Still want to do this?” He asked, checking in one last time.

“Yesss,” you moaned, tearing up again at just how good it felt.

“Thatch will watch for your signal, okay?” Izo tilted your head back, fingers parting your lips, and you sucked on them without prompting, making him smirk. “Alright, here it comes.”

You opened your mouth, and Izo inserted his cock, far more slowly than the others had earlier. He worked his way in gently, gradually making it further and further in, keeping an eye on your body for a sign of a negative reaction. It would have been impossible to tell, though–with Marco and Thatch fucking you so well, you were twitching and arching periodically. The only thing Izo could really count on at that point was your safe signal, but he trusted you to use it if you needed to. With that in mind, he pushed further, deeper, until he was well inside your throat.

It was ambitious–minding your breathing was a challenge when you were being double penetrated so perfectly, but the two prior attempts had relaxed your gag reflex more than usual, and there was little discomfort as Izo started to thrust. Having to concentrate on your breathing only diminished the pleasure by the tiniest fraction, the nerves between your legs ever ablaze. 

With your head back, you couldn’t see anything but Izo’s lower half, but you could feel how he rested a hand on your throat, feeling his dick through the flesh. You felt another hand running down your side–it had to be Ace–and then he mounted the bed, too, throwing a leg over to straddle your waist.

This was it. You could barely contain your excitement, but in your current state, there was no real way to tell. All your noise was currently muffled, anyway.

Ace felt up your chest, groping and squeezing, before he positioned his cock in between your breasts and pressed them together. Already dripping pre-cum, he needed no lube as he started to thrust, his own noises of delight joining that of the other three. His thumbs brushed your nipples as he tit-fucked you, making you buck into Thatch and Marco.

“Look at that! All of us at the same time… You’re incredible, Y/n,” Ace praised between moans. “Even your tits feel amazing… So fucking good. So fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond, of course, but you weren’t sure you could have formed words even if your mouth was free. Spread out between the four of them, every hole filled out and more, you felt as if every nerve in your body was wired to them, to the feel of their skin against and inside yours. Entirely at their whims, nothing more than a means to their satisfaction, they used you completely and thoroughly, and it was perfect.

No one bothered hiding their noises anymore, all sense of shame long since gone, a chorus of moans and grunts and cries reverberating through the room alongside lewd, wet squelches and slaps. They were so deep inside you, your insides molded to the shape of them, and soon the heat started to build somewhere between your legs, even without your clit being touched, a song of lust that started to crescendo.

You had never cum while deepthroating before, the pleasure mostly mental on your end. But then Thatch started rubbing your clit, and you knew there was no chance you wouldn’t, the crescendo spiking rapidly toward its end. Above you, you could hear Izo’s moans stutter and pitch high in a familiar way, and when he came, he was so far down your throat you didn’t even feel it.

A few seconds later, Izo pulled out of your mouth, and you switched your breathing with a gasp. He pressed a grateful kiss to your forehead, then slid to sit on the floor, spent.

“Good, good, now we can hear you,” Ace panted, “though I kind of liked hearing you try and moan with a cock in your throat, too.” His thumbs continued flicking and rubbing your nipples mercilessly, the icing on the proverbial cake that spurred on your desperate moans.

The heat only kept building, shooting higher and higher. They were so big inside, so big and so deep, taking you like they needed it just as badly as you did.

“I’m gonna cum,” Ace whined, and when you opened your mouth in response, that did him in. He shouted as he came, spurting thick, hot ropes mostly over your neck, though some landed in your mouth. It was bitter and you didn’t even slightly care, too fucked-out to do anything but swallow in between moans.

Ace finishing in your mouth was enough to hurdle you to the edge, suddenly close, a wave at its crest ready to break at any moment. You pulled weakly against Marco’s hold on your wrists, but his grip only tightened. Clenching rhythmically around them, overcome with the need to finish, your thoughts focused once more on nothing but the end that was in sight. You barely even felt Ace dismount, nor Marco’s nibbling on the shell of your ear. Ace reached to your breasts again, pinching your nipples with just the right amount of pressure, and your peak all but slammed into you.

For an instant, you saw white. It was, somehow, even stronger than the last one. Once again, nothing existed but you and your shaking orgasm, the sizzling of every pleasure nerve in your body, the pulse of your entire being unmade into nothing but the component elements of sensation. Your cry broke halfway out your mouth, devolving into a choked sob as the other two just kept fucking you through the contractions of your walls, drawing out your climax for what felt like an eternity.

“Coming,” Thatch’s voice was strained, the fluttering around his cock bringing him to the edge. He gripped your hips with both hands, strong enough to bruise, and cursed as his hips stuttered in their pace. “Oh, Y/n!”

You couldn’t feel it, but you knew Thatch had finished once he stilled, catching his breath before pulling out. He stayed where he was, eyes fixed onto your cunt, waiting, as promised earlier, for his cum to dribble out.

You went limp above Marco, still rutting into your ass, the pitch of his moans signaling that he was near his end, as well. He let go of your wrists and grabbed your hips, bouncing you onto his cock like you were a toy. You were too fresh from your orgasm for it to feel all that good, but it didn’t hurt, either, so you just relaxed and let him get there at his pace.

Marco finished with a cry of your name, fingers digging into your hips and head thrown back against the bed. He held you there for another minute before letting go with a heavy and very satisfied sigh. You lifted yourself off of him and collapsed beside him, and for a few minutes, there was only the sound of everyone catching their breath.

“Fuck,” you said, staring at the ceiling in awe.

Ace giggled from his spot in one of the chairs. “You said it.”

Marco rolled onto his side to face you, cupping your face with both hands and kissing you passionately before he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “You’re okay, yoi? Nothing hurts?”

“My throat’s a bit sore,” you admitted. “I’m sure it’ll be worse later. I probably won’t do consecutive deepthroats like that again. Maybe cap it at two times a session.”

“Whatever you need,” Marco said. “That was… You were…”

“You were amazing,” Thatch finished for him. “Shit, I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

“Me neither,” you laughed. “I think you guys might have ruined me forever. What if I can’t cum from regular sex after this?”

Izo pushed himself off the ground, standing up and stretching. “Just come to any of us, we’ll take care of you.”

“Can you walk?” Marco asked. “Do you need any help getting cleaned up?”

“I dunno. I’ll find out soon enough. I need a minute first, though,” you said, curling up against Marco and resting your forehead on his chest.

“Of course.”

Izo grabbed the stack of washcloths off the desk, taking them to the connected bathroom (another one of Marco’s private luxuries) to dampen them before passing them out. Everyone but Marco cleaned up and got dressed, the latter staying put to cuddle you while you came down.

After a few minutes, you sat up, swinging your legs over the bed and attempting to stand. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt a little like a newborn deer, but at least you could stand. Ace joined you in the bathroom anyway, making sure you stayed upright while you cleaned up. A second outfit was waiting for you on the desk, and Ace helped you change into it.

Clean, dry, and thoroughly spent, you crawled back into Marco’s bed and collapsed. Marco, now dressed, got in beside you, spooning your back and hugging you to him.

The reality of what you just did settled in, and you suddenly laughed at yourself. “God, I’m a slut…”

“If you are, then so are we for participating,” Marco said.

You gave him a look over your shoulder. “You can say that, but you weren’t the ones with three dicks in you.”

“Four, in a way,” Ace said.

“Ace,” Izo snapped. “Not helping.”

“It’s fine, Y/n. It really doesn’t matter,” Marco assured.

“He’s right,” Thatch said. “It’s normal for pirates to sleep around, anyway. Don’t worry about it so much.”

“Alright…” You conceded.

Izo, Thatch, and Ace came to sit on the edges of the bed, the latter deciding that wasn’t enough and crawling in to lay next to your other side, though barely fitting. Caring little that his ass was practically hanging off the bed, Ace stroked your cheek affectionately before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Hey, Y/n… Thanks.”

“I should be the one saying thanks,” you mumbled. “It was my fantasy.”

“But we all really, really enjoyed it,” Ace insisted, beaming.

You smiled and buried your face into the pillow in an embarrassment that was frankly ridiculous to be feeling after all of that. You had already been exposed inside and out, in every sense of the word. Something that could only be pulled off because of your deep trust in your partners–trust that they’d listen, trust that they would never hurt you, trust that they had your best interests in mind.

An overwhelming surge of love rose in your chest at the realization of just how far you trusted them, how well they took care of you, and how much it had paid off. You were surprised to feel tears welling up, immediately biting your lip in an attempt to stop them. But then you blinked and they rolled down your cheeks, making Ace frown. “Y/n?”

“I’m good, I’m–” you covered your mouth to suppress the sob that threatened to spill out. The tears were running down your cheeks now, and you had no idea why, only that you couldn’t seem to keep it in.

The others were all attuned to you now, wearing equal looks of concern.

“Tell me what’s wrong, babe,” Ace murmured, pulling your hand away from your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed, trembling, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It was perfect.”

“It was intense,” Marco said softly, hugging you a little tighter. “This is a normal reaction. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“O-Okay…”

Izo rubbed your arm, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “It’s okay, Y/n. You’ll feel better if you let it out.”

“There’s no judgment here,” Thatch added, petting your head. “You’re safe.”

Reassured, you stopped trying to hold it in and let yourself just cry. Marco and Ace held you all the while, Thatch and Izo’s hands never leaving you either. Eventually the cry ran its course, and you were left with the occasional sniffle.

Thatch brought you tissues while Izo brought you a glass of water. You sat up to partake in both, blowing your nose before draining the water in seconds.

“More?” Izo asked, and you nodded.

Marco rubbed your back while Izo refilled the glass, and when he returned, you downed it just as quickly.

The four of them whispered reassurances and affirmations: You’re not useless. You’re not a toy. You’re one of us. We respect you. We love you so much.

You leaned against Marco, feeling significantly better even though you had never really felt bad at all. “I love you guys, too. More than anything.”

They each took a turn kissing and embracing you, making you smile.

“So, uh,” you started, smile turning sheepish, “Next time our schedules line up… You know, when we’re all off at the same time–”

“Then we can get off at the same time?” Ace offered, and you giggled.

“Absolutely,” Thatch said.

“I’m up for a repeat,” Izo agreed. “How could I not be after that?”

“We’ll discuss it when the time comes,” Marco said, “make sure it goes as smoothly as it did this time.”

“I’m sure it will,” you sighed, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, “there’s no one else I trust more.”

“Alright!” Thatch clapped his hands together. “I’m going to go cook something nice just for the five of us. I dunno about you guys, but I’m famished.”

Your eyelids were already growing heavy. “That sounds good, but I think I’m gonna pass out here in a sec.”

“Go ahead, Y/n,” Marco said, “We’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

You nodded, letting yourself flop back into the bed. “Thanks…”

Marco and Ace laid on either side of you, arms finding their way around your waist and shoulders, and you relaxed into their embrace. You could feel Izo petting your head, and you smiled to yourself.

There really was no one else you trusted quite like those four:

Marco. Ace. Thatch. Izo.

I worked really hard on this! Reblogs and comments mean everything to me! Thank you so much for reading!

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece smut #marco x reader #thatch x reader #izo x reader #ace x reader #izou x reader #marco one piece #thatch one piece #ace one piece #izo one piece #izou one piece #one piece imagines #zen writes

[dotthings]

Dead Boy Detectives notes for ep 7

* Esther vs Cat King make really fun antagonists.

* Richard Speight Jr directing

* Night Nurse ranting about how difficult it is to get someone back from Hell, the permits and the approvals! and no one wants to go there!! is sending me

* Charles making a deal so he can go into Hell himself and raise Edwin from Perdition this is fine

* Crystal insisting she go with Edwin to Hell, Edwin refusing, Crystal deciding to get there herself by making a deal with her horrible ex who is a demon, and Jenny racing after Crystal because she shouldn’t be doing that alone. This friends circle all looks after each other.

* And Niko is being the only sane sensible one in the joint, making constructive suggestions

* Edwin’s spirit found Charles when he was shivering and alone and confused about what was happening and he brought Charles a lantern and he made him laugh and offered him guidance and was there for him to escort his spirit from the living to the dead. He acted as Charles’s psychopomp. (Oh hi there Carver and Yockey. I’m appreciating this in its own right but having all kinds of Thoughts here)

* “You really gave up a potentially tranquil eternity for your friend?”

Because that’s what restless spirits with big hearts do. Sometimes they refuse to cross over. Sometimes even if they’ve crossed over they take a drive and go on an adventure breaking the rules. Because they’re still looking for something. (Again with the Thoughts. The parallels here are driving me insane).

* Really loving the design and gestalt of this sequence of Charles’s journey through the various levels of Hell

* Charles carrying that same lantern!! *heartclutch*

* Master stroke payoff on a little “throwaway” moment earlier in the season of Edwin’s aversion to a creepy broken doll. Throaway moments are usually…not. It all means something.

* Edwin’s rejection of Despair, of vengeance. Now I’m thinking of Charles who said he wanted to be good, who thinks he’s only his anger. And now Edwin’s fear of being taken over, being defined, by his darker emotions too. Neither want to be defined by that. Darker emotions are part of who people are but don’t have to define them. Integration with and acceptance the whole self is the main idea.

* Simon not wanting to leave Hell because he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything else. Someone who isn’t evil. He didn’t know, he made a terrible mistake. Sometimes people get eaten by their own fears and self blame and the weight of their mistakes and can’t see another way

* Jenny admitting she cares!!

* Crystal and her ancestors burying her abusive ex a demon who is only about cruelty in the ground. Not vengeance or despair. Justice.

* “What are you doing here” “I’m here to rescue you” THIS IS FINE I’M FINE1!!!

* ROMANTIC LOVE CONFESSION. IN HELL.

* “I just need you to know” (It’s not in the having it’s in just being)

* Getting love and acceptance back. No matter what. And they’ll figure out what it all means—they have an eternity to figure it out.

* Jenny, reclined with a wet washcloth over her forehead: “Niko, did you just say someone is back from Hell?” Jenny is having A Day (I know that feeling, Jenny. It’ll be okay)

* Subverting the system from within. Using the cosmic red tape against the system.

* “I know I’m not the bravest but I have excellent reading comprehension skills” Niko <333

* Using “Burning” as the music cue (this song is fire, it was used for the Echo opening credits, great song). “Lay your red hand on me baby as I go” WAIT A MINUTE—

Speight’s directing in this ep was phenomenal and that Speight OF ALL PEOPLE DIRECTED THIS EP WITH THIS PARTICULAR PLOT, I—

CARVER AND YOCKEY I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE AND AM LOSING MY DAMN MIND THANK YOU SO MUCH

#Dead Boy Detectives #dead boy detectives spoilers

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

I Can't Stop Thinking About Mr. Grizz In Space

I'll preface all that I am going to say with the fact that Return of the Mammalians as a story has a lot of problems. Its pacing is kind of wack and basically all of the actual plot happens literally at the end. I think I like it more than most, certainly more than a lot of other high-profile Splatoon blogs here, but there's no denying it has a ton of flaws.

It did, however, leave me with a lot to chew on, and perhaps one of the things it has had me thinking about the most is actually just a little gag in the credits

About three minutes into the credits, Mr. Grizz is shown slowly orbiting around earth, given so little thought that the credits roll right over him, but I genuinely think this is one of the most poignant and evocative images in the whole game.

Now, Mr. Grizz wasn't handled very well in this game, primarily as a consequence of that whole "all of the story happens in the ending sequence" thing, but I think that conceptually he is about as perfect of a villain as they could've made for the supposed "finale" of the story they've been building up to now.

One of Splatoon's primary themes, especially with its villains, has been the dangers of clinging to the past. Octavio is a bitter old warlord stoking the flames of a long-gone conflict mostly to satisfy his bruised ego. Commander Tartar is obsessed with an idealized version of the past and seeks to remake the present when it can't live up to that ideal, even when that ideal never existed. Splatoon 3 even went further, revealing that inklings, octolings, and all the other land-living sea life are in fact humanity's truest successors, and Tartar tried to wipe them all out anyway.

Mr. Grizz continues this trend and takes it maybe as far as possible because he doesn't just want to reshape the present, he sees it as something unnatural and wrong on a base fundamental level, a mistake that can only be resolved by restoring the status quo, giving the planet back to the mammals. Coming as close as possible to literally turning back time. With Splatoon's focus on youth culture and pop media, it's hard not to read this theme as an allegory for the ways that older generations can cause immense harm in rejecting the new and in making futile attempts to grasp a world that once was but never can be again.

But Splatoon isn't trying to tell us that the divides between us are unmendable, far from it. Over the course of the first two games we see how inklings and octolings grow closer and closer until it's a complete afterthought in the third game, and even Octavio, when push comes to shove, is willing to bury the hatchet for the greater good. Calamari Inktantation 3MIX is perhaps the purest expression of this, a mix of old and new, a traditional folk song turned into a pop song, complemented by three artists that each pull from completely different cultures (Frye = India, Shiver = Japan, Big Man = Brazil) all mixed together by a 100+ years old DJ. Calamari Inktantation is old and new, pop and traditional, Inkopolis and Splatsville, octoling and inkling (and manta ray), in a chaotic, messy, beautiful swirl of sheer ecstatic joy. As a song, it is peak Splatoon, clear and simple.

But this isn't about Calamari Inktantation 3MIX, as excited about that song as I am, this is about Mr. Grizz, and after spending so many games exploring the dangers of clinging to the past, Splatoon 3 uses him to show us what happens when you cannot let go.

Mr. Grizz could not accept the present he found himself in. To him it was wrong, it was offensive, and he fought tooth and claw to bring it back with him, into the past, to the glory days, and he fails. Of course he fails, you can't stop time, much less turn it back, and the people of the present will always fight to protect their future. So where does that leave him?

Alone. Gazing down at a planet he was born on but can no longer recognize. From his orbit, he can see thousands, maybe millions, of little lights along the coastlines, each one an entire city, buzzing with life and all of its eccentricities. It's a world that would probably welcome him, if he gave it the chance. But he didn't. He rejected it and sought to return to a time and a place that no longer existed, and in so doing, all he achieved was isolating himself. And now, as he circles the world, all he can do is watch as it moves on without him.

#splatoon 3 #return of the mammalians #mr grizz #return of the mammalians spoilers #rotm spoilers

[seokka0o]

NOT MATTHEW

Zhang Hao x Afab!reader

Prompt: 10-"you're mine"

Warning: unprotected sex; jealous sex;

0.5k

Zhang Hao's dark eyes made your skin crawl, in a certain tone of despair, there was no way not to feel that way, even though he was always very kind you know what he can hide behind the good guy mask.

Zhang Hao is not well known for being merciful, yet kind, deep down you already knew what that minimal interaction with Matthew could lead to, even if you like Zhang Hao's eyes always catch everything, or maybe even because Matthew doesn't manages to contain himself "y/n is very kind hyung, should bring more often"

The chill running down your spine and the aggressive way Zhang Hao grips your hips. Right now you're on your stomach, suspended over the table in his room. Your fingers lack the strength to keep, the tips it's numb, the sweat making them slip over the table. The sounds come out of your lips promiscuously, filling the space of the room, together with the impact of the hips; zhang hao slid in very hard, but at a moderate speed, he calls deep to the point of making you cry in despair, and already out of any condition you leave your head on the table to have some rest.

"Do you think he's better?" The sentence came out of zhang hao's trembling lips straight to your center, you hunched over and returned to your current position, feeling your insides contract harder.

"N-no Hao…you are my only one-oh fuck" you pleaded trying to get around that whole situation, in that position you were unable to do anything, contenting yourself with moaning your boyfriend's name in an endless sequence

“How many times do I have to tell you that anyone but not Matthew ? Are you dumb?" Zhang Hao muttered looking not very convinced and leaned his body over yours, keeping the thrusts deep, his hands went under you and then cupped your breasts, feeling them fill his fingers and then he squeezed them

"you are mine" He whispered against your ear, pulled your earlobe between his lips and held the strings, moaning softly and sighing close to you.

"S-sorry"" you replied already without forcing, bodies fitting in harmony, you never thought you could go this far, but then zhang hao was kissing your shoulder, nibbling, keeping your breasts between his fingers, squeezing, feeling the nipples hard touch his palm and show how excited you looked.

“you know that's not what I want to hear…” his subtlety hurts your soul, because it makes a contrast, him making all your flesh tremble in the deepest desire with each attack even if simple

“I'm yours…h-hao, all yours, please…let me come now” you felt like you couldn't go much further than that if by chance he was going to punish you for that long, moans cutting in with your breath, heart racing , you were on the edge of the abyss just waiting for him to be able to offer you some pity “I beg you”

"Just come...but calling my name" he whispered one last time, looking at you from the side, to watch himself open his lips, letting his limit reach, these moments are when zhang hao fucks you slow, thrusts deep touching your sensitive spot , causing your body to shiver and call out to him, inviting him to reach the limit soon after too, pushing all of his liquid into you in a matter of seconds

#🪐.party #zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #zhang hao smut #zhang hao hard hours #kpop smut #kpop hard hours

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 110 - Under the Command of Evil Georgiou

Star Trek: Discovery - Season 1 Episode 15 - Will You Take My Hand?

Okay, We're now onto the Season 1 Finale of Discovery! I'm excited to see how we end this season out!

We open aboard Discovery with making quoting something about the nature of feart, and unfortunately I don't recognise it, so I'm just left with the Foreboding nature of the passage.

This Georgiou's command style is immediately noticeably Terran. I loved how tense the Bridge was during the opening sequence. Her absolute disdain for the Klingons, Saru, and later in the episode Ash Tyler, pushes all of the right buttons in my head, and I can't wait for her to get her comeuppance. She makes a few veiled references to how she eats Kelpians towards Saru, and it just made my skin crawl, and so did her calling Ash an "it" later on. Unfortunately however, there is not much the crew can do for now, as she's the only one who fully knows the plan.

After the intro Georgiou and Michael interrogate L'Rell about which landing site would be best for discovery. Of Course L'Rell doesn't talk, which launches Georgiou into a much more brutal method of getting the information out of her. That doesn't work either, and Michael calls that to a stop. I'm really glad that Michael is starting to realise that maybe this isn't the way to go. Michael then takes Georgiou to Ash, and since he has Voq's memories, he willingly gives over the information they want. We also get a bit of worldbuilding about Klingon history, just a bit about Kahless and how he defeated someone called Molor, who the Klingons seemed to have worshipped in a similar way to how they worship Kahless now. I really want to know more this, and I'm trying to piece together their culture from the little scraps I'm being given.

This episode from the get go is clearly about the clear difference between Imperial tactics and Federation Tactics, and whether or not the ends justify the means when it comes to Georgiou's brutality.

This episode is putting in a lot of work to undo the mistakes of the last few episodes surrounding Georgiou, and I am 100% here for it. The last couple episodes tried to make her too sympathetic, when she is a fascist dictator, but here she is written and portrayed in such a creepy slimey way, and it's definetly what they should have been doing from the get go. I've already mentioned her racism, but also in the way she interacts with the human crew. Her various threats towards Michael, and just general attitude towards Sylvia Tilly gives me shivers, and in this episode alone I think she's earned a spot among my favourite villains so far.

Discovery Makes it's jump into the caves of Kronos, and the ground crew, made up of Michael, Ash Sylvia and Georgiou exit into an Orion market to try and get the location of this shrine.

On a side note, the more even split among male and female Orion slaves makes the whole idea feel a lot less behind-the-scenes slimy than the Orions did in Enterprise, thankfully. Here it feels slimy in a way where it feels like it's supposed to feel slimy, and not just... whatever Enterprise was doing in it's Orion focus episode. Also I'm not going to pretend like the eye-candy isn't appreciated in my bisexual brain, it feels a lot less uncomfortable when it doesn't feel like exploitation.

Amongst the chaos of the market, we get a few good downtime scenes, particularly of Sylvia being an absolute fish out of water, and a really well written heart to heart between Ash and Michael, where we finally get the full details of what happened to Michael's Bio-parents. Her survivor's guilt over this trauma is an interesting angle, and the detail of her memory over her trauma is something I really want to see explored in the future, and it really adds a interesting layer with her relationship with Ash.

Tilly finds out that the Drone she's guarding isn't a drone, but a planet cracking bomb designed to make the planet uninhabitable, and unfortunately Georgiou has moved too fast for Discovery to do anything.

Thankfully, Discovery manages to talk Starfleet out of the plan, and fromt here it's just a matter of sending in Michael to convince Georgiou to stop, which turned out easier than expected. Discovery hands the Detonator over to L'Rell, and convinces her to step up as the Klingons leader, and end the war. Ash choses to go with him, meaning we'll need a new chief of Security again. His goodbye to Michael . Georgiou is then let free, and I'm hoping we'll see her again sooner rather than later, because she still has a lot fascisty stuff to answer for.

Michael's speech at the end as she obtains her official pardon, and the crew get their official commendations, was also a fantastic way to cap off the season. We're also given an absolute shocker of a cliffhanger, as Discovery picks up a distress call from the Enterprise, so I can't wait to see what that's about!

I really liked this finale. I was shaky going into it with how the previous episodes were treating Georgiou, but this more than made up for it. It really capped of the whole methods vs results theme the season was going for, and it was just generally fun. I enjoyed myself here.

I have a couple Short Treks which I'll cover in one post tomorrow, and then immediately onto Season 2!

#whovian watching star trek #star trek #star trek Discovery #Star Trek DIS #Star Trek DISCO #ST DIS #ST DISCO #DIS #st: disco #DISCO #st: discovery #Discovery #ST: DIS

[mountedeverest]

BUDDIE SNIPPET - The Dream

Ok so I've got so much stuff I've written that no one's seen yet, and this is a dream sequence I wrote for my slowburn canon dancer!Eddie fic that I just had to share. Rest of snippet under cut. Enjoy !

“Come back to bed, baby.” Shannon called, softly. She was wearing a pale nightgown, the kind with lace and satin that melted beneath your fingers. They were in Eddie’s bathroom in his LA home.

Eddie looked back at her, her soft features, her long brown hair. He was about to make a move to join her when the firehouse bell rang.

“I can’t, I have a call.” Eddie answered back, apologetically.

“Funny how we were never in sync. Whenever I wanted you to stay, you had to leave, and whenever I needed to leave, you wanted me to stay.” Shannon replied. There was no venom to her words, only tenderness. She smiled at him sadly.

“Will you be here when I come back?” Eddie asked, already knowing the answer.

Shannon walked towards him, placed a chaste kiss on his lips, and then softly whispered. “No.”

“Eddie, you’re on the ladder! Access the South East quadrant through the third floor balcony! We’ve got one injured male up here! Chim, Hen, you follow with medical! Let’s move, people!” Bobby’s voice rang from behind him. 

They were at a fire in an apartment building that looked oddly familiar.

“Where’s Buck?” Eddie asked.

“He’s already up there, waiting for you.” Bobby answered back.

“Better make it quick, smells like thunder!” Chim yelled from not too far away.

Eddie got to the ladder, hooked his cables and carabiners, and started climbing. He looked at his feet to make sure he didn’t miss one of the stairs beneath him. When he lifted his head up, Buck’s bed came into view. He was at the loft, climbing the stairs to Buck’s bedroom. He no longer had his turnouts on, instead he was wearing his military fatigues. 

“Buck?” He called. The bed was unmade, there was no sound apart from that of the shower running off in the distance. 

“Hey Eds, what are you doing here?” Buck came out of his en-suite bathroom, towel slung low on his hip as he’d just stepped out of the shower.

“Building’s on fire, we have to go.” Eddie answered too softly, he needed to be firmer but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

“I’ll be fine Eddie, don’t worry.” Buck said with a huff and a toothy grin. He moved closer to Eddie, his look shifting into something a little more sultry. “Besides, I’m already wet.” Buck’s voice dropped a couple of octaves.

The air changed suddenly. Buck’s face drew closer, and closer, until his lips hovered over Eddie’s. Eddie felt hot, burning in his cheeks as breath struggled to get past his lips. His eyes hooded, ears pink and lips wet, he moved to lean in right as he heard Hen’s voice echo right next to him.

“Found the source of ignition! Phew, boys you better put a lid on it otherwise you’ll bring the whole thing down!” Hen said with exhaustion yet still some traces of mirth to her voice.

Chim piped up next to her, turnouts covered in soot. “Seriously, guys, it’s burning my eyes.”

“They’re right, Evan. We can’t, we have to stop.” Eddie said yet he made no move to distance himself.

“Stop what?” Buck asked as their noses touched. “Aren’t you tired of doing the right thing?” He turned his head towards his bed, Eddie followed his gaze. There, laying on top of the covers, wearing barely anything, was Marisol. She had a wicked gleam in her eye, beckoning Eddie to join her.

“Well that surely put it out quick.” Chim quipped to Hen who gave him an approving nod.

“This is procedure, Buck. Army stuff, you wouldn’t get it.” Eddie said, his pained eyes never leaving Marisol.

“Hey, I was a navy SEAL for a day and a half, staff sergeant Diaz. Nothing in the books about this.” Buck said in his ear, a low chuckle escaping his throat. It sent shivers down Eddie’s spine.

“Oop, we’re back. Go get the hose, Chim!” Hen exclaimed.

Eddie could feel Buck’s breath hot on the shell of his ear, big, scalding hands reaching his sides. Buck’s lips connected with the nape of his neck, and Eddie’s eyes slipped shut as Buck’s hot tongue licked over his skin. Eddie let go, melting into Buck’s heat and his embrace.

“It’s too hot! We need to ventilate!” Chim yelled from a distant place, his voice drowned out by the feeling of Buck on Eddie’s body.

The fire alarm rang somewhere but it was muted too. It got louder and— 

Eddie opened his eyes. 

It was 5:30 AM. Time to get up, go for a run, shower, make breakfast, and wake Christopher up for school. And after the dream he just had, Eddie could sure use a run. 

What the hell was that?

#911 abc #fanfiction #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #miles writes #911 fanfic

[mrschwartz]

Alex Turner most likely has synesthesia: a compilation

“She floats like a niccy rush and stings like a B-flat” (The Blond-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap)

“When you’re experimenting with more genres, it’s so delicate. It’s like a chemistry set: you got like all the boiling tubes and pipettes and you add one or too many drops on the whole thing and it falls apart and you get the wrong colour of the smoke.” (x)

"If desire would be liquid, then it wouldn’t be something you easily sail through, but a rough sea that whirls you around. The rhythm of [Fireside] has those wild motions of desire. If desire is something liquid, it is a rolling boil–like when you’re boiling potatoes." (x)

“That sensation of longing for something or someone, if it were a liquid it’s not something you sail smoothly along in. It’s gotta roll and boil, or it bubbles and coughes and splutters, and I think we wanted the rythm to reflect that in the tune Fireside.” (x)

“I love the color of them shows, [Thunderbirds] and 60′s Batman as well, that technicolor thing. If I could make a song sound like the Joker’s laugh, when it’s all angled and pink... for me it sounds like that, technicolor. [...] I’d love to have drums that sound like that looks.” (x)

“Jamie’s doing a lot of that icy plucking in the background, adding a texture.” (x)

“Alternative Endings was [my idea for a bar name]. [...] You can see that in pink neon light.” (x)

“It was what became a line in a song called 'Aviation'–'The Colorama in your eyes takes me on a moonlight drive'–not completely unremarkable written down but when appropriated by this particular melodic idea and backlit by its chord progression it permitted me to glimpse into what seemed like a new constellation in my imagination, one that every time I heard the demo recording I was encouraged to try and traverse.” (x)

“Franz Schubert the composer said ‘there’s no such thing as happy music’. I always got a kick out of that. Not because I think that music has to be sad but because I think when it most effective there’s an element of it operating within a spectrum that has neither ‘happy’ or 'sad’ at either end of it. Music with lyrics in a language you don’t understand or no lyrics at all has the power to send vehement shivers through your body. It’s almost as if the melody or something else in there has an invisible direct line to the depths of the subconscious. This interests me greatly. I always wanted to use the word 'Colorama’ in a song ever since I saw Antonioni’s Blow Up. It was an unplugged neon light at the back of my mind for years. Some lyrics are declarations of love or hate written in blood or carved in a bus stop, in need of little or no melodic illumination. Some, I believe, are there almost entirely to facilitate it. If I ever thought about it at all I’m sure I used to think the melody was the vessel that carried the lyrics but more recently it has occurred to me that the opposite is often true. The problem with the neon sign analogy is that neon signs are invariably bolted to the wall and full of gas. Melody seems as though its poured rather than sprayed and doesn’t feel as though whatever holds it ought to be fixed to anything. I sometimes imagine each word to be made using a three dimensional open-top glass alphabet. Each letter built to harness and transport the mirror ball liquid marble of the melody. When the 'substance’ fills up the syllables they seem to shimmer and become weightless. With the addition of close harmony I see colours swirl together, parts of the lyrics glow and the way in which they float suggests that something like the 'star gate’ sequence from 2001: A Space Odyssey is happening deep inside them out of view.” (x)

“The types of sounds, or the chord progressions, or the music I was composing, let’s say on the piano or on these recordings I was making, definitely informed the lyrics, I feel, as much as the films I was watching or anything that was going on in front of me. It often does seem like it really just comes from the music. Like, that seems to suggest things to me as much as, if not more than, everything else.” (x)

“I like what you say about the pieces in the puzzle. I like the idea that the other part of that puzzle is the music, that the melody completes the lyrics, that you can feel that harmony between lyrics and music, a whole. The lyrics are just a piece of the puzzle, not something you have to decipher, but something that goes together with the music…” (x)

“Because you hit a couple of things on the way there. One was Bond villain–that went off in neon in my mind.” (x)

“Lego Napoleon movie / Written in noble gas-filled glass tubes / Underlined in sparks” (Hello You)

#interviewers straight up ask him about it challenge #alex turner #arctic monkeys #there was another one where he says he thinks of the drums visually but i couldn't for the life of me find it #take some of these with a grain of salt btw he likes to use metaphors a lot #but as a fellow synesthete i get it. it's sooo hard to describe the actual image in your head

[peachy-panic]

Take Me Instead

A quick little chapter I couldn’t shake free from my brain. Part of Fifty-Eight Days.

WARNINGS: Captivity, sickness, vomiting, self sacrifice, implied abuse, very loosely implied past/future noncon

Grayson had hours to formulate a plan in his head—hours to steel his resolve into implementing that plan when the time came—but no amount of preparation could have lessened his terror when the cellar door finally opened. 

He didn’t wait for them to speak first.

“He’s not going with you,” Grayson told them, voice trembling. “Not tonight.”

Predictably, the Tall One’s hand went to the gun at his hip. Grayson hunched forward on instinct, throwing the feeble protection of his body over the head in his lap. He held his breath, listening for sounds of awareness, but Elijah didn’t stir. 

“He’s sick,” Grayson said in a hushed tone, desperate not to wake him.

He didn’t know if it was the shitty food they were given, the inevitable result of weeks of abuse, or a really fucking cruelly timed stomach flu, but Elijah had been in a constant state of misery for the last twenty-four hours. 

All through the night, Grayson sat at his side, rubbing his back and pushing hair away from a clammy forehead as Elijah heaved into one of the old, empty buckets in their cell. Grayson soaked and re-soaked the same torn patch of his shirt with their limited water supply, pressing it to Elijah’s neck in hopes of quelling the fever that had his whole body wracking with shivers. Sleep had largely evaded them both, but Grayson eventually managed to lull him into some semblance of rest between bouts of nausea. 

Grayson’s mother was a germaphobe. She was loving and nurturing and motherly in all the ways that mattered, but something in her brain overpowered that maternal instinct when it came to contagion. Growing up, whenever he or his siblings got sick, they’d be quarantined in their room and surrounded by a vapor cloud of disinfectant spray until it passed. That was fine for Grayson, but he always had a harder time accepting that isolation on behalf of his little brother and sister.

For as long as he remembered, whenever they got sick, it was Grayson who snuck into their rooms and held them until they felt better. Who made sure they didn’t feel alone. His little brother liked to have his hair stroked. His little sister liked when Grayson would sing to her. 

For Elijah, Grayson called upon every memory of comfort he could, knowing none of it could stand up against their circumstances but determined to try anyway. And Finally, Elijah slept.

That was good. Grayson needed him asleep for this next part. 

“Tell him he can have me instead.”

The guards stared back at him for a few seconds, then Goatee barked an ugly laugh in his direction. Grayson tightened his hold on Elijah’s shoulder, willing him to stay asleep.

“Tell him,” he said again.

The two of them exchanged a look, followed by a few words in another language. Then, to his surprise, the door slammed shut. 

Grayson blinked into the dark, listening to the familiar sequence of shifting locks. Elijah began to stir in his lap. 

“Shh,” he said quickly, resuming the soft brushes through his hair. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Go back to sleep.”

Several minutes passed before he heard footsteps in the hall again. Grayson pulled in a quivering breath and straightened his back. He could do this. 

When the door opened again, it was Myles Voss standing in the threshold. 

It wasn’t often—though still too frequently by his own measure—that Grayson addressed him in person. Thrills of hatred and fury and terror ran down his spine as Myles spoke. 

“I hear you have a proposition for me?” His eyes slid down to Elijah’s head on his thigh, then back to Grayson. 

As unobtrusively as he could manage, Grayson slid himself out from underneath Elijah’s weight and settled his head on the ground. When he didn’t wake, Grayson pushed himself onto his feet, ignoring the tingling numbness in his leg, and turned to Myles with his hands raised in surrender. 

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t take him today. He can’t handle it. Please, let him sleep.”

“I have a very comfortable bed upstairs,” Myles said. “Ask him.”

Grayson gritted his teeth so hard he was surprised they didn't break apart like brittle porcelain in his mouth. “Please,” repeated slowly. “Take me instead. I’ll go willingly. I… I won’t fight you.”

Grayson knew exactly what he was offering himself up to, but he didn’t hesitate. Because in the back of his mind, there was this razor sharp memory, slicing away at him over and over: Last night, Elijah’s teeth chattering, his whole body vibrating with chills that he had no way to ward off. The too-hot skin of his cheek pressed against Grayson’s thigh, and the tickle of breath against the hair of his leg when Elijah whispered a heartbreakingly innocent, “I don’t feel good.” 

The idea of Elijah being taken out of this room and dumped at the feet of Myles Voss’s mercy was not something Grayson could handle on any occasion, but in this state? Grayson wouldn’t survive it. 

A smile broke out over Myles’s face. 

“That’s very sweet of you,” he said, then flicked his eyes to where Elijah was curled up behind him. “What do you think he would say about that plan?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Grayson knew exactly what Elijah would say about it. But he was dead to the world, and in this moment, Grayson needed him to be. 

Seconds bled into an eternity under his scrutinizing gaze. It was hard to make out his expression in the darkness of the cell, but Grayson could feel it crawling over his skin like eyes leering out from the edge of a dark woods. 

“Okay,” Myles said. He took a step back, clearing the doorway in a wordless command for Grayson to follow. “Let’s go, then.”

--

TAG LIST: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @distinctlywhumpthing @diyalogues @finder-of-rings @dont-touch-my-soup @wicked-whump @scp-1296 @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumpcereal  @reflected-pain  @pigeonwhumps @canislycaon24 @flowersarefreetherapy 

#fifty-eight days: grayson and elijah #whump #whumplr #whump writing #captivity whump #sick fic #sick whump

[angelasscribbles]

A Fervid Fixation Chapter 1: Pressurization

Series: A Fervid Fixation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language, Violence

Word Count: 2,817

A/N: This is from my follower appreciation prompt wheel event from November 2022. I told you guys I hadn’t forgotten about it!

A/N2: This was supposed to be a one-shot but of course, it got a little out of hand. Much like Drake in this one lol. This will be either a two or a three-shot I’m thinking. No plans for a whole series, just when I passed 5k words with no end in sight, I decided to split it up.

A/N3: This takes place during the social season but is a complete AU from anything else I’ve written. I’ve added/made up events that are not in canon such as the Derby Gala and the Capricorn nightclub (things you have seen in other series if you read all my stuff).

A/N4: You may recognize the opening sequence. I originally wrote it for this story, then stole it for chapter 4 of Unexpected, then stole it back because I had further ideas for it here.

My other stuff: Master List.

This one came from @lovingchoices14 and the prompt was for Drake x dark x jealousy.

Masquerade Ball…

“What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?”

The voice came out of the darkness, right in her ear, though she’d heard no one walk up behind her.

She spun toward the voice, prepared to fight. Her open palm swung out, but her arm was captured mid-swing.

A low chuckle accompanied the grip around her wrist, “Whoa there, Brooks. No need for violence.”

“Drake? Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!” Relief spilled through her followed by confusion, “Wait…what are you doing out here? How did you know-“

“Don’t change the subject. What were you doing with Liam in the hedge maze?” he asked again.

She jerked her arm free from his grasp, “None of your business!”

“Hmm.” His eyes slid down her body and she shivered.

She could damn near feel his eyes touching her physically, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” He blinked and the physical weight of his gaze was gone.

She shook her head, maybe she had imagined it, “Nothing, never mind.”

The Derby Gala…

On the plane ride over, she’d said he was more her type than Liam, that she didn’t normally go for the stuffy, rich guys. Yet there she was, dancing and flirting with a roomful of them. Again.

He swirled the whiskey around in his glass as he watched her from the bar at the edge of the ballroom.

The more she seemed to be enjoying herself, the more agitated he became.

His mind replayed every flirty interaction between them, from the plane ride over to how it felt lying next to her in the snow in Lythikos.

When he had pulled her up from the ground and caught her in his arms as she stumbled into him, something inside had sprung to life and despite his best efforts since, had refused to die.

When she’d slipped her hand into his and proclaimed it was for safety, he’d told her that they should both be careful. He hadn’t been talking about the slippery walking conditions.

Inviting her to meet him in Olivia’s wine cellar had been a mistake. Wanting her was a mistake. Entertaining the notion that she might return even a small fragment of the feelings he harbored for her was tantamount to treason. The jealous rage that stirred in his chest when other men touched her, watched her, looked at her like they wanted to devour her was dangerous.

He knew that he absolutely, positively, most definitely should turn around and walk out of that ballroom. He should go to his quarters and mute his desire for her with good whiskey and bad porn.

If he had a fraction of common sense and self-preservation, that’s exactly what he would have done.

What he did was slam his glass down onto the bar, jump to his feet, and storm out onto the dancefloor.

“Excuse me, but I believe the lady promised me this dance.”

“Oh, I…uh…but-“

He didn’t give the young nobleman a chance to protest before he had swept her to the other side of the floor, out of his reach.

“What are you doing, Drake?”

“I’m cutting in, what does it look like?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”

“I said I don’t dance, I never said I couldn’t,” he mumbled.

“Okay…if you don’t dance, then why are you doing it now?”

He pulled her body tight against his own, his fingers digging into the small of her back, “You know why.”

“I…don’t…”

“Riley….”

Time stood still.

The use of her first name shocked her. His nearness clouded her judgment as they stood in the middle of the dance floor, not moving. The heat from his body as it pressed against hers, his scent washing over her, and the thump of his heart under her hand as it rested on his chest all conspired to make her temporarily lose her grip on sanity.

The feel of their bodies pressed so closely together left no misunderstanding about the state of his arousal. His arms wrapped so tightly around her telegraphed his need with perfect clarity. The pleading in his eyes as he stared down at her sent butterflies swooping through her stomach. In that moment, he was something she had never seen from him before.

Vulnerable.

Her hand moved to tangle in his hair. His body went completely rigid.

He leaned down.

She stretched up.

His lips stopped a fraction of an inch from hers.

She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

He stepped back and released her.

Her eyes flew open, “What are you doing?”

“We can’t….I shouldn’t….”

“Drake-“

He raked a hand brusquely through his hair, “Is this what you want, Brooks?”

“What?” She blinked up at him in confusion, thinking at first that he meant the two of them.

He gestured around the ballroom, “This? Fancy balls, expensive dresses, pretentious food… bowing and scraping to the nobility? Is this what you want?”

“Not exactly…”

“What do you want?” His gaze burned into her like he was searching for the answers to life itself.

“I…don’t know…”

“Well, figure it out, and soon, for all our sakes!”

“What does that mean?”

But he had already strode off the dance floor without answering her.

Capricorn Night Club….

Drake stood in the darkened nightclub chatting with one of Liam’s guardsmen, his eyes scanning the room, always on the lookout for her.

His eyes locked on her as she walked toward the VIP lounge in the exclusive nightclub Liam had dragged them to.

She smiled at him as she passed. A satisfied grin broke out across his face at the attention, his head turning to track her movements as she made her way from the main part of the club into the cordoned-off hallway leading to the VIP section.

A man that bore a passing resemblance to Liam followed behind her.

Drake’s head swiveled from Riley to the Liam look alike as his hand shot out and thumped into the dark-haired man’s chest, “Whoa there, buddy! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, it’s okay!” the man pointed at the door Riley has just disappeared through, “I’m with the lady!”

A harsh laugh escaped him as he shoved the man backward, “Like bloody hell you are!”

“I don’t know who you think you are,” The man huffed, “but you can’t just-“

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are-“

“My name is Nick, I’m a-“

“It was a rhetorical question, dumbass!”

“I’m a count! You can’t just-“

“I don’t give two fucks who you are! I’m the head of her security,” he lied, ”Your title means shit to me and you’re not getting in there!”

Nick’s face reddened as he insisted, “I was invited!”

Drake stepped into his personal space and jabbed a finger into the other man’s chest, “You don’t hear well, do you? I don’t care what she said or what she did, you’re not getting near her!”

“Oh, I get it…you like her! Well,” Nick brushed at his chest as if Drake’s touch had sullied it, “you might have a little crush, but she obviously doesn’t feel the same way because she invited me back to-“

Drake’s voice had dropped dangerously low as he emphasized every word, “I told you, I don’t care what she did. You’re not getting through that door!”

“Who’s going to stop me? You?”

Drake threw his head back and laughed. This mother fucker had no idea who the hell he was messing with.

Months of having to sit idly by while he watched Liam court her rankled inside him. Having to additionally watch as any wanker with a title was able to fawn and paw all over her had only pushed his ire higher. He was a powder keg ready to go off and this tosser had just given him an acceptable target.

“I fail to see what’s so funny-“ Nick’s words were cut off by Drake’s fist. Blood spurted out of his mouth and nose as he staggered backward.

Nick made the mistake of swinging back.

Drake ducked the sloppily thrown uppercut and rammed head-first into the other man’s chest, taking him to the ground in the process.

Four guardsmen pulled him off Nick while he rained punches down on him. As he was pulled from the other man’s body, he managed to deliver one last kick as he told him, “Stay the fuck away from her!”

“This…this is an abuse of power! Of your position! I could report you!” Nick spluttered as two other guardsmen helped him to his feet.

Drake stopped struggling and shrugged off the guardsmen as he drew an arm across his mouth. The smile that slowly crawled across his face was full of amusement and malice as he drawled, “Oh yeah? To whom? The crown prince? The man determined to marry her?”

Nick paled, his eyes shooting from Drake’s face to the guardsmen scattered outside the doorway.

He found no sympathy and no hope of an ally in any of their faces. His shoulders slumped in defeat, “I…I didn’t realize…”

“Come on, guy,” one of the guardsmen clapped him on the back, “let’s go get you an icepack and I’ll walk you out of here.”

“Jesus, Drake!” the young guardsman he’d been chatting with earlier shook his head, “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing, Marco. Sorry. I’ll see you later. I have something I need to take care of.”

Drake stormed into the VIP lounge with rage boiling through his veins.

He found Riley standing at the ledge that overlooked the dancefloor, chatting and laughing with yet another simpering self-important nobleman.

“Excuse us, please,” he gave the man a brief glance, then to Riley, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked as she stumbled to keep up with his long strides, something she had to do because his hand had a firm grip around her upper arm.

When they reached a private corner, he stopped and spun her around to face him, “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Riley, but it stops now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She jerked her arm away and rubbed the spot he had dug his fingers into.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” he yelled, “Flaunting that Nick guy right under my nose!”

“Not everything is about you, asshole! I’m allowed to make friends!”

“You knew damn good and well he was never going to get past Liam’s guard detail, so the only reason I can fathom for you inviting him to follow you back here is that you wanted to get my attention! Well, you’ve got it! So, what’s your game, Riley?”

“Oh, wow! You think really highly of yourself, don’t you? How was I supposed to know you’d be skulking around outside the door to the lounge?”

Drake reached for her, and she flinched away from him. All of the anger whooshed right out of him as shock and shame punched him in the gut.

Did she think he would hurt her?

“Riley…I’m sorry, I-“

“Is everything okay over here?” Liam’s eyes flicked back and forth from Riley to Drake in concern.

“Everything’s fine,” Drake said from between clenched teeth, “just tell your little girlfriend here not to be inviting strangers into the VIP area. It’s a hassle for the security team.”

Before Liam could answer, his phone chirped. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. His brows drew together in confusion then he looked up at Drake, “Did you assault someone trying to get into the VIP section tonight, Drake?”

“What?!” Riley gasped.

Drake’s eyes stayed locked on Riley’s as he shrugged, “Guy needs to learn to take no for an answer. He was sniffing around somewhere he had no business being.”

Liam rubbed his eyes with a sigh, “That’s what the security team is for, Drake. You should have left the guy to them, it’s literally their job.”

Drake’s eyes finally left Riley to give Liam his attention, “I’d say I’m sorry,” before sliding right back to Riley, “but I’m not.”

Liam noticed. “What the hell is going on between you two right now?”

“Nothing,” Drake scoffed, “Absolutely nothing. Right, Brooks?”

She returned his gaze defiantly, “You got that right!” Then to Liam, “Drake is just being extra annoying tonight.”

Liam touched Riley’s shoulder, “Excuse us for a moment?”

“Sure, I should go find Nick and make sure he’s okay.”

“Too late for that, Brooks,” Drake smirked, “He’s already been escorted from the premises.”

An exasperated cry escaped the back of her throat as she tossed her head and stomped her foot before storming away.

Liam watched her go then turned back to Drake, “Is everything okay with you?”

“I’m fine, Li! That guy just-“

“I’m not talking about him. Could you go a little easier on Riley? For me?”

“What?”

“She isn’t used to all these restrictions, Drake! She makes friends everywhere we go, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Remember the night we met her? She took four total strangers on a tour of the city!”

“Yeah, well…maybe she should learn not to be so trusting.”

“Perhaps. But still. Just dial it back a bit, all right?”

“Yeah, all right, okay, I’ll try to ease up a little.”

“Good man! Thank you!” Liam clapped him on the shoulder, “And you're sure everything’s okay with you?”

“I’m fine, just had a bad day. I’m going to go find some whiskey. That always helps.”

He was spiraling out of control and he knew it.

He was at the bar four shots in when he saw her approaching. He turned away from her hoping she’d take the hint.

She didn’t.

“Drake, what the hell was that about earlier?”

“Go away, Brooks,” he signaled the bartender for another drink.

“You can’t just go around beating people up!”

“I can and I will,” he finally turned toward her with the fresh drink in his hand, “if you were so concerned about that guy’s wellbeing, you shouldn’t have used him to provoke me.”

“I wasn’t using him to do shit! I just thought he was funny, and I wanted him to meet Maxwell!”

Drake threw the drink back, then stood up, “Whatever. I don’t have time for this. I have shit to do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what? What do you do, Drake? Other than hang around and harass me?”

“I do things, Brooks,” he replied tightly as he tossed a handful of bills onto the bar top.  

“What things?” she challenged, crossing her arms with a skeptical smirk.

He tried to walk away but she was blocking his way. He stopped in front of her, “Things you don’t need to worry about!”

“Right. Because those things are nonexistent!”

“Is that all you care about? Career? Position?” he leaned closer, bringing his mouth to her ear as he whispered the last word, “Money?”

“I don’t care about any of those things!” She spat at him, “but dating broke, unemployed losers hasn’t exactly gotten me anywhere in life, has it?” She shrugged, “I’m trying something different right now, that’s all.”

He drew back. His jaw clenched. “Is that how you see me?”

“What?” Her pique drained away as her mind scrambled to catch up with the sudden change in his demeanor.

His feelings were hurt.

“A broke, unemployed loser?”

“No! That’s not what I-“

“It’s fine. I’m used to entitled stuck-up bitches looking down on me. Just didn’t expect it from you!”

She watched him walk away, a mixture of regret, fury, and frustration swirling through her.

The accusation stung.

The truth was, she’d been fighting her growing attraction to him since they’d met. But he ran so hot and cold, she had no idea how he felt about anything. Sometimes they got along. Most of the time he acted indifferent to her existence. Occasionally he was downright hostile to her. But then there were moments like Lythikos and the Derby Gala. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something that threw her a curveball.

He was frustrating, infuriating, and obnoxiously attractive. Every time he came close to her, her body ignited with an incendiary heat, one that she was sure she couldn’t, and shouldn’t trust.

Drake Walker was dangerous in more ways than one. He was angry, unpredictable, and confounding. He acted like a jealous boyfriend one minute and as if he barely liked her the next.

He was also intelligent and funny when he decided to let his guard down a little and show it. There were times when she suspected there might be an actual heart under all that bluster and sniping.

She utterly hated the fact that his mere presence provoked reactions in her body that she didn’t seem to be able to control and she was beginning to worry about just how much of a problem he was going to be.

#fervid fixation #trr au #dark fanfiction #dark romance #drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance fanfic #trr au fanfic #trr drake #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr #trr fandom #trr fanfic #trr fanfiction #angelasscribbles

[murdermeadow]

(this is inspired by @terminatorbuns , they posted a great essay, I def recommend checking it out !)

so I find Shiver to be such a fascinating character, I really enjoy her. at first, I was very worried at the prospect of her being a Marie clone due to how she first acted and the way the fandom reacted to her. but there was this one moment during the rocket sequences in the story mode that completely shifted the way I view her and made me begin to love her. it was a moment of pure sillyness, just her being herself, using made-up words to get the message across. and I really understood that, for reasons I'll go over in this post.

so my point in this post is: I believe that Shiver is pretty decently autistic coded, but in different ways that Marina was (I adore her too). they portray things differently, act in specific ways that really gave me a hint that there was something more. and maybe this is all projection, but I think there's a reason I found such solace in them. let's begin !

Shivers Masking

so we know that Shiver seems to do well in the public eye, but I think that can be chalked up largely to the thought that they have simply learned the mannerisms of a social sphere very well. in reference to terminatorbuns' post, we see that they have a strong yearning to be on the TV, to be seen by the public eye. I feel like this yearning is fueled by a want to be seen as "normal", allistic in the public eye. they don't want to be seen as strange, like how I believe they must've felt often as an undiagnosed autistic child. when you grow up not knowing exactly what's wrong with you, you tend to lean into what people expect of you instead. this often means a very polite display. this explains their more "high and mighty" demeanor. but still, because of the lack of understanding of social dynamics and the likes, this learning and portrayal of someone more "normal" still appears off. they speak in a very dramatic and clearly off center way, similar to that of old literature or theatre. they learned what it meant to be higher class from those types of medias, and they replicated it in hopes of it working just as well for them. but unfortunately, this led to more of the same societal strangeness.

so he builds this persona, an act he can use around others to get around and reach the goals he's been yearning for. this ends up working well when it's combined with the other privileges he has, being seen as a conventionally attractive Japanese coded girl. in my headcanons this isn't exactly true, but it all ties back to that masking. autistic people oftentimes have a difficult relationship with gender. you can see, even despite his efforts, that Shiver is fairly androgynous.

both of these points lead us to believe that this whole portrayal of Shiver is simply a mask she puts on, a facade to make people believe she is what they want her to be. (not to mention the blatantly obvious shark mask metaphor.. I'll touch more on that later.)

The way she acts around Others

now we look at her relationship within the Deep Cut trio. yet again alluding back to terminatorbuns' excellent analysis, we can see that Frye and Big Man give Shiver a special place where they can just be themselves. they put on a more villainous act, the opportunity to display those more agitated and harsh behaviours. they are free to unmask around their closest friends because of the trust they've built up over the years. Fryes ambition and naturally villainous behaviours help probe that type of action out of Shiver too. she replicates it, but in a more open way. a free way to express herself, when she's constantly stuck behind a mask that's exhausting to keep up.

I think the relationship she has with Master Mega has a lot of potential too. sharks have always been close with her family, them being known as tamers, her carrying down the legend. she feels a connection to these sharks, she feels a sense of herself in them. they're fierce, but can be calm and loving as well. they take work to tame, they burst with untapped energy. just like her. I feel she has such a connection to them because they're nonhumanoid as well. they don't hold the same social constructs that inkfish society does, so she doesn't have to mask around them. she encourages them to do their best, and they give it in return. (this also ties in to the trend of dehumanization that happens with autistic people. they find solace in nonhuman things because they feel they better understand them. Shiver considers herself partially a shark, due to both this and her connections. you could even consider sharks and shark taming to be her special interest.)

he tries so hard to appear scary or frightening when around New Agent 3 because he wants to make a new mask for himself, one a bit closer to his authentic self. he over exaggerates this new persona to create a proper sense of self- one that could help with getting rid of that social metaphorical makeup. we can see him trying his hardest, especially in his battle with na3. he relies on one of his longest friend and possible mentor for help, because in all honesty he can't do it on his own. this more aggressive demeanor is natural for Frye, not for him. he's trying desperately to find a way to fit in, to appear strong, but it all falls flat. I think one of the (totally made up by me) reasons why Shiver wears his mask differently from Frye is because all the trios masks symbolize different things. for Frye, it's her want to fit in in a world not centered for her, for Big Man it's his want to seem tough despise all the rest of him not matching that yearning, and for Shiver it's the mask of his own self. but see- he wears the mask slightly to the side, not completely covering his face like Frye. I believe this is symbolism for the fact he's trying to unmask, to take away that crutch, to be themselves in front of friends and even foes. because remember, this entire time he's been trying to be scary. to be a villain, to just express those built up emotions. his struggle throughout the entire battle proves that he wasn't built out for that facade, just as he wasn't built for that social "higher than you" facade either. the best way I can describe it is... he just wants to be soft and squishy.

Unmasked Shiver

going back to one of my points from the intro, I think one of the moments we see Shiver most unmasked is during the finale sequences. we can see as the trio get closer to the NSS, forming closer bonds now that they have allied. all of them are starting to loosen up, but especially Shiver.

when trying to help the team, we can see that Shiver has the strangest approach to things. Big Man and Frye are used to their antics, so they understand what messages they're trying to convey. however the NSS... not so much.

you can see how much Shiver is trying to help, but the lack of full understanding of social queues and the likes makes it difficult for things to properly get across. I feel this may be one of the reasons Marie didn't like them for so long. she doesn't understand why they act the way they do, those social hints are being missed because she simply does not understand them. that can be annoying to allistics (which is unfortunate but. not the point). but once she learns for motivations, their goals, she comes to be more understanding.

overtime, Shiver starts to loosen up and lose that facade in favour of a more realistic self, all because of the community they have managed to become a part of.

Messy conclusion

we don't have much development right now, as it's only been a few months since release, but I find it very enjoyable to dissect my favorite characters like this. I hope we get to see more of Shivers unmasked self, with her goofy attitude and adoration for sharks (more Master Mega lore pleaaaase). all in all, she's fascinating, and because of projection or not I find her to be pretty autism coded <3

#shiver splatoon #shiver #splatoon #splatoon theory

[libidomechanica]

“So this guilty hand”

A tanka sequence

               1

Just the lake’s surface. French were unjust. So this guilty hand! I started up, whence all my lovely To-morrow I brew my beer.

               2

When these phrase, wherein lies happiness? For the truth doth breed, had seen thee and brought into her Dearie; I restless night and those regions?

               3

To his owlet pinions darken; and shame shines. How somewhere i have nothing that runneth ever by the times unto the pleasure!

               4

Who hath the Sum of right have Vizírs—but be they do we longer tarry. Under through whole age of linger in a sloping meal?

               5

—Whose pants do make vnspilling ear attend the mouth. As if crooning over striven to hide that title doth breed, to stirred at their earth.

               6

And I have seen my heart doth include those who are false to sayne for beautiful. Spring, should let its five days’ white. Time for themselves.

               7

How the other lord. To his shroud; and the pale lies bare to eat a peach? Time to die, her soule vnbodied Good, some old text, still more free.

               8

Of feathers, too, his streams,—even they in the secret love does the nearest of all. A rib’s a thousand living recollection.

               9

A crescent’s coruscation, to be plac’d fore damask roses. Let me in which so long I could not change. ’ There let its five days’ white.

               10

Than unswept stone besmear’d with teares doth come this cannot be—who binds himself more and launch. Thine ailment: tell me Love is so sick?

               11

Yourself arise, you may have the eyes of duetie to death! Under tower of myrth now she passed her, the semblance of good as Fort Knox.

               12

All that grows holds in perfection. Upon thy side again in thee. Love the same given to my hand, fair and never grownde did preach.

               13

Sad, cheeped, trilled and twittered! The Lady of Shalott. The thinks of it selfe he may find his forgotten hand the sun’s eyes.

               14

In the road be head or heart? Poets throned queen there was a soft October nightly votes particularly peopling Earth, nay!

               15

So much dangerous sky. The Starrs, all are? You were in strife is shame. Blackened about thee stand wakened, shiver. And we not see’t?

               16

To one, who was a library fine, I’ve got my gruel! The list of all. They err I dare to perceived with White-thorn neatly drawn.

               17

His divine, a patron of some time, and sail for a heart do hit, that, alas! Submits his eyelid’s distance like an architect.

               18

The fieldes so free. Will it not serve your bones supersede loveliness. What Juan’s chariot, rolling like-hat relationship.

               19

Wings presence was outspread but as they sat, had ever spring? Close by, began dancing o’er the might be redeem’d a second yoke.

               20

I try to think of yellow smoke that it should be. Was here be, as thou my old companies nimbly began to musick lendeth!

               21

That alp. And love is merchandized whose hands found againe: forget and still, a sleepe, witness best, and some world with under the starre.

               22

Thee, find the wind said, Alas! Gift refuse, nor with sounds, though I lacked its harvesters rich and do you, all so sure a plot had laide.

               23

On desperate mortal love. Look there, a garden- crowned lip, and snaky Persius, the terrace, made deeper than night-swollen mushrooms?

               24

To my misfortune and felt. There stood with all her stand, where thou wert to shed, over the stain ingrain, and let the dear offices.

               25

Or all, what is, is; then awakes the more free. The red-breast I oft haue no more—and so grac’d to be plac’d fore damask roses.

               26

The queen myself I cried, Hold! Echo hence at the dreamed away again. Spring, and I fetch her from your diminutive villains!

               27

Don Juan, takes and with tempests play. Yet if you still german, I stood a marble, I needed a music- master. And so the gate.

               28

Leaving my eye, until they think of. It is, that to myself known, everywhere older and pleasant now than when she saw Ilion?

               29

Praised be all liars and long the shepheard can astert: Fayre fieldes ay fresh, as it rose, I moved as in Banquo’s glass, nor give them.

               30

Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned! Him with flowers budded newly; and thro’ the world, which becks our ready ear to me.

               31

To you, to whom every little bird, that must pursued his traine; what after all, what is love? And lost in him; cold starlight on each?

               32

Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings, and burgher, lord and considering guide, amongst live poets and there! Sketch in May.

               33

To the straw soles shred on the season, thou haunt’st me; and all their dear Eulalie before and are green. Deer- herd bent, sacred part of it.

               34

Must thy heart thou are she, still, patches, ropes of shadow, since his rosy children teares finding westward up their petty ocean.

               35

Sorrow not only in your member’d hours, such light laugh. Is idle; let us go and plump the haire, which you close, ne’er to wake more!

               36

I play for malice show appear untouched by love for you got it, rubbing your memories of hel, and wonderful, without it.

               37

Bowers. Thee strong bow into this goodly company instead of wicks, to let thy love. And wiser than all round as wise a dream.

               38

And oh, her dreams I slept, and never me from reality. The king is awake, and maybe wildest dreams themselves out of Night.

               39

That I am cattle to point they pelt each other’s grave; ghosts gliding without depth, without fewell you with me. On Cupids dart.

               40

Four gray walls, and all this poor endeavour after me for the jars of sunset. This sinne was spent. Of either meant nor will not love.

               41

Come, let me in, let me be thinking of you where i have no private life. Putting your eyes, with ministring look at us all.

               42

To suddenly transfigured into the leaves, of the evening-moon.— Tell her-—so I stay’d my foolish tongue, although if I knew.

               43

The faulter in the people is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath offended Prince at the star that set may rise and let’s goe a Maying.

               44

Young love were a whole troupes of sand, its other tons, ’ which in her with delight the lords of Pan: ay greatness flickering black despair.

               45

Last little Castlereagh? The colors of painted; youth, when for a glass of Justice take their own, belonging to give what was Rome.

               46

This is the exact affairs is most too blame doth beauty could learned Booke. The dreary vault receive our Liberal, who can blame him?

               47

Is fancy but reality. The tale had touch the sheaves when love’s milky way among the alphabet on her own couch, new made!

               48

I’d have been crying. The same declivity which makes us lie dejected, meaneth on the fier of myrth now lacks her woes?

               49

For let me in a row like a stone, that lift and drove past some iouisaunce? The freshness of herself she will reverse. Tamed by delight.

               50

But you in me so happy pens whither do I roam? And dance which Sense and fairy phantasies of the way it can enlighten.

               51

That it is poetry, and of pearl garland wear my oracle of Medicine say. Four are they. Talk about a soul with you.

               52

Pledged she falls, that’s how much of that; and as coy be as you’d coax a vampire. And the bottoms of a shepherd’s tongue into dust ygoe.

               53

She asked: Melchior? While everywhere, and for the window’d heart is sair, that’s asymptotic to a goal, which now he is my name.

               54

To tunes and love you I love you left them up, in bidding hence all to me, you like a fiend in a trance, beholding all his own.

               55

But that break from this sinne was sent o’er. Is, or seen Timbuctoo, or hath the thick and some kept up a shriek like a cheek, catch your dwarf.

               56

All yesterday stung by a downward glance together. Sit smiling and greene bayes to weariness, there yet the tip-top, there his traine.

               57

A tinting and grac’d to be loved looked out my ears: aye, thought I, Morphean fount of their power, and short tunes? There lay a boar-spear keen.

               58

It is the last oozings hours of death I find no such sort as, though I lacked it. The milliners who don’t differ, except the Whigs?

               59

The Landholders was thine eies, the darken; and the fence. I lived for so long seal’d on her tenderest at ever sings a loud song.

               60

Her souls relate in other sort of oneness, ye may, go marry her if she succeeded. For one plants increas’d the silently.

               61

Neither mine nor me, thoughts, hart of mock-heroic— true-sublime? And would we defer our huntsman: Breath of him wasn’t Sanforized?

               62

And meet some instincts. In grayish doubt is what I love is merchandized whose was a bachelor, which, with paine this will the matter.

               63

Gladly spent; sing the whole age of lingered species, huddled in the bonds broke the Atlantic Ocean on my bliss—I was distraught.

               64

I know a trick or two; and was interrupted by a man. It once I her did it become, and howling: she reach’d for: with snow.

               65

For such a truth mai’st see, doe not grieve, that detail outside. Juno still say, whistle though my labyrinthine hair. World to hold it!

               66

My business—which, if this cool cell, far as the cell of sea. Would also bonfires made of the moors was only one attorney.

               67

Like our wide eyes of dapple brown: who stood the quieted. Again she caught this heaven! Moreover, through the night. I love you like.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #158 texts #tanka sequence

[alondradina]

Here's a snippet from the exchange fic for the Solavallen Hell exchange that I wrote for Mafalda!

-

"That block is incorrect."

Ellana sighed and did the sequence again, otherwise ignoring Solas. He appeared in her peripheral vision after a moment. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe the way Helaine had taught her.

"You are holding the block too low, Inquisitor."

Groaning, Ellana tossed the stick down and turned to face him. "What do you know of swordplay, Solas?"

His lips pursed as he shook his head. "In the Fade-"

"Dreams and visions in the Fade aren't the same as real life! You can't teach me how to fight when you haven't done it."

"I know what the correct version is, though, from witnessing countless battles throughout history," he answered coolly, "and I have seen the consequences of that block performed poorly."

Frustrated, she unbuckled her armor and let it clang to the ground with gleeful abandon. Her fingers ran through her soaked hair and slicked it back out of her face. From the corner of her eye, she could see Solas watching her. His face was mostly clear of emotion, a faint furrow between his brows the only sign of discontent. She regretted kissing him now.

It had seemed a natural action in the dream. There in Haven, the two of them wandering in calm silence unless they spoke. She remembered the way his eyes had shone. "Felt the whole world change." And she had kissed him, the memory of a dying man's lips on hers as she pressed into the living version.

Ellana sighed. "Show me, then."

Solas straightened his shoulders and gestured for her stick. Once handed to him, he twirled it casually before raising an eyebrow at her. "Why a stick and not one of the practice blades?"

"Commander Helaine says the spirit blade will feel like nothing when I wield it, so it is best to practice with as light a replica as possible." She shrugged.

He hummed quietly to himself before launching into the drill she had been practicing. The motions appeared graceful when Solas was the one performing them. Ellana saw the block he pointed out, saw where she went wrong, and made the — likely foolish — decision to pretend she hadn't.

"Did you see what I did differently?"

"Maybe?" She hedged, holding her hand out for the stick. Solas passed it over quickly and watched her repeat the drill. Making a sound of disgust when she flubbed it again, he stepped forward and grabbed her arm to yank the block up higher.

"What are you trying to protect with this block?" He asked, the calm he normally projected cracking.

"My chest?" Ellana questioned. She repeated the drill, deliberately failing to execute the block again.

He left her sight and she thought she might have taken it too far, that he was frustrated enough to leave, when suddenly his arms were around her.

"Let's try it this way," he said in a stern but quiet voice directly into her ear. Ellana shivered as he guided her through the drill. Right step, left, back. Sword sliced down, swung back up, and shifted to come across her face.

-

The rest is on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40041021

Thanks for running the event, guys! @solavellanhellexchange This was a lot of fun for my first exchange. ❤️

#solavellen hell #solavellan #solas #ellana lavellan #lavellan #commander Helaine #vivienne dragon age #knight enchanter