#rendering skin design is always a delight for sures ^-^

[jumble-jee]

🌊 riding the waves! 🌊

#mccfanart #mcyt fanart #philza #illumina #elainaexe #shubble #mcc #mcc21 #orange ocelots #oh em gee i forget the tags but #it’s them!! #outfit credits to @/octoberended on twitter! #rendering skin design is always a delight for sures ^-^

[quills-of-freedom]

Cock Canons ~

Reiner - Porco - Bertolt - Levi - Hange

Detailed descriptions of their junk, including pictures and links to buy one if you so wish... Lovehoney is NOT a sponsor. Although they should. I'd be happy to endorse sex toys.

Warnings: Well, Peni. 18+ only

Reiner Braun 💥

Reiner has a monster cock. It’s at least 9" and its girthy too. It slightly curves at the top, rendering it impossible to not have an orgasm while he’s inside of you, as his fat head prods at your G-Spot over and over.

Reiner’s cock has that clean salty taste. He showers often with all of the training he does so it’s never unpleasant to have in your mouth.

When it’s errect the veins are pretty protruding; having to keep such a large muscle supplied with plenty of blood as he fucks you into the other world.

His balls a large but not overly so. The skin around them is pretty tight and he likes to shave them because he doesn’t like the feeling of being over-grown. And he loves it when you sensually suck on them.

[ This ] is the closest pic I could find of what Reiner’s cock would look like. It would be a slighter darker shade but the heads shade of pink is pretty spot on.

His pre cum is super sweet, like corn syrup or something delightful.

His cum is more salty but still not bad. It’s extremely thick and ropey. This cock, with all of his testosterone, breeding kinks and his natural pheromones, is just designed to impregnate.

Porco Galliard 🥵

Porco’s precious penis is shorter than Reiner’s but just as - if not more - girthy.

It’s more rounded at the top and oh so deliciously fat. Like his neck.

Porco also showers as often as he can, as he’s always pushing himself during training so his dick is usually nice and clean.

It’s still a fucking weapon so his also has a strong appearance of veins as it requires a lot of blood flow.

Porco has a hard time dealing with intense feelings of lust, often losing control and letting himself getting too fired up, so you’d better make sure the safety is on for this gun, pal.

The closest pic to Porco’s junk is [ this ]. But longer and more girthy. His balls are also larger than that.

Porco Galliard is an absolute animal in bed once he’s within his comfort zone with you, and this dick can deal a lot of damage.

His cum is sweeter than Reiner’s but is just as thick.

Bertoldt Hover 🌭

Bertoldt’s banging baton his like him; long, slender and timid. But awaken it and… My god you’ll be sorry. Once this man gets fired up and slips into the mists of madness, there’s is no stopping him.

Bertoldt’s cock loves attention; start stroking it or touching it in any way, it won’t be long until every shy fiber in this boys being turns to cinders and ashes.

There’s a few pictures I found that’s pretty accurate. Let me know which one you like the best for this beast boy.

[ here ] , [ here ] and [ here ] .

Bert’s cum tastes the best out of anyone in this list. It’s almost like salt water taffy or sweet and salted popcorn.

His balls are tight, slightly smaller than his fellow warriors but that really doesn’t mean a thing. He will still absolutely ruin you with ease. Once he sees the red curtain he’s sure to perform well.

His cock is the twitchiest of the bunch. When it’s errect it can not stop still, almost like it’s trying to hurl itself into your hand or any part of you, really.

Levi Ackerman

Oh boy.

O—h boy.

Levi Ackerman is one with his cock. It’s like it has its own consciousness and they meld into one. He knows just how to use it, what to do next to push you to the next level of ecstasy.

Levi’s dick is big and thick. Deliciously thick. He’s definitely packing down there. It’s got a nice shape to it to, and the closest pic i could find to do it any justice is [ this one here ] (except bigger)

If he’s not on an expedition, Levi’s hygiene practices are second to none. It’s always a pleasure to have him in your mouth.

His jet black pubic hairs are trimmed nice and neatly into a cosy little landing strip, beckoning you to descend onto the rolled out welcome mat.

Levi is short because of his malnutrition as a child. But that did not effect the growth of his manhood. It’s a nice clue to how well built he would have been, had circumstances been different.

He can go again and again and again with short intervals. He truly is one of the king’s of sex in this universe.

Hange Zoë

Hange has a wide range of strap-ons and dildos she likes to use on her partner whether she’s being Dom or Sub.

When she’s feeling particularly dominating she likes to unleash [ this ] onto your poor, unsuspecting booty.

It vibrates and her womanhood is very sensitive, so when she’s unleashing this on you, she’s pretty much constantly cuming.

It helps that she has the sight of you being absolutely destroyed by her device .

Hange is loud during sex so with her repeating orgasms, you’d better prepare yourself for Levi to complain about the noise when she’s using it.

She’s a squirter so sex gets very fuckin messy when she’s using this.

She has a name for it too; “Titania”

#reiner x you #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner brainrot #porco smut #levi smut #hanji smut #bertolt hoover #reiner snk #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk headcanons #snk #aot headcanons

[colossal-fallout]

Cock Canons

Reiner - Porco - Bertolt - Levi - Hange

This is NSFW. You MUST be over 18 to be on this blog.

Graphic descriptions of characters cocks and prefered strap ons. Pics are included (Pictures are as close to what I imagine as possible)

- Feel free to request more characters for the cock Canons -

Reiner Braun 💥

Reiner has a monster cock. It's at least 9" and its girthy too. It slightly curves at the top, rendering it impossible to not have an orgasm while he's inside of you, as his fat head prods at your G-Spot over and over.

Reiner's cock has that clean salty taste. He showers often with all of the training he does so it's never unpleasant to have in your mouth.

When it's errect the veins are pretty protruding; having to keep such a large muscle supplied with plenty of blood as he fucks you into the other world.

His balls a large but not overly so. The skin around them is pretty tight and he likes to shave them because he doesn't like the feeling of being over-grown. And he loves it when you sensually suck on them.

[ This ] is the closest pic I could find of what Reiner's cock would look like. It would be a slighter darker shade but the heads shade of pink is pretty spot on.

His pre cum is super sweet, like corn syrup or something delightful.

His cum is more salty but still not bad. It's extremely thick and ropey. This cock, with all of his testosterone, breeding kinks and his natural pheromones, is just designed to impregnate.

Porco Galliard 🥵

Porco's precious penis is shorter than Reiner's but just as - if not more - girthy.

It's more rounded at the top and oh so deliciously fat. Like his neck.

Porco also showers as often as he can, as he's always pushing himself during training so his dick is usually nice and clean.

It's still a fucking weapon so his also has a strong appearance of veins as it requires a lot of blood flow.

Porco has a hard time dealing with intense feelings of lust, often losing control and letting himself getting too fired up, so you'd better make sure the safety is on for this gun, pal.

The closest pic to Porco's junk is [ this ]. But longer and more girthy. His balls are also larger than that.

Porco Galliard is an absolute animal in bed once he's within his comfort zone with you, and this dick can deal a lot of damage.

His cum is sweeter than Reiner's but is just as thick.

Bertoldt Hover 🌭

Bertoldt's banging baton his like him; long, slender and timid. But awaken it and... My god you'll be sorry. Once this man gets fired up and slips into the mists of madness, there's is no stopping him.

Bertoldt's cock loves attention; start stroking it or touching it in any way, it won't be long until every shy fiber in this boys being turns to cinders and ashes.

There's a few pictures I found that's pretty accurate. Let me know which one you like the best for this beast boy.

[ here ] , [ here ] and [ here ] .

Bert's cum tastes the best out of anyone in this list. It's almost like salt water taffy or sweet and salted popcorn.

His balls are tight, slightly smaller than his fellow warriors but that really doesn't mean a thing. He will still absolutely ruin you with ease. Once he sees the red curtain he's sure to perform well.

His cock is the twitchiest of the bunch. When it's errect it can not stop still, almost like it's trying to hurl itself into your hand or any part of you, really.

Levi Ackerman

Oh boy.

O---h boy.

Levi Ackerman is one with his cock. It's like it has its own consciousness and they meld into one. He knows just how to use it, what to do next to push you to the next level of ecstasy.

Levi's dick is big and thick. Deliciously thick. He's definitely packing down there. It's got a nice shape to it to, and the closest pic i could find to do it any justice is [ this one here ] (except bigger)

If he's not on an expedition, Levi's hygiene practices are second to none. It's always a pleasure to have him in your mouth.

His jet black pubic hairs are trimmed nice and neatly into a cosy little landing strip, beckoning you to descend onto the rolled out welcome mat.

Levi is short because of his malnutrition as a child. But that did not effect the growth of his manhood. It's a nice clue to how well built he would have been, had circumstances been different.

He can go again and again and again with short intervals. He truly is one of the king's of sex in this universe.

Hange Zoë

Hange has a wide range of strap ons and dildos she likes to use on her partner's whether she's being Dom or Sub.

When she's feeling particularly dominating she likes to unleash [ this ] onto your poor, unsuspecting booty.

It vibrates and her womanhood is very sensitive, so when she's unleashing this on you, she's pretty much constantly cuming.

It helps that she has the sight of you being absolutely destroyed by her device .

Hange is loud during sex so with her repeating orgasms, you'd better prepare yourself for Levi to complain about the noise when she's using it.

She's a squirter so sex gets very fuckin messy when she's using this.

She has a name for it too; "Titania"

#attack on titan #snk #snk imagines #snk season 4 #snk headcanons #hange smut #levi smut #snk fandom #attack on titan x you #attack on titan reiner #levi ackerman #reiner braun #hange zoe #snk porco #porco galliard #aot porco #porco imagines #reiner imagine #snk x y/n #snk x reader #levi x y/n #attack on titan levi #snk levi #snk smut #hange x reader #hange x you #bertoldt hoover #snk bertholdt #aot bertolt #bertolt x reader

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you give your thoughts on the impidim line?

I gotta say, this line is probably one of my favorites from Gen 8. First, it's really nice to have a fairy type with really old school fae inspiration (it's not the only line that does this, but definitely the most obvious and successful). And secondly, I love some goblins, and these guys are delightfully skeezy. An Impidimp can and will break into your house solely to push all your furniture two inches to the right, and that is delightful.

In terms of design, Impidimp has a perfect expression, and the bat-shaped face markings really help its facial features pop. I also like the small upturned nose with the single nostril, as according to the 'dex they breathe in negative energy from people as a food source. I always think it's cool when Pokemon have unconventional, well thought-out food sources, and having that be reflected in the design is great.

The only thing about Impidimp (and Morgrem, but we'll get to that) is that it's one of those Pokemon that i can't help but feel I'd like better if it was rendered in Gen 1's more detailed style. I don't mind the newer style or anything, but when a Pokemon breaks down into perfect shapes like this it's a bit harder to see it as a living thing. Just a less perfectly circular head and defined knees probably would've done it, but that might also just be a personal thing.

Also, as a minor nitpick, I don't really think the hair is needed. It makes just as much sense for it to start off bald as it having a small amount of hair, and it doesn't really add much (though it being shaped like a bat's wing is fun at least).

I think Morgrem's my favorite out of this line. If Impidimp is mischievous than Morgrem is a fucker, and I love it. This definitely looks like something that would literally and metaphorically stab you in the back. While Impidimp doesn't look as slimy and Grimmsnarl looks more feral, Morgrem has the ideal gremlin energy.

It also has cool pikestaff-esc prehensile hair, which leads into its evolution. It's also a nod to redcaps, a kind of English goblin--both fits with the fae theme but also the region, and shows how much research went into this line.

As much as I like it there are a few weird things anatomy-wise that really bug me still. The arms seem like they're supposed to be skinny considering how Grimmsnarl works, but they also have defined muscles. Which is it? If they're skinny, don't have them cinch in at the elbows like that. I'm not sure what that random divet on the chest is, and it's also weird how noodly the legs are compard to how defined the arms are. And I know that's stuff most people might not notice, but it's what ultimately holds this A-tier line back from being an S-tier for me.

The only other thing is the colors. It's split half pink and half green to transition between its evos, but there's no reason for the color change within the design, and it's too jarring to work as markings. I'll get into this more with Grimmsnarl, but I think the entire line could've gotten away with being all-pink, and then you wouldn't need the green to begin with. But as a whole, this is a solid middle-evo that both transitions well and is unique, which is really all I ask of my middle-evos.

First, I should probably acknowledge that some Jewish folks have said this design is somewhat antisemitic due the combo of green skin, long nose, and curly dark hair. I'm not Jewish so I can't offer much insight there, but it is unfortunate. It kind of goes back to what I said earlier about keeping the line entirely pink, as then you'd at least be avoiding one of the questionable attributes. It's not Jynx levels of unfortunate and I highly doubt it was intentional, but still.

Anyway, while I may prefer Morgrem for its Fucker(TM) energy, Grimmsnarl is a great final evo. The way the prehensile hair forms fake muscles over the body is really cool, as is the more orc-like appearance. The fake muscles fix the anatomy problems I was having earlier, and even the colors are better balanced here. I'm also a fan of those funky outside-facing teeth.

The only single thing that I don't care for is those two green stripes on the torso. i can't place why, but they don't sit right with me. I think it might just be that it's a weird place to show the hair parting. I feel like the hands should've been exposed like the feet are and then the torso should be covered rather than the other way around.

The g-max form does what it needs to, basically filling everything in with more hair. I like how this emphasizes the pink diamond on the chest and the way the hair goes back up behind the head is also cool. However, I'm not huge on the legs; they're a bit too long, and end up making it a bit more humanoid than I really care for. It's good for what it is though.

So overall, this is a great line of terrible little goblins. I just wish the anatomy was a bit less funky and the colors were more unified/less antisemitic, but at the end of the day I'd definitely let these guys break into my house and move my furniture two inches to the right.

#impidimp #morgrem #grimmsnarl #pokemon #pokemon reviews #also this is the review I moved back from yesterday I'm not doing any other asks

[lovehotelreservation]

Fantasy

Summary: It has been the greatest honor to be selected as the official cosplayer at your favorite gacha game’s fan festival event.

But what pleasure could compare to having your fellow cosplay colleagues have their way with you? [Cosplayer AU]

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Makoto/F!Reader/Sousuke/Natsuya

THE LEVELS OF ON BRAND™ THIS ONE-SHOT IS I S2G

I’VE BEEN SITTING ON THIS PIECE FOR A WHILE NOW AND NOW I OFFER IT TO U ALL

ANYWAY MAKE US FREE NA SPLASH-- ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

-----------------

Another year meant another summer of pinning your hair beneath a blonde bob wig and twirling around in a pink dress that required countless hours to recreate.

But it was because of your efforts of investing your all into faithfully bringing to life the character design of Djeeta that the organizers of Granblue Fantasy Festival reached out to have you as the official cosplayer to work the event. Appearing on mainstage to enthrall awaiting fans, assisting with the presentation of prizes during the various games planned for the attending seiyuu, walking the floor to pose for pictures by enthusiastic players--you were honored by this opportunity, one that you looked forward to year after year with each invitation.

The trek across Japan to attend GBF Fes during its tour also meant reunions with the other official cosplayers, some of whom you have bonded and befriended even beyond the event itself.

Such was the case with the three who portrayed Lobelia, Aglovale and Belial: Natsuya Kirishima, Makoto Tachibana, and Sousuke Yamazaki.

Besides being profound cosplayers who found their claim to fame from their GBF cosplays, the trio were known to even sound practically identical to their respective characters.

Though spirited and ever eager, Natsuya certainly wasn’t a shameless guro-addict like the twisted Lobelia. By contrast, Makoto was far too much of a big precious teddy bear to be arrogant like the regal Aglovale. Last of all, the aloof Sousuke only shared the common trait of being tall, dark, and handsome with the lasciviously depraved Belial.

It was always a wonderful time with the three, from your reunions just days before the event, spending the weekend indulging in your favorite mobile game, to hanging out for carefree fun before the eventual but dreaded goodbye.

But by Makoto’s suggestion for you all to hit up the newly opened Super Nintendo World after the Osaka run of GBF Fes, you expected for your parting to end on a higher note this time around at least.

Especially since, upon the conclusion of the second day of GBF Fes, it was Natsuya insisting you all hop into a taxi and celebrate with dinner at a karaoke joint along Dotonbori’s canal upon the return to your hotel located by the massive INTEX Osaka convention center space.

However, what you didn’t expect was for the evening to go about as it did.

Hues of soft pink, blue, and purple mood lighting that contrasted the sharp gleams within hazy irises of red, green, and teal.

Moody synths of 80s city pop accompanying lyrics yearning love and desire were muffled to your ears, the breathy huffs of sweet whines and low groans a much more distinct sound.

A blushing heat coursed through the entirety of your body, stoked even further by lips chilled by ice cold beer kissing your skin.

The hotly murmured question of “Say Captain, which one of us do you like most?” from Natsuya had yet to receive a verbal answer, of which you conveyed through a different, more physical kind of reciprocation to all three.

You had inklings of how this weekend was going to turn out, but surely not like this.

While setting out for Osaka, you ran into Natsuya while settling in for your bullet train ride from Tokyo. It was a delight to already see his handsome grin once again, making you all the more excited to reunite with the others. As it had been a long morning, you found yourself dozing off while you both caught up with one another. With your mind drifted to a weekend of cosplay fun and amusement park thrills, you weren’t aware that he snapped a photo of him beaming at his phone camera with a peace sign while proudly displaying your head resting on his shoulder during the train ride over, texting the picture over to Makoto and Sousuke.

A frazzled kaomoji from Makoto while Sousuke left the response on read.

Then, during the afternoon for the first day of GBF Fes, you had some issues with zipping up the back of your idol Djeeta cosplay. Thankfully, Makoto was in the next stall over in the private dressing room for official cosplayers and was prompt to help you out once he finished buttoning up his coat for Aglovale’s House of Wales attire.

You were about to head out to the mainstage when you heard Makoto’s flustered squawk of your name upon his realization that your skirt was lifted after having gotten bunched up somehow while you were trying to fix your zipper on your own. Given that time demanded your immediate presence to the stage, you weren’t as alarmed by the sudden presence of Natsuya and Sousuke upon their return from making their rounds through the main event floor in their cosplays.

But they were rather taken by the sight of your skirt’s hem being hastily tugged by Makoto’s fingers.

Though, you could see why things came to a head earlier today when you--now in Djeeta’s iconic skyfarer dress--and Sousuke joined each other on stage. As “Parade’s Lust” blared from the speakers, the audience watched as he knocked away your sword before embracing you from behind, his grinning lips planting onto your cheek while his large hands caressed your waist.

”Oi, oi, when did you have the time to practice that?!” Natsuya jeered with a raised brow and a smirk as the two of you made your way backstage.

Makoto was rendered too speechless to say anything.

Sousuke, whose hand still held yours from when he helped you step down from the main stage, merely shrugged with nonchalance, of which was betrayed by the hint of a smug grin sliding onto his lips. “We just did what felt natural.”

And surely, while the effects of liquor of the sweetest and hardest varieties were well underway, this moment shared with these three--unexpected as it was--felt seamless in its transition from a night of merriment to an evening of withheld desire spilling forth.

As clothes were either tugged away just enough for a bit of freedom or exposure, or discarded entirely, you found yourself at the center of Natsuya’s, Makoto’s, and Sousuke’s affections, easily caught beneath the loom of their towering physiques

Natsuya was no sadist compared to his cosplay counterpart, but he didn’t refrain from affectionately nipping at your neck while enjoying the cute yelps you let out whenever his hand freely spanked your ass. He was no brute, but when he had his fingers tightly weaved in your hair, he didn’t hold back from fucking your mouth, all while he slurred out praises of how much of a good girl you were.

While he came from a humble upbringing back in the sleepy town of Iwatobi, Makoto made you feel like royalty while he happily knelt before where you sat as his tongue lapped against your core, dragging along your folds and twirling around your clit. When he had you sit on his lap--a proper throne for you, as he gasped desperately upon his dick entering you fully--, he cradled and massaged your breasts from behind as he had you ride him

And while every messy kiss shared with Sousuke felt like love--which it did, inebriation and all--, the way he spoke to and handled you was absolute and utter filth. His big and muscular arms hooked beneath your thighs, keeping them raised up while his hands stayed clasped behind your head, the sight of his thick cock ramming up into your ass to be seen fully by Makoto and Natsuya.

“Is this what you enjoy? Having other guys watch you get fucked in the ass like the cockslut that you are?” Sousuke grunted huskily, a harsh flush of red spread across his cheeks.

You squealed your desire for more as he continued to not relent in the slightest with the vicious rate he was thrusting into you.

Sousuke eyed Natsuya and Makoto, the look in his eyes as urgent as it was arrogant. “Captain’s needy.”

”Then leave it to me to satisfy Captain’s le désir,” Natsuya hummed proudly with a pound at his chest as he approached, eager to stuff your sopping core with his cock.

”Ahh that won’t do at all,” Makoto tsked with a sweet smile, ready to soothe your whines by giving you a mouthful of his dick.

You couldn’t have imagined that a night straight out of your fantasies would come to light as it did.

But as this game had come to show you, luck had a hell of a way of revealing itself to you.

#makoto tachibana x reader #sousuke yamazaki x reader #natsuya kirishima x reader #makoto tachibana #yamazaki sousuke #natsuya kirishima #Free! #free! iwatobi swim club #free! dive to the future #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[jocia92]

… So much of an actor’s craft is figuring out the “I want” of their character, but that’s got to be a little different with Tom since he states that he literally cannot want anything. What challenge or opportunity did that pose for you?

I think he wants to improve. I think he wants to calibrate according to Alma’s needs, wants, and desires. I think he’s very ready to learn and to understand. That was the kind of primary objective: listen, learn, calibrate, improve. That’s almost the track of each scenario. He just gets a little better each time, and the process gets a little faster. But certainly, in the beginning, he’s just delivering this sort of 20 classic chat-up lines that he’s been uploaded with and getting it all wrong. It’s fun to watch the machine learn and chart that progress.

On a practical or philosophical level, how did you approach the process of humanizing a character that’s an algorithm, or did you at all?

It was very much about charting with Maria exactly when we want to see the machine, when we want to see the human. Even playing with that ratio was really interesting and fun. It’s not so much about watching him play the machine, but watching a character try to play the human. Certainly, in the beginning, in some of the not quite so successful human moments, shall we say, we deconstructed what we regarded as the conventional human behavior in that. We looked at a lot of screwball comedies, like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Katharine Hepburn movies. [We were] taking a move or a gesture, breaking that down, and just doing two of the things. It just suddenly looks very odd and wrong, and you’re like, “Oh, this is what a human does in this moment!” But it’s just off. It was really as much about looking at the human.

You’ve mentioned things like The Philadelphia Story as shaping the film and its central relationship. Was that to ground it in reality or further ensconce it in the warped reality of cinema? Grant and Stewart are recognizable to us as people, but things like that mid-Atlantic lilt were entirely manufactured for the screen.

That was a very key point for Maria in referencing Cary Grant. The hair color that we chose for Tom was very much like Cary Grant’s hair color, being a shade darker than is possibly human. And the skin tone being slightly artificial for Tom. You’re right, Cary Grant is often very heightened and mannered sometimes, and it works in the situation in the style of the thing that he’s in. But we quite liked the idea that Tom has been uploaded with some outdated versions of what a romantic lead was supposed to behave like.

It’s striking just how thought-out things had to be down to how Tom responds to dead air space in a conversation. What was the process behind those small moments that can make or break the believability of a character?

It was very fun to play with, and probably quite frustrating for a lot of the human actors. Maren was giving a beautifully naturalistic performance, and the conventional responses that there should be from her scene partner weren’t there. We deliberately strip those away—sometimes without telling her, sometimes without needing to tell her. It’s just the way that Tom was, so it was about pushing those moments into a space that became a little uncomfortable: not jumping in on the lines where you might normally jump in, sometimes coming in hard, sometimes offering a delayed response, sometimes none at all. Playing with those, and watching how comfortable or uncomfortable that made them both, was really fun.

Did that frustration, built in by the process, bleed over for Maren into the character of Alma, do you think?

Maybe for Maren. Certainly, for me, it was frustrating in that I would have to remember not to respond in the way that I might normally and remove some of those things. [I had to] really break down exactly what Tom is thinking, what his programming is doing in that point, how he’s responding and calibrating, and whether we see that or not. Choosing moments to show the human, to show the machine. Along with Maria, that was one of the great joys of the role.

How did you settle on the physicality of the character? Was it at all helpful to have done something like Beauty and the Beast in a mo-cap suit to be hyper-aware of how your own movements translate to the screen?

Very much so. In fact, in pretty much every role I’ve done since Beauty and the Beast, I’ve incorporated not always a movement coach, but I’ve definitely looked at movement theory and physicality in a totally new way because of the challenges of that role. And, I have to say, dance plays a huge part in that. Whether it’s incorporated on the screen or if it’s something that just feels as if it helps the role, I often find that a dance studio is a very fruitful space to discover things about your character’s physicality. Learning the rumba for this role was incredibly helpful because it’s a very precise, technical, almost robotic dance in terms of the laser precision that’s needed to get it absolutely right. I had a fantastically exact teacher in Berlin who was teaching me the rumba the whole way through the shoot. We shot that [one scene] quite near the end of the shoot. Just to have those lessons, that kind of physicality, and that poise with me the whole way through the role was really useful.

How did the role being in a non-native tongue affect the characterization of Tom? Was it all easier to make him seem slightly unreal given that the words might not come quite as naturally as they would in English?

I think it was a deliberate choice on the part of Maria to look for a foreign actor who could speak German. She needed somebody who could both get their heads and their mouths around the very technical German that was required, which, even for a German is pretty complex, but also who had that sense of otherness. I’m sure they could have tailored the screenplay to any number of nationalities, but I was very happy they came to me and made him British. It definitely helped with, as I say, the fact that he’s listening, learning, focusing, trying to improve…that was literally all I was doing last summer, every day.

How do you lock onto the frequency of German comedy, which isn’t always something people associate with that country or people? How is it different than doing something like the more mannered British wit of Blithe Spirit or the broad studio comedy of Eurovision Song Contest?

It’s not a country known for it, but I think they should [be]. I find Germans very funny. They have a very interesting sense of humor. What’s particularly delightful is the way that they can tackle really kind of big, sometimes weighty, issues with a certain wit and lightness of touch, which is not common to all countries. Physical comedy, I think, is fairly universal. I think there’s something almost farcical about some of the physical stuff that we managed to get in this. It was really fun to make people laugh in a foreign language. It was surprisingly delightful. It felt very unifying, somehow, to be able to get a joke across in any language.

#ich bin dein mensch #i'm your man #dan stevens #slant magazine #interview #long post

[danjo-ao3]

When Ashes Fall p.4

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are a combat medic working for Overwatch, when a mission goes south and you cross paths with Talon mercenary Reaper. But will he kill you on the spot or is there more to this encounter?

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: rape/non-con, violence, blood, emotional manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping

Word count: 52,215 (in 5 parts)

A/N: the warnings are clear on this one. Yes, there is going to be rape/non-con, and it’s going to get explicit. I strongly advise anyone who is not into that kind of story to turn back around, because this is going to get pretty heavy and will finally be the non-con story with Reaper that I had always wanted to write.

Part 4 / 5 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

***

 You were running. Bleak walls and grey floors were whirring past you as you hurried along corridors, past multiple doors, not stopping to even take a breath. Get away, away...far away. As far as possible. Barely aware of your ragged breathing, you almost tripped over your own feet, but managed to steady yourself on a wall.

 One breath, two, then the irrational fear of being followed spurred you into action again. With shaking legs you finally reached the elevator that would get you away from the lab’s floor.

 After all your time with Talon you had finally learned that the elevators were activated by your presence. To call one, you had to stand in a designated spot in front of it, which you were doing right now. It was incredibly hard to stay still, you kept looking over your shoulder, paranoid that a certain someone was behind.

 “Come on,” you mumbled as you anticipated the sound of the elevator’s arrival.

 It felt like an eternity until you finally heard it, then with one last look behind you hurried inside to immediately announce your desired floor. As the doors closed, you allowed yourself to lean against the shiny walls, aggressively ignoring the mirror on the opposite side. Instead you forced your eyes closed for a second, to try and steady your breathing.

 In, out. In and out.

 It wasn’t helping, your eyes shot open to observe the display up ahead that told you that you were on the first floor right now.

Move faster, damnit.

 Suddenly, the elevator slowed. Confused, you checked the floor again and noticed that you were on floor two, there were still two more until you would reach yours.

 The elevator was stopping, the confirmation sound rang loudly in your ears, and finally the doors slid open to reveal a dark and broad figure in front.

 Your breath caught.

 Revealed to you was—Akande Ogundimu. Your short exhale of relief of it not being a certain masked mercenary was short lived, though. This was bad, like      really bad.  

 Ogundimu’s expression spoke of surprise. Your disheveled state was something he normally didn’t see around here, you figured. He stepped inside, his gaze focusing on your face.

 He greeted you by your last name curtly, which you only answered with a jerk of your head that was supposed to resemble a nod.

 All you wanted was to vanish in this moment. As you warily watched him take position a few meters away, you involuntarily caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

 Wide, haunted eyes stared back at you, your hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction. Your hand still had a death grip on the front of the lab coat, which barely concealed your still open jeans underneath. But the most obvious thing about your appearance were the red marks all over your neck.

 Oh goodness...

 Silently, the doors slid closed and the elevator started moving upwards again.

 “Passcode 5-5-4,” Ogundimu spoke all of a sudden and the elevator stopped at his command.

 You stared at him incredulously. What was he doing?

 With his hands behind his back, the man turned to you, a severe look on his face. Today he was wearing all black, and it did nothing to make you feel safe. You were starting to hate that color.

 Still clutching your coat, you squinted up at him, further leaning against the wall behind you.

 “Are you hurt?”

 It took you a good five seconds to digest that. Akande Ogundimu, Doomfist, leader of the infamous terrorist organization Talon, was interested in your well being?

 Not likely.

 There must have been something else behind his caring façade. It would’ve been unwise to trust him. Nervously, you swallowed around an incredibly dry throat.

 “No,” you lied. Well, not much.

 Unbidden, thoughts welled up about what would happen if you told him the truth. Would he pretend to care, to tell you to confide in him, that he’d help you?

 Reaper’s words flitted through your mind. About how he’d assumed that you were specifically sent to seduce him. By Ogundimu himself, no less. You wondered if his assumptions were correct.

 Ogundimu was still studying you, his gaze roamed over your entire front; from your face down to your shoes, his eyes narrowing the more he took in of you in your current state.

 Then, he came on towards you with slow steps, as if he were approaching a stray cat so as to not scare it off. Still, you tensed up, his closeness was unwelcome. Especially right now.

 “I must say,” he murmured, as he approached, “You are doing well in Talon. Your work ethic is commendable.” He flashed a pleasant smile. “Not many show that much dedication to our cause in their positions. And Talon would like to thank you for being so caring and giving.”

 Your face scrunched up in confusion. Was he complimenting your work in the lab, on missions? The words he was using all screamed of something else, something a man of his status wouldn’t deign to utter.

 “I’ll have a special bank account set up for you, anything you desire,” he went on in a business-like tone. Only when he reached down and pulled lightly on the bottom of your shirt with a flick of his wrist to finally hide your still openen jeans, did it betray the true meaning behind his words. “That’s only fair, isn’t it.”

 Mortified, you stared back at him. He had already moved away from you again, satisfaction written all over his face. He had finally achieved what he had instrumented. Reaper was right, Akande Ogundimu was now… your panderer. And he definitely thought that you and Reaper had already—

 You felt your stomach drop, it was as if the floor gave out beneath you. If only it would swallow you whole.

 The sheer hopelessness, the grief you’d felt this whole time, and the anxiety of what was going to happen all rendered you mute. That didn’t seem to bother the man at all, he checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his expensive looking jacket, then spoke up to the ceiling.

 “Passcode 5-5-3.” The elevator started moving again, and just a few seconds later you had reached your destination. Ogundimu inclined his head in goodbye and stepped in front of the doors, which opened for him and revealed someone waiting for him on the other side. An omnic, dressed sharply in a dark grey suit stood just a few meters away, his shiny robotic face equipped with slanted, red eyes and dots neatly arranged on his forehead.

 The omnic’s attention snapped from Ogundimu to you. And even though his face could not betray any kind of emotion, you got the distinct feeling that he was silently judging you. For what, you weren’t sure.

Maybe for the way you look like you’d just had sex in an elevator?    

 You groaned internally. Could this day get any worse? Who in this forsaken building hadn’t witnessed your shame yet?

 Ogundimu greeted the omnic and then turned around to you one last time. “Mr. Hawthorne will be delighted to hear about your continued cooperation.”

 Hearing Caleb’s last name spoken so casually sent a new wave of trepidation over you. How was he doing, were they treating him right? You finally found your voice and called out to get answers, but the elevator doors were already closing shut again, preventing Ogundimu and his companion from further engaging with you.

 Close to tears, you just stared at the doors. Sniffing, you stated your floor number again and the elevator moved up.

 Finally, you reached your destination and impatiently waited for the doors to slide open. The long hallway led you straight to the dorm rooms and with a newfound haste, you jogged towards yours, fumbled for the key and got inside to slam the door shut and lock it behind you.

 After a very small pause, you hurried out of your clothes so fast, you almost fell on your way to the bathroom. You needed a hot shower now. Lab coat, shirt and jeans all landed in a different corner, your panties too. Trying not to think about it, you shrugged off the ruined bra, and dumped it straight into the trash bin.

 Whole body shaking like a leaf, cold and anxious, you went and turned on the shower. The water turned warm pretty quickly and you stepped underneath with your eyes closed.

 The water grew hotter by the second, now it was almost unbearable, but you kept standing beneath it. After a few minutes you reached for the standard issue shower gel and squirted a generous amount into your palm. Its purple discoloration was making you feel sick to your stomach, it faintly hurt when you flexed your fingers. But you were almost certain that it had started to change in color to more of a bluish tint.

 You heaved a sigh, just another thing on your long list of terrors.

 Everything you did was mechanical, your actions on autopilot, while you were internally struggling with how your mind wanted to process what had happened to you while fiercely trying to ignore Reaper’s last words.

This is not over, mariquita

 Scrunching your eyes closed, you scrubbed at your chest, trying to erase his touch from your skin. The fine cuts on your neck stung from the gel, but you kept at it nonetheless.

 The hot water washed all the soap away and you watched the bubbles disappear down the drain. If only you could disappear like that, you thought, and reached for shampoo.

 It took you a long while to get out of the shower, the hot water was soothing and calming you down somewhat. But you couldn’t stay in there forever. So with a long suffering sigh you turned the water off and dried yourself. You were grateful that the bathroom mirror was fogged up enough so you didn’t have to look yourself in the eye.

 Before you left to get dressed you decided to brush your teeth, get the bitter taste out of your mouth. When you spat out the toothpaste there was blood mixed in with the foam, curling red in stark contrast in a spiral to be washed away by the water. You’d brushed too hard.

 When you got dressed it was in simple clothes; cotton panties, a comfy zip-up hoodie and soft training pants. In that ensemble you curled up in the armchair across your holo screen and watched something on low volume that you didn’t even pay attention to.

 Your mind was racing while your body was finally weaning off the adrenaline it had been subjected to. The quiet voices on the show you were watching were soothing your frayed mind. It was a nice distraction. As long as you did not actively think about it all, you could stay relatively calm.

 It was still light outside, barely afternoon, but there was no way you would go out again today.

 As you drew your knees to your chest and snuggled into your hoodie, your eyes started to feel heavy, they burned and closing them for just a little while was nice. You were so tired… it had been a rough day, you deserved some rest. But all your reasoning did not ease the anxiety that was still simmering underneath it all. It spiked periodically, telling you to stay alert, but you were too tired of the feeling, just so tired.  

 The last thing that flitted through your head was the word mariquita.  

 What could it mean?

Mariquita...  

***

Mariquita  

 When you woke it was dark outside, the only light source was the holo projector on the wall. You rubbed one eye and yawned, maybe you should head to bed.

 “Mariquita.”

 Ice shards pierced your heart, your breath halted as your head snapped to where you’d heard his voice from.

 He sat on your bed casually, as if he belonged there, his red eyes faintly glowing in the semi dark.

 No. No, no, no, no, no!  

 This was a nightmare, you were still asleep and dreaming, right? Please, just let this be a nightmare.    

 “How did you get in here?” You demanded, voice small from disuse. Even as you asked him you knew the answer, he had used his mist voodoo like before when he had vanished in front of your eyes.

 “I have my ways,” he said quietly in his raspy voice, not moving from the edge of your bed, watching you. The dull light from the holo projector sporadically illuminated his face, revealing that he wasn’t wearing his mask, nor his armored coat.

 “Get out,” you blurted, sitting a little more upright in the armchair, trying to hide the way your body was already shaking again. But of course he didn’t do as you told him, he stayed right in his spot.

 “Come here,” he said instead, and it reminded you of the time he said these words during the mission, right before you’d healed him and—

 You shook your head.

 All you wanted was to laugh at him, scoff how there was no way in hell you were going to go to him of your own free will.

 In the end you just glared, telling him nonverbally that that was not going to happen. The outrage you felt almost outshone the fear that still had a tight grip on you.

 He cocked his head, as if he were still wearing his mask.

 His stare was making you extremely nervous, so in order to escape this uncomfortable situation you snapped at him.

 “If you’re not going, then I am,” you stated and unfolded your legs to get off the armchair and straight to your door.

 “You know I’ll find you.”

 His words gave you pause. Yeah, you figured. The way he had simply ghosted into your locked room was an indicator. With your hand on the handle, you trembled with the urge to get out, but also knowing that there was nowhere for you to escape. He would always find you, you absolutely trusted his statement.

 “Well, I’ll take my chances,” you said to him over your shoulder.

 “I can also find your friend in the holding cells.”

 Your grip on the handle tightened before it went slack.

 Caleb. It all boiled down to him, didn’t it? Defeated, you pressed your forehead against the door, wanting to hit your head against it until you blacked out.

 Slowly, you turned around to face him. “You— you’re a monster.” It felt good to say it out loud, to tell him your piece of mind, even if he didn’t care.

 “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, mariquita,” he sighed. “Now come. Here.”

 Your legs felt like jelly. Unsure if you could even make your way over if you wanted to, you took a deep breath to center yourself. Maybe you could stall for time a little more?

 “What does it mean?” You asked out of the blue. Reaper was tensing where he sat on your bed, impatience mirrored on his face.

 “What?”

 “Mariquita.” You tried your hardest to pronounce it correctly, the way he always did.

 “It means you should come over here now, or I’ll come and get you.”

 Okay, he was done waiting. Tentatively, you took a step forward, testing your legs’ stability. They were working fine, it was just the man you were supposed to approach that had you hesitate after every step. It didn’t make it easier that he was still watching your every move. Color rose to your cheeks by being so openly observed, while you were struggling no less.

 When you were about a meter away from him, you came to a halt. Uncomfortable, you hugged yourself with one arm, your gaze avoiding him. You could feel his demonic eyes on you, your skin tingling unpleasantly where you assumed he was watching.

 When something touched the back of your hand, you jumped. He lightly gripped your wrist while the fingers of his other hand pushed the material of your sleeve up over your arm, the one that had suffered the damage from healing him. You watched as he traced upwards, goosebumps spreading in the wake of his touch.

 Again, he seemed very interested in what Dr. O’Deorain’s glove had done to you.

 From where he sat on the bed, you were almost at eye level with him, he was that tall even sitting. And as he intently watched his own actions you got your first glance at him without a hood covering his head. He had dark hair, streaked with grey at the shaven sides. It was gathering on the top and fell to one side lazily in a swirl of curls, one of the locks almost reached his eyebrows.

 Without that heavy coat his entire shape was different, his shoulders weren’t as extremely accentuated anymore, but they were still broad, fewer sharp angles and more rounded bulk. He was still wearing the armored chest plate, pants and boots, but not his clawed gauntlets. And thank goodness for that, you could still feel those talons against your throat.

 When his eyes found yours again, he pulled you towards him, you took the last few steps hesitantly, leaning away as much as his hold on you allowed. Which wasn’t much at all, you were standing in between his spread legs. Any closer and you’d be in his lap.

 “You want to know what mariquita means,” he murmured, his hand that was not still holding your wrist, went for the zipper of your hoodie.

 This had been the worst time to not wear a bra.

 You tried to pull away, but he held firm. His scowl told you to stop struggling, and you did so reluctantly, trembling. Your eyes flitted to where he was slowly pulling down the zipper, your shallow breathing making your chest rise and fall quickly.

 Well, he certainly wasn’t wasting any time.

 You swallowed audibly, a faint whimper climbing up your throat.

 But he stopped pulling just a little ways down, his surprisingly warm hand instead touching the skin just beneath your throat. He went further to the side, revealing more of you to him. The hoodie was now hanging off your right shoulder but was still hiding your chest.

 He paused, studying you, then stroked a path just below your collarbone, right where the scar was from where you’d been impaled on that steel beam. You shivered.

 “It means ladybug,” he finally clarified, his red eyes lifting to your face. Frowning, you wondered why he’d chosen that moniker. “When I found you, the way that metal was sticking out of your shoulder, it looked like a giant needle pinning down a little bug in one of those showcases.” Reaper’s voice was rather quiet, but still sounding rough. “All that blood,” he faintly smiled as he remembered. “Just the color of a ladybug.”

 Of course he would remember this fondly, your pain seemed to bring him immense pleasure. Your resulting scowl only seemed to amuse him.

 “Ah, well—” You faltered shortly when he brushed along your throat. “Thanks for telling me, I will be going then.”

 He chuckled at that, mirth dancing across his features.

 “Don’t think so,” he murmured and reached behind you to pull you into him. You fell forward clumsily, barely able to catch yourself against his chest. Your knees came to a rest on either side of his thighs, just like that time during the mission. This new position had your heart beat frantically in your ribcage, and your eyes searched his to gauge his intentions.

  What do you think he wants to do? A voice inside your head chided.

 The two of you were so close now, you could feel his breath on your face, his expression turned serious again.

 “I’m not here to hurt you,” he whispered, and goodness you wanted to believe him so badly. Eyes burning, you scrunched them close.

 Why was he saying this? Why was he pretending that this was anything but his one sided obsession with your healing effect? It hurt that he thought you were so gullible, like you were some naïve little girl unfamiliar with men like him, when you were old enough to have had your fair share of toxic relationships.

 “I find that hard to believe,” you answered. Apparently, Reaper had forgotten the times when he had hurt you in the past, on purpose or not. Maybe he was too far gone to recognize the consequences of his actions, that assaulting someone like he had was a violent act that was very traumatizing.

 “Then let me show you,” he said.

 With those final words, he cradled your face in his hands to guide your mouths together. Your breath caught once more. This was so different from the last time he did it. It was such a gentle brushing of his lips against yours, feather light and tingly. He pulled away just a fraction, licking his lips and went back in, one hand gliding into your hair.

 The worst thing about this was that it felt so nice. After all the anxiety and fear that had beaten you down, it was his cautious touch that was soothing you. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. At this point you weren’t sure if you had preferred him to not be so fucking fake considerate. It was messing with your head too much.

 With a forceful push against his chest you drew away, panting lightly.

 “You’re… you’re not supposed to,” You hiccuped. “to be so gentle. You’re not, you’re pretending.”

 Tears had gathered at the corners of your eyes, it was all so unfair. Why was this happening to you? And why were you even complaining about that, as if the fact that he was doing this to you in the first place wasn’t terrible enough. Sometimes you wished your mouth wasn’t faster than your brain in moments like these.

 Reaper hummed in thought. “Do you want me to be rough with you, hermosa?” He squeezed your waist in emphasis, then let his hands glide over your bottom, pulling you into him further. You gasped when his groin was pushed against yours. “That can be arranged,” he flashed his teeth in a feral grin, then proceeded to kiss you once more. There was not a hint of gentleness now, he was all teeth and tongue, forcing your mouth open wide by having you groan with grinding his hips into yours.

 You started to struggle again, pushing at his armored chest. Oh no, this was worse, yeah this was definitely the worse choice.

 Reaper was not deterred, he grabbed you and spun you around until you lay flat on the bed, his heavy frame landing on top of you.

 Breathing labored, you stared up at him with wide eyes. He was regarding you cooly, like he wasn’t affected by his own actions at all, while you were a shaking mess.

 “Al—alright. I take it back.” Goodness, you were so pathetic.

 He hummed darkly, leaned away and crossed his arms over his chest.

 “I'm afraid you’ll have to earn my tenderness again. Think I like being a bit rough with you.” His eyes flashed. “It’s exciting.”

 Earn it? You had a bad feeling about this.

 Reaper shifted, he sat back on his heels, no longer holding you down, and on instinct you scrambled further away until you bumped against the headboard.

 He looked at you expectantly, at your hoodie to be precise. And slowly it dawned on you. He wanted you to take it off…

 Ice cold fear stabbed your heart, you couldn’t do this. No way could you strip for him without dying of shame. You shook your head softly, pleading with your eyes. Don’t make me do this.  

 But he was only raising his brows in an effort to spur you into action.

 This was going to happen either way, but you had the small choice of whether he would play nice, or not. And although both choices were the literal worst, one was slightly less disturbing than the other. You only hoped you were making the right decision.

 With shaking fingers, you reached for the zipper. Your hands were sweaty, but you managed to hold onto it hard enough to start pulling it down. Closing your eyes tightly, you dragged it over your chest and belly, the sound of the zipper grating in your ears, to finally reach the end and separate the two sides. You were still covered though, it would take a push to open the sweater completely.

 You cracked your eyes open tentatively, too anxious about what Reaper was doing. His red eyes were glued to where your trembling hand was still gripping the zipper. Was now the time when he would pounce? The fear made you light headed.

 “Good girl. Go on,” he half growled and nodded at your legs.

 The praise made you blush. How fucking stupid was that? This next part seemed even harder than the one before. At least you were wearing underwear down there. Trying not to think much anymore, you got your thumbs in the waistband of your sweatpants and pushed them down your legs, a little awkwardly so as to not disturb the jacket that was covering you yet.

 When you had discarded the pants onto the floor, you pulled your knees against you, trying to hide from view. You cast wary glances at him.

 Slowly, very slowly, he moved forward. Then, he struck like a snake would, one hand curled around your ankle and pulled you towards him in quick succession. He had tugged so hard, your head was bouncing off the mattress beneath you as you lay flat once more and he was above you again.

 You feared your heart was going to burst out of your chest the way it was beating so hard.

 When he’d dragged you down the bed like that, your hoodie had opened on its own and he used the opportunity to get his hands on you. He pulled your naked legs over his thighs, his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched at the sight of you around him and pressed your groins together.

 A metallic trinket that looked like some form of medaillon hanging from his belt came to rest against your stomach, the shock of its coldness made you gasp. His armored pants were hard and unyielding against the soft skin of your inner thighs, scratching and piercing you in some places.

 You whimpered.

 The bulge you could feel between your legs was unmistakably his dick, eager and already half-hard. Your blush deepened as goosebumps rose over your entire body.

 Then he was stroking your belly with his big hand, until he went further up to brush over your chest and finally grabbed a handful of your breasts.

 He wasn’t exactly rough with you, but he wasn’t gentle either. Still, you blushed hard with his bold touch, squirming underneath him and biting your lip, turning your head to the side.

 Apparently, he took that as an invitation to kiss your neck. His teeth grazed your ear, then he moved further down along your jugular, until he licked over your nipple before biting down on it softly.

 You gasped at the feeling, it was sending little electric shocks down to your core. Your thighs tensed where they lay around his waist and he groaned when you accidentally ground against him.

 He breathed hotly against your skin, then sucked on your nipple and swirled his tongue around it. You couldn’t help the moan bubbling up and how you drew your legs together, squeezing his hips tightly while ignoring the pain the hard plates were causing your skin. You felt so vulnerable, practically naked while he was still fully clothed, in his damn armor no less.

 He slammed his hips into yours, pushing you up the bed a fraction with the force of it while simultaneously giving you a taste of what was coming for you.

 Your breath stuttered with how he was manhandling you. All hard edges, sharp teeth on your breasts and protruding metal bruising your skin. It was too much, you were starting to hyperventilate.

There’s no way out, I’m trapped, I can’t breathe…  

 He pressed your thigh against his own, hard, and you cried out at the pain that flared up your leg.

 Tears burned your eyes when you screwed them shut, with your upper body turned to the side your arms flew up to hide your face behind them while your body was shaking uncontrollably, soft whimpers sounding with every breath out.

I’m not here to hurt you.  

 Fucking liar.

 Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing. The tight grip he’d had on your upper leg eased off, brushed over the spot soothingly and then pressed your leg further to the side. Anxiously, you peered sideways from behind your arm to watch his actions.

 It seemed as if he was inspecting the damage he’d done to your inner thigh due to that armor of his. He hummed in thought, then raised your leg while simultaneously bending down to press a kiss to the spot, his sharp eyes finding yours.

 “Sorry about that, mariquita,” he appeased, let go of your leg and reached for his belt instead. The sound of the leather sliding free and the clinking metal had you tensing up.

 When he had freed the belt, he discarded it to the side, but—you couldn’t help but notice—still within reach. With precision and routine he reached for the clamps that would loosen the hold of his chest plate. They were quite numerous, but you watched him undo every single one of them, too afraid to look away for even a fraction of a second.

 Reaper was smiling lopsidedly. When he had finished undoing the very last one, he made sure you were still paying attention as he shrugged out of the chest plate, under which he wasn’t wearing anything.

 That mist was rising off of him again, now that he was topless there was nothing to contain it anymore. You wondered what was up with his condition, but were too afraid to ask.

 Your breath caught for the upteenth time that day when the mist had cleared. His skin was just as greyish and dark as on the rest of him. Never had you seen so many scars on somebody before either. They were big and small alike, some screamed of sharp tools that must have slashed him, others looked rugged and downright nasty. You’d seen their kind before: explosions and their shrapnel left these kinds of horrible wounds.

 The sheer amount of pain and suffering one had had to endure with these scars as testament; you shuddered in sympathy.

 Reaper’s chest was big, a light dusting of dark curls began around his pecs, then gathered at the bottom of his taut belly and disappeared in a trail down his pants. He chuckled darkly when he caught you checking him out like that. Ah damn, your eyes seemed to have a will of their own.

 That blush on your cheeks was going to burn a hole through your skin sooner or later.

 He reached out and took a hold of your good hand, brought it up and pressed it against his chest. It rose and fell with his breathing, you even detected a faint heartbeat, albeit a very slow one.

 You were facing him again, one arm extended toward him, the other unconsciously balled into a fist and pressed against your sternum.

 “Go on.”

 What? What were you supp—

  Oh.  

 He wanted you to use your healing on him. Automatically, you shook your head. Nothing good has ever come of it.

 His eyes narrowed and your heart sank.

 “Your choice, mariquita. Either give me what I want,” he kissed your fingertips with deceptive tenderness. “Or I’ll simply take it.”

 Your throat closed up. You were scared shitless of him when he was under the influence of your healing powers, but what would he do if you stopped cooperating now?

 Slowly, but surely, he pressed your hand against his heart. The image of his greyish skin in contrast to yours was mesmerizing. The firm muscle underneath your palm was warm, his skin soft.

 “Understood?”

 You stared at him. There was no way around it. With a meek nod you surrendered.

 The healing you sent out was just the amount needed to heal minor wounds, Reaper closed his eyes in bliss when it hit him, his hand fell away from where he held yours against his chest.

 You watched as he laid his head back, a look of pure bliss written across his face. The dark mist that was constantly rising off of him intensified, almost shrouding his face from view.

 The moan that was rumbling through his chest made you shiver, your still sweaty hand slipped and brushed over his dusky nipple. With an otherworldly groan he fell forward through the mist to hold himself above you, his hands on both sides of your head.

 His pupils were blown wide, the red fire burning brightly in a fine ring around them. He blew cool mist into your face when he opened his mouth to groan one more time.

 Reaper undulated against you, bent down and went for your neck with open mouthed kisses. It was difficult to keep the contact and the healing up in this new position as well as having to deal with the assault on your senses. His hands pushed the sides of the jacket you still wore apart forcefully, kneaded your breasts, then reached around to grab your back and hauled you up to his level. With swift motions, he divested you of the hoodie, now you sat in his lap while he frantically cradled your head and kissed you with such ferocity it stole your breath away completely.

 You hated that you could recognize his taste, he had kissed you often enough now.

 Gradually, you lowered the healing output, until you stopped it completely.

 Reaper slowed down after a few seconds, the urgency with which he had practically devoured you mellowed until he was kissing you so sensually instead that it made you feel things. Things that terrified you. You were flesh and blood after all, of course this was affecting you. A small sob bubbled up from deep inside your body, hands curling against his chest.

 One of his hands was making its way down your back, over your bottom and then to the front of your underwear.

 Panting, you pulled away, wanting to say something. To tell him to stop. But, you realized, you had crossed a line where a ‘no’ was not an option anymore. You were past that point now and there would be no going back.

 So, you resigned yourself to warily watching as his fingers lightly stroked you through your panties. It sent tingles up your spine and you gasped at the sensation of it. He used the opportunity and kissed you again, stealing your breath away with every stroke over your sensitive nub and his tongue inside your mouth. You had to brace yourself on his shoulders, the steel like muscle underneath was stiflingly strong.

 You didn’t even notice how he slipped his fingers underneath the cotton of your panties, the touch of his fingers against your naked skin was more intense now.

 His other hand was holding your neck, his thumb tilting your head back by the jaw so he had better access to your mouth.

 With your eyes closed you could feel how his fingers crept further down to gather some of the essence between your thighs and how he groaned into your mouth when he felt how wet you were, then he smeared it around your clit to slick his movements.

 On the one hand you were mortified at how your body was betraying you. You were so aroused you were practically soaking through your underwear. But you also knew that it was its natural response to the stimulus, there was no way for you to interfere.

 On the other hand you were kind of thankful that your body was responding because sex was not very pleasant while being dry. And you got the distinct impression that Reaper was not carrying a spare bottle of lube around. But who knew? At this point nothing surprised you anymore.

 Again, Reaper snuck his hand down and between your folds, but this time he pushed two fingers inside with no resistance whatsoever.

 This time it was you who groaned. Damn, that felt amazing, they were just the right size with how they stretched you around them and the light curl they did towards your navel.

 Reaper pulled away from your mouth with a loud, wet sound. You let your head drop forward, breathing loudly and trying to stifle the mewls spilling from your lips at the intense feeling of his fingers stroking in just the right spots.

 “Let me hear you,” he cooed, sounding a little out of breath himself, simultaneously speeding up his ministrations. One particular stroke of his must have hit that special nerve in you and you moaned loudly, a new kind of blush forming on your cheeks; one of deep seated arousal mixed with shame.

 “Yes,” he hissed, bent down and lightly bit your neck.

 You swore in surprise, the pain was negligible, but you clamped around his fingers nonetheless which earned you a moan and a kiss on the spot he’d just bitten.

 His fingers withdrew, only to return with a third one, stretching you even wider than before. It was almost bordering on uncomfortable, you hadn’t had any kind of intimacy like this in months. Ever since you’d signed up with Overwatch, your love life had been put on the back-burner, and until now you hadn’t minded a bit. Now it seemed disadvantageous.

 Reaper kept nipping and kissing at your neck all the while, now that his third finger was coated in your juices, the constant stroking along your inner walls was becoming easier.

 Then he found your clit with his thumb again, his fondling inside and outside had you keening.

 You could feel a slow orgasm approaching. Ah damn, you really didn’t want to find your release like this, on this demon’s fucking fingers, but it would move things along and bring this night to an end, or at least you hoped that it would.

 With clammy hands you held onto his shoulders for purchase, all his kissing and touching was leaving you light headed.

 He broke away from your neck when you’d grasped his shoulders, his misty breath blowing in your face cooly.

 “Do you want to come, hermosa?”

 Fuck.

 Yeah, you did. But you were not going to tell him, too…

 So you screwed your eyes shut and nodded faintly.

 Reaper tutted. “Tell me,” he commanded and when you kept silent, did his best to hit that spot that made you squirm and see stars. You moaned pathetically, but just couldn’t bring yourself to admit to it with words.

 He kept hitting that same spot over and over again, the orgasm building and almost reaching its crescendo, but before you could topple over that edge, Reaper slowed down again.

 You whined when he stopped, weakly bucking your hips against his fingers, but unable to find the right angle.

 “Say it,” he growled in your ear, his fingers maddeningly slow in their movements, his other hand around the back of your neck and holding you securely in place.

 Fucking hell.

 “Please,” you faintly whispered. But it wasn’t enough, he stopped with his fingers buried inside you, keeping you from moving altogether.

 He wasn’t going to remind you a third time, you were sure. But you were also quite stubborn, and so you clenched your teeth in frustration. Let him get off on this, you really didn’t need to.

 Maybe if you kept lying to yourself it would become true.

 Without saying a word he started stroking you again, that beautiful release just on the horizon. But you knew he was not going to allow you to reach it without begging him for permission.

 Oh, how you hated him.

 “Fuck, please!” You almost yelled when he threatened to withdraw his fingers completely. “Please, I...I want to—to come.” The shame you felt at admitting these things out loud was unbearable, but it was swiftly overshadowed by the sheer pleasure that washed over you the second you had uttered that last word and Reaper resumed his stroking in earnest.

 Oh shit, this was intense, your sweaty palms slipped off of his shoulders to grasp at his back when he pulled you against his chest and the two of you embraced.

 “Ah!” You exclaimed when he massaged your clit even faster, just a little more and you’d come.

 Eyes screwed shut in pleasure and concentration you decided to ride that wave that he had forced upon you, your body needed the release badly.

 Your orgasm came swift and powerful, better than you’d had in a while. It left you weak and limp in his arms, your cheek resting on his shoulder and your whole body shaking with aftershocks. You still felt his fingers resting inside, the sporadic contractions around them had you feeling a new kind of uncomfortable.

 Almost soothingly, he stroked along your back, down and up again, then he slid his fingers out of you, wiping some of the slick onto your thigh.

 He was trying to keep his breathing even, like he was holding himself back. A violent shiver ran down your body, surely now would be the time he’d be done waiting and playing nice.

 All the afterglow you’d felt dissipated into nothing when he gently, but firmly pushed you back until your head hit the mattress again. His eyes were practically black, the thin ring of fiery red of his irises reminded you that you were in bed with the devil.

 With his one hand in the middle of your chest he raised his other one and made a show of licking the fingers that he had used to pleasure you with with languid strokes of his tongue. He moaned obscenely at the taste. Still trying to catch your breath, you tried to look away but found that it was impossible. The image was too mesmerizing in its lasciviousness.

 When he was done he said, “My turn,” got on his knees and used both hands to open the fly of his pants and pushed them down to reveal that he was completely naked underneath.

 Immediately, your eyes shot to the proud erection that had sprung free.

 He was...proportionate.

Big.

 There was no denying it. He was bigger than you’d ever had before.

 Your mouth went dry at the thought of having to take him. Even though he’d loosened you up a little with his fingers and that orgasm you weren’t sure this was going to be comfortable at all.

 You were also willing to bet that he wouldn’t care about that one little bit.

 Cold fear settled in your stomach.

 “W—why do you do it?” You suddenly blurted in a last ditch effort to buy some time or maybe to deter him.

 He flashed you a half-smile. “Because I can.”

 “But aren’t you...playing into their plan?” You saw his face contort into a frown.

 “I don’t care about Akande’s plans. I’ll show him that whatever it is, it won’t work on me.” He had managed to completely disrobe, and now he kneeled before you in all his naked glory, at least from what you could see of him from the faint light of the holo projector. You tried very hard not to ogle him.

 “How do you know?” Goodness, he was advancing on you again, all your instincts screamed at you to run away, but you also weren’t keen on being chased about in nothing but your underwear.

 He leaned over you. “Because I am Reaper.” The fire in his eyes flashed brightly. “I am Death,” he murmured and brushed his lips over your ribs, up and over a nipple. “Let him try, I like a good challenge.”

 You gasped at the sensation, body still strung tight, all the relaxation from your very recent release gone like it never even happened in the first place.

 Was he being that edgy on purpose, to keep you on your toes? If so, it sure was working, you shook like a leaf.

 You jumped when he touched your hips on both sides, his hands began to drag down your panties and you couldn’t help how your thighs pressed together. To no avail of course, he pulled them ever further until they were bunched around your knees. All the while he was staring at you, arranged your legs to slide the cotton off and over your feet. With a careless motion he discarded the material onto the floor.

 “But—” you stuttered when he settled between your legs, his dick dangerously close to your core, “don’t you want to know why they do this?” You asked in a trembling voice. Maybe if you proposed to help him he would leave you alone in turn?

 He stopped and considered you for a moment, his hands grabbing your thighs.

 This was your chance.

 “I can...help you find out.” Wide eyed you stared up at him, hoping with every fibre of your being that he was actually considering what you said.

 Next thing you knew he was pulling you into him, one of your thighs held up and high while he guided his cock inside you. It happened so fast, the feeling of being penetrated by his large dick stole all the breath from your lungs.

 It was like being punched in the stomach, his girth was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He pushed forward without a pause and didn’t stop before he was fully sheathed inside, the tip of his dick pressing painfully against your cervix.

 You stared at him open mouthed, hot tears burning in your eyes and your hands fisted into the sheets.

 As the first tear ran down the side of your head, a sob bubbled up from deep inside your chest. And with this the dam broke.

 Crying had always been a very personal and intimate thing for you, hell not even your mother had ever seen you cry more than once or twice, let alone boyfriends. But you couldn’t stop it anymore, it was all too much. You wanted to go home, to not feel like this anymore.

 Reaper had let go of your leg and was now propped up on his elbows on top of you. While your leg slid down the side of his powerful thigh, he sighed into your ear in pleasure.

 “Oh, you will help me, mariquita,” he murmured against your cheek, “but on my terms.”

 And with this he started to move, rolled his hips into yours slowly, carefully. Like he wanted to savor the moment.

 It wasn’t exactly painful, but the way he dragged against your inner walls was unbearably intense, the stretch uncomfortable. Still, you grabbed the sheets so hard you thought they might tear soon. Eyes screwed shut and tears streaming from them, you turned your face to the side, trying in vain to suppress the noises coming out of your mouth.

 Reaper growled animalistically when he sped up, eliciting a broken wail from you. There was nothing gentle or considerate about the way he was thrusting inside you now, everytime he bottomed out he pushed you up the bed a fraction more. Until you finally hit the headboard and even further so your head lay at an awkward angle.

 Only then did he pull out and backed up a little, dragged you down to his level and back onto his cock. As he entered you it was with a sound that was a mix between a sigh and a grunt. Through blurry eyes you could faintly see his face contorting in ecstasy when he resumed his pace from earlier.

 He was on his knees again, his hands had a secure hold on your thighs while he fucked you so hard and fast you felt like you got whiplash.

 When he pulled you into him by the hips he hit your cervix again and you cried out in pain.

 He didn’t seem to care much, he hit that spot over and over.

 “Stop!” You finally cried, your hands pushing at his chest feebly. But a quick glance at his face revealed that Reaper wasn’t even listening. His eyes were hidden behind that dark mist that was surrounding him, rising up in plumes that were only faintly whirling about with the staccato rhythm of his hips. His mouth was hanging open, his breaths coming in short bursts.

 Overall it seemed like he was lost in sensation, your plea fell on deaf ears. Instead, you tried to angle your hips away so he couldn’t push as far inside, but that only earned you a growl. Reaper leaned forward again and licked along your neck—seemingly his favourite spot on you to put his mouth—and after a brief kiss there, sunk his teeth into your skin.

 Too shocked by the action you choked on a scream, and clawed at his back. He’d bitten you hard this time, you were sure he had drawn blood. Just like your fingernails must have left him with new wounds to adorn his scarred body.

 It felt like he was consuming you, inside and out. He was everywhere, surrounding you from all sides and angles, tearing you apart and putting you back together into something else.

 When would this end?

 Would it ever end?

 Reaper removed his teeth from your neck and lapped at the wound with small moans, his hips were still thrusting forward at a punishing pace. He hadn’t even noticed your scratches it seemed, or maybe they had spurred him on?

 One of his hands curled around your throat, the feeling now almost familiar, then he turned your head to face him. The constant flow of tears made it hard to see but you could make out where his eyes were burning into yours.

 He was knocking the breath out of you with every powerful thrust, you could see his jaw clenching in want and lust, it was overwhelming in its violence. But he forced you to look him in the eyes while he was defiling you with every snap of his hips, bringing your mouths closer together and finally kissing you. The taste of your blood on his lips made you nauseous.

 It didn’t last long at least, he rocked back and forth one last time and stilled, pressed against you as close as physically possible, and spilled his release deep inside of you.

 You felt like you were going to pass out.

 With shaky, shallow breaths, you stared at the ceiling with burning eyes, watching the low light of the holo projector dancing in a myriad of colors. Small sobs were racking your body.

 Your mind was shrinking back from what just happened.

I’m not here to hurt you, the memory of his voice was mocking you. It wasn’t like you believed him anyway, but you felt silly for even wanting to trust him in the first place.

 There were fresh tears running down the side of your head and into your hair, you hiccuped when Reaper moved his hand away from your neck and brushed it over your face gently, down your nose and over your mouth, the pads of his fingers catching on your bottom lip.

 “Got a bit carried away there,” he murmured while inspecting the bite wound he’d left behind.

 Underneath the hopelessness and the terror you could feel a rage blooming. Oh how you hated him.

 He just laid there, still on top of you, still inside of you, which you were still reminded of by the small twitches from his spent dick.

 “Ge—get off,” you tried to compel, but it only came out a weak whisper between sniffles.

 His eyes met yours again.

 “You feel…” he searched your face. “so fucking perfect around me.” He simply ignored what you said and to emphasize his point he rolled his hips languidly.

 You couldn’t suppress a moan at the feeling. He was moving differently now, slower, and—you were hesitant to even think it—with the intention to pleasure you.

 He was still hard, after he had just come mere minutes ago? Maybe it was part of being a fucking wraith.

 No, no, no, you couldn’t do this again so soon.

 “Wait,” you pleaded, reaching for him with shaking arms. But he just grabbed your wrists and pushed them down onto the bed, leaning into you.

 “Calm down, mariquita.” He cooed, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll forget every pretty little boyfriend you ever had.”

 And with that promise he started to move again.

#reaper x reader #reader x reaper #overwatch #fanficiton #non-con #female reader

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 9

The next day brought sharks and gunfire, squids and murder. Dr. Coomer, with newfound vigor from the previous night’s rest, was racking up a pretty impressive kill count, growing in power as more of his clones were eliminated. Tommy drifted away in his head most of the morning, dwelling on his father’s words and the guilt that came with them.

He kept an eye on Benrey, as always, but there was little need to. The entity had chosen to cooperate for the most part, aside from pestering Gordon every step of the way. Gordon had learned to just go along with Benrey’s gags, giving him space to blow off some steam until he got bored. It was a surprisingly effective method of dealing with the guy, and Tommy once again found himself struck by not only Gordon’s strength and tenacity, but his remarkable resourcefulness. Maybe that doctorate from MIT really was worth something.

Controlling the entity (as far as the entity would allow himself to be controlled) was pretty much the only win they had that day. The rest of their journey had them swimming through drowned, claustrophobic tunnels, avoiding the jaws of the creatures that slithered within. Tommy wasn’t a fan, but Gordon outright hated it, coughing and spluttering every time they surfaced, waterlogged and exhausted.

The adrenaline in Gordon’s blood was pretty much the only thing keeping him moving, yet he fought on, intent on making his way to the Lambda Lab. Right. The Lambda Lab. Find the lab, close the rift, and then they could all go home.

Tommy very, very badly wanted to go home.

When Gordon nearly had a panic attack after mistaking a soda can for a grenade, Tommy finally pried himself out of his mental fog. Knock it off, dude. Now wasn’t the time to zone out and brood. People could die, and one of them in particular did not have the ability to regenerate himself if that happened.

Bubby and Benrey had begun whispering among themselves, which was a cause for concern. Tommy listened in when he could and caught mostly insults -  something he was inclined to dismiss - but the way Benrey’s eyes glinted when Tommy looked his way didn’t quite sit right.

“Can’t friends talk?” Bubby had asked hotly.

That was it. Benrey didn’t have friends. Tommy let his gaze slide away, swallowing his words but keeping his suspicions close.

After rendering a perfectly good server room completely useless, they came upon one of Dr. Coomer’s clones, who had posted himself up outside a heavy lead door. He actually recognized Gordon, which was unexpected. You’re the guy in the HEV suit, he told them. We’ve been tracking your progress, he told them.

Dr. Coomer scratched his chin and swept the group with a troubled look. “Gordon, that means you’ve been leading the military to us this whole time,” he concluded.

“What? But - I mean I can’t even take it off.” Gordon gave himself an up-and-down gesture.

“Oh,” Benrey noted flatly. “Maybe you need to die.”

“What?” Gordon demanded. “I don’t need to die.”

Benrey responded by nonchalantly raising his firearm. He pulled the trigger and contents of the clone’s skull splattered against the wall. Gordon took a step back, nauseated.

“I was gonna ask him a very valuable question,” he uttered, averting his gaze.

“I’ve absorbed his power, Gordon,” Coomer brightly informed him. “Ask me.”

Tommy was staring hard at Benrey as Gordon went back and forth with Dr. Coomer about the possibility of ditching the suit. The entity’s pupils were haloed with reflected light as he returned his gaze, baring his razor smile in a challenge. Tommy didn’t say anything, his eyes wandering instead to the peculiarly shaped door. Something radiated from the back of his skull as he studied it, as if the heavy barricade itself were a warning.

“This door is ominous,” he murmured.

When the science team all cast him curious looks, he realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “It’s shaped like a B,’ he elaborated. “What could that mean? ‘Buh’ door?” That was a silly thing to say, he thought in retrospect, but it was what came out of his mouth.

Gordon gave him a mystified smile. “‘Buh’ door?” he repeated.

“No, I think those are glasses,” Benrey said.

Gordon shook his head, passing a glance between them. “What are any of you saying?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Gordon, smiling despite his unease. “Buh,” he reiterated, just to make him wheeze with laughter.

Benrey and Bubby began repeating the sound, too, and Tommy wasn’t sure if they were having fun or mocking him. At this point, both options were plausible.

Gordon was still grinning. His teeth were so even; he had definitely been a braces kid. “Working on your phonics, Tommy?”

Sure. Yeah. That was it. Most people didn’t look at a B-shaped entryway and immediately feel a crawling beneath their skin. Well, except for some very particular interior designers, perhaps. He held Gordon’s gaze and didn’t respond.

Dr. Coomer, restless, was already heading through the door. “The B stands for ‘bye!’” he called cheerfully.

The room that followed was freezing, the floors slick with ice. The creatures within were a low threat, slipping and sliding around as they were on the frozen surface, but that meant the team of scientists was equally ineffective at shooting them.

“Whoah, guys, it’s icy!” Gordon called, flinging his arms out for balance.  

“It’s cold as hell in here.” Bubby observed with exasperation. He fired at an alien, corrected his aim, and fired again.

Tommy made a deal with the laws of physics for a brief time, allowing him to traverse the frozen room with relative stability. Benrey was more brazen and simply sauntered on through as if the ice wasn’t even there, paying the creatures no mind as he went. Weirdly enough, they seemed to be ignoring him back. Before Tommy could think on that much longer, Gordon’s excited voice drew his attention.

“You guys like ice skating?” he asked, eyes alight as he slid across the room. “I was never one for it. I don’t got really good balance.”

Laughing with delight, breath fogging in the chilly air, Gordon whirled with his arms above his head in a wobbly pirouette. Tommy watched him, unable to keep the smile off his face as he did. The fact that Gordon was still finding joy after almost three days in this hellscape nearly made the ice melt beneath Tommy’s feet.

Bubby’s irritated voice came from around a pillar. “Gordon, now is not the time for jokes.”

With some effort, Gordon stopped spinning. “Bro, lemme have a little fun,” he shot back. “It’s serious, but like-”

“My life is in danger!”

“So is mine!” Gordon insisted. “But like, when you guys have fun, when you’re fucking with me-”

“Your technique is sloppy, Gordon,” Dr. Coomer chimed in, sliding into the vicinity with a flourish. “Perhaps we should practice once we get out of the Black Mesa facility.”

Gordon’s smile returned in earnest. “Oh?” he asked. “Show me your form.”

The old man spread his arms wide, as if gearing up for a complicated maneuver, and then collapsed dramatically onto the icy floor. Tommy bit down on his knuckles to hide his laughter while Gordon waved him off, chuckling.

The three of them caught up to Benrey and Bubby, Gordon keeping up his skating routine as he went. Tommy trailed after him, gunning down encroaching extraterrestrials so the guy could have his fun. At one point, Gordon spun and stretched out a hand to Tommy, bowed at the waist, mouth quirking in wordless invitation.

Tommy paused, staring at his open palm, wishing more than anything that he could take it. Just forget about the creatures and the soldiers and the rift in space for one fucking second and let himself get swept away by this charming gentleman in front of him. He felt his throat tighten. He positively ached for it.

Declining with a polite smile, he shook his head. Perhaps once this nightmare was over, when they were no longer concerned about staying alive. Something to look forward to, something to make horrors they fought through worth it. Tommy owed him a dance. For now, however, he offered Gordon something he could always give.

“B stands for ‘below freezing,’” he quipped.

Gordon laughed, warm and genuine, and withdrew his hand. “Oh, now I get it.”

---

The price they paid for seeing the sky again was an onslaught of new adversaries. They were fast . Bubby scouted up ahead and immediately scampered back to the group, a wild look on his face as he murmured, “Oh my god.”

Gordon was peering around a crate, eyes narrowed. “Did you see that?” he asked. “Was that a woman?”

Tommy’s eyes could barely track their movements, agile as they were. They didn’t really look like anything to him, much less women, and he was about to turn his head to say so when Coomer charged ahead of them with fervor.

“Look out, Gordon!” the scientist exclaimed.“Hotted boobs up ahead! Tits, big ones!”

Gordon’s subsequent shriek of laughter was so forceful he almost misfired his weapon. Beside him, Tommy could hardly keep it together enough to provide cover fire. When Gordon sprinted after him, calling a hesitant, “Dr. Coomer, I don’t think that was very respectful,” he lost it all over again.

Bubby and Dr. Coomer took out the majority of the nimble creatures, while Gordon mostly missed his shots and Benrey slouched indifferently through the crossfire. After checking themselves over for injury (and a moment of questionable target practice on some moths), they found the surface access switch and kept moving.

Tommy felt that dark prickle near the base of his skull again as he habitually brought up the rear. They were going the right way, right?

“I’m a little nervous,” Gordon said, vocalizing Tommy’s unease. “What about the airstrikes?”

Oh, right, that was a good point, too. The threat of heavy military artillery sometimes slipped Tommy’s mind. Perhaps they could find another route to the lab.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” Bubby asked, striding ahead with confidence. “We’re going home.”

Benrey idled in the back next to Tommy, fingers laced behind his head like he was lounging in a hammock. “Look at all - all that room,” he said, shooting Tommy a sly look. “We’re going on a mystery walk.”

Nothing about that sounded good to Tommy, and he was suddenly on edge. He gave Benrey a piercing stare, but the entity only showed him his shark teeth and meandered after the party. Tommy followed, pulse on the upswing.

“Gordon, if you play it carefully, this will cut down our travel to the Lambda Lab by about three hours,” Dr. Coomer declared.

“Down to thirteen minutes!” Bubby added.

“Oh,” Gordon remarked, taken aback by such fortuitous news. “That’s the whole duration. That’s the entire thing.”

“Yes!” Bubby went on excitedly. He pointed to a room down the hall. “And look, there’s even a medical station in there.”

Gordon considered. He had taken a few hits in the last fight. Nothing life threatening - Tommy had made sure of that - but it was likely still painful. “A med station… I could probably-”

“Medical stations can be used to recover from wounds, Gordon,” Coomer interrupted helpfully.

Benrey was apostrophe shaped as he lounged against the doorway. “Wow,” he murmured, tossing a look inside the adjacent room. “They got TV and Blu-ray… high definition…”

Gordon waved him off in disregard. “We don’t need that. I’m-

“They got a couch,” Benrey added, as if this would sweeten the deal.

“I’m not interested.”

“I heard Blu-ray is better than DVD,” Tommy couldn’t help commenting dryly.

He didn’t like this. This was weird. Well, on par for Benrey, but Bubby’s firm insistence that Gordon enter the room before he did was setting off alarm bells in his head. His fingers tightened around the grip of his handgun.

Gordon was still bickering with the two of them, hampered by the semantics of laser disc technology. Tommy quietly moved closer, darting his eyes around the area for anything indicative of danger. He caught the gaze of Dr. Coomer, who was just standing there patiently with an idle hand on his crossbow. He looked unbothered as the argument escalated.

Benrey’s eyes were beginning to flash in a wordless threat. He leered at Gordon, revealing his pointed teeth. “You wanna go in?” He was no longer asking. “Please?”

Gordon, who had learned by now to pick his battles with the entity, relented. “Alright,” he sighed. “Okay. I guess… I’m gonna go for it.”

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong. Panic shuddered like a javelin down Tommy’s spine, and as he reached out a hand to pull Gordon back, the lights cut out. Some outside force locked onto Tommy, pinning him to his position in space like an insect on a corkboard.

Gordon faltered. “Okay, uh, who’s fucking with me?”

“What the hell?” Bubby asked, voice lined with a facetious edge. “What is happening?”

Benrey, on the other hand, sounded like he was having the time of his life. “Ohhh, it’s dark in here,” he groaned, barely attempting to hide his glee.

Tommy, nerves alive, fought against whatever had nailed him to the spot. This didn’t happen. Tommy didn’t just get stuck, and there was a very short list of beings who could make him do so against his will. He cast his gaze around frantically for any clue of what was happening, but it was so dark he may as well have been blindfolded.

Gordon was irritated now. “Who the fuck knocked out the lights?”

Dr. Coomer’s response was as neutral as it was useless. “Hello, Go- Has anyone seen Mr. Freeman?”

Heavy footsteps came barreling at them, accompanied by Bubby’s cry of, “there he is - get him!”

There was the sound of impact. The rush of air being forced from a pair of lungs. Then… Tommy didn’t remember much of what happened next.

Shouting. There was plenty of that. Tommy thought maybe he yelled something, but he couldn’t be sure. All he could register fully were the sounds of Gordon crying out in pain and the feeling of his own doomed grief as his muscles failed to work.

And help. Help. Gordon was pleading for help, and Tommy thought his heart would stop if he had to listen to it anymore.

The blade cleaving through bone was the loudest sound in the world.

Gordon fell horrifically silent. The scent of blood saturated the air like a stain. Tommy’s stomach bottomed out as he heard the soft slide of a body being dragged away.

“Now, gentlemen,” Dr. Coomer’s voice echoed off the darkened walls, “let’s get out of here before they peel us apart.”

Footsteps dispersed as the team made itself scarce. Whatever had been holding Tommy in place finally released him, and he dropped numbly to the floor, trembling in the dreadful aftershock. His hands slicked through blood and he almost threw up. The truth, heavy and unrepentant, settled in on his shoulders.

He was alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Chapter 8 <-----> Chapter 10

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #violence #guns #blood #gore #amputation #hlvrai

[ask-de-writer]

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

CHILDREN’S PLAY

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

3688 words in this excerpt

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All  rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or  to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express  written consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users    of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may    reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters  in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical    compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to  charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

What Mecat told Kurin was basically true.  The fundamental discoveries of glue in Strong Skin was made by children wanting to make toys.  They even made some boats and some ships.  Over time, their arts got lost and Mecat had to show the scattered men on Sea how to do again what the children had learned.

The original colonists to Sea were all picked for being, among other criteria, quite bright.  Somehow, nobody paid attention to the fact that many bright people have bright children too.

When Adults get too busy, they often put the concerns of children last.  In an environment like Sea, that may be a mistake of sorts . . .

Chapter 04. Children at Play

As is the case everywhere that there are children, they play.  In some of their playing, they imitate their elders.  They also do another thing that children have done since the dawn of time.  Because the only toys that the adults thought to bring or make were educational, they raided the trash for fun things to play with.

Cora Halyn dug the pan out of the waste stream dumpster.  Grinning, she held it up for the others to see.  “What good is that?” asked Mikal Novotnoy.

Cora grinned some more and threw out several used twenty centimeter air filter disks made from the dried skin of the Strong's shark.  She said happily, “I was there when the cooks made this mess out of some Moreson's eels.  They tried to soak it out, scrape it and even chip it loose.  Since it melted once, I don't know why they didn't try to melt it again.  If it will melt, we can squish it into these disks and make Frisbees!”

Jason Torres asked her, “Did they chuck out any of the Shark's teeth or bones?”

Cora promptly dove back into the dumpster.  The sound of things shifting and thumping about followed.  Several large pieces of bone and some ten to fourteen centimeter long razor sharp and naturally serrated teeth cascaded out of the trash bin.  Cora vaulted out after them.

“Why did you want the teeth and bones, Jase?” she asked curiously.

Jason cut a finger as he gathered up the teeth and bones that Cora dug out for him.  He paused long enough to suck the cut a moment before commenting, “Those teeth are sharp!  I thought that it might be fun to try doing some scrimshaw with them.  Maybe even make my dad a present that he can use, like a paperweight or something.”

The children gathered up their booty of trash and went to the recycle center.  Mister Makle looked over what the children wanted and asked, “What do you want with the pan?  The rest is no problem but that pan is aluminum.  We can remelt it and make new things from it.”

Cora grinned and pointed out, “True, but we already get all of the new aluminum that we want by processing seawater.  What we really want is the goo in the pan.  I think that we can melt it and work it into the used filter disks.  If I am right we can make Frisbees out of them! Those eels are pretty common so we can make lots of toys like that if it works.”

Shrugging and smiling, Mister Makle signed a release for the children's salvage and said, “Be sure to let me know if that trick works!  I'd like a Frisbee too!”

The next day, Cora and the rest of her crowd brought Mister Makle a home-made Frisbee.

Cora proudly explained, “The goo by itself was way too brittle when it hardened in the disks.  We fixed that by mixing in some oil that we got by rendering the waxy stuff.  Now it is strong and somewhat flexible.  Here, try it!”  She expertly flipped the disk to him.

Mister Makle caught the disk with a delighted smile and did try it.  He flexed it some and then tossed the disk so that it bounced off a wall and examined it again.  He smiled even more as he said, “Keep me and the rest of the waste management and maintenance team in Frisbees and you can have anything that you want from the trash if it isn't dangerous.  OK?”

Jason grinned back and said, “Sounds easy enough.  There's lots of those used filter disks.  We have another idea that you might like.”

Interested, Mister Makle asked, “What is that?”

Seeing that there was an adult who wasn't too busy to pay attention, the assorted children of Cora's crowd gathered around and said, “Fishing! When we saw how tough that Strong's skin and eel goo is, we made a pole out of some of it.”

Mikal added, “We figured out that if you cut a big mussel loose and just set it in some seawater, it will put out the attachment foot to start making new holdfast strands.  We put a little chunk of bone near where the foot comes out.  As soon as it stuck the holdfast thread to the bone, we started to pull real gently.  We got over five meters of line from it.”

Mister Makle said, “I'd like to see that.  What are you going to use for a hook?”

Cora said, “We are going to try several things to see what works best. The dense bone from the Strong's shark will be the base for most of them.  A few will be carved out of shell from the mussels.  Got a piece of paper?  Mala'klea will sketch them up for you.  Her folks were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement.  She's learned all sorts of neat stuff from them.”

Black haired little Mala'klea silently took a pen and began sketching quickly.  It only took a few moments for her to hand Mister Makle the paper with a half dozen different hook designs on it, complete with notes about materials and the glue applications where necessary.

While she was sketching Mister Makle asked Cora, “Doesn't she talk?”

Cora gave a half grin and replied, “Yes she does, when she has something to say.  It is worth listening when she does speak because it is always good.”

Mala'klea did suddenly look up at Cora with a smile and said, “We can overlap disks to make laminated planks.  We could make a sailing canoe from them.”  She fell silent again and took another sheet of paper.  

Her nearly flying pen sketched rapidly.  A simple dory built design for a long, deep keeled and moderately wide canoe-like boat took shape.  It had a large outrigger or secondary hull and a deck on struts between the main hull and the smaller one.

Mister Makle looked at the paper and commented, “Sweet design.  This is all done with equal angles for the ribs.  That will make the fabrication easy.  You kids will need a formal adult supervisor for a project this big.  How long do you actually plan to make it?”

Cora grinned in relief that their idea wasn't just being blown off by a man whose department was critical to building it.  She replied, “We thought that about twenty meters should make it safe from Strong's sharks and most of the other big fish that we know of.”

Mister Makle studied the drawing and sections seriously for a moment and said, “That will be way too large to manage easily with paddles. Will it have a sail?”

Cora agreed, “It will have two masts and three sails.  Mala'klea has that all figured out.  Her mom was the captain of the Mona Loa.  It was a sailing ship of the Polynesian Back to the Ocean Movement.”

Mister Makle grinned widely and said, “You do know that this boat is as big as the two ships that the station engineers are planning to build, don't you?”

“Sure we do,” Cora replied confidently.  “Size is a relative thing. Theirs will be wider and deeper in the hull and have two masts. Those round ships will be able to carry a lot more than our voyaging canoes and will have a longer range.  We figure that these will be way faster, though.”

Mister Makle asked, “Would you be willing to practice on a smaller boat or two using the same principles, just to test your ideas before you commit to building the big one?

“I know that the maintenance crew would be willing to do the supervision in their off time.  They want a chance to play about with boat building but the shipyard is being a real prat about it ever since Mister Angerson got put in charge.  This will be a big job because of all of the Moreson's eels that you will have to catch.  I can set the recycle folks to salvaging all of the filters that come through.”

Cora got a faraway look and then suggested, “That would be great.  We could use a test boat to catch the eels that we will need.  If everything works as well as it should, we could even help the maintenance team to make some boats for their own use.  

“I think that Pele Barant would be our best senior supervisor.  Not only is she Mala'klea's mom, she knows all about primitive tools and things because she was in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement. She's also a top flight mechanical engineer.”

Mister Makle promptly placed a call through his computer.  “Mrs. Barant, this is Mister Makle down in the Waste Management office.  Your daughter and some other children are down here.

“What? No.  There is nothing wrong.  In fact, I think that they want to do something very right.  It will need a senior supervisor who understands so-called primitive tools and materials.

“They told me that you were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement on Earth and that you might make a good person to supervise their work. Oh, did I forget to say what it was?  They want to make a surprisingly large sailing canoe based on a Polynesian voyaging canoe.

“Yes, I thought that you might like to see how they plan to do it and the materials that they have found.  Recycle has turned up a few other native things that might be useful in the project as well.

“So, we will see you in a few minutes?  Excellent!  We will be waiting.”

He turned back to the children and told Mala'klea, “That really got your mother's attention.  Do you kids know that this is the first proposed project to use only things and materials from Sea?”

Cora grinned and held up one of the flying disks.  “Not quite.  We made these first.  To do them right we had to make a knife that would cut that Strong's shark skin.  It is really tough stuff.

“Jason, do you have those knives that you and Mala'klea made?  If you have them handy, we could show them to Mrs. Barant.  Mister Makle might like to see them, too.”

Mister Makle leaned back in his office chair and said, “I would like to see them.  My department got stuck with making those filter disks and you would not believe how fast that skin will dull a knife.  Thing is, Pele is on her way down.  Save the knives and show them to both of us at once.  She is the expert on things like this.”

Several of the maintenance crew came into the office.  One of the women exclaimed, “Boss!  How did you get Frisbees?  I applied to engineering to make us some for recreation and they turned their noses up at the job.  Said that they had more important tasks than toys!”

Mister Makle grinned and tousled Cora's hair as he replied, “They turned me down too, Molly.  The kids here made these out of old air filter disks and some sort of glue that they made out of Moreson's eels.  They work really great. Here, Molly, catch!”  He flipped a disk at the woman who had spoken.

Startled, Molly reflexively caught the disk.  She paused long enough to examine the disk carefully.  She said quietly, “This looks like it was press molded.  How did you guys make it?”

Cora smiled in delight at the recognition of their work and replied, “We made one that worked really well.  We used it to make a form that we do press them into.  All that we need to do is wax the form and our hands.  Then we work the glue into the disk and push it tightly into the form by hand.  It needs about twenty minutes to set up and then we can pop it out and make another.  That's about all that there is to it.”

Molly happily flipped the disk to another of her crew, even though the range was short.  It never got to him.  A small Black haired woman dived in from the door and caught the disk before he had a chance at it.  She bounced energetically off one of the office walls and stood, examining the disk intently.  She flexed it and said, “Here, Klea! Catch!”

The disk sailed across to little Mala'klea who did catch it expertly. Beaming, she said, “Thanks, Mom!  This one is for Molly and her team.  We have more and can make them for anyone else that wants one!”

Mister Makle observed, “That is more than I have heard you say even when you were drawing up the boat plan.”

Mala'klea, cringing like she expected to be hit, looked about fearfully, and went silent.  Pele crouched beside her daughter and pulled her into a hug.  Mala'klea hugged back fiercely, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Pele spared a look for the shocked Recycle and Maintenance people in the big office.  Still holding her daughter, she told them, “Klea was one of the children that Mister Angerson was caught beating for refusing to pray to his God during their schooling time.  Instead of teaching them math, he was trying to force the children to follow him in his suicidal mania that he calls a religion.

“He was particularly brutal to those kids that he called pagans.  Since my little Klea follows our family's polytheistic beliefs, he beat her the worst of all.  The station's doctors found two cracked ribs and a hairline fracture of the right radius.

“Mala'klea refused to give in to his assault but he did manage break her trust in most people.

“Mister Angerson has been formally required to surrender his teaching duties and stay away from the children.  He has been forbidden to ever touch or speak to any of them.  His own wife and two children moved into our apartment to get away from him.  Trisha has filed with the station's Executive Committee for a divorce.”

One of the men from Molly's Maintenance crew said, “I know about the schooling problem.  I was on the jury.  What Angerson did sickened us all.  He claimed that God Himself ordered him to discipline the children for their unbelief and that God's orders override the Colonial Charter.  We all disagreed.  The verdict was unanimous.”

Molly volunteered, “That idiot Marcus cornered me once and tried to convince me that we are doomed.  God sent us all here to die by slow starvation for our sins.  Seems that we are all to be the Sacrifice For The New Covenant to preserve all of  mankind's colonies in space.

“He seems to forget that both the thymine and lysine that are our last real stumbling blocks have been spotted from orbit, even if they haven't been isolated to any particular organism yet.  In the meantime, the plants and animals that we brought along are filling the gap.  We will find what we need someday, probably soon.”

Pele nodded to Molly then gave her daughter another hug and asked her, “Do you have any sort of plan or working drawings for the boat that Mister Makle mentioned?  What are you thinking of making it out of?”

Everyone watched silently as Mala'klea went fearfully to Mister Makle's desk and, darting glances all about, brought her mother the pages of sketches.  She took one of the flying disks from Cora and wordlessly handed it to her mother as well.  

Pele's eyes lit up and she sat cross-legged in front of Mala'klea and patted her lap.  Looking meaningfully about at the other adults for silence, Pele said, “This is a wonderful start, Klea.  Please tell me about it.”

Mala'klea began almost inaudibly, “We can use old filter disks and rectangles to make the planks.  See, Mother?  The big side planks are the same width all along their length.  By keeping the angles of the side to bottom planks the same, it is just a long four plank dory, the same way that the old Polynesian voyaging ships were built.”

Mother gave daughter a quick hug and prodded, “How will you make the planks out of the smaller pieces, Dear?”

Mala'klea answered more confidently, “To make the flying disks we had to make a glue out of Moreson's eels.  Because of the messy way that they come apart when we heat them, we call them Goo fish.  We had to try several ways to get the glue right.  We had some of the disks stick together by accident.  That gave me the idea for laminating the parts.”

Pele nodded in happy seeming approval.  “Very observant, Klea.  How will you hold the planks and ribs together?”

The other children of Cora's Crowd almost bit their lips to keep quiet.  Cora stopped one of Molly's crew from speaking by whispering, “We have seen this before.  This is how Pele helps Mala'klea to stop being scared.  Let Klea answer for now.”

The man nodded understanding and held his tongue.

Mala'klea almost eagerly told her mother, “We can get strings from the mussels that grow almost everywhere on the Station's docks.  Cora figured out the glue and filter thing but it was Jason who thought of the string.  It was Matty that thought of making a boat.  I put their ideas together.

“We can use string that we make from the mussel threads to tie the parts together.  Once we are ready, we can laminate more skin over the joints to waterproof them.  We can lock the ribs into place the same way.  It is only a little different from the way that you were putting together the latest big Polynesian ship that you and your friends were building back on Earth.”

Pele grinned at her daughter, and looking her in the eye, pointed out, “Those planks and parts will need to be trimmed to shape, and many holes drilled in them to tie them together.  How will you manage that?”

By now, Mala'klea was answering eagerly and openly again.  “Jason and I made some knives and other tools out of Strong's shark teeth!  Jason brought them down here to show to Mr. Makle.  We can cut and trim the glued skin with them.  We made an awl that can make the holes.  When you were making that big canoe, you had a bow drill thing to make the holes but I couldn't remember how to make one.”

Jason silently handed a roll-up of knives and other tools to Mala'klea who unrolled it to show her mother.  Pele took the time to examine each knife and tool carefully.  She thoughtfully tested edges and checked the orientation of the natural serrations in the fangs that the knife and tool edges and points were made of.  One tool was made from a piece of flat bone with fairly coarse teeth carved into it for spreading and forcing glue into the skin.  The tool had the sheen of a waxy coating worked into the bone.  They all had handles formed of many layers of the skin and glue.  Each handle was carefully formed to fit the hands of the children.  Pele even examined the leather of the roll-up.

Nodding with a smile as she felt the softness of the leather, Pele asked Mala'klea, “Is this made out of some of the Strong's skin with your oil from the Goo fish worked in to soften it?”

Mala'klea smiled at her mother and said, “Yes, mother.  Mikal Novotnoy thought of doing that.  We all worked on different parts of it.  It is stitched with the mussel string.  We needed something that would keep the tools sharp and save us from getting cut on them.”

Pele gave Mala'klea another hug and stood up, holding the child's hand.  She said, “This is a really well thought out project, Klea.  I especially like the way that you gave credit for ideas to the others. I think that this ship will make a great project.  

“It will need you children to do a lot of math to figure out the details. You will need good language skills to present what you figure out to the rest.  We can use this project for a big part of you kid's schooling.  It will make a perfect demonstration of the relationship between what you are taught in class and the real world.  It will also be more fun than any lessons should be.”

Mr. Makle thoughtfully consulted his computer, accessing the Public Announcements.  Looking up he said, “You kids don't need to worry about Mr. Angerson any more.  He is forbidden to even come near to any of you, including his own family or your projects.  If he tries, we can lock him up.  The Executive Order implementing the jury verdict of child abuse was posted about four days ago.”

Pele looked over at Mr. Makle and asked him, “How can we keep him away from this project?  It will need a lot of room to build it and, because of their time in the classrooms, the kids won't be able to work on it all of the day.”

Mr. Makle looked cheerfully at the children of Cora's Crowd and said, “Maintenance will contribute building space for it down on Maintenance Dock C.  Its access ways all lock.  As soon as you are ready for the actual building to begin, let me know and I will formally reserve it for you.  Due to the suspicion of sabotage to the Reverse Osmosis Desalination plant, we have been given the authority to forbid access to ANY unauthorized personnel.  We can arrest trespassers if necessary.  C Dock is already equipped with surveillance cameras and alarms.

“We installed the locks, alarms and cameras because we are storing those new fiberglass boats that you have been making for us down there.  If we do have a saboteur, those boats could become a prime target.”

The End of Chapter 4

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

#CHILDREN’S PLAY #excerpt from GONE TO SEA #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Eleven: Rumination

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Note: As per usual, I want to extend a warm thank you to Aureux, HunterJamie, BeansWithBones, RubixaSeraph, Random Reader Nothing Special, and He Who Wanters for their wonderful comments. I smiled like an idiot when I was reading your feedback. In fact, I wasn’t originally planning on writing out this part of the story, but I was so happy that I did. This intermission dinner chapter is for you guys! Enjoy it before things… change a bit. Thank you once again for your continued support. Means the world to me!

-~-

A bay window that spanned the entire outward-facing wall that overlooked the street below was all that separated the cozy dining room from the raging torrent of stormwater just outside the stone rowhouse. As the windows whipped and churned outside, the interior remained dry, even as the window rattled slightly in an earnest effort to not open in response to the prodding storm that it held at bay. The well-built structure served its purpose gallantly, those that dwelled within its walls not needing to worry if their home was going to come crashing down on top of them at any moment. And considering the fact that it was now time for dinner, that was a welcome relief.

In the center of the room sat an oblong table with seven chairs around it. Although generously sized, the eating space had originally been designed with six people in mind. This was clearly illustrated by the presence of the seventh chair at the table. Although it matched relatively well (I mean, what doesn’t match a white table?) The seat clearly originated from an alternate source; the custom stitched patchwork cushions in each seat being the only thing that tied everything together. And it was all very charming in a rather arts and crafts farmhouse sort of way.  

Various eating apparatuses were carefully positioned around the table, the placements having been set by the children while Kyrie was busy importing food front the kitchen into the eating space. As a result, several things on the table were crooked, but no one honestly minded. The little ones had tried their best, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.

While Kyle, Carlo, and Julio clambered into their seats, their adoptive mother opened the curtains to allow what meager light there was outside to shine into the room. While the space was not claustrophobic, at this given moment in time, it was a bit crowded. Four adults and three young children made for quite the dining experience, especially when everyone present was so vastly different than everyone else. Or, at least they were at first glance. It was true that their personalities were quite different, but they were all united by common goals and the care that they showed for one another. Even when that care was thrown for a loop as the children bickered with one another, causing a bit of a ruckus before Kyrie shushed them gently. They had a guest, after all. This was no time to be rowdy. 

“Now now,” She said with a happy but stern tone,” were at the table. No fighting.”

Just as Kyrie was in the process of setting down the ceramic bowls she had ladled hot soup into, Nero emerged from the living room with V in tow. A moment later, Nico joined them. She came down from the second floor of the house and slipped into the dining room, eager to experience whatever culinary delights Kyrie had prepared for them today. To say that she was a wonderful cook would be an understatement, and Nico was not a picky eater. She would eat just about anything that the brunette woman put in a plate in front of her, as long as she had cooked it.

Nico sat down between the two oldest boys, prepared to pester them senseless if the need should arise. V, almost predictably, sat nearest to the corner of the room, his back facing the doorway as if he were poised to take flight should the need arise. This entire situation was entirely foreign to him. In his entire life, he had never been invited to or subsequently experienced a family dinner. That was most certainly due to the fact that he hadn’t any family to speak of until now. In the blink of an eye, he had died, returned from the brink of damnation, and then awakened as if it were all an unpleasant dream, only to find out that he had quite the extended family. It was all a bit much to take in all at once, but he was trying. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he longed for Griffon’s familiar -if not antagonizing-  voice within the confines of his mind. He had grown used to the wisecracking bird’s little jabs and jests, as they had always provided ample entertainment and distraction from the concept of actually having to socialize with those around him. As much as he wanted to get to know everyone, his social battery was rapidly depleting and he would be remiss to not acknowledge that being alone in his new room was a tempting venture.

In his current state, he felt very exposed and vulnerable, and that was not a sensation that he generally enjoyed. V couldn’t pinpoint what it was but, in a way, he felt like he was missing something. Yes, obviously he was missing much at the moment. Namely his loyal summons and their accompanying tattoos, but this was born of something more than that. When his mind wandered, his hands normally stopped that from occurring by turning his attention to something else entirely. But that something had been misplaced, and V was just now realizing what it was that was amiss. As he combed over the remnants of his still marginally fragmented memory, it occurred to him that he hadn’t the slightest idea where his beloved book had gone. Or his cane for the matter. While he didn’t require it to walk, it most certainly made him feel more secure in his person, as it reduced the risk of him falling flat on his face and breaking every bone in his body, or something else equally tragic and dramatic. And his book served a similar purpose, only for his mind instead of his body. He desperately craved a distraction despite not having a clear reason to need one.

As his subconscious drifted into idly thought, he was suddenly made aware of his surroundings again when a small hand tugged on him. He snapped out of his delirium only to find that Carlo had clambered into the seat beside him. While Nero, Nico, and Kyrie were engaged in some sort of conversation with one another about the dinner that he had yet to taste, the small child had seen fit to take his bowl of soup and relocate. No one seemed to notice except for V, as their current conversation proved a formidable distraction.

The young child smiled shyly at him before reaching for the nearest spoon with the intention of eating his soup. V felt a wave of silent panic hit him as the thought of the young child tipping the bowl by mistake and scalding himself crossed his mind. He was on the taller side for a child his age, but not quite at the height required to reach the table safely. V held his hands out and gently stopped the child, garnering a curious look from him as he scooped him up and sat him down next to the table. V then took the cushion out from underneath himself and sat it on top of the existing one in the child’s chair before ushering for him to climb back up. After noticing the child’s hesitation, it occurred to him that he might not be able to do so, so he lifted him up under the arms and plopped him back down into his again.

Carlo smiled and then turned back to his soup, ready and eager to finally eat his dinner. V internally sighed, unnaturally relieved that the sweet child before him hadn’t managed to harm himself. While the liquid wasn’t hot enough to do any notable harm to an adult, it was to a child his age, and he felt compelled to prevent that. V then turned his attention to his own bowl of soup and somewhat hesitantly ate a spoonful himself. Admittedly, he hadn’t been that hungry before now, which was uncommon for him. But now that he had tried it, he was beginning to warm up to the concept. There were descriptor words that he could use to describe how good this soup was, but he had made the decision a lifetime ago to only use those specific words under special circumstances. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he had set those restrictions. Regardless, this soup was delicious.

After eating several spoons of the soup, it occurred to V that he hadn’t thanked Kyrie for dinner. He glanced up from his bowl and was slightly startled when he noticed that Nico and Nero were both staring at him like he’d grown a second head while Kyrie giggled happily. V mentally kicked himself. Why was his spatial awareness and concentration so bad today? Sure, he had plenty of reasons to not be feeling quite himself, but this still. Concentrating wasn’t something he had ever had an issue with. This was... unsettling.

V stared back at them, his eyebrow raised. What had he done this time? See this, this was why V was bad at small talk. The eye contact made his skin crawl, even when it came from people he actually liked. He could physically feel himself recoil in discomfort the longer they looked at him like this. After a moment he glanced back down at the bowl and continued eating. “... This is delicious. Thank you.”

If it was possible for a smile to physically render a person blind, then Kyrie succeeded. V stared at her and in surprise as she smiled, practically radiating actual light from her happiness. “Oh, thank you! I’m glad you like it! I noticed the weather, so I thought this would be a perfect time to make soup. And then you Nero brought you home and you seemed sick, so my mind was made up!”

Nico smirked and folded her arms as she gestured towards him. “I didn’t think you even ate food, V! Wow, it’s weird seeing you do… normal stuff, ya know?”

Nero nodded in agreement. Obviously, V ate food. He was a living, breathing being. But there was just something so oddly unnatural about having him over to eat with them. V was too mysterious and subtle to bother with petty normal people things like eating over with family. Or so Nero had figured for some reason that he couldn’t pinpoint. He didn’t really know what to say about it. In a way, he had been so wrapped in mystery and suspicion when they had first met that nothing he did or didn’t do didn’t seem unnatural or suspicious, but now he knew him much better than he had before. And yet somehow this was still just so surreal to him.

V shrugged as he finished eating his food, unsure of what to really say to that. “I would imagine that’s because I’m not exactly normal.” 

That all too familiar smirk returned as he put down the empty bowl, not at all noticing that he was the first person to finish eating by a longshot. He hadn’t exactly eaten the food quickly so much as he had simply not stopped eating it for even a moment from the second he tasted it. Part of him wanted to ask for more of it, but he decided against it. He had felt quite queasy earlier that day. It was best not to push it for now. He would sleep on this and see how he felt tomorrow.

Nero shook his head before going back to his food. “You got that right, V.”

-~-

When Kyrie had asked Nico to throw the clothes in the laundry while she put the kids to be, she didn’t hesitate. It was a better idea than allowing her to try and get them to calm down and actually go to bed. A much better idea. The last time that she had tried to do that, they had been up until three in the morning, and she had fallen asleep only to wake up the next morning to a catastrophic mess in the kitchen. No one wanted that.

Nero had volunteered to do the dishes in an act that had led to no small amount of friendly teasing from Nico before they had all gone their separate ways. And in an act that actually took every adult at the table by surprise, V volunteered to help him. Kyrie had insisted that he didn’t need to help since he was a guest, but he had politely insisted, partially from an incessant need to feel less useless, and because he had literally nothing better to do. And that was how they had ended up alone in the kitchen.

As Nero finished washing one of the dishes, he passed it to V who then dried it and placed it effortlessly in the overhead cabinet. Nero shrugged as if to ask his brother a question, testing the limits of how far he could push V in regards to jokes. 

“So what the hell,” He said as he handed him another cup. He accepted it nonchalantly as he leaned against the counter,” Have you always been this freakishly tall?”

V scoffed at the comment, idly drying the plastic drinking cup,” Absolutely. Walking with a cane simply makes that less apparent.”

Nero nodded. That made sense. “Then… why didn’t you just get a longer cane?”

V seemed to consider the question for a moment. Or rather, he debated if he should go into that right now. “I… wasn’t afforded the opportunity to pick in the situation I was in. I needed to act fast, or I wouldn’t have lived long enough to think about it later.”

An eyebrow went up at the answer. What the hell was he going on about? Had he been under attack? Nero knew just by the way that he answered that question that he wasn’t going to elaborate any further, at least not right now. But he still couldn’t help but wonder what he was referring to. His life before they had met seemed to be just as chaotic as ever. Would he ever tell him about where he came from? One thing at a time.

He gestured towards Nero’s arm almost lazily.” So, how did your arm grow back?” There was genuine curiosity in his tone, masked under a thick layer of sarcasm. He asked the question so bluntly that it nearly gave Nero whiplash. He stopped washing the dishes for a moment and gave V a sideways look. He didn’t sound like he didn’t care so much as he sounded totally unimpressed, almost like he already had an idea what had happened. Nero briefly considered showing him his Devil Trigger instead of just telling him about it and then came to his senses. If he triggered in the kitchen, he'd probably break everything in here. That, and he’d probably give V a protracted stroke, and he already had enough problems right now.

“I got some new powers and they just kinda fixed it. It’s complicated. I don’t know how to make it make sense,” Nero shrugged, unsure of how to really explain what happened. He wasn’t honestly one hundred percent sure himself. Just grateful.” It works like a normal arm and everything, but Nico modified the Devilbreakers so I can still use them. It’s pretty sweet.”

V nodded to himself, taking in what Nero had just told him. “So it didn’t grow back so much as it replaced itself, then.”

Nero paused for a moment to hand him the last dish before nodding to himself. “Yea, basically,” Nero turned the tap off and wiped his hands on the dish towel,” Why, you planning to cut something off and taking notes? I don’t recommend it. It’s fucking painful.”

He dried the dish and placed it in the cabinet, pausing for a moment. V gave Nero a subtle yet sympathetic look, nodding slowly. “Yes… I imagine that it did,” he reached over his head and closed the cabinet door,” And no, I don’t plan on losing any parts of my body. Dying again isn’t on my agenda as of yet.”

Nero stared at him for a moment in disbelief at the deadpan way he had just said that before bursting out into genuine laughter. Seriously, what the absolute fuck was wrong with him. He leaned on the counter for support for a moment as he tried to stop laughing, slightly lightheaded. V let slip a brief snicker before going totally silent again, trying not to let Nero’s stupidity get to him. When Nero finally stopped laughing, he shook his head and just rolled his eyes. “

“You’re the darkest asshole I’ve ever met in my entire life, you know that right,” Nero folded his arms and shook his head, suppressing a final laugh,” I and saw you fucking laugh.”

V shook his head once, his serious facial expression remaining. “No, I didn’t. I don’t laugh.”

Nero rolled his eyes again. Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

V scoffed, smirking wickedly. “That wasn’t a laugh. You’d be able to tell the difference.”

Nero turned in the direction of the doorway, en route to the stairs. “Whatever, V. Just-” Nero stopped for a moment, something occurring to him for the first time since they’d first met,” Actually what the fuck is your name anyway?”

He folded his arm, blinking a few times quickly. The totally calm look that he had on his face never wavered. V figured he’d ask that at some point, but it still didn’t change his answer. At least for right now. “No. Go to bed.”

Nero just looked at him for a second before. He had never thought that V actually had a sense of humor until now. Well, at least more of one than Vergil had. That wasn’t a very high bar to meet. Nero practically shuttered at the thought of Vergil ever trying to tell a joke. No, Dante had inherited all the funny genes. He utterly refused to believe that Vergil could be funny. And he never wanted to hear him laugh. EVER. He had just developed a phobia he didn’t even know existed.

As Nero took a step towards the bottom stair, he glanced back at V. For a moment the gravity of everything that had happened in the last two days hit him all at once and he couldn’t help but feel slightly emotional. He liked V. He didn’t know if he would ever tell him that straight to his face, but he did. And he was glad that he was back. Maybe they could start over. After he’d lost Credo, he didn’t think he had it in him to be close to anyone like that again. Not with that kind of relationship. But he was a different person now, so he could only hope, even if hope was a dangerous and foolish thing.

“... I’ll see you in the morning, V.”

V smirked, quietly pleased with himself. He turned towards the guest room, glancing back at him as he headed down the hall. “Yes,” he stopped for a moment, turning back to face him,”... Goodnight, Nero.

-~-

Finally, some wholesome family time for V! It only took his entire life, but here we are! As always, thank you guys for reading! The next chapter will be out on Friday, June 5th between Noon and 6 pm, depending on what’s going on. And also, how do you feel about these slower chapters. Obviously, we’re working towards something with some ACTION, but I hope I’m not boring you with the pacing. Let me know! And thanks for the kudos, everyone! Yes, you too, anons! This is the most read fic I’ve ever written. Amazing. Just wow. I couldn’t be happier!

P.S.I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I made a website just for reading my fics. It’s free if you want to check it out. I hope you like it. I made sure everything was really easy to navigate. Here’s the link: https://skvaderarts.wixsite.com/skvaderarts

#Soliloquy #Post DMC5 #Post DMCV #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Post Devil May Cry V #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Nero #Dante #Vergil #V #V Post Devil May Cry 5 #V Post Devil May Cry V #Nero Post Devil May Cry 5 #Nero Post Devil May Cry V #Dante Post Devil May Cry 5 #Dante Post Devil May Cry V #Vergil Post Devil May Cry 5 #Vergil Post Devil May Cry V #Dante Sparda #Vergil Sparda #V Sparda #Vitale #Vitale Sparda #Nero Sparda #SkvaderFics

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Madness Among the Maddest - Loki x Fem Reader * smut * - Part 1

Summary: The Grand Master is tired of you sneaking around Sakaar without his permission or understanding of what you’re doing. Since you refuse to explain yourself, he’s sure he knows just how -or who- can get you to talk.

 Warning: NSFW, smut, multiple orgasms… y’know how it is.

 ***

You were tougher than nails and feared nothing. Pain didn’t motivate you, nor intimidation. Your resolve was as ardent as Mjolnir itself, save for one thing nobody’d yet discovered. Your reputation sang of your ability to withstand adversity, your very existence indomitable in every sense of the word. Known all through The Nine as an unbreakable force, your power was complimented by your innately sultry character, your mere presence a source of magnetism. Unbreakable to all... 

 ...but bendable by One.  

 For centuries, you’d traveled between planets, in search of the perfect civilization to dominate. Taking intel and research from every corner you visited, you’d deliver the information to your cohorts and the group would continue to deliberate. You could build your own society, but why bother? When you’re physically and philosophically sound in every fundamental form, all that’s left to be desired is a designated place to originate from.  

 Until Sakaar.  

You’d discovered a seemingly unknown porthole that could commute you from one end of the galaxy to another, rendering Sakaar as a geographically perfect checkpoint destination. You’d been using this thoroughfare for decades, quietly pillaging while keeping an eye on the Grandmaster’s dog and pony shows and other successes, namely his out of town guests. You were however unaware that the GM had been keeping a vigilant eye on you as well, and was patiently awaiting your most recent return.  

 That’s how you found yourself immediately before him, magnetically bound to the GM’s signature submissive chairs. Via his whimsical interrogation methods he pried, asking the nature of your origin, motives, etcetera. You shrugged the best you could within your restraints and uttered not a word. Quickly flustered, he summoned his melting scepter beside your cheek, slowly emitting heat to your skin. You can call a bluff in your very bones, so you smile. The heat intensifies and you remain strong in your silence. The GM continues to illustrate the physical torture waiting for you outside his chambers and to that, you let a small, faint yawn escape your lips. Just then Topaz leans into the GM’s side with an urgent whisper. A second passes as he murmurs with delight and intrigue, writhing rhythmically to his own tune of thought as it materialized on his face. He had a plan.  

 So, there you are. Still clad in your black protective leather armor, you’re relieved to remain in what’s comfortable, even if your accommodations are horrifying. Looking around, you find yourself in the strange, striped circular loophole dungeon that houses the bodies (both living and dead) of the GM’s Prisoners With Jobs. On your left, you see the vaguest silhouettes of Korg and a couple of less identifiable beings, their voices low and fuzzy as if the volume’s turned way down. On your right, more distant voices crowding like a contained hum.  Confusion begins to tease you as you contemplate the reality that you just might be inside a cell within a cell, a hole within a loophole. 

 As the very question begins to form in your mind, a projected message from the GM appears right in front of you, giggling feverishly as he informs you that you won’t be able to hear or communicate with anyone, as he’s putting a kibosh on your eavesdropping and ultimately, the gathering of intelligence... along with your shameless shoplifting of goods from his sacred planet. Oh and on a final note: he has a weapon even you might not be a match for, and in your surrender to this weapon, you will reveal everything he asks.  You smirk. 

 A good challenge has never failed to entertain you in your many centuries of life, trials and tribulations. You’ve seen and felt, pursued and exhausted everything in The Nine and yet player to player combat still enthralls you most. What a wondrous existence. Your ability to resolve and conquer keeps things interesting, as it should. Existence is all about experience, testing limits from every angle and making note of it all. You seldom say no to something you’ve not had the chance to analyze. All for the sake of knowledge.  

 Slowly yet suddenly, your contemplation is interrupted as the invisible walls of your cell dim to a dark, cloudy gray and a figure appears as if through a mist. Interesting. You stretch your legs out in front of you, crossing them at your ankles. You lean back, reclining for the next act about to unfold before you. Just a few feet ahead stands a vision in black and green, of alabaster skin, raven hair and a smirk nearly as enigmatic as your own. A vision of dark to light, stark and alluring. Interesting indeed.  He takes one step toward you and stops, breathing in a sigh punctuated by a playfully sinister laugh, echoing from the depths of his belly and hanging seductively in the air. He watches as gooseflesh erects like falling dominoes, trailing rapidly along your arms. He tilts his head and coos, “Right on schedule.” 

 You sit up slightly, raising your eyes to meet his and he smiles. “I’ve always had the ability to disarm even the most resolute of beings. But do tell me, pet: what is a striking young vixen such as yourself doing in a place like this?” You fight the urge to snicker and lose, a grin peels across your face. You retort “ah, Loki, Prince of Asgard. Flattery may get you all you desire back home, but I’m rather well versed in what you do.”  He takes another step forward, stopping at the push-back from the tip of his boot prodding the sole of yours. The thought of him being close enough to touch you begins to distract you from your trademarked stoicism. Better tread lightly. Don’t get cocky. Don’t lose your wits now. Don’t let him in your head.  

 You pull one leg back, bending at the knee as you slide yourself back, straightening up, somewhat defensively. Acknowledging your attempt to posture, he waves a hand and produces two chairs, facing one another. He reaches his hand to you. “Let us sit comfortably as we discuss the matter at hand.”  Rising to your feet, you lightly wave his hand away as he scoffs, amusedly. You take a step forward and he teleports behind you to pull your chair out. Thanking him, you take your seat. You can work with this.  

 Expecting him to sit across from you, you’re taken aback when the apparition before you disappears and the Loki behind you wraps his long, slender fingers around the chair, gripping your arms ever so lightly. Leaning in, he whispers deeply into your ear, his bottom lip grazing your earlobe as he forms every syllable. “Tell me, my darling. What truly brings you here?” An undeniable heat flickers in the core of your lap. You tilt your head away from temptation and remark, “Well on this trip, I was just on the hunt for materials, my lord. But I’d be happy to call it a day and be on my merry way home if you’d just point me in the direction of the door.”  

 His fingertips slowly begin to run up and down your arms as he brings his head further to meet your ear, laughing breathily and murmuring, “If talking is not in your interests, I can make it so.” You chuckle, in a profound attempt to conceal your growing arousal at this game. A fruitless effort as the Dark Prince can detect exactly what you’re feeling. To this, he responds by placing his left hand at the base of your neck, lightly pushing your head aside with this fingers, exposing your neck to his tongue as he licks a slow, broad stroke straight to the very same earlobe. You breathe out slowly and deeply and reach nimbly for a lock of his hair: to subdue him, sure. But with the mood striking, why not remind him not to get too familiar?  

 He catches your wrist immediately and laughs again, this time leaning into your face, resting the tip of his nose beside yours. He returns your slow, deep sigh for a second, then brings his lips to barely touch yours as he asks, “How have you been getting here, little dove? That’s all I’m asking.” Before you can pull your other arm free to grab his neck, he pins it to the chair. He narrows his glare into your eyes. “Tell me.” He lets the tip of his tongue out to graze your bottom lip. You take his bottom lip, dragging your teeth to suck it briefly. He revels in your response, and you release him, pushing yourself free from him as you stand. “You’d like to talk, my lord? Then please, have a seat.” You muse, and he follows. 

 “I just thought we’d have some fun, is all. I’ve found you mystifying for a rather long time, and at long last, I’ve got my introduction.” He shrugs, nesting in the chair across from you, crossing one long leg atop the other. You smirk. “You’re not the only one with wiles, your highness.” You can withstand even the most grueling physical pain and torment. You’ve survived true agonies. At this rate you wager if you go along, allowing him to work you up, you can figure out why he’s here just as well. Why not go along, make him think if he gets you off, you’ll tell him everything? That way you can at least have some fun for now and possibly still accomplish something.  

 You step towards him and you watch as his eyes follow every curve of your body, making a second pass upward and stopping at your lips. You relish the look in his eyes and decide to move forward. You tower over him, giving him a moment to breathe in your scent. You grab his hair and tug his head backward, speaking into his throat. “What do you really want to know of me, my Prince? Am I all that beguiling?”  He chuckles once again. “I was sent to question you. But at this moment, I could not care less. Of my own reasons I sought your company... for my own reasons. Would you like to find out what they are?” He immediately grabs your wrist once again, freeing himself from your clutch and sitting upward, beneath you, defiantly and daringly raising his chin to you as he places a hand on each of your hips. You try to hold back the shudder but it overcomes you. He takes this as a cue and slides his thumbs up along your hip bones and cups his fingers beneath your ass cheeks. Time to move.  

 You take that last step forward, closing the gap. You swing one leg over each of his and rest on his lap, leaning in, breathing in. Burying your nose in the nape of his neck, taking in every note of him, you murmur, “What do you want now, my lord?” He runs two fingers from your collar bone to the valley of your chest, slowly tracing around. You begin undoing the front clasps of your armor, all the way down to your belt, stopping. He reaches up to your now open collar and tugs it, grinning, gazing for a moment. “Ah, a fair woman with the fairest skin. Just as I imagined... for so long.” Inviting him to peruse, you allow him to wander further. He runs fingertips along your bare stomach, stopping at the center of you, cupping it. And squeezing.  You gasp and lean forward, entrenching both hands in his hair. Pressing your lips to his and snarling, “Tell me.” He slides his tongue directly into your mouth, alongside yours, and the heat between your legs, within his palm smolders. The erupting frenzy set you ablaze. Once in a while, you’ve gotta treat yourself. And in this case, worst case, you were going to get off... and fuck a god.  

 Straddling his lap, making the slightest suggestion with your hips, circling around the rapidly hardening bulge between his thighs, you run your wet lips down to the tip of his chin, sucking it. “Say it, your highness. What do you want?” He meets your gaze again and looks down at his hand, pressed against the warmest thing in The Nine. Like a switch, the chairs disappear and you’re thrown against the awkwardly, angularly curved wall of the cell, your throat tight against Loki’s hand, while his other hand runs between your knees, up your thighs, stopping once again at the place on the map that the Dark Prince longed to conquer. “I want to ravage you, taste you, feel you, break you, render you defenseless. I’ve not wanted someone so badly in as long as I can remember.” 

 Sighing, you lean forward and he pushes your head back against the wall. He moves in close, taking your upper lip between his and slipping that silver tongue back into your mouth, coaxing you to forget about missions and intelligence, the only focus on your radar now the swell of desire raging between your legs, pulsing in his hand.  You shrug. He pulls away and takes a step back, a mischievous smirk peeling across his face. An oddly soft sensation enveloped you as your armor quickly peeled its way down to your boots, a feeling both warm and cold at the same time freeing you of your material bonds, offering you to the rightful King of Asgard as he stood before you.  You decide to be coy, to extend this moment just a little longer. “I did not ask you to will my armor off of me, my Prince. If you’re going to undress me, why not use those lovely Asgardian hands?” 

 A feral smirk flushed across his face as he shook his head, scoffing. A millisecond passes as he flew up against you again, your hair now locked in his fist and his mouth to the crook between your ear and your cheek. “Let’s not forget whose stature here is greater, my love. You will do well to kneel before me and fulfill my every command. You are a prisoner on this planet and in this moment you are MY prisoner. Now still your tongue and await my next order.” He then grabs the empty sleeves of your armor and wraps them around your wrists, binding you to yourself in the most exquisite arrangement.  

 Intriguing indeed.  

 Waving another hand in the air, he repositions you on the floor, leaning against the wall, wrists bound and connected to your ankles, nearly hogtied before royalty. He towers over you, laughing again, placing a hand atop your head. “You look stunning in this position. Fit to be Queen. A character of strong will and instinct, working her way through The Nine Realms, all in the name of knowledge. A woman unbreakable, but quite possibly bendable, right before me. Mine to experiment on. Mine to do with as I please... and it would so please me to see just how far I can bend you.” He pulls your face up to his and you slide your tongue out, leaving it pressed between your teeth. Not batting an eye at the failing mission in your midst is all too easy now. A good game is hard to find. Fuck the mission, it’s time to fuck.  

 He runs the tip of his tongue along yours, sending electric jolts straight down to the conductor itself, your slightly aching cunt. You raise your hips off the floor subtly enough to suggest you’re ready to talk terms with your body. His eyes follow, glazing by the inch, stopping at your beautiful center. Running each hand from your calf upward, he stops just short of your entrance and slides his tongue out... and in.  Incredible.  As his tongue darts within you, you feel the presence of another Loki behind you, unbinding and undressing you completely while running his mouth along your neck, finding your mouth and cupping your breasts. The Loki below you peers up for a moment, watching you preen. You lean forward as a way to beg him not to stop. He rolls back on his ankles and grins. “Shall I continue, pet?” You nod. 

 He slips back in between your legs and continues masterfully manipulating every sensation tingling through you. Gripping your thighs and pulling his face deeper into you: the very sight enough to unravel you for eons to come. The Loki behind you grabs your face and pulls your lips to his, bringing you over the edge as you grind along and against the two Dark Princes wantonly galvanizing every last part of you. As the one before you continues lapping you up, the one behind you slides two fingers into you, undoing you in the most delightful way, entrapping you in the most delicious madness conceivable. Your body convulses as you’re released, the Loki behind you vanishes and the one before you is still within you, between your knees, on his knees.  You utter an airy chuckle as your orgasm retreats.

 Looking down at the fine Asgardian god before you, you couldn’t resist. “Who’s kneeling now, your majesty? I do so enjoy the worship in your prowess.” He pulls his head up, looking both defeated and entranced, rocking back on his ankles once again. You waste no time. At your feet, you close the distance and push him back to a seated position against the opposite wall of the cell, pinning him in place as you stretch your legs apart and straddle his lap once again. Instantly he’s disarmed, placing his hands on your back and running them up and down, digging nails into you, exhilarating you further. 

 You reach down for his cock, grasping it firmly and lean in to take to his lips again. Hungrily he meets you, tongues massaging one another as passion coursed through every vein. You pull away and up to his ear. You let out a short chuckle and slowly ask, “Do you wish to take me, my Prince? Do you crave the sensation of my wet, hot tightness gripping you deeper and deeper, greedily pulling you into me while you fight not to concede?” He stills. No woman has ever spoken to him in this manner, he’s absolutely floored. Asgardian women are demure and well behaved, it’s no wonder he’s felt his wants go unmet... for so long. 

 For the first time he decides to put the whole rightful-King-of-Asgard schtick on pause and just explore the extraordinary matter at hand. He takes a deep breath, attempting to hide how indescribably aghast he is and sighs, “That is indeed what I plan to do, little dove.” He grips your hips tightly, pulling you against him, grinding the invitation against you. You chuckle again and lean in even closer to prod, “How badly do you want to be inside of me? I can delay you.” 

 He cups you once again, slipping the slightest of fingertips within you and holds you still. “I want you more than anything,” he whispers in a nearly deadly voice. You retort, “More than the throne of Asgard?” He laughs softly and rocks forward in one motion, pushing you off of him and onto your back, flat on the floor. He waves off his armor and crawls over you, boring into your eyes, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He leans down and begins to run the tip of his tongue along the underswell of your chest. He grabs your face between his index and thumb, pressing his forehead to yours. 

 “If you think I pleased you before, you have another thing coming. I’m going to summon you to the edge and hold you there longer than you can fucking stand. I’m going to revel in the flavor of your anticipation, the scent of your arousal, the taste of your body as you beg me to let you come. I’m going to hold you captive until you repent and plead, crying out for me to fill you, to soothe this maddening need. You will be screaming and you’re going to love every fucking moment of it. I’m going to make you come so hard that it almost hurts. You know not what I’m truly capable of, pet.”  

 ***

Oops, got a little indulgent with the smut... so there’ll be a part 2, of course. I’m just tryin’ to work ya up, let ya down n’ work ya back up again. ;)

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki ragnarok

[aion-rsa]

Meet the Monsters of Lovecraft Country

https://ift.tt/3o4e0sR

The finale of Lovecraft Country landed last night with a roar marking a closer to one of the most exciting, intelligent horror series around. As well as the characters, the settings, the history, politics and winding plot some of the biggest delights of the show are the monsters and monstrous effects within the show.

UK FX house Framestore worked across the whole of the show in different capacities, including creating early concept art of some of the show’s key episodes.

“You start with mood boards and it gives the director or the production designer a very clear idea of the yes and no camp,” explains Martin Macrae, Head of Art Department at Framestore, of how the process works. 

Read more

TV

Lovecraft Country Episode 9 Review: Rewind 1921

By Nicole Hill

TV

Lovecraft Country Episode 8 Review: Jig-A-Bobo

By Nicole Hill

“The photographic reference really helps you quickly narrow down areas which you don’t want to waste time developing. And it really helps you focus on something that they gravitate towards. So we do that first and then we go into quite quick sketches, usually thumbnail sketches or black and white sketches, just to try and get a flavor of where the design can go. Then we’ll move into working in 3D and doing sculpts, which really helps the design process. It’s that for characters as well as when we’re doing environments. Then we will render them up and paint them in Photoshop and it seems to work really well.” Macrae and his team worked on concept art for a range of creatures and characters in the show and he insists he doesn’t have a favourite.

“It was such a diverse brief, and I think all the characters and creatures are so strong in themselves, they were all equally challenging as well as exciting to actually see on the final screen!” 

Here illustrated by original concept art from the show, Macrae talks us through the designs.

The Shoggoth

“We did some concept art for The Shoggoth. It’s a classic thing in the concept world that they hire a whole plethora of different concept artists for different parts of the show, the design bounces around. It’s different on every show, but sometimes it’ll start and end with you. 

“So these ones here were some of the initial ideas that were quickly sketched out. 

“As the story started getting solidified and it was clearer what they needed for each episode, they came back to Framestore with the Shoggoth to actually do the visual effects.

“There were a few extra things that they wanted to add in. The little arms underneath and the amount of eyes that they wanted over the body. Initially it was just on the front and then they said, ‘Oh, add some more to the shoulders.’ With the mouth, we were trying to determine how the layering of the teeth looked when it would open its mouth.

“Then we were also doing lighting tests. We were testing the subsurface of the skin because that would determine how close it looked to the skin on a human. Then if the tail was long, short, thin. So it was more refining the design.”

The Ghosts

“With the ghosts they had an idea of what characters were originally when they were alive. The classic one was the baseball player with the baby’s head. That’s the one everyone gets freaked out about. It’s an experiment that they were doing, which was pretty grotesque. 

“It wasn’t a very nice one to actually research, for obvious reasons, because they wanted to show as much gore as possible. But they were pretty clear on the type of characters they were. We went off and started trying to make the character close to what they wanted, but also make it look like it was believable. We looked at how ghostly it would look as well when you saw them in the cellar and how transparent the ghost might be. And all these small things that they were asking about, we would just do that with a line of concepts. So then we ended up with almost like a lineup showing all the characters, how they would look before they died and then how they looked as ghosts.

“[Lucy] was about how much brain you show and how gruesome they wanted it to look.

“That was the main thing, is what was the most striking look that they could get away with? There was one character, I remember, that they literally wanted to show their guts hanging out, and how much guts we would see dangling out of the bottom of the torso.

“I think the whole point of this was just trying to push the boundaries of what you could put on screen.”

The Transformation

“That was a gruesome one to do as well. I remember when we were doing the concepts, we thought, ‘Oh, this is pretty gruesome. They probably won’t do it as bad as this,’ but they actually made it more gruesome. They weren’t holding back.

“All we were thinking was, ‘What would actually happen if you were rubbing someone’s skin off and there was skin underneath.’ So obviously you weren’t revealing sinew and muscle and tissue like that, it was how much blood would you see on the skin. It was all about how the skin would tear off and yeah, it was pretty gruesome. 

“We were sort of testing the water to see how artistic it wanted to look.

“Under The Skin was one reference point that was discussed. And then to full-on blood and guts. It was trying to find out where on the spectrum they wanted it to be. 

“It was important for them to get the sense of fear for the characters themselves. So I think they wanted to be able to, yes, show gore, but at the same time show the expression on their face as it was happening to them. Even though it was full-on gore, it had to show her emotion as the skin was pulling off. So it was a balance.”

Yahima

“Initially, the location of this was going to be in an old ship. With Yahima I think the main thing was initially, “How does she look when they actually first discover her?” And then you have concepts there to show the different stages and how she would have been originally and then how she was when she transformed.

“The elements of adding the tattoos on her body was important for them as well. That was quite simple in a sense, where it was a before and after and you had to try and experiment with the design on both sides.

“[For the decayed version, the challenge] was to show the setting and not realize that actually there was a character sitting in the chair. We weren’t sure at that point how decimated the area of where she was sitting was meant to look. With the elements of that hair hanging down, it had that connection so it felt like she almost blended into the scene. That was the element of horror as well, when she came alive she wouldn’t have looked that different to where she was sitting or what she was leaning against, so the colors had to blend into the scene as well.”

Kumiho

“[We had ] the description of the mythology behind the nine tailed fox and [we looked at] how much they wanted to translate the actual fox mythology into her. So whether the tentacles, or what you want to call them, came out of her, if they were covered in fur or how closely represented to that mythology they were shown on screen.

“The other side of it, as well, was how graphic they wanted it to look. 

“Yeah, they were experimenting with different areas of where they were coming out of her and this was a very early concept, this one, where we weren’t sure if they wanted it to come out of her eyes and her nostrils or her mouth. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“This was us trying to experiment with how it would look when it came out of all orifices of her face. And then the scene on the bed was literally kind of an overview of how it would potentially look.

“Because they were discussing that it could also be always just seen as a silhouetted shadow and they wanted to know if it would work as a silhouette as well as something that was actually directly filmed.”

The post Meet the Monsters of Lovecraft Country appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/31mLAR1

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek