#Now that's another level of self-restraint

[jellyfish-grave]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cookie Run (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run), Candy Apple Cookie (Cookie Run), Original Cookie Run Character(s), Pure Vanilla Cookie (Cookie Run), The Witch (Cookie Run) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Somewhat, there's a hint of shadowvanilla if you squint, the oc isn't that important, not beta read we die like elder faerie, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, hence the rating, Cookie Run Characters Are Ambiguously Cookies or Human Summary:

"From the corner of his eye, barely visible…he notices something. A shape, irregular and vague, bright among the sea of darkness. It's still not the image of light incarnate, but bright enough for him to see. Upon closer inspection, Shadow Milk finds that he's holding…Fabric?"

Or: When Shadow Milk Cookie explores the Other Realm a little, he finds a new facet of that space.

[iniquitousyearning]

mattheo riddle. let me fuck you.

PAIRING: Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor!Reader

SUMMARY: worried that mattheo was just going to use you for sex and leave, you had him agree to courting you first until you felt you were ready to take it to the next level. after months of this, mattheo finally can’t take it anymore, and lands himself on his knees at your feet.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k.

TAGS: 18+, SMUT MDNI, Degradation, Praise, Absolute Feralism, Begging, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex (implied cloaking charm), Dirty Talk, Swearing, Oral (f receiving), Body Worship, Slight Breeding Kink.

Courage. Bravery. Honesty--all traits that your house, Gryffindor, valued and honoured.

However, conspicuously absent from that list, was stupidity. A trait that you certainly seemed to posses a fucking abundance of these days.

To delve into the specifics, you possessed stupidity in the form of pure idiocy that took root when you began messing around with a certain curly haired Slytherin boy. This curly haired Slytherin boy just so happened to come from a group of assholes who seemingly detested your friends as well as your own bloody existence, having been nothing shy of full blown enemies for majority of your time spent at Hogwarts.

And yet, somehow, one thing led to another with this certain boy, and before you knew it you'd found yourself in a certain situation you'd never have imagined in a million damn years.

A courtship.

Securing Mattheo Riddle's commitment to court you exclusively, with a firm agreement to abstain from sex until you felt unequivocally ready, baffled your understanding. This arrangement was meticulously crafted out of a deep-seated concern that, left unchecked, he might merely try fuck you and then vanish without a trace.

He was known for doing that.

The rules of the courtship were a safeguard for your heart, a decision rooted in self-preservation, rather than any preoccupation with your virginity or lack thereof.

The harsh reality was simple – you desired Mattheo Riddle, despite every instinct screaming that you shouldn't. To shield your heart from potential wreckage, you implemented a set of rules governing the extent to which Mattheo could advance in your relationship. The decision to progress to the next level, if and when you deemed him deserving, rested solely in your hands.

It was a fool proof plan. No way for you to get hurt.

However, to absolutely no one's surprise, Mattheo wasn't a fan of this plan –not when he reluctantly agreed to it, and certainly not now. Not as you were seated across from him in a dimly lit corner of the library, the top buttons of your white button-up uniform shirt straining against the curve of your tits, your tie a loosened mess around your neck, and your burgundy pleated skirt way too fucking short for any bloody blokes sanity to remain intact.

Mattheo had counted the fucking days since the two of you started messing around, each instance of shared intimacy without crossing that final threshold chipping away at his restraint like relentless erosion. He wasn't fucking sure how much he had left in him.

"Did you finish this one, Matt?" Your voice rang out as a soft whisper, the hum of it snapping Mattheo from his wandering thoughts.

Forcing himself to meet your eyes and not linger on the buttons of your shirt just begging for fucking relief, he nodded. "Yeah. This one too."

Mattheo lifted a divination book, a testament to the exhaustive night the two of you had spent cramming for tomorrow's exam. Weary, you gave a nod, pushing up from the desk.

"Let's put these away, yeah?" you suggested gently.

Mattheo's throat parched as he observed you tugging down your skirt, a belated realization of how perilously high it had inched past your hips. With an innocent effort to conceal the expanse of those enticingly thick thighs – the same thighs he enthusiastically found himself nestled between every damn night – you fueled a growing heat within him. Mattheo cleared his throat awkwardly, giving a nod before pushing himself up as well.

As the two of you retreated into a dimmer, more secluded section of the library, you bent at the hips to return your book to its shelf. Unmindful of Mattheo's intense gaze, exhausted yet persistent, you began chattering. "I think there might be one more we can skim through, if you're still up for it-"

That thought abruptly dissolved as two sizable, calloused hands sought out your body, gripping anywhere and everywhere they could. An instinctive flinch involuntarily escaped you, but the sensation of those hands delicately tracing your thighs swiftly eased your tension. A trail of burning flames surged up your torso, and you instinctively straightened against him.

"For fucks sake." Mattheo's voice resonated as a low, deep growl in your ear, so intense you questioned whether he meant for you to hear it. His fingers clawed at the buttons of your shirt, nearly tearing it open in a frenzy. "What the fuck are you doing to me."

"Matt-" your hands came up, finding his. The two of you had certainly messed around in a lot of questionable places, but the library? At midnight on a weekday? "W-what are you-"

That sentence was abruptly cut short as Mattheo's lips attacked your neck at the same exact moment he slipped a hand through your now unbottoned shirt and roughly cupped one of your tits, twirling his thumb over your nipple. An entire body shudder rumbled through your limbs and the softest of moans escaped your lips, filling the charged air between you.

Music to Mattheo's fucking ears.

"Let me fuck you." It wasnt necessarily a demand but more of a plea. The desperation in his tone was fucking palpable. He sunk his teeth into the side of your neck as he pressed his hips against your ass, the entirety of his erection jabbing into your back. "Let me fucking fuck you."

You gasped, lids fluttering in an involuntary response as his hand switched to your other breast now, kneading and groping and squeezing with just as much fervour, more even. When you moaned again, he growled against your neck, pulling off you momentarily just to spin you around to face him.

His hands seized your hips, pressing you back against the shelf. "What is it, princess? What the fuck do you need from me?"

You scarcely had a moment to absorb the question, accompanied by the raw, desperate vulnerability in his tone, before he surged into action again. Long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, while the other hand ascended to your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze.

"I've been so fucking good, have I not?" His fingers inched excruciatingly slow over your mound, taking his time to tease you for all he could, watching every subtle ministration of your face as he went. "I've stayed out of fights. Haven't partied. I've been so fucking loyal..."

You swallowed, acknowledging the sincerity in his words. Yes, all those things were undeniably true. Mattheo had transformed into a different man in recent times. While you were drawn to him for the chaotic soul he was, the fact that he willingly opted out of party nights to spend time with you hadn't escaped your notice in the slightest.

Mattheo noted your silence. "Was it the drugs? Because you know I quit those."

Long fingers crept toward your slit, one finger gliding along and coating itself in your slick. Gods, if you weren't already fucking dripping for him.

You tried to shake your head. "No, Matty..."

His hold on your jaw tightened as he felt how fucking wet you already were. He snuffed a groan in his throat. How a little fucking Gryffindor could manage to have him in such a chokehold was beyond his comprehension.

"Is it the smokes?" He tilted his head, watching your eyes. "Because, fuck--I'll light every last one into flames right here in this fucking isle. I'll use the ashes to sear your fucking name onto my skin--just give me the goddamn words."

As his finger connected with your clit, drawing quick frantic circles over it, you mewled, your hands squeezing his biceps as your brain could only muster the comprehension to say one fucking word.

"Mattheo-"

"Mhm." Mattheo groaned, pressing his lips to your temple, his hand on your jaw slithering down to clasp a firm hold around your neck. "Yeah, baby, that's my name, fuck...say it again."

His pace on your clit increased, your head spun with carnal lust. Intoxicated. "Mattheo-"

"Yeah, good girl. Fuck--so fucking good." The reply came within seconds, along with the release of your throat, his hand gliding back to tangle in your hair. "Come on, baby, you know I'm not in this for the sex...you know I want way more than that."

If you hadn't already been rendered helpless and speechless from his relentless pace on your clit, you would have scoffed at that. But instead, all you could do was attempt to breathe the words out between your moans.

Your lids squeezed shut, fingernails digging into the fabric of his uniform. "I-I don't know that, actually."

"Fuck." Mattheo dipped low, his finger thrusting into your cunt before you could even realize it had, his thumb continuing the pace on your clit. The way your wet walls gripped his finger as he pumped it in and out of you was enough to send him into pure fucking desperation. He sucked in a deep inhale, gathering himself. "How do you figure that, hm?"

"Because-ah-here you are practically fucking begging me to let you fuck me." Your back arched, your legs trembling. If it wasn't for Mattheo's looming frame practically pinning you against this shelf, you were certain you'd be a pile of limbs on the floor at his feet. "You're just...t-telling me what I want to hear, Matty."

"I'm not." His pace increased, his brows knit tight. He didn't like that response. Not one fucking bit. His lips found your ear, his grip on your hair intensifying. "You don't understand how fucking bad I want you--how fucking bad I want every single last inch of you. Your laugh, your smile, your wit, your heart, your fucking soul. You haunt me every moment I'm awake. Even when I'm asleep you're there, fucking torturing me. I dream about waking up next to you. I dream about growing old with you. I dream about worshipping you, pleasuring you. I dream about pumping this perfect cunt full of my cum. No woman has ever fucking done this to me. I'm insane for you. For fucks sake please let me fucking fuck you princess. I need you so fucking bad. All of you."

"Gods," was all you could say, not a single shred of coherence left in your brain, not as those words bounced around inside your head in rhythmic hums synced with the movement of his fingers. You were right there. "Matt--fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

"Mhm, go on baby," he cooed with a softness that seemed to fray against the edges of desperation, his voice nearly shredding against his vocal cords. How he was keeping himself together was truly fucking impressive. "You're so fucking good for me. Such a pretty fucking pussy, hm?"

"Yours," you breathed out just as your vision blurred, your entire body shuddering around his fingers. "It's all yours!"

A choked gasp slipped from your lips, swiftly muffled by the plush entirety of Mattheo's mouth. His tongue invaded past your teeth, meticulously exploring your gums as if etching the details into memory. The sound of his groan reverberated through you, but it soon became a mere echo as your ears rang and your orgasm charged, coursing through every inch of your being, leaving your head spinning and your body trembling against the shelf.

Mattheo withdrew his lips from yours, sensing the aftershocks of your orgasm rippling through you, sure in the fact you had regained enough composure to remain quiet without his help. He grazed his teeth along your jawline, warm breath bathing your skin as both of you panted in unison, bodies pressed and fighting for breath as he slowly pulled his finger from your cunt and teased over your clit with slow, sensual swirls.

"Let me fuck you," he repeated again, softer this time, his voice a whisper as light as a feather in the air. "You said it's mine...you said this pussy belongs to me."

"Yes," you panted, squirming against his hold as he continued his slow teasing strokes over your clit. "I...I did say that...it does..."

"Mm," his dark eyes lingered over your lips before he leaned in slightly, resting his forehead against yours, erratic breaths intermingling. "Please. Fucking please, let me take what's mine."

Mattheo Riddle had gone by many names over the years; an asshole, a delinquent, a rebel--but a man with manners? A man who'd ever had to beg and plead for something he wanted? That was not something you would have ever included in his description. Seeing him like this, completely and openly vulnerable, did something to you. Something you knew you could no longer resist. This was a man you knew you were willing to take risks for, willing to risk getting hurt for. It'd been fucking months. You wanted him. Just as fucking badly as he wanted you.

"I dunno, Matty," you grinned, unable to fight it off even if you tried. "Maybe you should say please again...maybe you should say it on your knees..."

Mattheo huffed, a groan accompanying it.

"Dirty, dirty little thing..." he whispered, pulling his hand from your cunt entirely now, both hands shifting to your hips, gracing them with a feral squeeze. "You really fucking are mine, aren’t you?"

As Mattheo Riddle dropped to his knees at your feet, you were certain the entire world had faded away. You were certain that time no longer existed and that there wasn't a single other living being in the entire expanse of the universe--all there was, across all existing planes of reality, was you and this messy, curly haired boy at your feet, looking up at you with dreamy chocolate eyes, poised to beg and fucking plead for release from his torment.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," his hands trailed a steady path from your hips down your thighs, squeezing and grabbing every inch of flesh he could. "You know that, right?"

You pulled your lip between your teeth, unable to peel your eyes off this boy before you. He was mesmerizing, In all his glory. Every last fucking molecule of him.

"Yes, Matty..." you breathed, your hands clutching at the wooden bookshelf behind you, steadying yourself. "You tell me a thousand times a day."

"Only a thousand? I was aiming for way more than that." Mattheo hummed, wetting his smirk-adorned lips as he brought his mouth to your inner thigh, softly nipping at it. "Guess I have to step my game up, huh?"

You blinked, pulse pounding in your ears. “I-“

“Please, princess…” Mattheo shifted, snapping himself back to the task at hand, nipping at your other thigh now, his voice so soft you almost missed it. His eyes never left yours. “Fucking hell.”

In one swift movement, his hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart, one leg slung over his shoulder as he brought his lips to your already dripping cunt, placing a vulgar kiss to it, tongue delving into your slit, a trembling groan echoing in his throat when he swallowed your wetness.

Your lungs sputtered, head falling back against the shelf--his eyes, in the pits of perversion, watched you, soaking in your speechless delight while he explored each tiny crevice of your cunt. Bliss built inside of you for the second time, blocks of white hot energy, stacking with every second those velvety, full lips massaged your folds. Your mouth fell in an open pant, your hips rocking into his face--his hands moved, sticking your wrists to your hips as he gripped you there.

You struggled to find your breath--oxygen had left the room--and you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to keep your moans quiet. Your previous orgasm still had you tingling, the stimulation almost, almost too much--but you found yourself climbing toward your second with little effort. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you, tiny moans leaving you while he sucked slowly on your clit, engorged and throbbing at his lips.

"Fuck, Mattheo-" you whined, your nails digging into the flesh of your own thighs as his strong grip kept them pinned there. "I'm gonna-fuck-"

Your core thumped with a demand to cum--Mattheo was reining you to a cliff, your desire a wild animal, bucking with abandon and ecstasy.

"Mhm, that's it," he muttered into your flesh. "Let me fucking taste you."

His tongue swirled over your nub, slipping wet circles around it before he groaned and sucked it hard between his teeth. You wailed, cracked, orgasm gushing through you, a geyser, a cascade of ecstasy that left you quaking, your walls spasming at his chin.

There was no more holding back your moans. "Oh--f-fuck!"

Mattheo swallowed your release hungrily, releasing your wrists and clutching your hips to his head, as if the evidence of your pleasure sustained him, laving at you until you squeaked and jerked from sensitivity. With a satisfied gasp, he released you entirely, slowly rising back up to his full height, watching with tethered emotion while you descended from your high.

Without even giving you the chance to process it, he reached down and swiped two fingers along your slit, collecting your cum before bringing it up to your lips and urging it past your teeth.

"That's what I do to you, baby," he cooed, his eyes far less intense than they were before. His free hand brushed the sweat dampened hair away from your forehead, watching as you wrapped your lips around his fingers and worked them clean. "You like that?"

You nodded, heat flashing your face, and Mattheo groaned appreciatively, slowly pulling his fingers from your mouth. His gentle grip found your chin now, drawing your eyes to his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, "you don't have to-"

You cut him off. "Fuck me, Matty."

Mattheo blinked, and you reached for his belt.

"Please, Mattheo," you clenched, body quaking with need. Even after two orgasms you still wanted more, needed more. You needed him, and now you were the one willing to beg for it. "Please, fuck me."

Almost immediately, Mattheo's eyes darkened, his gaze glossing over with a hunger that spoke volumes far louder than any words ever fucking could. He leaned in slightly, your scent still lingering on his breath.

"You want me inside you? Hm?" He purred, lips grazing over yours. "You want me to fuck you here? Open and exposed for anyone to see?"

You smirked knowingly. The cloaking charm he had cast didn't escape your notice. This boy always had a knack for thinking one step ahead. Yet, the exhilaration of the prospect was just another facet that had initially drawn you to him.

You nodded. "Yes, Mattheo...I need you..."

Mattheo pressed his lips to yours, not wasting another singular second of time as his hands moved to the clasp on his belt, fumbling with it, a low groan escaping him as he pulled his throbbing cock free, gliding his fist over it a few times as his tongue hungrily fought with yours.

Mattheo's hands shifted to your shoulders, spinning you around, your own hands grasping at the shelving in front of you. You felt the warmth of his thick length gliding between your thighs, teasing you, slicking himself in your wetness.

"You're sure you want this?" Mattheo's voice was a soft growl in your ear, his hands grasping at your hips with enough force to bruise. "Fuck, princess, please be fucking sure."

The reaction was immediate. As though he asked you if you needed oxygen to breathe. "Gods, I'm fucking sure, Mattheo. I'm so fucking sure."

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, fingernails digging into your flesh, pulling your skirt higher up your torso. "You've got me so fucked up, princess..."

As he slicked his length over your core once more, teasing your entrance, you whimpered. He was so smooth and silky and fucking big...you knew this was going to sting, even after two orgasms, even after he had you dripping down your thighs. Just that thought alone made your pussy clench, you'd do fucking anything to get him inside of you.

"Mattheo..." you whined, your body tensing with each false thrust. "Stop teasing me."

"Shit,” he breathed, easing the head of his length into you now, before slowly pulling out. "I'm teasing myself, baby...I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself-"

You groaned, shuddering. "Please!"

Mattheo matched your groan with one of his own, and with one smooth movement, he tightened his grip on your hips, tugging you closer before he drove his dick into your cunt, splitting you open with one deep, slow thrust.

"Oh..." he moaned, paused, froze, entire body seemingly turned to stone. The only outward sign of his consciousness was his rapid breath washing over your neck. "...fuck."

You gripped the edges of the shelf with such intensity your knuckles were pale, doing everything within your power to keep quiet. The feeling of him seated inside you like this was everything you'd fucking imagined it to be. Better even. Your entire body was tense with bliss, your walls moulding around him.

Mattheo's lungs sputtered. "Relax...fuck-relax around me, baby..."

"I-" You weren't sure what he meant, your body trembling, your heart pounding in your throat. "Matt-"

"I'm not going to fucking last," Mattheo growled into your ear, the strain in his vocal cords more prominent than ever. "...if you keep squeezing me like that."

You mewled, head falling back against his shoulder as you fought to suck oxygen into your lungs. Mattheo finally began to move inside you; slow, easy strokes in an effort to give you a chance to adjust, feeling your tight walls relaxing around his thick girth, before he pulled out entirely and slammed back in, stuffing you full, groaning as you pulsed around him with each brief pause.

"Fuck...tight fucking pussy...so fucking wet..." he whispered, lips pressed against your ear. "All fucking mine."

Any ounces of restraint Mattheo had managed to maintain prior to this clearly had now been entirely annihilated as he increased his pace, fucking into you like a savage, as though he'd never get to fuck you again. He panted into your ear, groaning, fingernails bruising your thighs while he hammered your cervix with thrust after thrust after thrust. Sputtered curses left him under his breath and he attempted to silence himself with your neck, biting and nibbling at your throat. You stifled every single noise that threatened to leave your lips, body bouncing with the power of his hips, air hiccuping in your lungs as he pounded you.

"This little pussy is mine...you're mine..." he growled, fingers snaking down and brushing over your clit. "Fuck, you feel so good...I can't believe you kept this from me for so fucking long..."

Rapture numbed you, at the edge of your skin, a typhoon ready to wreck you witless. Your lids fluttered, teeth biting your lip with enough force to draw blood. He was going to make you crack. Make you fucking scream. There was no way you could continue being quiet when he was fucking you this good.

"M'sorry, Matty-" you weren't even sure what you were apologizing for. "So good...so deep...I-"

"Cum for me." Desire had consumed you both, his pace embodying complete desperation, a frenzied, urgent need to bring you both to orgasm. "Cum so I can fucking breed you...pump this little cunt full of my cum like I've dreamed of doing for months..."

Mattheo increased his pace on your clit, thrusts deepening even further--which you didn't even think was physically possible. He was slamming you deep, panting with every snap of his hips, your pussy hot and slick and pulsing with your oncoming climax.

You couldn't hold it back anymore--"Oh Gods-Mattheo!"

You shattered, exploded into flames, spectrum of colour blazing through your mind, a string of sobbing wails fleeing you as pulsed and spasmed on his dick, third climax shuddering through your veins. Mattheo groaned, clamping his palm over your lips as he continued to drill into you, holding off his own climax for as long as he could until he was physically unable to control himself--and he cursed, lungs sputtering as his hips slowed, cock twitching inside you as he poured his cum inside your cunt.

The room itself seemed to shudder, a tremor rumbling in the hardwood until he had finished and slowly pulled out, a deep, satisfied sigh leaving his chest.

After you collected yourself enough you spun around and watched as he tucked himself away, brushing his dampened curly hair back from his forehead. He straightened out, tucking the soft white fabric of his uniform shirt back into his pants before doing up his belt.

The second his eyes met yours, you reached for him. "I'm sorry for making you wait-"

"Don't ever be sorry," he cut you off, pulling you into him and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "You were more than worth the wait, baby."

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 2 - Not Guilty

As promised part 2 because I have no self control... CW: Dead dove don't eat , torture, no comfort yet.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

It's different today. They’ve switched tactics.

John came in with a box. Simon reaches in and pulls out a snake. 

They’re using your fear against you. 

Something you told them in confidence, a secret, something vulnerable you told them. It brings tears, makes a pit form in your stomach as you remember you can’t move. You can't escape.

John holds your head in place as Simon agitates the snake causing it to hiss. You try to turn away but John holds you firm.

“Tell us what you know and this can all go away.” His voice is low in your ears. 

“I don’t know anything.” You whimper as Simon moves closer. You’re kicking your legs, or trying to. They're strapped down just like your arms. You’re powerless to stop them, what if it's poisonous? What if it bites you? 

You never thought you would prefer a method of torture more then another. You never thought you would be in this position. The water-boarding still continues. Only this time when you open your eyes you’re face to face with your biggest fear. 

You've not screamed before. Even as they hurt you, even as they broke your resolve. You’re screaming now. It feels like a fever dream, between the lack of oxygen and the constant presence of your fear, you can't even focus on John's questions. 

“I don't know anything, please make it stop!” You beg as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, your head hanging down as you sob. You’re cold and tired, your body shaking. It’s been hours, at least you don’t think you’re afraid of snakes anymore.

The door to the room fly's open, you look up, it's Kate with a tablet in her hands and a look of horror on her face.

“It's not her.” She says. John takes the table out of her hands. “We’ve seen the messages. We have the guy.”  Someone else is in the room now pushing past her. Kyle, he comes straight over to you. He presses his warm hands on your face. You try to smile at him but you can’t.

It almost doesn't feel real. 

“Laswell, go get a medic!” It's Kyle’s voice level and controlled. You feel your restraints loosen and you slump against Kyle. There's another hand on your shoulder. 

Maybe it's not over yet.

“No! Don’t fucking touch her.” The hand leaves as Kyle pulls you to your feet wrapping your arm around his shoulders supporting you as you lean against him.

You can’t remember the last time you were on your feet. You look back. You see Simon looking at the tablet now, John's eyes focused on you as Kyle pulls you closer, his arm gripping your waist. 

You dont think you’ve ever seen that look on John’s face before. 

Fear.

You barely register meeting the medics halfway to the medbay. Hands touch you, your body is moved but you stay silent only nodding or shaking your head at them.

You’re poked and prodded, your body examined from head to toe. Kyle is always there, you see him out of the corner of your eye. His arms crossed his gaze soft, sometimes talking to the medics.

Then you’re alone again. 

Your mind turns to Johnny, he's in this hospital somewhere. Fighting for his life. He’s all you care about now. 

You dont cry again. You want to, tears threatening to spill every time you remember what happened. John's face, his shouting. Simon's eyes, hard and dark like daggers digging into you. 

They’ve made requests to see you. You refuse. The only person you’ll see is Kyle but even then you barely speak a word to him. He keeps you updated on Johnny's condition. He avoids topics about Simon and John. 

He still asks you every time he visits if you’ve got anything you want to pass onto them. That's when you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. Hoping you haven’t betrayed yourself. 

You’ll never let them see you cry again.

That night you sneak out of your room. Your body is stiff and sore but you don’t care, you want to see Johnny. You need to see him. After a little bit of searching you find his room, he’s alone on the other side of the ward. 

That's when you cry, when you see his body laid up in bed connected to tubes and wires one even shoved down his throat breathing for him. You pull a chair up next to his bed, you take his hand in yours lacing your fingers with his. 

This feels like your fault, maybe it is. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve spent the last few days being told it is. You stroke his arm telling him how sorry you are. That's where you let the tears out. You let yourself be upset with them, angry at them, the people you love. 

Or maybe loved. 

They’re not the same people you knew before you were locked in the room. And neither are you.

next I need overprotective Kyle in my life Banners by firefly-graphics

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, gn!reader, somnophilia, oral sex, victim blaming, implied stalking, and obsessive behavior.

Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

He knows he's not the best guy out there, but if he's given a choice between saving a cat from a tree and pushing a stroller into oncoming traffic, there's a good chance he'll choose the cat. His students might give him a hard time, but he knows better than to take it to heart when Megumi says the only useful thing about his dutiful guardian in his platinum card or Maki claims he could be replaced with a low-level curse and they'd struggle to tell the difference. He's not a saint, sure, but he doesn't entirely miss the mark.

That's why you felt so comfortable tag-along with him on a mission that took you to the other side of the country, why you didn't panic when you found out the higher-ups expected you to share a single (admittedly, still bigger than he'd like for it to be) bed, why you didn't think twice before stripping down to a tank-top and sleeping shorts and passing out - too exhausted to care about sorcerer decorum. Because Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing. Gojo can normally, generally, almost always be trusted to do the right thing.

It's just that he can't be trusted to do the right thing right now.

It's not his fault, Gojo reasons as he stares unblinkingly at the mold-stained ceiling, doing his best not to let his eyes drift. He's a hot-blooded man in the prime of his life, and you're... well, you're you - beautiful, smart, oblivious you. It's not his fault that you looked so pretty in the dim light filtering in through cheap curtains, that the stuffy motel room was too hot to justify using the paper-thin bedsheets, that all your tossing and turning meant your shorts were starting to ride up your legs in a way that wanted to make him dig his teeth into your thighs and--

And look at you. With a shaky breath, he sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. Looking never hurt anyone. That's what he tells himself, at least, as he shifts onto his knees and lets his eyes rake over the length of your body. You'd rolled onto your side since the last time he could bring himself to check - your knees pulled up and your head tucked downward. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest for a moment, than another, before letting his attention fall lower - to where the waistband of your shorts had drifted below your hip, leaving a strip of supple flesh just a touch lower than what even the lowest-set of your jeans revealed. Both straps of your tank-top had managed to fall off of your shoulders sometime during the night, and careful not to touch you and cross a line he'd only half-heartedly set for himself, Gojo catches the flimsy fabric of your top between two fingers and tugs it downward, just enough to expose the swell of your chest and draw the material taut. Your nipples are already hard, he notes with just a little too much satisfaction. You wouldn't have been happy if you knew what he was doing, but your body might've been.

He feels his cock twitch, and he's palming it before he can stop himself. Touching himself wouldn't hurt you, either, and he wouldn't leave a mess, not if he could help it, not if he could summon that much self-restraint. Cursing under his breath, he shrugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and spits into his palm before wrapping his fist around his shaft. He's already stiff - had been from the second you started to undress, as hard as he'd tried not to acknowledge it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pumps his hand over his cock to the tempo over your breathing, letting his mind wander to the space between your thighs. He couldn't, not without waking you up. He couldn't, but..

His attention drifts back to your lips, wet and ever so slightly parted. It wouldn't compare, but it'd have to do.

He positions himself carefully, his knees sinking into the mattress next to your head. Arousal beads at his tip, dripping down his shaft and filling the cramped room with a soft 'click, click, click' as he brings the head of his cock to your mouth, resting it gingerly on the crook of your lips. He does what little he can to swallow down his voice and smother the movement in his hips as your warm breath fans over his cock, as his fist tightens in a weak attempt to imitate how tight your throat would be, if he ever got the chance to fuck it properly.

He's thinking about how hot it would be inside of you, how adoringly your body would welcome him when his self-control snaps, when his hips buck forward and the head of his cock collides with the back of your throat. You gag sharply, your eyes snapping open and find his in an instant, expression a mix of shock and confusion and horror, pure and unadulterated. He wants to draw back. He wants to apologize. He wants to do the right thing.

Instead, he cums. His free hand falls to your head, and he holds you in place while he fucks shallowly into your mouth and rides through his orgasm. Your reaction is a pitiful thing - all choking and betrayal, but he can't seem to stop himself from grinning.

When he really thought about it, this was all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.

After all, Gojo can usually be trusted to do the right thing.

This time, you just didn't give him another choice.

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: NSFW, penetration (reader receiving), trying out a new position but Dazai gets too focused on staring and teasing than actual fucking (until successful persuasion that is), dazai levels of menace, Approx 1.2k words

“What? Pshhh, it’s a perfectly rounded ass I’ll have you know–”

You groaned, hiding your face deeper into the mattress. “Don’t just comment on it. It’s bad as it is. Get on with it.” Your muffled voice only drew another chuckle from Dazai.

“Gimme a second, I’m still engraving this in my mind,” Dazai said. “Future references and all.”

You hated Dazai. So much. Him and his annoying face and stupid voice and long slender fingers as they kept you in place, ass ceremoniously up as you stood on elbows and knees before him. 

Worst idea possible.

You should have kept to the vanilla sex. You’ve no idea what possessed you to suggest… a change of angles, let’s say. The flash of excitement in Dazai’s eyes only spurred you on, unfortunately–that innocent eagerness for pleasing one’s partner taking hold of your better judgment. 

But Dazai was just looking at you now, one hand lazily stroking at his cock as he trailed feathered touches down your back. Your patience was waning and your steadily kept composure along with it.

You must be definitely quite the sight, one that kept popping in your mind with how utterly embarrassing it felt to you. Your confidence wound up shriveling away with every second, face red but not from the fun type of activity.

“What happened to partner’s pleasure coming first?” you asked, sneaking a judging glance at Dazai's grinning face.

“Ooh, I am known to be very generous, yes,” Dazai said, and you shuddered as his hand trailed down to your pussy lips, teasing at your entrance curiously. As if he weren’t inside you less than five minutes ago. You were still very wet and very welcoming; the idiot only needed to take the hint. 

“Well?”

“Well what?” He pressed a finger inside you, making you arch into the touch. He was quick to find your sweet spot, twisting his finger with just the right pressure to have you breathing hard again. “See? The picture of ample virtue, solely and entirely for the loveliest of beauties.” And he leaned down, chest pressing to your back as he kissed the spot between your shoulders.

“You talk too much,” you panted, pushing your hips back as you sought more of Dazai’s touch. 

“Only truths. The heart sings when it’s in love, you know that?” he whispered against your ear, nose brushing playfully against it. “Seeing your ass up like that really set the deal for me. A man in love indeed.”

“Weirdo,” you said, capturing his lips before he went on with his smart remarks again. You could feel his cock against your under-thigh, hard and still leaking. Dazai was expressing a remarkable level of self-restraint. Too bad you had no such plans for yourself. “Dazai, dear?”

He hummed against you, biting playfully at your lower lip.

“If you don’t stop with your teasing now and get your cock inside me…” You cocked your head away, letting him seek for your closeness. “I’ll just leave.” 

A dramatic gasp. “You wouldn’t.” He dragged his fingers up to your clit, smearing your wetness as he began stroking you. “That would be too cruel.”

Your belly fluttered, the familiar pressure building slowly up again. You lay back down, cheek resting on the mattress as you focused on the sensation. “The cruellest.” Your eyes fluttered.

Dazai kissed your shoulder before he rested his chin on the same spot. Even with your eyes closed you could tell he was watching you. You could even picture perfectly his brown eyes, the way he took you all in. It used to throw you off how much Dazai enjoyed eye contact during sex. Face to face as he held you close to him, soaking every detail, every reaction he managed to bring out of you. It used to trigger a self-consciousness that made you uncomfortable at times, but you knew where his habit spurred from.

As hard as it was to believe this, Dazai was attracted to whatever he saw. Even when you thought you weren’t at your best, he was still there. Looking. 

That mind of his so loved being perverse too, to your immense embarrassment at times. But as long as you felt comfortable–and preferably in the territory of your own home, thank you–you didn’t mind treating him to a pretty view here and there. Besides, embarrassment really did die away once his hand was on your clit making your brain foggy with pleasure.

Sure. Good idea, yes.

You fluttered your eyes open, hooded gaze locking immediately with brown irises. You arched a brow. 

Predictable.

A quiet, barely there sigh shuddered past your lips; enough to slightly pull at Dazai’s attention. Being loud in bed was not one of your fortes, and that’s why it was so… valuable. In times of need, that is.

You built up your sound carefully, shuddering through your every breath as your moans began spilling from your lips with every passing moment. You didn’t know if it was the placebo effect at play here, but you were pushing yourself even closer to your orgasm, the release of inhibitions spurring you forward unexpectedly. 

You found yourself pulling at Dazai roughly, seeking him as your tongue pried his lips open. He kissed you just as fervently, grinning like a fool as his fingers moved faster against your clit. You could barely keep it in.

“Dazai,” you said, voice downright commanding in your desperation. 

Good thing Dazai was a quick read, holding you in place as he finally slipped his cock inside you a second later, groaning against your lips.

It was a blur after that, Dazai’s thrusts sloppy and reaching deep as he fucked you into the mattress. He rose up at some point, using his weight to angle himself just right, the audible sound of skin slapping against skin too arousing for your mind to focus on anything else.

Dazai didn’t stop even as you clutched at the sheets between waves of pleasure, your orgasm passing through your body mercilessly. You were blinking the moisture from your eyes when Dazai pulled you up suddenly. Your body felt limp as he settled you against him, still thrusting inside you as a hand cupped at your breasts. Your thighs trembled from the position, pussy clenching involuntarily around Dazai as you still came down from your high. 

“Ohh fuck–” Dazai laughed, the sound verberating through his ribcage. “Holy fuck of a–”

He stiffened, a low, guttural moan leaving his lips as you felt him spilling inside you. Dazai’s head dropped on your shoulder, breathing hard.

You patted him on the forehead, hand falling back down from the extreme effort. “Please don’t lean too much on me now, being crushed is not fun.”

“I’ll talk to gravity about it,” he mumbled against your shoulder, weight falling dangerously forward. 

Your eyes widened. “Dazai!”

“Ha.” He blew a raspberry on your neck, laughing at your exasperated face. “Gotcha.”

Ass. Absolute ass. But then he nuzzled against you, deep brown eyes looking up at you with so much adoration your annoyance all but dissipated. A smile crept on your lips, accompanied by a feeling of warmth within your chest. 

Oh well. He was your ass, at least.  

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II 

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync? 

<- Previous Next ->

——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal. 

Something animalistic. 

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed. 

Nights like tonight. 

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight. 

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it. 

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?” 

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently. 

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him. 

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around? 

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all. 

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. 

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you. 

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.” 

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago. 

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice. 

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out. 

What? Is he — lying to you? 

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips. 

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.” 

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease. 

But the funny thing is that there was no lie. 

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’. 

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret. 

His upcoming rut. 

—— 

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different. 

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator. 

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming. 

Too aggressive. 

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy. 

But you’re more than that to him. 

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time. 

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot. 

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together. 

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him. 

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno. 

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed. 

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice. 

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame. 

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?” 

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani. 

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes. 

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.” 

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry. 

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers. 

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things. 

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat. 

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you. 

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.” 

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that. 

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up. 

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.  

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position. 

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in. 

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception. 

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock. 

Truth be told, he hated the feeling. 

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth. 

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle. 

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now? 

Once? Twice? Thrice? 

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum. 

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock. 

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh. 

Relief. 

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall. 

All until he hears the click of a — 

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.” 

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it. 

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles. 

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away. 

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention. 

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct. 

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!” 

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull. 

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.” 

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore. 

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered. 

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath. 

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches. 

What is he supposed to do now? 

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking. 

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt. 

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good,  I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t. 

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release. 

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.” 

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat. 

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do. 

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you. 

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even. 

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word. 

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]” 

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only. 

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility. 

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving. 

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.” 

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—” 

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say. 

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?” 

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive. 

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it. 

“Ralak.” 

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed. 

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo. 

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock. 

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual. 

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself. 

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position. 

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now? 

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt. 

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door. 

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air. 

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal. 

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue. 

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges. 

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again. 

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next. 

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin. 

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak. 

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent. 

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it. 

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail. 

Fuck, you just want it inside you already. 

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you. 

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place. 

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.  

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you. 

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed. 

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you. 

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts. 

He’s simply not there. 

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance. 

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.  

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure. 

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you. 

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!” 

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide. 

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity. 

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks. 

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee. 

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief. 

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it. 

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child. 

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him. 

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!” 

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you. 

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck. 

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers. 

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up. 

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”  

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts. 

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again. 

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip. 

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.” 

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you. 

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it. 

He’s bulging inside you. 

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck. 

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate. 

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours. 

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.  

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls. 

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb. 

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent. 

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb. 

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer. 

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead. 

—— 

[hell-drabbles]

Lucifer 6

Summary: You have Lucifer leaning on your torso while you ask him what is it about you that turns him on.

(This drabble is also weirdly sweet, so enjoy!!! I swear I'll write for a different character eventually. I really want to gush about all the ideas in my head with somebody... There's nothing more fun than just gushing about one's own creations.)

"Hmm? What is it about me that turns you on?" You leaned against your hand, idly stroking the side of Lucifer's face as his back rested against your torso. His skin was fully flushed, mouth hanging slightly agape. He turned to try and capture your fingers, but you pulled away. "Come on, you can't avoid the question by stuffing your mouth. Tell me. I won't be angry."

You busied yourself with Lucifer's buttons, popping them open just enough to press patterns into the valley of his chest. A pleasant hum rumbled beneath your fingers, and finally his voice formed words.

"Your… your voice," he said, as if you had a vice around his neck. You've heard of devils being driven mad by lust, but somehow it never connected that such a thing was real. You can't deny it now, not when you see this devil before you ripping holes into the sheets below just to keep from touching himself. You can practically see his every twitch and throb through his pants. Any other devil probably wouldn't have as strong a self restraint as him.

"My voice is all it takes huh?" you sighed, then cupped Lucifer's chin, guiding him up until he can no longer look away from you, "that's cute, actually."

Stray hairs stuck to his skin as Lucifer was overcome with full body shudders. You couldn't help but trail a finger over the pulse on his neck, just to feel the fluttering beats of his heart.

"Mm-hmm, very cute." You back away before Lucifer could lunge for a kiss. His eye narrowed to a light glare, still refusing to give him any mercy. Funny. "You know, I was always fascinated by your eyes." You brushed away the hairs to see them clearly, allowing him to snuggle up into your palm. "They're filled with an endless patience and a soft, soft love for the world around them. I never have to worry about doing anything wrong just for being my stubborn myself. And I find them wonderful. I find you wonderful, Lucifer."

Lucifer has lived too long to be shocked by such words, but they softened him nonetheless. His face was still overtaken by a deep flush, with a small smile that looked almost shaky. "…you love to try and make me cry, don't you?"

You softly laughed, "Yeah yeah, but you know I meant every word."

A breath shuddered it's way out of his throat, "I know. That… also affects me, in many shameful ways."

"A lot of things about me affect you, I see," you readjusted yourself and leaned back against your hands, "show me exactly how. You have my permission now."

His pupils dilated so quickly, you thought his iris would disappear. You feel bad for the poor devil that will probably have to repair his clothing. Tore through that poor thing like it was nothing. And what a nice snake design it had.

Just to further mess with him, nudged his moaning mouth wider and pressed your thumb flat against his tongue. His fangs grazed against your skin, as if Lucifer was entertaining the notion of clamping down and never letting go, but never will go through with it without your say so.

It's nice, never having to worry about you suddenly being subjected to random whims and then being forgotten about once that boredom was sated.

Here was Lucifer, a devil king that was essentially untouchable, a king that forces the other kings to hold a level of caution about them, and a king that was currently masturbating with your permission.

How fun. How nice that you two have found and come to know one another.

[urween]

Idiosyncratic Fellows | Poindexter x ftm!reader | english version

summary : Dex needs a new North Star, and it just so happens that a young person crosses his path. But a major problem stands between the two: he's a transgender man, and Poindexter has never had to deal with this feeling.

notes : (A quick reminder to help with understanding) Eileen Mercer was Dex's psychologist when he was a child/teenager. I also want to clarify that I wrote all this based on my interpretation of the little information we have about Dex's issues. I can understand that some people might disagree with this analysis.

⚠︎ warnings : Mental health issues, stalker, description of Benjamin's mental state, discovery of transgender identity without transphobia, mention of deadnames, mention of books with homophobic ideas.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 4 251 words

french version here

It all started with an ordinary day, fueled by fleeting adrenaline rushes. A compliment from a colleague on a well-written report, a boosting sip of caffeine. Then, later, as the winter sun began to sink behind the New York skyscrapers, Benjamin Poindexter had to head to the grocery store down the street to restock his supplies.

He didn't appreciate having to do this kind of thing, the kind of activity that required a higher level of maintenance than his usual. By this, he implied that even though his life as a model citizen working for the FBI seemed to contain him, he still needed to control his true self, or at least that voice inside that was just waiting to come out. A stable job, a healthy environment. In other words: a framework, a lifeline. The only thorn in this flower was the North Star.

Not now, Dex interrupted himself.

He needed eggs, milk, tomatoes...oh, and a new mug; the old one had slipped out of his hands last night.

The plastic basket provided by the store was making his palms sweat terribly. Perhaps it was also the way the white fluorescent lights on the ceiling flashed in his eyes, or the repetitive beeping of the checkout a few shelves away.

He'd had a long day. A trying day, Eileen would have corrected him, one that required a lot of restraint. First, there had been an administrative meeting, full of diplomatic blather that required close attention and impeccable posture. Speaking of posture, he'd spent most of the day standing, stiff as a rod, his back tense – ready to follow orders – and now the pain was catching up with him like electric shocks up his spine. During his lunch break, an argument had broken out in the monitoring office located right next to the break room. It had twisted his stomach, and he'd ended up simply drinking another coffee. Then came "trivial" internal tensions, like a remark that hadn't made him laugh today, or some idiot who took advantage of his rank to give him pointless orders. It was a chain reaction, an accumulation, that made this thing boil in his gut. The urge to shoot Greg between the eyes, to throw those beautiful pencils one by one into the rib cages of his superiors. But he knew how to manage it and, above all, contain it.

"Please," came a voice from behind the cereal aisle, "I know my application isn't eligible, but... no, of course not, I'm just asking you to think about it more."

Dex couldn't help but glance quickly through two multicolored packages. He only saw a silhouette from behind, barely visible due to its proximity to the shelf. He wanted to withdraw, to return to the milk, but the sudden scent that wafted from the fabric on the other side held him back a little longer. A tender, light note, perhaps a perfume that had faded over the course of the day.

"Alright," the same person continued in a lower tone, "thank you for taking the time to call me back, have a good evening."

It was dangerous to linger so long over someone; it wasn't normal social behavior; he had to stop that right away. And at this time of day, the grocery store was rarely visited; he had only encountered four strangers.

The figure shifted slightly, turning toward Dex. They didn't see him; being shorter than him, they might have been able to make out his white shirt between two boxes of candy. He took one last look at the shapes he could see, telling himself that after that, he would force himself to leave. A hand crossed his field of vision; he guessed it was probably resting on a face as a sign of fatigue. He thought he heard a shaky sigh. Then the person moved away abruptly, almost making him jump.

Enough, Ben murmured quietly.

He stepped back in turn, tightening his grip on his almost full basket, and finally his legs guided him to the cartons of milk a little further away. That was all he had left on his shopping list, then he could go home and breathe.

To help his mind focus again, Dex imagined as best he could what awaited him in his apartment. A tidy kitchen, a clean floor, changed sheets. He would be able to fill the uncomfortable emptiness in his fridge, but also, and above all, erase the mistake of that broken mug. The shards of porcelain scattered at his feet with a deafening crash, and immediately an abstract break took place within him to let this thing out. It had only lasted two seconds, three at most, before he regained control. But two seconds had been enough for him to scream and cut his hand. After that, he had done the exercises required of him at such times: deep breathing, listening to a recording, cleaning, verbal affirmations, and then, in addition, explanations and apologies to his neighbors. But now the problem could be completely solved and erased, since a new mug, as white as the old one, sat proudly in his basket – supported by the well-desired milk bottles –.

Dex arrived at the store's checkout, manned by a woman in her forties who reminded him of a victim in a case he had dealt with earlier that day. He didn't dwell on her facial features any longer, preferring to concentrate on his task of placing the items on the rotating roller. The eggs, the milk, the tomatoes, the mug, the dish soap... Everything was going well, as it should for everyone. But suddenly, a noise awakened Poindexter's heightened senses: a box of cereal falling from the hands of the next customer. A young man, about his age, with a sorry and exhausted expression on his face.

"Excuse me," he stammered, picking up the slightly damaged box lying on the floor.

The cashier, startled by the loud noise, smiled falsely at the person in question, holding back a nasty remark when she saw the dried tears on his face. It's already a bad day for him, she told herself, don't make it worse. And she went back to work, scanning the other man's – Dex's – last item with a limp, end-of-day hand.

You left the grocery store with a knot in your stomach, perhaps milder than when you arrived. You needed that receptionist job; the last of your savings was being spent on groceries or electricity. New York was a big city, yet finding a position in a stable company was not easy at all. Most of the offers didn't pay enough for your financial needs. This job in the three-star hotel, a twenty-minute bus ride from your home, paid very well, and it was the most affordable you'd managed to find in such a short time. Unfortunately, your CV didn't include any hospitality experience, and even though you insisted that you'd already worked in a top restaurant, the manager didn't want you on his team. You'd even tried calling him back earlier, but it was no use; you weren't going to be able to go to bed peacefully tonight.

However, several positive aspects have been sent to you, as if by the Universe, to comfort you and tell you to "keep fighting." First, you'd found your favorite cereal at half price, just as Mr. Hugh – the hotel manager – had called you. Then, sure, you had a little crying fit between two aisles of the store, and you had almost cried again when the box of cornflakes had slipped from your hands at the checkout, but something had almost managed to make up for it all. A man, who at the time had seemed blond, had given you an insistent look. You could have been offended, taken this glance for something perverse and disturbing, but that hadn't been the case. The blue eyes of this stranger had vaguely looked you up and down before stopping – fixed – on your face. At the time you hadn't really reacted, in other circumstances you would surely have had an embarrassed smile and blushed, but your mind was still too focused on the job rejection you had just suffered. But after reflection, now that you were settled at home, you thought back to his look and you couldn't help but think that it was as if he had recognized you. Yet you had never seen him, you would have remembered a face as well-drawn as his. Perhaps he had mistaken you for someone else? That you reminded him of a loved one? But whatever the reasons for that look, it had touched you, and had helped soothe the end of your day.

Dex had a problem he didn't know how to solve.

He'd seen you at the checkout, recognized the distinctive texture of your sweater and the scent of your perfume. He'd seen your silhouette, clear this time, the shape of your face and the color of your eyes. He'd also seen the moisture in your eyelashes, the irritation on your cheeks. He'd seen all of that, and felt his heart beating.

There were no other words to describe this sensation: he'd felt his heart beating. Not that it usually didn't beat, but it wasn't the same; he didn't feel it tapping against his ribs like it did now. Eileen had given him the image of a mechanism restarting to help him illustrate and understand this phenomenon. His vital organ was still active, but something inside wasn't functioning on a daily basis. As good as that feeling may seem, Mercer had told him, you have to realize that it's there as a consequence of your mental state. He often listened to that recording, number 21, in which his therapist explained in more detail what would later be called "the North Star." To summarize, the mental disorders he managed to contain always manifested themselves in his life, in other ways. For example, through his rigor, his euphoria, or his anger. Whereas for the other 95% of the world's population, anger was simply a natural and legitimate emotion, his was almost artificial – a sort of excuse used by his subconscious to bring out troubles – . As a result, his brain had found a fairly stable solution to keep him in society for a long time: the North Star. However, this miracle cure wasn't natural either, which meant that the symptoms or reactions weren't either. Concretely, he had fallen in love with someone, but to such an extreme that it became obsessive and compulsive.

So far, nothing was truly unknown to him. The problem lay more on your side: you were a man. Of course, it wasn't your fault, he was aware of that, nor was it his. He couldn't control this thing, this attraction. But he had always considered himself heterosexual, had never even really imagined being attracted to men. And yet you were there, in his head, after having activated a mechanism in his heart.

He had never discussed this subject with Eileen; he had no solution. But you were there, and he could already feel the euphoria slowly gnawing at his neurons, which meant he had to find a solution, and quickly, before it got out of control.

As expected, he hadn't slept all night. As if fate itself wanted him to fall into this obsession, when you went after Dex at the checkout, you gave your last name so the cashier could find your loyalty card. Ben could have easily found what he needed without that information, but it had to be said that having it was more useful. Especially since, given the situation he was in, he needed to know everything about you quickly.

In short, he had everything on you. Starting with your public information like your birthday or your first name, to delve deeper into what you were passionate about and what you liked, then your social situation with your friends or family, and finally a minimum of information on the places you frequented. All this without going into work, Dex thought with bitter pride.

With his first North Stars, he quickly understood that rules were needed to regulate and, above all, control his impulses. He valued the stability he'd managed to achieve in his life far too much to ruin it all with compulsive stupidity. The most important thing was his work. It was his guiding principle, which allowed him to hold on even without a star or in moments of crisis. As he'd heard a colleague say once: "We separate the personal from the work, it's the key to a relatively healthy life." Certainly, their "personal" wasn't like his, but the principle remained the same. Clearly, he shouldn't link the star to work, and that started by not researching you using the FBI's numerous tools. How many times had he wanted to look up your name in the super-powerful organization on his computer at work; he could be sure of having absolutely your entire life at his fingertips that way. But he forbade himself, and capturing information little by little was also part of the enjoyment of it all.

Meanwhile, he had the main thing, and in this brief summary of your life, he had found something crucial. Hidden between two publicly available school certificates, he had discovered a very old photo of you – you must have been in kindergarten – with a first name written underneath that didn't match the one he had linked to you today. From there, he had searched several pages vaguely mentioning you – mostly from school or business forums – and finally unearthed a clue: a thank-you announcement for donors to a queer organization. Your first and last name appeared there, among about ten other useless ones. A simple internet search was all he needed to obtain all the necessary information on the subject.

So you were transgender, which by definition meant "a person whose gender identity does not match the sex assigned at birth." Dex hadn't really known what to do with this information at the time. He then thought back to a piece of advice Dr. Mercer had given him: "If you ever feel lost on a social issue, whether behavioral or not, do some research. Libraries are for that, or use your cell phone if it's an emergency." So he followed that advice, and there he was in the bookstore across the street from the building with the imposing "FBI" sign. His appetite not fully developed – he wasn't even feeling hungry at the moment – he preferred to use his lunch break to educate himself.

"Can I help you?" the bookseller interrupted.

Dex took a deep breath before turning to the graying man. He hesitated for a moment before accepting the specialist's help.

"Actually, I'm looking for something about transition," he finally admitted, hoping he wouldn't have to say more.

The fifty-year-old man across the street smiled at him, skirting a pile of boxes to access a well-stocked shelf.

"Here you'll find everything related to ecological, political, and even economic transitions-"

"Ah, uh... no, I was talking—," Dex interrupted. "Well, I was more interested in books about gender transitions."

The storekeeper seemed a little taken aback, but nevertheless flashed another smile. He pointed with a slightly wrinkled finger to a much smaller section at the back of the store. Poindexter thanked him with a quick nod before wordlessly slipping over to those shelves.

From the large meeting room on the eighth floor of FBI HQ, Dex had gotten into the habit of glancing briefly at the street across the street from time to time. His gaze was always drawn to the recently opened Starbucks – imagining the money they'd be able to make from FBI orders – but also to the neon red bookstore. Several times he'd seen his colleagues go there, buying a book for their children or a gift for a neighbor. He had come to imagine a fairly large, tidy, and bright interior, given the number of customers who visited the store each day. But now that he was there, he was almost disappointed to see dust on the books at the back.

His hand, covered in tiny scars, lingered over several books. He often saw people do this, this movement. They ran their hands over the books, as if it could describe the story to them. He had gotten into the habit of copying the repetitive behaviors he observed in his daily life, and this was one of them, even if he had never really imagined going into a bookstore and doing it. It just goes to show that life was full of surprises.

“Beyond Magenta, Social Studies in a New World, Homegrown Magic”: full of books, novels, collections, each one as colorful as the last. Dex pulled one off the shelf, thinking its small size meant it would be easy to read, but once he read the summary he quickly put it back down. “Dealing with homosexuality,” the phrase replayed in his head, what bullshit. He wasn’t the most knowledgeable on the subject – he never really was on many others, in fact – but he at least knew what that sort of thing meant, and now that you were in his life he felt a different kind of rage towards people who thought they were superior to others.

As his eyes read another summary, his mind lingered on you, and on him. When he thought about it, you were alike. Both in a category, counted as a percentage that changed from year to year. Yours was certainly higher than his, 17% – he had checked – compared to 5%. However, he would have imagined a higher figure for you; 17% of queer people – he had memorized the term – seemed low to him. In the office alone, he knew six homosexual people, two men and four women. Eileen had told him that these studies weren't reliable, that most of those affected didn't dare declare their uniqueness. People are afraid of mental illness, she had explained, referring to Dex's case, and those who suffer from it don't want to be out in the open. Of course, for you it was different, he understood that, but in the end, the result was the same: fear.

Anyway, he had found several interesting books on the subject. He went to the checkout, and the bookseller quickly arrived, his smile still as annoying as ever. Dex thought back to the summary he had read, and felt a surge of anger rise within him before he checked it. This guy sells these kinds of books like it's nothing, he thought as he paid. I could have him arrested for selling illegal content.

"Thanks and have a nice day!" the bookseller's voice crooned.

A week later, on one of the upper floors of the FBI office, two colleagues were discussing this bookstore.

"Did you hear about this? The bookstore across the street is closing," Sarah declared, staring at Greg with her big green eyes. "I read that an anonymous letter was forwarded to the municipal colleagues."

His interlocutor sipped his freshly paid coffee, shrugging.

"I heard about it, yeah," he replied. "It's a shame, I had to go for the kids' birthday."

Sarah continued to recount the details, like the gossip she was. She recounted how the famous unsigned document cited a complete list of all the propaganda books and articles the bookseller displayed in his shop. Racism, homophobia, xenophobia, and conspiracy theories. All of it was barely camouflaged between two fantasy novels.

"And to think he was doing that in front of us," Greg snorted dryly before cutting the conversation short to call out to a colleague passing in the hallway, "Hey, you’re leaving already?"

Dex looked up at the slim figure crossing his path. He finished putting his personal belongings in his pockets, having just gone to get them from the locker room

 "Yeah," he stated simply, "I have something planned."

Officer Greg Thil didn't hold him back any longer, sensing that this wasn't the time to tease good old Poindexter.

He's already waiting for me, Benjamin mentally repeated to himself, picking up his pace.

Your day had gone pretty smoothly so far. You'd come across a job posting for a barista position at the coffee shop you went to once a week. This unexpected miracle had put a smile back on your face and made you want to get out and enjoy the fresh air that winter was gradually setting in. You hadn't planned anything big, or anything very structured. I need to let go, you told yourself as you took your shower this morning.

For this reason, and others, you'd gone to the small exhibition that had opened three days ago. While taking out the trash last week, you saw the poster; at first, you hadn't even considered going, being too preoccupied with your unemployment. But now you had plenty of time to enjoy it, with peace of mind.

A young teenager taking the money at the entrance to the exhibition smiled at you when you thanked him for the change. He was probably doing an internship, or helping a relative while earning some pocket money. This simple reflection slightly dimmed your smile, which had been intact until then. You would have liked to be like him at his age, to enjoy your adolescence like everyone else. Stop thinking about it, you reprimanded yourself.

The art gallery simply consisted of a single large room, divided in two by a half-wall large enough to accommodate an imposing canvas. You had read that these works were created by an old man, enjoying his retirement to paint. And now that you were standing in front of one of his creations, you didn't regret coming. It was sumptuous and expressive, everything you needed to while away an hour letting your mind wander.

A few meters away from you, sheltered by a black cap, Dex wandered through the small crowd that had gathered here. He was spending the afternoon with you today; he needed to. From his vantage point, a little distant but not far enough away to not admire you, his eyes examined your posture with unselfconscious depth. Your head was tilted to the left, your back supple, your hands relaxed. You were beautiful; he couldn't ignore it.

In that precise moment, euphoria, exhilaration, and obsession controlled him as they always did with his North Star. He wasn't really there; his body was, but it was too complicated to understand or put into words. However, if he had been able, if he had been in control of himself enough to push aside your name as it played over and over in his mind, he would have discovered why he felt different around you.

It wasn't the same euphoria that disrupted his neurons; it wasn't just the admiration he felt upon seeing you that made his heart beat so fast. There was something changing, a newness in his functioning, yet it had never changed. The North Star was supposed to guide him, show him the right path, the right way to act. For that, he often found a young woman who was gentle, empathetic, and attentive to the world. He lived like her, following her habits. But he did all this without love; he just wanted to become like her. Except it was different with you. To begin with, he hadn't met you in a positive context; you were crying, vulnerable and sensitive, things he wasn't trying to be. And yet his brain had latched onto you, to that first image you had given him of yourself.

You lightly brushed your hand against the frame of the red painting in front of you. This work felt good, for no apparent reason. It blush was aggressive and bloody, but an instinct deep in your ribcage crooned to you that you had to see it today, now, in the company of all these strangers.

Dex followed the shadow of a couple, his eyes fixed on you so much that even in his state, he was afraid you'd notice. He wanted so badly to talk to you, to know you. But how could he describe what was going on in his head? The screams and flashes that tore through his mind, then the obsession – for he had no stronger word – that dictated his every move. How could he tell you what was happening behind his eyeballs when he saw you? It was almost unbearable, this longing and desire. He was afraid that if he ever got his hands on you, his skull would explode and lead to his death. But he was convinced of one thing, his heart even lying lonely on the ground would continue to beat as strongly as it does now for you.

images : Pinterest

dividers : @uzmacchiato , @diviniyae and @strangergraphics

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

need me some ruan mei x reader in my life

Your Glacier Love

Genre : Sad

Summary : Upon your arrival you find someone who catches your eye, what shall happen?

Notes : Ruan Mei x Reader, can be read as platonic, angst, somewhat fluff, Reader has ADHD, sad, not very proud of this but anyways, if it gets enough attention I'll maybe write a happy end route lol, made the header myself

Word count : 3,022

Take me to AO3

Your guide lifted his hand, pointing towards the pentagon. "And this is Madame Hertas office.", he explained "You better not go in there, unless called for. Or if the ship is burning down."

You swallow, clutching onto your little box, holding papers, documents and of course your research. "Ive heard she's an intimidating woman.", you confess.

A nervous chuckle leaves him. "Yeah...not everyone can handle our great madam Herta."

The door opened with a wiring sound and you were pulled aside.

"Carefull...", he mumbled, but you didn't listen to what he said next, you had found someone to admire. A young woman had stepped out, her silky chestnut brown hair was neatly put up. Then there were her eyes, so cold, you were afraid to lose yourself in them, that sligth frown on her face, the blush on her cheeks, probably from working. Oh, it made her so beautiful. But she was gone whithin a blink, only leaving a faint smell of cake behind her.

"Who's she?", you breathed, not knowing if he heard you, not caring, your eyes were trained on finding her and then they focused on her swishing hair.

He looked at you, the. at her. A grin spread on his face. "Madam Ruan Mei, number eigthy-one in the genius society. She's also somewhat new to the station."

You stepped forward, trying to sneak a peak as she walked down those stairs."What does she do?"

His hands were stuck in the pockets of his white coat. "Biology."

You grabed the railing, watching her converse with her colleagues.

"She wants to create an Eon."

Your heart nearly pounced out if your chest. "An Eon...that is a mad pursuit."

You crocked your head, trying to keep her in your eye as long as possible. "How extraordinary."

"One way to put it...", he mumbled. She cut a corner and was now completely separated from your view. You sighed, leaning your head on your arms. You had no chance, it was obvious and you didn't seem to remotely be at her skill level...you sighed, yet another hallway crush to which you'd never talk to.

"...she does need an assistant."

That made your head perk up. "She does?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. I overheard that she wouldn't have something against one as of current...and since you also study life forms, well, your research could somewhat match up."

Your self-restraint was really being tested rigth now. You stumbled a bit forward, towards him, instead of jumping up and down, you could do that in your room. "Really?"

He nodded. "Though, she does have high expectations and she's not easy to talk to for most people."

You could manage and even if she really was just a hallway crush, this could be a great learning opportunity!

"So what do I have to do?"

He smiled, taking you along. "Ok, so first..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've listened to the murmering of elevators for some time now, maybe even to long. You gulped. You hadn't been told that the ship had a basement, or, a "Seclusion Zone", if you wanted to be specific. The Elevator shook, making you stumble. You nearly dropped the cake and your research.

"Aeons!", you swore, but your attention was soon diverted by the dark corridors in front of you. You gulped loudly and the sound echoed of off the metal walls. But, you have come this far. You straightened your back, had your chest pop out and pull your shoulders back. It was just a basement. You retraced the way in your mind. You had taken the first elevator, then the second and had then gone to the elevator at the back of the elevator, now you were going rigth. Easy as that. Her break should start soon, or 'Break' after your newly acquired friend, she didn't really take breaks, she only came up two times a day to get sweets and water. You looked at the watch on your wrist rigth when the automatic door opened and before you knew it your ass was flat on the ground, having bumped into the one you were lookomg for.

The only thing that was saved from the chaos would be the cake, which she had somehow managed to grab of your hands.

"I'm sorry Madam Ruan Mei.", you blushed, gathering your papers, wishing the earth would swallow you whole and for you to be never heard from again. Esspecially when she bend down to grab one the papers that were just out of reach. You watched her pupils move from left to rigth, slowly, as if she didn't want to miss one precious letter...you wanted her to look at you like that.

"Research on biomic lifeforms...how interesting.", her hand extended to you and you tried to not be to fast, to not snatch it away and hide it in your folder. You wished you were a paper in one of her folders.

"Uhm...", you got back on your feet. "Thank you, Miss."

"I assume you wish to become my assistant?" She took a bite from the blue cake.

You nodded. She hummed, more likely because of its taste. "Very well."

She turned on her heel, walking back into her laboratory with confident strides. You followed with no questions. She sat down, working on the tablet.

"So...am I your assistant?"

She looked up at you, nearly staring into your soul, you looked away out of discomfort. "I'm afraid that I prefer to work alone.", She scooped up a little bit of the icing to inspect it. Your breath hitched.

"Well, it's not only me helping you, it would also help me, working for a genius member is a great honor! I- uhm, I'd appreciate it. You are so far in the studying of lifeforms and your papers are amazing.", you felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you kept talking, you had planned a whole speech, but apparently that was useless now. She meanwhile flipped through your documents, the papers, your CV. She closed it with a sigh, licking the icing off.

"I do not like being disappointed.", she expressed. "I have great projects to work on and I expect nothing but secrecy and the will to learn. Honesty is important too."

"I am. I can keep secrets. And I wanna learn.", your heart was beating so quickly, you thougth it was about to run away.

She stood up, taking the cake with her. "So, there you have your answer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slam the stack of papers onto the table. "You think she's going easy on me?", you crack your back. "Thanks for coming down here, by the way."

Your friend flipped through the infinite amount of pages. "I think she wants to kill you..."

You shrug, sitting down. "I'm an idiot...", you mostly were supposed to analyze some of the data and prepare reports. There were also some manuscripts you were supposed to fact check. You dropped your head on them, a low thunk sounded from it and you whined. "I can't do this."

A familiar whiring sound reached your ears, your head lifted and back straightened when you heard the familiar click of high shoes. It was Ruan Mei herself.

"Hello there Madame, do you require me to do more work?"

She shakes her head. "No. I just wanted to tell you that I will not be in my laboratory for a few days due to the simulated universe.", she looked down at your stack. "I need those untill the end of the week."

You nod. It was Wednesday.

Her eyes looked at your coffee, a gentle smile on her face.

"Do get enough sleep.", she turned around. You sighed dreamily when the door closed back up.

"She smiled at me."

"When did she smile at you?!"

"She told me to get enough sleep.", you leaned on your hand as you swung your legs. Did she care? She probably just didn't want you to make any mistakes...still though. You turned the first Page. She did care, in her own way, even if your friend did not want to realize it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slammed the papers down on the table.

"They're finished.", your eye was twitching, your hair was partially blocking your view, you must look mad. Reasonably so. You had worked through the day untill you were finished with the last few papers. Your body was feeling heavy, your bones were stone.

She looked over her shoulder. Nothing screamed exhausting about her, but you knew better. The creases on her clothes were telling and her hair was sligthly frizzy. She looked down, tossed her ponytail. She was in front of you within a few steps.

"Are you sure they are done properly, though?", she looked up at you through her eyelashes.

You pushed some of your hair out of your face. "Wh- what do you mean?"

She stepped closer. "You smell of coffee and...", she put her hand against your forehead. "you have a heigthend body temperature."

You wanted to make a stupid joke in order to cover your blush, but the fact that you saw black and toppled over the table didn't make it easy.

"That's what I thougth.", she sighed, leading you towards a bench. "You took your pills, that mixed with the coffee overloaded your body. Also the hyperfocus you probably had on your task...", she pulled a blanket over you as you groaned. "Now, you are experiencing the crash."

She mumbled the next few words.

"I should not have doubted your enthusiasm or capability..."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way to your work. "I will need these now, you rest and tell me if you need something."

You blinked, sligthly confused, but taking up on the offer...it was good for you that she was no real fan of big ligths either, preferring the soft glow of the experimental containers or any of her electronicall devices.

You pulled your legs a bit closer, despite the effort. It was entertainment enough to watch her, you'd smile whenever there was an annoyed crease in her usually calm face.

"Did you have any other assistants before?"

She wetened her finger to flip a page. "They mostly left after about two months."

"Could they not handle your heat?"

She looked confused now. "What heat? They could just not keep up with my demands."

"But they are reasonable.", you pointed out, chuckling.

"Exactly.", her voice grew more quiet. Recognizing that she needed to work, you went silent. It was funny, the things that can happen in two months.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You leaned your head against the earth, the plants, something inside you said it was kinda nasty, but you did not listen, being to preoccupied with Ruan Meis hair, brushing through it. It reached down to her upper thigh. You cherished the view. Her eyes were concentrated as she looked at the little creation hidden within the grass, humming at her.

"I'm sure it will work next time.", you assured, though it seemed to be no comfort for her, she continued staring as if it was an insect. "Ruan?"

"I failed.", she said. "Was there something with the numbers? Can you bring the papers to me?"

"Ruan-"

"I need to see what went wrong."

You sighed, to then comply. You watched her flip through them, spread each one out ib front of her. You both went over them, correcting numbers, trying different ones. She put her hair up halfway, her sad feelings having been pushed aside by determination.

Soon enough, well, a month or so, you stood back in front of the machine, watching her pull the components together. The critter had died quickly after its creation, which had been predictable, but this one would be healthier, live longer. The initial exams would show so, though you did not know that yet. The sound of compression sounded, to then reveal an adorable cake creature, wording, then hoping down.

"It's not perfect, but, this one will live longer and...you did amazing.", she looked down on it, then let her gaze drift to you. It hoped towards a few other experiments.

Her mouth was drawn in a thin line, her eyebrows pulled down.

Two hours later she'd stand in front of you, telling you she had to leave.

"What- but- why?"

Her voice was colder than you've gotten used to, her whole demeanor reverted to back to your earlier days, when she tried getting rid of you, in her own unique way. Tough luck that you were persistent.

She did not answer.

"Did I do something wrong? Did something happen? Please tell me-"

"It is for the best.", she picked up her tablet. "I need to do some other research. In the meantime you can continue to work on your own projects..." she gathered her work, you followed.

"This is very sudden. And I have no other projects as of current, I am your assistant-" she pressed a paper into your chest without another word.

"You had ideas. Work on them."

"Ruan-"

She walked away from you, standing on top of the staircase. A small smile was painted on her lips, but you knew that it wasn't real. "And I hope you'll get to work on even more projects in the future. You will be good on your own."

You felt your heart skip a beat. "Are you...firing me?", saying it made you feel dizzy and you had to hold onto something.

"I am doing what is best for all parties involved."

Your ears were ringing and there was that feeling, deep in your stomach. When the door closed and the click-clack sound dissapeared you felt tears drip down your cheeks. You put your hand over your mouth, covering your sobs, praying that the critters wouldn't wake up. They were napping on on of the benches.

"What did I do wrong?", you asked, looking up, imaging the stars above. "What did I do wrong?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your gaze was set beyond the stars. Your left hand rested on a star map, it had something to do with your new project, stars, now, it did not sound biological, but truly, it was.

"Are you still sad, about what happend?"

You hadn't heard the footsteps, yet you didn't jump up at the sound of the voice. You looked at your friend for a bit, before gazing back out. "I'm just doing work." Your expression was pensive. He teased you about it, untill, well, you know. About how you started to copy her. But what could one expect after three years of working together?

He sighed. "It's been nearly four months, there are other positions out there-"

"Do you seriously think it's about that?!", you wheeled towards him. "All this time? Did you think that?"

He stood there, pity on his face. "No, of course not...but what do you think it was?"

Your shoulders dropped and you looked at him in disbelief.

He gestured somewhat of a confused circle with his hand, as if he was building up the courage. "I mean...did you...love her?"

And that tensed you rigth back up. You took a step back. "I don't know...maybe?", you thougth back to...everything, those sake filled nigths, her hand accidentally brushing yours, the creation of all those little critters. The critters. "I have to go." You mumbled, taking your card and tablet. "I'll be in my room."

You didn't see how he was shaking his head.

Sometimes you'd still check on them. Your hand drew over a little tail, peeking from its little shell. The being was mewling, thanking you for being there, but it was still sad about its other creators absence.

"I miss her too.", you said, patting it's sad head. "More than you'd know."

More of the little beings would gather around you, drowning you, weighing you down, your eyelids felt heavy too, have they settled in there? You chuckled googly at the thougth, before your vision grew black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A grumble grew from your mouth as you listened to the insistent, yet slow, typing.

"Turn it off."

A chuckle. "I'm afraid such a thing isn't possible. I need to finish this."

You ripped your eyes open. "Ruan?"

Her hand found your head rigth away, she carefully went through your hair, you leaned into the familiar motion, having it lead your head back on to the table. "How are you here?"

She sighed, her hand slowed down. "My research had to be cut short. There were some technical difficulties. There also seems to be an issue with the planet in a whole, but that shall be taken care of rather quickly.", she took her hand back to the Keyboard, typing, and there was that pensive look on her face.

"What is on your mind?", you sat up, taking the old blanket with you.

She stared at the screen for a while, opening her mouth one or two times. You waited, your arms crossed on the table. Who thougth the Genius Member 81 would have trouble articulating her emotions?

"It seems that...I've grown accustomed to your presence.", she was a little blurry around the edges, but you didn't mind. "When I was looking through my papers, I saw your writing and...it bothered me. That you weren't there."

Your head was back on the table oh and how nervous she seemed, you could feel it, beyond those knitted eyebrows and cold eyes. "I missed you too. And...I think that I've grown quite fond of you."

She leaned her head on her hand. Her other one was tapping against the table. Then she grinned and your heart flourished. "It seems we've reached an agreement then." Everything turned into a ligth pink and the background blurred.

She turned back to her typing, you felt a hand in your hair, despite the fact that she was typing with it. But it did not matter, you still fell asleep.

You may cry big tears when you woke up, gathering the critters to take them with you, but this was now and she was here.

Your beautiful Ruan Mei.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In case you want to read more of my works

[marigoldenblooms]

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary). 

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~  The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming. 

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside. 

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours. 

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet. 

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids. 

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!” 

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft. 

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you. 

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her.  You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?” 

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant? 

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.” 

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.” 

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?” 

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?” 

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.” 

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew. 

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.” 

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company. 

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

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed. 

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash. 

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest. 

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!” 

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down. 

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks. 

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night. 

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

[griefabyss69]

Into The Night

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ]

'SHOWER' wc: 399 | rated: M | cw: Urination, Voyeurism

Eddie does what he has to at a house party and Steve… watches???

Huge parties with one bathroom and a bacchanalian amount of libations are a fucking problem.

Eddie hadn't even been imbibing; he just had too many Cokes, needed high levels of caffeine to maintain the ability to endure. Work sucks, even when you jack up the price of party drugs for the convenience of instant gratification.

And customers require a certain amount of self-restraint.

By the time he's cleaned out he really needs to piss—his bladder hurts by now, and so as he weaves through the little-pond of big-fishies, he isn't sorry about using his elbows to part the seas.

Of course, this means he accidentally hammers into the solar plexus of someone he can't even attempt to look at, sufferingly aware of who he graced with his clunky violence as he shoves through the crowd and out the back door.

It's dark and quiet out here. He ignores the scattered people around him as he unzips before he's even rounded the corner of the house.

Shit, it's brighter here. But it's empty, so he sends hope vis-a-vie neighbors to the Universe and whips it out.

Fu-uck.

A shower of piss darkens concrete foundation. He moans; it's such a relief he thickens up a little, his eyes rolling back. Holding it this long was stupid, but he didn't want to close shop early.

Eddie rubs his hand over his lower stomach, the soreness of his bladder dissipating as he offers another soft groan to the night air.

He shakes off and indulgently squeezes himself.

Someone shifts against the side of the house and he jumps, heart pounding as he looks directly at the specter of beauty he'd elbowed earlier.

"Uh, shit," he says, frozen. "Before you beat me up lemme just -"

"What? No," Steve scoffs, eyes glued to Eddie's dick. "I’m making sure you’re okay."

Oh. Little ol' Eddie registered above sub-human tonight?

"Huh."

Eddie wants to scramble and put himself back together and hide the fact he might be getting hard. "That's nice of you."

He doesn't mean to sound condescending but Steve shrugs, rolls his eyes.

"Glad you're okay man," he says, straightening. And doesn't leave.

"Uh. Just… drank too many cokes."

Eddie’s brain finally kicks in—he tucks himself away and zips up.

Steve crosses his arms like that's that and smirks. He's got this interested glint in his eye that's gonna haunt Eddie forever.

"I see."

[qkanaw]

**Batfamily Group Chat**

**Family Chat**

**Steph**: WHO. ATE. MY. SANDWICH?! 😡

**Cass**: 🍞👀

**Dick**: oh noooo not the sandwich again 😂

**Jason**: *yawn* …is this really worth a whole family chat notification?

**Tim**: WAIT THAT WAS YOURS?!?

**Steph**: TIM. WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN.

**Damian**: It’s Drake. Of course it was him. Probably didn’t even know it wasn’t his. Idiot.

**Tim**: Okay first off, RUDE. Second off, I thought it was up for grabs! It didn’t have a name on it!!

**Bruce**: Food theft isn’t something to be taken lightly. Steph, I’ll order you another sandwich.

**Steph**: NOT THE POINT, BRUCE!

**Jason**: lol this is the best thing I’ve seen all week

**Cass**: 🍿👂

**Alfred**: Master Timothy, it is common courtesy to ask before consuming food items that do not belong to you.

**Tim**: In my defense, it was just sitting there. Unattended. Looking sad. And I was hungry.

**Damian**: “It was sitting there”—spoken like a true degenerate.

**Dick**: GUYS. Let’s solve this the Batfamily way. Steph, I’ll help you investigate who didn’t label it. We’ll gather evidence, fingerprints, witness testimonies…

**Steph**: Or I could just kill Tim.

**Duke**: Hold up, let’s not get hasty here.

**Cass**: 🔪👻😈

**Jason**: HAHA CASS GETTING IN ON THIS TOO

**Tim**: Cass, you’re supposed to be on *my* side!

**Bruce**: Can we please maintain some level of maturity here?

**Steph**: Not until justice is served. Unlike my sandwich. WHICH TIM SERVED TO HIMSELF.

**Dick**: What kind of sandwich was it, anyway? Let’s get into details. Important for evidence, you know.

**Steph**: Turkey, avocado, and the last piece of the sourdough bread.

**Tim**: Ohhh, okay, yeah. That was good.

**Steph**: TIM.

**Jason**: 😂😂😂

**Duke**: 😂😂

**Cass**: 🍖😎

**Damian**: What I find truly disturbing is how Drake continues to disappoint us all. Eating unlabeled food, not having any self-restraint, making bad life choices…

**Tim**: How is this a “bad life choice”? It was literally just a sandwich.

**Damian**: Everything you do is a bad life choice.

**Jason**: Don’t worry, Timmy, you’ll live.

**Dick**: Will he, though?

**Bruce**: If any of you decide to hurt each other over this, Alfred is not cleaning up the mess.

**Alfred**: Indeed, Master Bruce. I have cleaned up enough after all of you.

**Cass**: 👀

**Steph**: So what I’m hearing is… vengeance is allowed?

**Bruce**: No, Steph.

**Tim**: BRUCE, CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN.

**Bruce**: You’re all my children. And you’re all exhausting.

**Damian**: Some of us are more tolerable than others.

**Jason**: lol you wish, demon spawn

**Duke**: Tim, just buy her another sandwich.

**Cass**: Or make one! 👩‍🍳🧀

**Tim**: What, you think I’m gonna magically make a sandwich appear?

**Cass**: 🪄🥖

**Dick**: Cass has faith in you, Tim. You’ve got this.

**Steph**: Cass believes in you more than I do right now.

**Jason**: Hey, maybe if you guys do fight, I can record it. We’ll make it a family movie night.

**Dick**: Definitely. “Batkids Battle Over Bread: The Saga.”

**Cass**: 🍿🍿🍿

**Steph**: I WANT MY SANDWICH, NOT A FIGHT CLUB.

**Bruce**: Enough. I’ll order food for everyone. Case closed.

**Steph**: Thank you, Bruce.

**Tim**: Can we get pizza? I’m starving again.

**Damian**: Of course you are. Gluttonous fool.

**Jason**: Hey, I’m down for pizza too.

**Duke**: Same. I’ll take pepperoni.

**Dick**: Pizza for dinner it is. The family that eats together... survives Tim’s sandwich crimes together. 😜

**Cass**: 🍕❤️

[missamyrisa2]

Miss Amy! I need your assistance. See, I’ve gotten myself dirty… like, I need to be cleaned ASAP. Can’t get into why, but ya know 🤭😅 Know any place I can go for a good tickle cleaning?

The sounds begin with a gentle hum, and a mechanical whirr. You register the approaching machinery about the same time you realize the curtain you've just walked through has somehow deposited a layer of dust upon your body. And this comes along with noticing the stylish collar with a heart charm that I had given you so thoughtfully this morning is now emitting a tiny vibrating pulse with its metal bits lighting up faintly.

"Oooh my goodness, what ever are we gonna do with you, huh?"

And there I am, standing across the room with my hands on my hips in my passionate purple dress and tiny black cardigan. I step closer in my power pose, clicking my tongue as I look you up and down. With a hand on my wide black waistbelt I poke an index finger up and start wagging it back and forth. "Tsk tsk tsk. Why I can't take you anywhere can I, and we haven't even left the house~!" The whooshing sound grows closer, magnetically drawn to you. Through the third door of the room, the shiny bot hovers in with equal parts authority and aggression. Emerged from its charging bay in the living room, the bot deploys scanners and sweeps green beams across your body.

"Bzzzzt. Unacceptable dirt levels detected. Cleanbot 4.0. Proceed with:::: capture~" There's an almost singsong manner to the bot's vocal output. And it wastes no time in deploying wiggly gloved hands, their yellow tone very in line with its clean protocol. Your fight or flight kicks in with both a feeble attempt to push back the hands and a daring escape back through the curtain.

"Bzzzzzt. Resistance detected. Proceed with:::: countermeasures." With a burst of metal, the padded waistclamp rockets towards your backside, snatching you across your sides and slowly cranking as it brings you back to the bot. The clamp begins thrumming with a teasing vibration across its soft fuzzy lining. The bot warbles about increasing your compliance as the tool works its humming along your sides and lower belly and across the small of your back. Your thrashing and giggling does nothing to impede the gradual crank and retrieval of your dirty self.

You've now gone through the curtain two more times, resulting in a noticeable film of dust all over yourself. The bot scans once more, the tingly beams crossing over your legs and belly and up your chest, leaving no spot unseen while it projects data for all to see with a rapidly climbing dirtiness chart.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty ~" I taunt, strolling around with a superior smirk across my face, twirling some locks of hair as I watch the bot reel you in.

"Bzzzzttt. Relative dirtiness has spiked. Dust threshold critical. Proceed with:::: stripping"

The gloved hands return, wiggling with a threat before descending to strip away your top and toss it carelessly behind. Your footwear goes next, bouncing on the far wall before the hands point at your lower garments. The clamp pivots and turns you at an awkward face-down angle so the hands can easily peel away your last protection and leave it to join your lost top.

"Bzzzttt. Stripping complete. Proceed with:::: restraint deployment"

Another burst of metal and the chain supported waterproof padded cuffs snatch at your wrists and ankles, presenting your full nude self before me and the bot.

"Bzzzttt. Restraint deployment complete. Proceed with::::: dusting."

"Ooooh the dusting, yesss the dustingggg ~" I snicker and pace around, my phone all up in your face as I take pictures and video clips and broadcast your cleaning to my followers. "Look at this dirttyyyyy dirty girl ~ mmmh it's the only way she'll learn uh uhhhhh~" I narrate and watch as the fluffy dusting tools emerge. Pink spinners move slow intent to your feet. Swishy feather dusters target your legs, creeping up slowly from your knees to your thighs. A deep red tiny fuzzy nub spins out excitedly and emits a laser target to focus right on your navel. Padded puffs bend and pivot to angle at your underarms. And a swarm of detail brushes wave out moving right towards your ribs.

There's a moment of pure mechanical sounds and your whimpers and my squeaking giggles before the melee begins. The feather dusters reach first, trailing your trembling legs. The spinners attack your feet next moving up and down from heel to under your toes. Each brush caresses a rib individually, working in tandem to ensure you feel each and every tickly dusting. The puffs mercilessly pad at your underarms and sideboob area, trembling and shaking against your skin. The navel probe takes its time, very slowly approaching as it spins up to speed. And just as it gets close your twitchy bellybutton, two padded clamps attach to your hips to begin a deep dust extraction and steady your midsection for the thorough cleansing about to be administered.

Throughout the dusting, and as the tools move on to other areas including the dusters going up your arms and down your back, the brushes trailing your neck and collar, the bot continues to scan mercilessly and pile up data on the projection regarding your struggles, your vocal levels, your sensitivity, and overall dirtiness.

"It's for your own gooood darling ~ that's why I gave you the collar. Now the bot can keep you clean everyyyy time you have one of these little hmmm mishaps ~"

I snicker and trace your cheek adoringly before moving back. The smirk on my face is because I know what's coming next. The dusting moves up to target your giggly squeaky blushy face. A padded apparatus emerges from behind your head and slides out to keep you secured. The all purpose brushes retract and are replaced by supple pink makeup brushes, their sparkly handles taunting as they buzz and whine close your helpless face.

"Bzzzt. Proceed with:::: facial dusting"

There's no where to hide, no resistance to be given. The bigger blush brush dusts across your cheeks. The tiny lip brush finds your lower lip and relentlessly moves across it before cleansing the top. A smaller detail brush finds your nose, going down each side and along the openings of your nostrils. The blush brushes move up to your temples and across your forehead while a new pair is stroking over your eyebrows. The worst is held for last ~ you hear the teasy buzz as they come through the apparatus, the tiny fluffy ear dusters. You can struggle all you like, there's no fighting as they trace every curve and turn of your outer ears. They move inward and make sure every bit of your ears are dusted thoroughly. And the machine still isn't finished, as a gloved hand moves to your chin and gently but firmly works to open your mouth so that a final brushy tool can carefully glide in and ever so teasingly move across the roof of your mouth testing each and every ridge.

You're left dizzy and gasping and overloaded, but the bot is hardly finished with this routine.

"Awww poooor babehhhhh~" I trace your trembling belly with a nail, delighting at how sensitive you're becoming. And I hop back excitedly with a hand over my mouth in faux concern as the bot buzzes and continues.

"Bzzzztt. Proceed with:::: genital dusting. Additional stimulation for maximum coaxing approved."

The bot hovers closer, as if wanting to see up close your body's reactions. The dusters return, starting at your lower thighs and slowly swish upward with intent. The pink sparkly makeup brushes move down towards your royal chest buttons and are joined by gloved hands carefully drawing index fingers back and forth along your sidechest.

"Ooh myyyyyy ~ you're getting dusted everyyyywhere huhhhh~ coochie coooo cutie pie~!"

I whisper in your teased ear and let my soft outfit brush against you as I continue to coo and fawn, watching with you the dusters moving up closer to your girly area. The makeup brushes tease and twirl along your buttons, taking advantage of the hands making them swell up with need. Down below, the navel cleanser reappears and the laser beam targets your rapidly volunteering girl pearl.

"Soooo eager for a dusting huhhh ~ ever the present volunteeeeer~" I playfully dart my tongue along your ear and pull out my phone again to capture just as the fluffy spinner comes in and begins merrily twirling along the side of your pearl, the dusters now right at your inner thighs and outer lips swishing mercilessly. Your chest buttons are extensively blush dusted with circular patterns and looping melodies all while the bot coldly scans and scans again to put all this info up on display.

"Bzzzzt. Arousal detected. Cleanliness interference likely. Proceed with:::: countermeasures"

"You wicked thing, getting alll worked up just from some cleaning? We know what to do with a naughtyyy girly like youuuu yes we doooo"

A soft sponge-like tool slides out and begins wicking away any output from your girly area, giving a tingly teasy evaporation so that the dusters and brushes may return and attempt another cleansing. The machine has endless patience for this loop, and continues as the fuzzy spinner follows your pearl no matter how you twist and thrash, always ensuring that most regal button is given endless tickly attention.

When you've finally at last been dusted to satisfaction, the bot scans once more. "Bzzzzt. Dusting complete. Proceed with:::: deep liquid clean"

I hop excitedly and pat my bot on its shiny surface.

"Extra soap, Cleanbot 4.0"

"Bzzzzt. Request detected. Request approved, clearance level Amy 43489311. Proceed with:::: soap surplus"

Nozzles click to life across the bot's body and clack as they target your body. The cuffs hold you secure and move you into position. With a watery rush they spray your writhing body from neck to toe with tingly sparkly suds. In the midst of the clouds of suds, the gloved hands rise up and work in a pair to dab your face with the solution, following your every turn and attempt to avoid.

"Oooh yeah, suds her up good. Such a naughttttyyy dirty girlieeee~"

With a twist, the nozzles adjust and begin spraying you with warm water, their jets targeting specifically along your hot spots. An endless stream of poking attention hits at your ribs, your hips, across your waist in a line, into your bellybutton, at your chest nippliesssss, into your underarms, and cascading down your thighs while a mass of them attack your feet all at once. The jets pulse and rhythmically alternate, washing at your body in a pattern seemingly designed to keep you from ever getting used to a sensation. At your face, the cleansing is handled by a handheld sprayer in one of the gloved hands, chasing your desperate expressions and rinsing so that another hand can blot with a soft cloth.

"Bzzzt. Liquid wash complete. Proceed with:::: drying"

Once again the nozzles twist and click, yet instead of jets of drying air, the machine rumbles and a swarm of synthetic lips on tendrils appear. They snake playfully, sensually towards your gigglewhimpering body, smiling and parting to reveal their tongues.

"Research has found this is the most effective way to dry a human body. And the most fun, tooooooo~" I grin and give your belly a little tickle before stepping away so the lips can descend. Like an army of lingering lovers, they move over your body, lapping up and excess water and moisture, licking into your skin everywhere from your arms to legs to under the toes into your navel along your buttons, even a naughty one lapping at your girly pearly area relentlessly. There is nothing except the overload of your nerves somehow being hotwired even further. You feel it all at once and every little lick at the same time. And just as it started so suddenly, the licking ceases and the lips retract, leaving you once more a whining writhing wanting tickled mess, albeit much shinier and clean.

"Bzzzttt. Drying complete. Proceed with:::: complimentary massage~"

And try as you might, you cannot decline the offer. The gloved hands attack at once with kind touches, a complete affectionate attack amplified by all the cleansing treatments. They rub earnestly at your inner thighs. Hands follow your sides with thumb rubs. Your biceps are given attention. Your feet extensively massaged no matter how you crunch your toes or kick in the cuffs. And most naughty of all, I grin with the brightness of the sun as I pull up the bot's app on my phone and make a quick adjustment to the routine. Another hand emerges wearing a pink glove as its partner applies a thorough helping of sparkly gel to the index finger. And with a taunting wiggle that finger parts through the melee of massages to land right on your pearly for an extra slow, extra light, soft loving massage.

Was it all a dream? You find yourself writhing on the cool floor, your body alight with sensation and memory. My hand caresses your hair gently as I coo and chirp down at you. "Pooor poor thing. But this is what you need. This is good for you my adorable doll. It's the only way you're gonna learn." And with a renewed playful smirk I reach down and start playing with your tush, giving little tiny tickles. I snicker as you come back to wiggly life, and start chasing you with goosy tickles at your rear. I kite you around the room and coochie cooo and taunt until I route you right where I want you ~ right back through the dustyyyy curtain.

"Uh ohhhhhhh~!" I feign shock, seeing the lights on your collar thrum back to life. And deep in the house, a bot leaves its charging cradle ~<3

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Exhale Inhale

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ hurt/comfort, feelings of guilt/inadequacy, allusions to self-harm, mentions of sex work, rough sex (with safewords used), sub Gale/ dombrat Tav, dirty talk, endurance play, (light) gender play, restraint, handjob, pegging, prostate orgasm, aftercare, tenderness, porn w/ light plot

After Aurum took a hard hit in battle, Gale blames himself for a break in his concentration. Requesting they practice something a little rough for him to hone his skills...

Masterlist, More Aurum and Gale

-

His body bristled with anger across the room, hands clenching and snapping down on various utensils as he cooked.

"Gale's in a way tonight, isn't he?" Karlach remarked, clear concern in her eyes.

"I know what this is about." Aurum sighed, the ache under her bandages agreeing.

"Oh come on, that wasn't even that bad of a hit." Karlach scoffed, eyeing her hand gently cupped over her ribs.

"I agree, I've had far worse."

"Ohh man, do you remember that time in the Shadowlands when that Shambling Mound got your arm? Had to teach Shadowheart how to reset a dislocated shoulder in the field!" Karlach pantomimed pulling with two hands.

Gale slammed down a bowl across the room.

"Oh, whoops. Think I made it worse." Karlach rubbed her neck, voice lowering back to a private level.

"I'll settle him." Aurum patted Karlach's bicep in reassurance.

"You do have such a way with him. Go get 'em Sunshine." Karlach's warm hand urged her forward by the small of her back.

Aurum glided down the steps into the sunken room where the hearth lay. Passing Astarion who gave her a downturned stare, fluttering his eyes over at Gale. Communicating through eyes as they often did.

Loud... can you please...?

She tilted her head at him reproachfully, but gave a small lift of her eyebrows and sliding of eyes to assure him.

I got it, you asshole.

He smiled at her and returned to his book with a toss of his legs on the chaise lounge.

She shook her head at him ruefully and approached the tense back of her beloved wizard.

"Hello, my love." She hushed, sliding her hand up the middle of his spine, letting it rest between shoulder blades.

He leaned back into her instinctively, letting out a small sigh. Hand releasing the ladle he had been spinning onto the lip of the pot.

"You're still upset." A soft statement, her other hand coming up around his middle. Palm gently pushing at the crest of his ribs. Her hands an anchoring, her gentle force weighing his torso.

"Very." He started to bristle again.

She expected this, stepping up to rest her temple inside of his shoulder. Another weight to bring his body back down.

"I understand." She whispered. "You feel like you let me down today."

He nodded, his chest hitching slightly under her palm. His guilt keeping him from stepping back into her embrace as he usually would.

"Do you want to talk about this now or later?" She turned her head into the curve, nestling down.

He did step back into her then, letting out a slow breath. Pressing into the sunlight heat of her chest. Her hand at his back winding around to meet the other at his front. Encircling him. Palms overlapping along his heart.

"Later." He sighed, body relaxing into hers in a small heave.

She smiled into his shoulder, holding him closer.

"That's what I'd like too." She hummed. "Can you take a big deep breath with me?"

She expanded her chest in a breath against his back. Feeling his chest fill under her hands a little after hers. Letting it out in a soft purse of her lips against his shoulder. His following in tandem. Giving one more deep fill and release, feeling the tension in his back dissipate slightly.

"Thank you." She sighed quietly, rubbing a small circle into his chest.

His head bent forward, hands coming to cup over hers.

"I don't deserve you. Flowers bend to your light in prayer." His voice low in reverence, guilt sliding back under the words.

"You do." She hummed easily. Kissing the soft skin above his collar. "You still do, and you always did."

She wound her fingers into his. Pushing language into him.

Good. After. Talk. Relax.

He took another deep breath independently. Responding in assured fingers.

Know. Try. Thank you. I love you.

She patted his chest with her quiet hand.

I love you. Back. Work. Focus.

He laughed quietly, picking up his ladle.

"Loud and clear." He teased.

-

Aurum rubbed a small amount of burn ointment into the angry bubbled skin under her breast. Letting out a small wince of breath. The full force of Lorroakan's Lighting Bolt had struck through her chest, just below her heart.

She had said it wasn't that bad, but it had knocked her back into a wall. Nearly blacking out, ripping the breath out of her. The sunburst activated in overdrive, a near involuntary Sunbeam ripping from her. The shard of false sun protecting its vessel. Dame Aylin bringing two winding strikes over her head, bellowing out in rage at her expense, finally taking him down.

Shadowheart had worked her healing, but a palm sized charred semicircle still lingered. A smaller exiting wound sat at the edge of her spine, having to twist her elbow back to rub with the edge of her fingers. Taking shallow breaths that she forced slow and even.

Gale entered their private chambers behind her. His steps pausing short at the threshold after closing the door softly behind him.

She craned her neck, sitting on the bed facing the balcony. Fingers still struggling to find purchase.

"Can you help me, baby? I can't quite..."

He took a shuddering breath in, coming to her side. His weight taking up on the mattress.

She handed back the small pot of ointment and turned her back towards him. Folding her legs under her.

His breath filled as if about to speak, once, then twice. Fingers gently swirling cool balm into her.

"Take your time." She encouraged softly, reaching back to squeeze his thigh.

He carefully positioned the fresh bandage over the wound, pressing down with the palm of his hand. Pressing his sorrow into her.

"I'm so sorry." He shuddered. "I'm a better wizard than that, my concentration is better than that. I fucked up. Gods, it almost hit your heart."

His voice was descending slowly into restrained tears.

"I had you. I had Protection from Good and Evil covering. But that barrage of Magic Missiles..."

"I know," She hummed, thumb arcing in slow waves on his knee. "You got hit hard."

"He wanted to break my protection. He wanted Aylin, I know. But I think he wanted you too." His voice shook in anger. "He could see your light, I saw it. Under your covering. He had some fascination, I could tell."

She tilted her head, raising one eyebrow in agreement. She noticed too.

It was not the first time a powerful man had taken interest in the false sun in her chest. That was part of the reason she covered her chest in bandages in public, besides the obvious constant interruption it was in crowds.

She had left it open in the Shadowlands, if just for morale. Some point of light keeping a sense of sanity among them. It had helped the denizens at Last Light Inn too. Isobel especially finding it reassuring. Joking that she wasn't the only light anymore.

But in Lower City? She would be mad to leave it uncovered.

Gods, her father knew exactly what he was doing, making her a walking spectacle. An incredibly effective tool in his subset.

"Men like that deserve what they get." Gale growled.

She chuckled darkly. Knowing he was only referring to Lorroakan, but his wisdom ringing ever true.

"He's quite dead now, and both Aylin and I are safe, Gale."

"But not unscathed..." He hushed.

She turned, pulling her robe up around her shoulders.

"No, not unscathed. And not more wounded, with you there."

"I hate when you're so gentle with me when I hurt you." Holding his hand up to pause her rebuttal. "When I've allowed you to be hurt."

She wanted to argue, but respected the request of his hand still held in a bid for silence.

"I want to practice, so this doesn't happen again. And I want you to punish me."

Her breath drew in slow, heart pulsing in an ache. She had always known, on some level, that he sought pain. Not the exploring delicious kind found in bed, but true pain. The kind given to those who believed they deserved it.

"I can hurt you, Gale. If you want. But not like that." She slid forward, hand rising over his heart again.

"I can only do play pain, okay?" She hushed.

He took a shaky breath out, both disappointment and relief released in it.

"Okay... thank you."

"I started a bath for you." She smiled, kissing his jaw. "Go get clean and loose. I'll take care of you."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her tenderly.

"You always do."

She slow swayed her hips, eyes closed. Getting in the zone. Hand rising to rub up the soft side of her ribs. Rocking in time to the soft music playing on an enchanted crystal on the dresser. A deep winding beat carrying her away into a sensual wave.

Thinking about the brothel that had become her sanctuary in Waterdeep after fleeing the temple. How she had fallen at their step, seeking debauchery to dirty her sterile holy body. But finding cleansing instead. The working women gathering her and making her anew. Teaching her the spirituality of her sex. How to draw desire not only from herself but the rising hymn of finding it in others. Teaching her dance and velvet and the divinity of bruises and bitemarks.

When they had visited Sharess' Caress, she had bounded in, shocking her companions. Waving to the Mamzell, coming up to the stage, smiling up at a familiar face.

Rhol's eyes lit in recognition, smiling down brilliantly at her.

"No way! Golden Lily!" She whispered, leaning down to hug her before returning to dancing. "You're far from The Laughing Lass, aren't you? I've got to get back to work, but go meet the twins!"

How later that night, Gale had come to her uncharacteristically coy. Handing her a list of sexual endeavors he wanted to try.

What she had planned tonight was one of the many on the list.

She twisted in a small circle, pulling the pin holding her long hair atop her head. A wave of burning gold falling and bouncing to the curve of her waist.

"By the Weave, you're going to blind me with your beauty."

She smiled over her shoulder, turning to take him in. The towel tied around his hips a tease, running her hands up his stomach and delighting in the tense in the muscles there. Rising her fingertips up to his chest, fanning out over his broad shoulders. His nipples standing at attention.

"Mmm, your body missed me." She smiled, thumbs arcing playfully over the hard peaks.

"Unbearably." He sighed, hips angling out in an unconscious seeking.

The way his body seemed to remember her, driving forward almost beyond his command, was so endlessly delicious to her.

She hooked her fingers in the fold of the towel, looking up at him in question. Raising her eyebrows up in a playful tick.

"I'm quite ready for you." He rumbled, raising his hand to twist blue fingertips. "Same safewords, if it pleases you."

"It does. Cast away." She purred, watching his wide gorgeous hand sway in sure movements.

Dancing Lights appeared above her head, swimming in playful circles.

She smiled up at them, turning to his still raised hand. Kissing into his palm before he could lower it.

"Then we've started your training, I presume?" She sighed into his hand. Pulling him to her by the loop of towel.

"Yes..." He huffed, her tongue cupping the pad of his thumb.

"I'm not going to go easy on you." She hummed, running her nose up the arch of his pointer finger. "So you'd better focus."

She pulled hard on the towel, looking up at him under her lashes.

"Got it?"

He nodded, face flushed. Mouth hanging slightly open, lost in lust.

"Words, wizard." She commanded, giving the towel another yank.

"Yes, saer."

"Good." She purred, finally pulling the towel away. A pillar already sitting against his belly.

"You do like being directed, don't you?" She smiled appreciatively at him, eyes sliding back up to his.

"Yes, very much." He hushed.

"On the bed, on your knees."

He climbed onto the mattress, rising on knees. Hands folded behind his back.

"Oh, already assuming the position? You are eager tonight." She chuckled, circling behind him. Dropping her robe in a silky pile on the floor in her wake. The dancing lights following her like a halo.

"Yes, very." He sighed.

"Hmm, I'm going to leave you untied. But you keep those hands behind your back, or I stop."

He whined, but his fingers clasped obediently anyway.

"I know!" She giggled, kneeling behind him. "You do love to touch me, but you offered."

She wrapped her hand around his overlapped wrists and pulled. His shoulders arching back, a soft groan woven into his hard breathing.

"You've made your bed, now you're going to lie in it. Aren't you?" She hissed.

He nodded, glazed eyes sliding over his shoulder.

She wound her hand roughly into his hair, pulling his head back in a yank.

"Words. I won't warn you again."

His mouth opened in a wanton pant, hips starting to rock.

"Yes, saer." He gasped.

"Never thought I would have to coax you to talk." She teased. Knee sliding between his thighs, knocking them further open in two strikes. "But here we are."

She pulled his hair back into a ponytail in her palm. Kissing along his shoulder. Other hand rising with a flat palm to his mouth.

"Spit."

His eyes danced uncertainly to hers.

Her closed fingers tapped in warning against his cheek.

"Spit. In my hand." She ordered.

He paused, breath hard.

She smiled, seeing his objection for what it was.

"You want me to hit you again, don't you?"

"Yes."

She cracked her hand against his cheek. He moaned, pushing his shoulders back.

"Bad boy." She whispered into the shell of his ear.

"Spit. Now."

He leaned forward, trailing saliva into her palm. Licking up the curve of her fingers.

"Oh, trying to please me?" She hummed, sliding her hips up to his hand.

"No need." She chirped, pulling his hands down. "Feel."

She pushed her cunt into his curled fingers. His hand scrambling back to cup and dip into her.

"Fuck..." He shuddered, fingers pulling into her arousal.

"I know, you get me so wet." She whispered.

His fingers started seeking out her clit behind him.

"I didn't say you could fuck me. Hands down."

"Aurum..." He moaned, voice already dropping into a beg. "Please let me."

"No." She grasped his cock in her slicked hand, eliciting a whine from low in his throat. Starting to pump tight strokes.

"I'm fucking you tonight."

He froze, his hips rocking into her hand of their own accord. Then dropped forward, pressing his chest to the mattress. Presenting his backside, angling his hips up to her.

"Oh!" She delighted, still wrenching wet strokes from him. "Very good boy!"

"Just for that, you can have your hands back."

He immediately rose one to brace above his head, leaning on a forearm. The other to cup behind her thigh, fingers pulling hard into the back of her leg.

"Thank you." He gasped.

"You're welcome." She leaned forward to kiss the dimples on his lower back. "You're so cute, do you know that? Such a sweetheart."

He turned his head against the mattress, a soft smile pulling along his beautifully flushed face.

"And focusing so well for me." She looked up at the lights still twirling above her head.

Her eyes lowered back on his dangerously.

"But I'm not nearly done with you."

Her hand paused on his cock.

He whimpered, hips trying to drive into her hand. She gripped his hip, hard.

"Stop."

He bit his lip, looking back at her with pleading eyes.

"Oh," She laughed. "Giving me those eyes. You know what you're doing, don't you?"

"You know what, keep your eyes on me." She called a mage hand, appearing at the dresser. Pulling the harness up to her open hand. "I want you to watch me put my cock in you."

His eyes went wide, cock throbbing hard into her stilled hand.

"Shoulders up, you can't see from down there." She smiled, hand leaving his cock to pull up on his chest.

He rose back into a sitting kneel, turning slightly to keep his eyes on her hands. She stood on her knees to tighten down the straps, humming happily as she took her time getting it adjusted to her hips.

"Aurum, please..." He huffed, his hand hovering over his leaking cock.

She raised an eyebrow at him, tightening down the last strap with a snap against her thigh.

"Patience is a virtue."

She pushed hard between his shoulder blades, coming down to purr in his ear.

"But you aren't a virtuous man, are you?"

"No." He gasped, her faux cock rubbing into his backside. "Please, I want your cock in me."

"And what do you need?" She pulled back on his hair, his neck arching open for her.

"I need you. I need you to fuck me. Fuck me full, until I cant think."

"That's going to make keeping your concentration very difficult." She smiled.

"Hey, I love you." She whispered, kissing his cheek sweetly.

He rose onto his elbow, leaning back to kiss her. Seeking desperately as she pulled away playfully.

"Sussur." He commanded. Their word for pause, that he wanted a moment outside of the scenario.

Her face went soft, leaning back down to him.

"Are you okay?" She hushed.

"I need to kiss you, come back to me."

She smiled, pressing back down into his sweet lips. Sliding so tenderly against hers, pulling a soft moan from her.

He cupped his hand up to the back of her head, fingers pressing into the curve of her neck. Breathing in hard through his nose.

She allowed him to pull her under him, pulling up on her waist. His kiss intoxicated her, chirping out little moans into his mouth. Tangling up into him, pulling and pushing. Need tying tight, his tongue and teeth slowly driving her into a maddening haze.

"Fuck, you're a good kisser." She gasped when he pulled away to give her breath.

"Only with you." He laughed. "Gods, Rosa. I want to devour you."

"I can tell." She sighed, looking up at him with glazed eyes.

"You look like an angel with those lights above you." He sighed, cupping her face.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle smile when he huffed at her.

"Do you want to be on top?" She tilted her head at him.

"No." He smiled, eyelids lowering again. "I want you to fuck me into the mattress."

Her cunt clenched hard, mouth opening into a wanton part.

"Chianthor." He rumbled. The command to start the scenario again.

She flipped him onto his back, pushing his thighs up and pinning them under her knees. Grinding her faux cock into his.

His head fell back, huffing out a breath. Hips trying to grind up into hers.

"You look so good under me." She smiled, pushing a hand flat to his lower belly to force his hips down. "Boys should be on their backs, don't you think?"

He whimpered, eyes closing as she pushed hard into him.

"Oh, not talking anymore?" She pinched his nipple, rolling the bud in her fingers. "That's a shame. You usually have so much to say!"

"How will I know if you want to be my good little whore?"

His eyes flew open, precum spilling onto his belly. Face flushing in astonished desire.

"Ohhh, you really liked that." She smiled dangerously. "You want to be my dirty little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, dear gods, yes." He panted.

"You're going to take my cock, aren't you? Take all of it into your greedy cunt?"

"Yes, please-" He whimpered. "I want it so bad, saer."

"On your belly. Now." She growled.

He twisted under her, pushing his hips up into her. She sighed, snapping her hands down on the globes of his ass. Aligning behind him. Mage hand bringing her a bottle of oil that she lathered copiously onto the length and up his hole.

"You're going to fuck yourself on my cock." She planted a flat palm on his lower back. Gently leading his hips back. Pulling up on his throat to rise him against her chest. "Watch."

He twisted his face over his shoulder, slowly pushing her cock into him. Head falling forward in a tremor as it disappeared down into him.

"Good, go slow as you need." She rubbed his hips in soothing kneads. "Breath, baby."

His breath started back up, shoulders stretching out as he fell back forward on hands, pushing back. Seating himself to the base of her belly.

"That's all of it." She marveled. "Wow."

She saw the edge of a smile on his face. Bracing her legs into a wide stance.

"Begin." She commanded.

He began rocking back into her, tentatively at first. His ass slowly pushing to her hips.

"It's so sexy, watching you break yourself in." She smiled, grabbing his ass as he pushed back. "But you've done this before, haven't you?"

He nodded, letting out a whine. Hips starting to thrust back into her in earnest.

"Of course you have." She purred, gripping his hips as he picked up speed. "Only a good whore knows how to fuck into a cock like that."

She pulled up on his hair, hissing into his ear.

"Like a bitch in heat."

The lights sputtered out above her as he buckled forward onto his chest, ass still raised. Gasping loudly.

She smiled, reaching under him. "Did you cum?"

Her hand found him still hard, cock only slick with precum.

"No?" She hummed.

"Oh, I see..." She laughed. Driving her hips into him in one rolling thrust.

He moaned out, hands bracing next to his head.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" She rolled into him again.

He could only whimper, hips starting to fall down into the mattress as she thrusted into him in increasingly hard pulses. A chorus of choppy moans leaving him in time with each stroke.

She rose over him, locking her arms out under his shoulders. Snapping her hips down into him at a high angle.

His moans came out choked, head starting to loll.

"Thaaat's it." She drew her words in a long, satisfied hum, hips snapping faster. "I found it, didn't I?"

His hands gripped hard into the sheets, a deep shuddering starting to spread from his pelvis.

"Yes, yes," She breathed, bracing down on her hands. Driving hard into fast, rough pulses. "I feel that shake. You're going to cum hard for me, aren't you, baby?"

He nodded, face pulled into a tight grimace. Hands pulling desperately on her wrists. Bracing into himself.

"Come on, give it to me." She urged. "Make a mess, baby. I got you."

He cried out, pushing his shoulders up into a curl. Hips stuttering in choppy pulses.

She reached under him and pulled tight strokes on his cock, hips still driving into him. Pulling his orgasm to its highest crest by force.

He choked out pleading whimpers, hands scrambling above him. Hips rising up as cum drove out of him in hard strikes. Pressing his chest flat into the mattress. Crying out her name in half formed calls.

She marveled at the pool of cum under him as she slowed. Pulling the soiled sheet away and lowering his hips gently down to rest, kneading into them. Making to pull out of him.

His hand rose and pulled behind her thigh again, a silent request.

"Okay." She smiled, staying inside him. Leaning down to fold her arms on his back. Turning her head in the curve.

He reached back again, seeking her hands and twining them into his next to his head. Breath still utterly lost, gasping hard and shallow.

"Breath deep." She urged warmly. "Big full pulls."

She began her own deep breaths again, his picking up her rhythm. Chests rising and lowering in tandem.

She pulled the hair from his face, kissing his shoulder. Sliding her palms under his body to cup his chest.

Murmuring out against his back.

"Don't blame yourself for things you can't control. You are a great man, and I love you so dearly. I know it's hard to be kind to yourself, but please try not to treat someone I love so harshly, okay? It hurts my heart."

He buried his face in the pillow, turning his face from her.

"Hey," She hushed, rising from his back to slide under him. "Don't hide from me. Come here."

She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms and legs around him. His face smothering into her shoulder. Gripping to her, tears slipping down the back of her neck.

"That's it, let go." She whispered. Carding her fingers through his hair. "I'm right here. I'm here as long as you need."

"Thank you." He choked.

Taking a moment to ride the hitch of his breath, he whispered.

"Can you sing for me?"

"Of course." She smiled. Taking a breath in to call a sweet song that she had heard in a passing tavern out against his hair. Scratching soft lines into his scalp.

He relaxed into her, breath evening out slowly. Letting her sing him to sleep.

"The sweetest of all my visions

Paling to all the other dreams that I was given

I carried a bounty from the apple trees

To your caroling laughter in the kitchen"

~

[actuallyadhd]

Why do my ADHD meds only help in making me able to get up every morning, instead of actually doing something for my ADHD symptoms?

After Ritalin didn't work at all, my psychiatrist put me on Vyvanse (50mg). I've been taking it for at least two years now, and it helped me beyond belief. But not in a 'aiding in concentration' way, instead, the only thing they do is not letting me go into a catatonic state all day.

Whenever I'm off my meds, I return to the same condition I was in before starting them: I can barely get up. It's a fatigue so intense I literally cannot do anything but the very basic, let alone study. I honestly cannot tell you how I survived so many years without it.

Yet, no matter how much they improve my quality of life (and though my sensory issues got more manageable), they don't do anything to aid in my studies. I still cannot focus on tasks, nor manage my hyperactivity (be it in a physical or mental level). I still get executive dysfunction, talk too much and too loud, can't sit still, have no restraint or self-control and am basically still the same inattentive, agitated person I always was. Am I just in a too-low dose, or there's something else wrong with me?

(Crossposted from Reddit. Sorry if this is too long, and feel free to take as long as you need to answer this!)

Sent December 8, 2023

There are a lot of different reasons this may be happening, and the first one that comes to mind is that your dose may be too low.

There is another aspect that's important, and that is the need to manage your expectations.

Medication doesn't make all of your ADHD symptoms go away. It doesn't make you neurotypical. It doesn't magically give you the skills you never learned due to ADHD stuff.

It sounds like you have quite severe ADHD (hi! Same here!), which makes every single little thing harder. But here's the Really Simplified Explanation about how meds help.

Let's say that a person's overall functioning can be rated on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is "completely neurotypical" and 10 is "completely non-functional".

Given this, your unmedicated ADHD is at a 7 or 8, and it sounds like your medication is pulling you to around a 5, or maybe a 4. This sounds awful, but what it does is give you the ability to actually learn the skills you need so that you stand a chance of being slightly more functional when you're off your meds.

The other part of this is that the Big Four (sleep, diet, exercise, & stress) also affect your functioning, and if any of them is out of whack then your medication won't be able to help as much. So having something screwing with you may put you at a 9, and then your meds will only be able to get you to a 6.

Things that may help with the issues you've listed here include active breaks, fidget toys, and lots of routines. We have lots of information about all of these here, but if you want specific information about any of it please feel free to ask.

Followers, what do you think about this situation? Do you have any advice?

-J

[thelibrarian1895]

Bats and Time Travel

First, a disclaimer, I have only some minimal level of Booster Gold knowledge.

That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that detective work isn't his strong suit, or the strong suit of most time travelers. Why would it be when they can just peak into the past and see what happened? So when something comes up and it's less straightforward than obvious bad guy needs a beating, Booster is at least smart enough to get expert help. On occasion that expert help has to go through time with him. He has to be very careful with this because no one wants another Flashpoint and he doesn't want to clean up any time shenanigans. The same goes for any other time related incident.

Bats are, of course, the go to for anyone who needs expert detective assistance. You can generally just grab any Bat and they can fill in as a detective though some are happier about it than others. Some are also more suited to time travel than others.

Batman works out well enough. He can be more or less trusted not to go off and mess with the timestream and cause some sort of catastrophe that takes forever to fix. Things get a little dicey if any case brings the Bat around Gotham or near one of his kids in the past. It becomes an exercise of restraint for both involved because B very much wants to go to his child and protect them/lecture them/hug them depending on the timeframe or at bare minimum loom over them. Booster has to sometimes physically get in the way to stop this. It doesn't always work. B is at least polite enough to fix the mess. Batman has trouble with alternate universe or alternate timeline adventures since he has to so often beat other versions of himself up and comes back extra broody. His family appreciate when he gets to the self reflection and determination to improve part after he's done brooding.

Nightwing is good to work with during time related incidents. Very professional, very cheerful, but still kept out of Gotham and very reluctantly kept from his past self because Nightwing really wants to give his past self a pep talk more often than not. Nightwing has, however, written letters for his past self that has resulted in a few branching new timelines or a mess that he was polite enough to help fix. Nightwing is allowed on alternate universe adventures which lets him give those pep talks to himself that he knew he desperately needed/wanted at those various ages.

Red Hood is not allowed on time travel cases because Jason has poor impulse control and has on more than one occasion killed someone who would commit a terrible crime in the future and ended up causing decades worth of a mess that needed to be cleaned up. He is responsible enough to fix his own messes and is only allowed now in alternate universe adventures. He's good at alternate universe adventures and they've helped him remember to rely less on hearsay and more on solid evidence.

Red Robin is Booster's favorite to work with because the kid can be snarky if caught in the right mood and the worst he has to worry about Red Robin when it comes to damaging the timeline is Red Robin taking pictures of various incidents. Red Robin is also polite enough to direct all attention Booster's way which appeases Booster's attention seeking nature. This is how Tim has the best collection of Batman tripping on his cape pictures and other similarly embarrassing incidents of his friends and family. Tim is allowed on alternate universe adventures and again returns with more pictures that his friends and family can't prove aren't them. He is developing an alternate tim support group to try to prevent additional gun batmen timelines. And, as he tells his brothers on occasion, so he can have intelligent conversation with family when Cassandra is away.

Black Bat would be Booster's favorite to work with except he's extremely intimidated by her, even more so than he can be by Batman. She has deliberately allowed herself to be seen in the past on occasion and those sightings in certain conspiracy forums as a cryptid. She's very proud of it. She is also a cryptid in other alternate timelines but is no longer allowed to go to alternate timelines after she has had to be restrained from adopting/kidnapping alternate versions of her younger self or her siblings.

Spoiler is also not allowed on time travel cases for the same reason as Jason, poor impulse control. She may have set off glitter bombs that resulted in a timeline mess almost as impossible to clean up after as the glitter. Her ability to help with alternate universe adventures is under review because, again, glitter bombs.

Robin aka Damian has worked in a timestream case once and came back with a dodo bird. Booster is glad that the kid allowed himself to be persuaded that there wasn't enough room to bring back the mastodon. He is not allowed to work on timestream cases until he can be trusted not to come back with extinct species. He is also not allowed to go on alternate universe adventures after he came back with another dragon bat he has named Desdemona.

Signal takes advantage of timestream adventures to fact check the crazy nonsense his siblings have told him. Booster likes the kid well enough and the invisibility does make things easier at times. The only reason he's not Booster's preferred Bat is because Signal is more naturally charismatic and people pay more attention to him than to Booster and also Signal needs to work on his confidence in his detective skills. He gets migraines dealing with alternate universe adventures and so tries to avoid them when possible.

Alfred has gone on ONE timestream adventure. Booster does not speak of the adventure. Alfred will just smile slightly if asked. Alfred is not allowed on alternate universe adventures because the Bats in his home universe get sullen and withdrawn without him and at least one kitchen fire will occur. His alternate selves are also possessive of their respective kitchens and do not appreciate intruders, even if the intruders are themselves.