#con: leo.

[binnas]

j. ¿y ahora qué sigue para los anarquistas? ¿una elección democrática? — @leohiranc

' ¿democracia? ¿después de lo que hicieron? son unos auténticos salvajes. ' siempre lo dijo y esto solo lo comprueba. tardaron una sola noche condenar a la baronesa, organizar una caza de brujas y quitarle la vida luego, sin piedad ni un juicio de por medio. ' ¿estuviste allí? ¿te quedaste también? '

[philtstone]

the thing with almost every "shawn becomes a criminal" au that ive seen is that they always seem to miss the most core canon premise. a shawn spencer who did not become a P.I. isnt a thief or a robber or a hitman. shawn spencer is and always has been a con man, and any subsequent au you write can ONLY be, to a frankly uncanny degree, the plot of "catch me if you can"

[heartorbit]

back to our yuri programming

[futuristicson]

Paige Matthews. Beautiful lady, great smile, a little wacky?

[turtlecleric]

Rise!Leo anyone? [Doesn't wait for an answer]

CWs: Implied non-consensual drugging and dubcon/somno-ish activities; to be clear, Leo is not a good guy in this

-

You can't sleep.

Again.

When you call, Leo answers immediately. There's amusement in his tone when you ask if he might come over and keep you company. A chuckle that has goosebumps running along your arms when you ask him to bring some of that tea that helped you fall asleep so easily last week.

“Of course, hermosa.” There's something in his tone that you can't read, but… you're far too tired to care. You're sure he would tell you if you really needed to know. “I'll be over soon.”

Moments later, he's walking through the portal that sparks to life in your living room. Pulling you into a hug that has you melting against his plastron. He sighs, tightening his arms around you as he holds you for far longer than necessary - surely a sign of his concern, of his care for you.

When he pulls away, you smile up at him, and he smiles back before moving to the kitchen, pulling you along behind him without a word.

The tea is ready in just a few minutes. The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands nicely, the pleasant, herby aroma that fills the air already making your eyelids droop a bit more.

“Drink up,” he murmurs, watching you intently.

All it takes is one sip for you to feel the effects. Thoughts turning to smoke, muscles relaxing… it's truly amazing, this tea that he's willing to share with you. It must really be something special for it to work so well. Though, to be honest, you're not 100% sure that it isn't just…Leo. His presence, helping you finally, finally relax. Quieting those thoughts that keep you awake, soothing the anxiety that never really goes away.

Leo pulls you to the couch. Puts something on the TV. You can't really focus on it, though. You can only focus on the feeling of his hand, gently rubbing your nape. His solid presence beside you. The way he not only lets you relax into him but actively encourages it, pulling you closer.

Everything seems to blur. You're vaguely aware of the fact that he carries you to bed. That he's petting your hair, whispering soft words into your ear.

“Just relax,” he says, his hands trailing down to grip your hips softly.

And you do.

-

Tag list: @yorshie @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @luckycharms1701 @thelaundrybitch @shakeyourtrees

[appleflavoredkitkats]

theyre going on a trip... in your favorite rocket ship...

[windydrawallday]

"Hablas de mi y no sabes quien soy, a quien ame y a quien odie de veras, nunca sabrás si digo la verdad, porque no se que mentira quisieras."

A little two-sided folded card I printed for my own enjoyment ♥

I originally made the artwork as ventart days ago and then I found about an empowering song in my language (Spanish) and I couldn't resist giving it lettering and the rest is history!

I did an English version too but the Spanish one was the only one I managed to print, was a bit troublesome with the type of printer I got sdjfhdhf I guess I will keep practicing.

[your-astro-mami]

Pros and Cons: Mars in Synastry

Mars in the other person's 1st house

Pros: great physical chemistry, sexual attraction, you energetically click with the other person, you motivate each other

Cons: you may be easily irritated by them, you may compete with them, you stress each other out

Mars in the other person's 2nd house:

Pros: VERY protective of each other, the relationship has strong physical chemistry, you try to take care of the other person's needs

Cons: too much jealousy, could be overprotective, there can be lack of comfort/peace due to constant stress

Mars in the other person's 3rd house:

Pros: you motivate each other to turn your ideas into action, you are very direct and honest with each other

Cons: lack of patience in communication, verbal arguments, you easily take offense to the other person's words, you provoke each other

Mars in the other person's 4th house:

Pros: moving in can happen early, you deal with emotional or home-related problems quickly

Cons: living together can be stressful, one person can be too dominant over the other, arguments due to domestic causes

Mars in the other person's 5th house:

Pros: strong sexual chemistry and attraction, you have fun together, you bring out each other's creative side (good placement for art partners, dance partners, etc.)

Cons: a lot of drama, especially if the ego is hurt, competition between the two, any scandals can be made public/involve others

Mars in the other person's 6th house:

Pros: an extremely productive pair, you get stuff done, you bring out each other's organized, responsible side

Cons: you can be too controlling of each other, there can be nagging, your daily life together can be stressful

Mars in the other person's 7th house:

Pros: you bring out each other's energy, you are good at pursuing things together, the relationship evolves quickly

Cons: controlling behavior, you can be pushy, no respect of boundaries, possible arguments in the relationship

Mars in the other person's 8th house:

Pros: strong sexual chemistry, you motivate the other person to overcome their fears, become stronger, personal problems are dealt with

Cons: can be a sign of a toxic relationship, jealousy, possessive behavior, viewing the other person as an object, a possesion. Mars person can bring out the house person's insecurities when they are angry.

Mars in the other person's 9th house:

Pros: adventurous, you go out of your comfort zone due to the other person, it's fun and exciting, you do a lot of new things together;

Cons: can be pushy of boundaries as well, Mars person can be too adamant about the house person's growth and personal imporvement journey;

Mars in the other person's 10th house:

Pros: THE power couple, long-term motivation, ambition; you are well-respected by others together, you take action in your professional lives together;

Cons: feelings can be put aside when goals are the only focus, there can be control and competition; house person may experience impostor syndrome

Mars in the other person's 11th house:

Pros: a lot of excitement, going after your dreams and goals together, there is hope when you take action and do things together; very supportive

Cons: the friendship side of the relationship can suffer, you can compete with each other;

Mars in the other person's 12th house:

Pros: Mars person helps the house person be more present, overcome their fears and insecurities, bring out their strength; spiritual awakening due to the relationship;

Cons: you can cause each other fears and insecurities, there can be lack of trust, possible betrayals, you are each other's hidden enemies; be careful of the people you have this aspect with.

[the-lavender-clown]

COMIC CON DAY THREE!!!

Penny from Bigtop Burger today! My friend was Tim!

Found the boys too

[feeling--pink]

I’m heading back to school tomorrow so I figured I should catch up on my notebook doodles from last semester! Rottmnt version! :)

[leohiranc]

📍 montaña rusa.

' no necesitas tener visiones proféticas para saber que está a nada de caerse ' menciona desde abajo del lugar, donde nueva ronda parecía comenzar. una línea se formaba para entrar a dicha atracción. ' si piensas subir, ten cuidado ' culmina recogiendo una tuerca que está en el piso y, que por supuesto, atribuye a la atracción que parece desmoronarse. ' ¿has visto destino final? '

[binnas]

📍 SALA PRINCIPAL con @leohiranc , @giogno , @svnnyreed .

  toma asiento en una de las butacas frente al escenario, cruza sus piernas y desde allí observa como absolutamente nada sucede. pasan pocos segundos hasta suelta un suspiro pesado, ya se siente aburrida. ' si nos iban a encerrar aquí como mínimo podrían habernos deleitado con buena música. ' rueda los ojos, tono de voz es fuerte, busca alguien con quien hablar, un poco de entretenimiento. ' espero que nos liberen de aquí pronto. '

[anticomedygarden]

white noise

Piper over thinks her powers and has a crisis. Luckily, her friends are there to ask for help.

ao3 link

i wrote this slightly oxygen deprived so if you see any mistakes please lmk (fr while I was editing I caught so many name, pronoun, spelling, and verb ending errors and I am still a bit not breathing right so please please tell me if something is wrong or doesn't make sense)

for those who don't know who killgrave is: he is a supervillain in netflix's jessica jones. he has powers similar to charmspeak but incredibly more powerful and uses those powers to completely control people, including rape

-

Piper never should have tried to watch TV at camp. She never should have asked her dad for a mobile hotspot and high speed internet. She never should have started catching Jason up on modern media. She never should have continued being friends with her ex-boyfriend. And she never should have introduced him to Marvel.

Jessica Jones currently had his whole attention, and his eyes were a little too bright as the hero snapped Killgrave's neck on her laptop screen. "Finally," he muttered, which would have concerned Piper a lot more had she not been staving off a panic attack.

"Oh my gods," Piper gasped, "I have Killgrave powers!"

Jason looked at her sharply. "Uh-"

She jumped off Jason's bed into the marble floor of the Zeus cabin, suddenly needing to get away from him. "Charmspeak is basically mind control!"

"I mean, you-"

"Oh, gods, did I contribute to Hera's heteronormative agenda?" She was full on panicking now, pacing and breathing heavily. "Do you think it took so long for you to realize you're gay because I was using my powers on you?"

Jason frowned in concentration, and it actually made her feel a little better that he took the time to think about his answer. "I don't think so. I think Hera did more damage than anything. Besides, your powers are more based on your own intent, right? You have to really try to make people do things."

"Not at first!" she said, a tad hysterical. The whole reason I was at the wilderness school was because I got that guy to give me a car!" Sure, she had good control of her powers, now, but whenever she first learned about them, she was basically just manipulating people. It felt icky then, and it felt even worse now that she'd seen what those kinds of abilities could do.

She looked up to see Jason staring at her, concerned. "Don't look at me like that, with your big sad Chris Evans eyes."

Jason's nose crinkled, and his blue eyes - big and sad like Captain America - turned downward. "Who's Chris Evans?"

Any other time, she would have made fun of him for that, but she was too upset to appreciate how funny it was. "The guy who plays adult you."

If it was possible, Jason looked even more confused. "What?"

"Oh gods, oh gods," Piper muttered. "Did I force myself on you? Was everything we did even consensual?"

There was a scratching sound over by Jason's bed, and Piper looked over to see Jason scribbling something down. She was willing to bet it was Chris Evans' name to google later. Again, she wanted to laugh but was freaking out too much.

When he was done, Jason said, "Yeah, I think it was. Even thinking about Hera, we were 15 to 16, and you're very pretty.” So he was he, but whatever. “Exploring your sexuality is what being that age is for." He started walking over to her. "Besides, we never really got past kissing."

Piper sniffed back tears. "Any forced touching is sexual assault."

"It wasn't forced, though," Jason insisted, but Piper still wasn't mollified. "Don't your powers work better when the person already wants to do the thing? Like the final push-"

"That's so much worse!" she exclaimed, to Jason's surprise. His eyes got very wide, and he took a step back. "Consent should be verbal and not coerced! If Chris Evans asked me to have sex with him, I'd probably want to, but I wouldn't say yes!" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Plus, do you know how easy these powers would make it to break an addict's sobriety? Or a million other things that suggestive mind control could do to vulnerable people?"

"Who is Chris Evans?" Jason asked again. Piper vowed to show him the Captain America movies if only so he could understand the archetype role he filled perfectly - if she could ever look at him again. He waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Piper, you know this is something we all deal with? I could do terrible things with my powers, too. I could short out the entire eastern seaboard's power grid if I tried hard enough." He snapped. "And Nico - you hang out with Will, I know you've heard some of his stories - Nico can and has done some pretty terrible things, but we all still love him." Piper almost said this wasn't the time for Jason's weird older sibling obsession with the Italian before he pulled out the big guns. "Think about Percy. Do you know how hard he has to work to keep his powers in check? Your powers aren't even half as strong as his."

Damn. That was a good one. The boy was practically a ticking time bomb. The focus he expended just to not turn into Luke probably took most of his strength. "You're right," she said. Jason looked relieved. "I should go talk to Percy."

She ran out of Cabin One and booked it to Three.

-

Predictably, Percy and Annabeth were a bit startled when Piper burst into the Poseidon cabin.

"Percy," she declared, "kiss me."

The boy in question sent an alarmed look to Annabeth who seemed equally surprised. "...That's gonna be a no."

Piper narrowed her eyes and threw every bit of concentration into her next two words. "Kiss me."

A fog seemed to come over him, and he actually started to get up. Then, he shook his head. "What are you-"

"Percy, don't listen to her, she's having a crisis," Jason blurted as he shot through the door. The blond did a double take when he saw Percy, Annabeth, and Piper just staring at each other. "Oh, good."

Annabeth held up a hand from her spot at the corner of the bed. "What is going on?"

It was a good thing Jason started talking first because Piper had no idea where to even start. "We were watching Jessica Jones-"

"Oh, I love that show," Annabeth interrupted. "Well, the first season. Krysten Ritter is so hot-"

"So hot," Percy echoed.

"-and David Tennant is so good as Killgrave." Thankfully, that appeared to be all it took for Annabeth to understand Piper's current crisis of self. "Killgrave's powers freaked you out?"

Mutely, Piper nodded.

Annabeth put out a hand. "Percy's demi, it won't work as well on him. Ask me, I'm bi."

Before she could reconsider, Piper said, "Annabeth, kiss me."

Just as it had to Percy, a fog seemed to come over her face, but unlike her boyfriend, Annabeth didn't stop. She got to barely a few inches in front of Piper before she stumbled a little and pulled her head back. "Wow, that's so weird."

Piper was vaguely aware of Percy and Jason watching them in her periphery. "Do you feel violated?"

If she'd expected Annabeth to get uncomfortable at the question, she was sorely disappointed. The daughter of Athena just laughed at her. "I mean, only in the sense that I knew I was being coerced. Otherwise, you're my friend - my very beautiful friend - and I know you wouldn't hurt me. Honestly, if it weren't for Percy, I probably would have kissed you."

Now, everyone - barring Percy, who had apparently had extensive conversations with his girlfriend about what celebrities they both thought were hot - was staring at Annabeth. Piper shook her head and turned to Jason. "See? See how easy it would be for me to force-"

"I think you're looking at it wrong," Percy said suddenly. The son of Poseidon was giving her a thoughtful look. "I don't think your powers are as persuasive as you're thinking they are. You had to really try just now to get me to do anything, and Annabeth was, uh-"

"Ready to do what anyone would be when their awesome friend tells them to kiss them with their superpowers," Annabeth quickly declared.

Jason threw up his hands. "Thank you! And whatever you think you did to me should really be blamed on Hera because we were young-"

"So young," Annabeth agreed.

"-really, not old or experienced enough to be sure about what we wanted, not to mention the memories and manipulation, and you didn't realize you weren’t straight until a lot later, either-"

"So really, if anyone is guilty of mind control and sexual assault, it's Hera," said Percy, who was not afraid of pissing off the queen of the gods. No, he looked perfectly content and not worried about cow shit at all.

That made Piper smile.

"Plus," Percy started, "our powers are there to help us. We're not like characters who get powers by accident or give themselves power ups for their own gain or security. We're born with them because monsters are constantly trying to kill us."

That was...surprisingly insightful. It was easy to forget that Percy was actually pretty smart. "How do you guys do it, then? Deal with these crazy powers?"

Jason shook his head. "Percy can answer that better than me. Anything more than some sparks and flying takes a lot out of me."

His comment very nearly sent Piper back into a tailspin. She never would have considered herself anywhere near as powerful as Jason; hell, she wouldn't even consider herself as powerful as Annabeth. This new responsibility - knowing she could leave this cabin and ruin lives just with her voice - was almost more than she could handle, and she didn't like it at all. She couldn't believe Percy just lived like this, but 100 times worse knowing that his powers could - and had - hurt the gods.

The black haired boy cocked his head. "It's not like...I mean, I don't do anything special. You learn to live with it. You just have to find a way to not be bothered by it or lose control." Her face must have fallen or something because Percy said, "Annabeth helps a lot. I know if I ever did lose control, she'd pull me out of it." He grabbed Annabeth's hand. "Or kill me."

Annabeth blanched. "But it won't ever come to that."

Piper could tell from Percy and Annabeth's faces that it absolutely could come to that and that they'd probably had this exact discussion between the two of them before.

Maybe she should make a kill-pact with Jason or Leo or someone in case she ever went supervillain and turned into Killgrave.

She finally took the time to look around the room and realized that Percy and Annabeth had been doing homework. "Thanks, guys, I feel a lot better. See you at dinner."

"See ya."

The second the door to Percy's cabin was shut, Piper rounded on Jason. "Swear that if I ever go off the deep end, you'll kill me."

Jason's eyes bugged out of his head. "Piper-"

"Swear."

There wasn't any charmspeak in her voice - at least, she didn't think there was - but Jason still said, "Fine, but only if you do the same for me."

Piper nodded. "I swear by the River Styx that if you start using your powers to hurt innocent people and there's no chance of stopping you non fatally, I'll kill you."

Jason repeated the oath, and Piper dragged Jason back to his cabin for a Chris Evans binge.

-

A week later, Leo returned from Indiana and sat next to Piper on the steps of the amphitheater. "Hey, Beauty Queen."

"Hey, Repair Boy."

"I hear you're to blame for Jason suddenly writing Captain America fanfiction?"

Piper burst out laughing. "Is he really?"

Leo chuckled along with her. "Yeah, I caught him last night when he said he was writing a history essay. I think it was Stucky."

Piper grinned. "Technically..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. "But, seriously, with his self worth issues, this is kinda like therapy."

Leo laughed again, and, damn, she missed her friend. "You're not wrong." Then, his smile dropped. "You know, if you were looking for someone to kill you, I'm right here."

Piper raised her eyebrows at him. "Likewise. Wanna make a pact?"

He sure did. 

[yorshie]

Ritual in Midnight Blue

Bayverse Foot Leo x Reader

Warning: SFW as in there's not smut, but this one shot is exploring darker themes. Dub con, fear of violence, basically a relationship under coercion. Wolf x rabbit vibes

Song used as reference: I know I’m a wolf by discovery of an afterlife

There was a certain ritual to it, even if the shadows of the little unknowns clung to the shapes and curves of him, tinted every gesture and phrase he offered. The weight of each interaction was a small pebble placed on the center of your chest, a combination of weight that made each breath a struggle, an echo of his heavy hand around your throat.

You never heard his arrival. In all things he was silent, a mere breeze floating through your room until he drew back whatever curtain he hid himself with, whatever magic he wielded that allowed him to pass unseen. Between one blink and the next the mundane feel of your home would peel away, leaving a dream like countenance in his wake.

It was late when you stepped out of your shower and into the little hallway that connected to your living room, tiredness pulling at your limbs and navigating more so by memory than any visual cue, when your foot stopped just shy of where the soft yellow light of your bathroom gave way deep blue.

The old clock you thrifted a few months ago was loud in the dark, the tic tic tic of the iron hand moving around the only sound beyond the gurgle of water passing through pipes. Normal sounds, but the hair along the nape of your neck lifted, the ghost of a breath glancing over the thin skin. You swallowed heavily, every muscle tightening to attention at the thought of what you’d find waiting for you by the window in your living room. That he was waiting for you.

It was a struggle to pick out the shape of him against the blue-black shadows that blanketed the corners of the room. They swallowed up every detail, until you’d half convinced yourself you were staring at your empty armchair. 

The ruse was broken when he turned his head just right and the lamplight outside your window glanced off his irises. The points of blue shine gave nothing away as he watched you step fully into the room, and your mind turned to the usual comparison of a wolf deciding a rabbit’s fate.

It was always like this, every time he followed you home. A long moment of silence when you fancied he was internally struggling, arguing against whatever want curled in his chest. You often wondered, eyes drifting to the dark armor, the swords strapped across his back, if this would be your last night. If his sense of duty would outweigh whatever conflict was brewing deep within him.

He took up too much space, too much oxygen in your little room, and as the silence lengthened you turned inwards, mind following a steady path to the tune of the metal clock hands, back to the night he first assessed you.

The night you almost died.

Your gaze trailed down to his hands, the three fingers almost hidden completely by the gauntlets covering them, remembering the steady way he pressed the flat of his blade to your throat, the strength corded in his grip when he had your wind pipe in his palm, and entertained the thought that you were already dead. That he had killed you the night you’d been too stupid to walk away. These midnight meetings were a sad farce of an afterlife, but every brush with him felt a little bit like death, a little bit like borrowed time. Your life belonged to him, after all. He held the hands of the clock your heart beat to firmly in his grasp.

After a long moment, he spoke the magic words that freed you from your stand off, voice low and rich, the notes slipping past your defenses and reeling you back in from the gentle drift of your thoughts:

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Your spine softened as unrealized tension slipped away, and you almost told him ‘you should. I don’t know why you haven’t. It’s only a matter of time’, but instead you swallowed the words, let them cut the inside of your throat, and watched as he stood slowly and crossed the room to your little table.

He started undoing the buckles of his armor, up underneath his arms, shedding steel and leather and placing it neatly on top of the wooden surface, eyes on his task and not on the way you lingered to watch him.

‘What’s your name?’ You wanted to ask, watching  as the little pile grew, ‘why are you doing this?’ A thick belt of knives, the sharp edges glinting, clattered as he set them down, and you inhaled sharply as the desire to yell the next question at him bubbled up behind your tongue, ‘what do you WANT?’

At the sound he paused, hands smoothing down the leather of the harness that kept his swords in place, his beak tilted towards the table in a downward angle that hid his expression. You were struck with a visual spark, comparing the slow strip to the first few times he visited, back when this part of the ritual didn’t exist and he would spend the night tucked into a corner of whatever room you were in.

Watching you, silently, haunting your footsteps as you moved about your nightly routine. Those nights were sleepless, when you still weren’t sure if he would rethink his decision and end your life before you even realized it was gone.

His hands resumed their task, and the slight noise of his sword sheaths being placed beside his armor on the table brought you back once more. You must have made some small movement at the sight of the polished, meticulously maintained weapons, because his head tilted, eyes cut to the side to pin you in place. The pop of blue against midnight black was your only clue as to where he was looking despite feeling his gaze like a physical caress.

Your shoulders touched the wall at your back, and you belatedly remembered that you were only wearing a towel, and despite having never broken his word there was very little in the way of protection between you and him.

Not that it would have made any difference. When he only looked at you patiently however, before returning his attention to the wraps along his arms, you wondered once more why he was doing this.

Why hadn’t he killed you the night you met, when your throat was in his hands and the cold contemplation on his face revealed he meant to? What stayed his hand, what continued to save your life every time you brushed up against him?

What did he gain, from these little encounters?

Your brow furrowed, contemplating, watching as he slowly unwrapped his arms, tendons and muscle catching on the light trailing out from the bathroom. The soft pattern of light rippling over his beak signaled his head turning right before you were pierced by his gaze again.

“Have you eaten?” He asked in that deceptively soft voice, starting to unravel the wide belt at his waist, fingers dipping to pull his tucked shirt out from underneath the material before tightening it back in place.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to move, knowing he could be on you in an instant if he wanted, knowing he’d eventually tell you what to do. You watched as nimble fingers, covered in fine scars that you could make out even in the low light, undid a series of hidden buttons. With a small sigh through his nose, he reached backwards, arms curling up over his head and giving you a show of taunt muscles as he undid the cloth knotted behind his neck that kept his sleeves up and out of the way.

“Go lay down.” He ordered softly, tucking the cloth into a neat little circle before bending at the waist to reach his shoes, giving you a glimpse of the scars mapping out constellations amid the whorls of his shell where his shirt hung loose and open.

You half turned from the sight, swallowing down the warm, confused roll of your stomach, before the cool air tickled the back of your knees and you forced yourself to ask, “clothes?”

He looked up, face unreadable, taking in the oversized towel you clutched to yourself in a slow perusal, lingering on where the hem stopped just above your knees.

After another long moment, he nodded in acceptance, and you tiptoed into your room, shucked the towel and dressed in your pajamas in record time despite knowing he would stay out until you were safely under the covers.

You almost picked the sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, wanting the barrier, wanting something solid and safe between your skin and his scales, but the remembered way his eyes flashed in the dark eyeing the skin of your shoulders and calves stayed your hand. You settled for shorts and a tank top, something fit more so for the height of summer than the beginning of winter, but it was soft against your skin. You had the remembered feel of his fingers smoothing over the material in the back of your mind as you hurried to your bed.

This part of the ritual, you thought, pulling back your comforter and climbing in to settle in the dead center, didn’t start until after the Lull, when you thought he had forgotten about you.

The relief, thinking back to that period, was a tainted thing, a heady connection that a sick, twisted sense of longing had somehow crept its way into.

A rabbit should not long for this feeling, you knew, heartbeat racing and eyes closing when he purposefully let the floorboard just outside your bedroom creak in warning. A rabbit should not go along with the wolf.

After the two week Lull, where he did not visit you once, there was a breaking point for him where you think he almost granted your twisted wish. When he finally darkened your windowsill once more, a different edge of violent clung to him, upfront and bristling for conflict instead of the lethal patience he usually oozed.

Then, he hadn’t uttered a word, hadn’t patiently dismantled his gear. He’d appeared mid way through your dinner, bloody and breathing heavy like a bull. In the space between blinks he had you pinned half under your table, plates and cups flying when the edge of his shell hit a leg while pulling you down.

For the first time ever, you had tried to fight him, something you hadn’t even managed the night you met. The reflexive slap certainly wouldn’t have done anything if he had truly meant to end whatever was happening between you that night, but you tallied it in triumph later when you were alone, a silent indication to yourself that you weren’t just a rabbit, after all. At the time however, you weren’t sure he even felt it, certainly he didn’t flinch, only bore down on you, teeth flashing in the low light.

You didn’t even have the time to scream, terror freezing the cry in your throat when his beak slammed into the dip near your collar. But instead of the tight pain of teeth breaking into your artery, he gave a low, tortured keen. He shivered over you, deep breaths pressing you into the carpet, trapping you underneath him until dawn crept into the room and illuminated the streaks of red clinging to his scales.

There was never a repeat performance of that raw emotion ever again.

The following night he arrived later, so late you had let your guard down. You were already in bed when he appeared in your doorway. When you had only laid there, daze and skittish, panicking over the illusion of intimacy your bedroom granted, he had offered those beginning words once more, had taken his time to remove his gear where you could see before he joined you on the bed. 

A dip in the mattress, a heavy knee by your own, brought you back again, and with a flutter of lashes you found him hovering, watching for the sign you were aware of him entering your space.

He was alien looking in the dark. The undershirt clung to his shoulders, doing little to hide the hard edges of keratin underneath. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t human, but it wasn’t until you first shared a bed with him, saw the shell curving where his spine should be, that you realized he must be a turtle.

You wondered passingly the first night, if it was a quirk of fate or the will of man that led him to occupy the shape he did now, if whatever way he came to be like this could also explain the apparent fascination he had with you.

What was he after, you thought again, as he placed his other knee beside your calf and stretched out over you. What was so special about this?

His hands, callused and cool, so much larger than your own, captured your wrists, led them to opposite sides of the mattress and pressed them tightly into the comforter. His fingers settled into their remembered places, and you fought not to stiffen, remembering the bruises he’d left on your wrists the first couple nights of restraining you, how you’d silently cried while he tried to learn how to hold you. 

His thumbs whispered over the rushing dash of your heart locked underneath the thin skin of your wrists, and you just knew he was remembering as well. 

Your legs shifted under the covers, restless for what came next, feeling the ghostly imprint of his beak slotting against the heartbeat thundering just under your jaw, the weight of him keeping you pinned for as long as he wanted.

He deviated though, broke the next steps of the ritual, blue eyes holding your gaze captive in the dark before his head dipped and the lines of certainty were blurred with a shuffle of his knees and the weight of his cheek pressing against the swell of your stomach.

He sighed, the movement only discernible where his plastron cut into your hip bones, the tip of his beak nudging just under the protective cage of your ribs.

You couldn’t control the instinctual shiver that erupted at the sensation, the quiver in your stomach, the latent fear at the unknown that had you gasping at the ceiling.

Once more, in a whispered voice that finally brought a muffled noise from your mouth, he broke the ritual the two of you built over the months. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

He held himself so carefully, so tightly over you, and for the first time your interactions were turned on their sides in your mind. You wondered if the way he held you down is more for his sake of control than any fear you’d slip away. Another shiver almost knocked you against his hold and a low rumble answered from deep in his chest.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” He reiterated, and the heated line has the air bursting from you, the darkened ceiling disappearing in a haze as foggy stars took over your vision.

“Then why are you here?” You heard a voice ask, but it sounds foreign in your ears, a quiet, near silent break in character that you instantly wished you could take back.

He stilled over you, for a moment, before giving a slow pet of your hands with the side of his fingers. All your muscles tightened underneath him, shock mixing with alarm in your muddled mind at the soft touch, thoughts slow as quicksand sucked at the trail of thoughts you’d pieced together over the course of interacting with him.

He’d built the ritual, piece by piece, deviated and pushed the boundaries of what you were willing and comfortable with over and over, in order to get something he wanted. But what was it? 

The answer hovered just out of reach, despite the way he’d patiently led you further and further each time, but the end goal stretched out in the darkness in front of you, hazy and indiscrete and unknown, unknown could get you killed-

His next words only confirmed your suspicions.

“You’re so soft.” He whispered, the words traveling through your skin and settling in your chest. His head dipped, gave the barest nuzzle to your mid section, and in concert to the little movement your brows crumpled over the revelation that burst like a star in your mind.

Oh… oh. Soft. Did he even know what he wanted, what he was chasing, pushing the both of you towards? Was this stilted, slow dance his way of feeling out, pushing up against your boundaries until he found the soft points he coveted?

If… if he stopped chasing the softness, would he kill you then? 

Another slow pet of this thumb over the softest part of your wrist, lingering over the fine bones hidden underneath your skin, and another thought came unbidden to wash away the panicked edge of the others.

Why would he wait months, waste months, for this from you if there was any chance he’d end your life?

The thought had you sinking into your bed, thinking, careful to temper the blind hope of the errant thought with the immediate weight of the giant turtle over you.  He was dangerous, a killer, but maybe, just maybe, you could trust him with this. 

He held the position through the long hours of the night, not pushing for more, his breath slow and even against your stomach and his body slowly warming from the close proximity to yours.

You always promised yourself that you wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t possibly sleep, with him holding you so, but some times in between the slow, soft touches and the steady beat of his hear against your legs, you found yourself drifting off.

Your dreams were vague things that blended with reality, where you weren’t sure if you were pinned down like an insect to be studied or cradled like something precious, the only thing for certain is you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

When you woke in the morning, something curled up in your right hand drew your attention, amid the absence of your strange nighttime suitor. 

A little blossom, a delicate thing, safely tucked into the dip of your palm where it wouldn’t be crushed. You turned over the white petals carefully before bringing your cupped hand to your nose and inhaling.

Curiosity struck you at the subtle and sweet scent. Out of all the flowers, why would he pick jasmine?

[smuggonifico-lmao]

Absolutely congrats for you @intotheelliwoods on so many followers holy shit thats like so many

Ive heard you like FMA so i decided that those two are hitting up a con in full on cool cosplay! Also since i put way too much effort into making that automail semi canon to fma i am gonna put an extra close up without poptart pfffffff

I am now gonna pass out

[turtlecleric]

.

Edit: dub con, hypnotism, I guess this is staying up 😅

The air is wavy.

Wait. That's not right. Air doesn't... or does it? Actually, isn't that just what sound is? Air... waves? Or something?

Wait, what is happening?

Open wide, pretty thing.

You obey before you have a chance to wonder why. Something slick and firm is shoved into your mouth, and you feel hands in your hair.

Fuck. That's a good girl.

Good. You're being... good.

It's hard to keep your eyes open for some reason. That's okay. All you have to do is keep your mouth open, and you're doing that, and you're being good. You're being good. You're. You're being...

What do you think, a second voice says. Should we keep her under?

You try to pay attention, but you can't... remember. You try to. Pay attention. But the meanings of the words slip away as soon as you register them.

I think it might be fun to let it wear off. Don't you? Oh, you realize belatedly. There's a cock in your mouth. That's what you're...

Someone else says something. You don't catch it, distracted as you are by the thick fingers suddenly pressing inside your cunt. A broken moan punches out of you, and the hands in your hair tighten and move your head a little faster. A little rougher.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, your entire body is tingling. What's going on?

Time is being weird. Or maybe it's just your brain. Maybe you're... fuck, you can't think.

Something spills down your throat. You swallow instinctively. As though you've done it dozens of times before. Perfect, juguete.

Movement. You feel empty, in more ways than one. Then the world tilts and falls, and you find yourself on your back. You feel him push inside you, and you're so fucking full. You're full, and there's a thumb pressing down on your tongue, and you're being good. You're being good. You're being so...

The air is wavy.