#does he still find her feathers in his pants?

[quasarzt]

Been thinking more about roleswap as of late (I really want to write a fanfic of the time trampoline malfunctioning as a way to crossover AUs with canon, and I want roleswap zach and canon aviva to meet so bad because that friendship breakup has GOT to hurt worse after seeing what could’ve been. the things they could’ve accomplished)

BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT. HERE’S MESSY SKETCHES. Meet the Varmint Crew!

Here’s their Pinterest Board! very much a WIP lmao, you can find my other stuff too on my account if you stalk me

I’ve got a lot to say about design choices/etc under the cut!

Everyone with a suit is someone who wears one! Tried to resemble canon. Also because Zach is paranoid that Aviva is after his tech, so making more suits for the team tends to stress him out. I’ll make another post for the villains (also sorry the bros won’t be villains in my version of this au. mostly bc again, they’re real guys. and i don’t want them to be mean to animals. they’ll basically be the same as in canon, but just doing their own thing. working mostly with the fictional characters here!! Basically think of the Kratt Bros doing Kratt’s Creatures/Zaboomafoo instead of Wild Kratts. Which if you think about a roleswap, they went from main characters to side characters).

Zach: Zach’s skin shade, freckles, and hair come from his kid design! And the color of his sweater comes from Toodles. I color shifted the pants to be more of a grey hue, instead of one with a bit of purple in it (mostly because Aviva is going to have the purple motif in this). Basically a Zach who actually goes out into the sun! He’s a very anxious yet excited individual, studying the brains of the animals and making breakthroughs in science with it. Similar to canon Aviva but keeping that mind aspect from canon Zach as well, so I chose for him to be interested in neuroscience, using that as a base (plus chemistry knowledge) to create the information needed for the suits. He still studies DNA, just has the added brain studies for animals! He’s discovered a few animal friends who had brain tumors and has found a way to help slow/stop the process. I decided to go with chips instead of discs because I wanted to incorporate that V design into the paws, for Varmint Crew. They operate in the same way as canon suits do. Although I wanted to make their suits a bit more animalistic, not in any bad sort of way, just more accurate to the animals in a way they aren’t just fursuits LMAO. He is inspired by both canon Aviva and Chris.

Donita: I decided to go with a safari type of vibe with her! She wanted to match with Zach, as both of them are the dedicated field agents for the team (she shoves Dabio onto the field with them sometimes too, the kid needs the experience). She makes all the uniforms and helps Zach out with the design choices when it comes to the powered suits. She’s been in the field working with birds for a while, finding their beauty to be very inspiring for her artwork. I decided she would take on the role as Martin and Koki, as she’s very excitable as well, and is very well versed in talking to others. With the help of Dabio and Paisley, she sets up events where they can work with the Varmint Kids and do informative animal showings. Her colors were a bit icky to me, but I’m sticking with them for now. Colors were picked from her canon design. She does most of the naming of animals! She doesn’t think Zach’s very creative (he has a habit of naming things their latin names). Wears just gemstone earrings to not interfere with her work, although I see her wearing feather earrings too!

Dabio: He used to model before he joined the crew, upset by the animal use in the fashion industry. He’s the youngest on the team, but is just as passionate about what he does as the others. Donita has fully taken him under her wing, and has been showing him the ropes. He’s the first of the crew to get a creature power suit outside of the two main prototypes. This helps Zach out tremendously because now he can be an observer to help get out any bugs in the suits systems. He helps with communications, but more often than not, is the one who’s doing the documenting of information. He’s a photographer for the crew, and also works as a cinematographer, and has helped produce animal documentaries for the Varmint Crew. He also has a safari aesthetic, following in Donita’s footsteps and never giving up for his eye for fashion. He’s a field agent occasionally. His suit color is teal/turquoise, reminiscent of his shirt color and Donita’s earrings, this is just a color I’ve always associated with him.

Gourmand: The crews dedicated chef and animal nutritionist! With his knowledge of health, he’s the crews designated nurse/medic as well. His vast knowledge of how to find animals in the field, especially with his great sense of smell, has helped the crew tremendously when saving animals. He also likes to sing, and often sings random jazzy songs while he bakes animal themed pastries and meals inspired by the region/animal of the day. He often helps out injured animals, and is put on baby animal duty the most. I just hue shifted his pants to a more vibrant green, and then made it so his shirt wasn’t all the way white. He just wears a regular polo for now, with the logo of the Varmint Crew on his left breast pocket. He is a very joyous and boisterous team member, and is often the crews pick-me-up when the others are stressed from work. His suit color if he ever agrees to wearing a suit (he’s like Jimmy in that regard), will be a sage green, like his eye color. Yes he is Zach’s cousin in my AU. This is because of my headcanon that they’re related in some way because of the fact they both have the same voice actor (Zachary Bennett). Because of this, Zach and Gourmand are going to be related, hence why they’re cousins!

Paisley: An environmental architect and conservationist! She mostly travels with the crew to understand animals better and what their needs are to produce the best possible habitats for them. She’s the fourth one on the team to get a suit, initially it was going to rex, but he urged her to get out there in the wild to see the creature world for herself. She’s a bit of a germaphobe, but otherwise understands that her job is going to be messy, and she has to deal with that. She’s very passionate about what she does, and she wants to help the world, and the world for animals alike. She knows deforestation is detrimental to the planet, so she wants to find and explore ways to make green architecture that both supports people and animals lives. She works with water ways and forests alike, studying them and how they operate in the grand scheme of things. Her colors were color picked from her canon outfit, and her suit color is a light purplish gray that borders on white.

Rex: The crews pilot and mechanic/engineer. He is often operating most of the heavy machinery, and is the one who fixes most of the broken equipment. He takes on the role of Koki, as well as canon Rex. The garage of the ship is his place of work. Zach and him often work together, and Paisley often drops off blueprints for habitats she has in mind on his desk, which always ends up in a massive pile. Eventually gets a suit as well, Zach just has to make another. His suit color will be orange. I kept his vest look with an orange sweater vest, and now he wears a yellow baseball hat (mostly to hide his receding hairline at the ripe age of 25). He’s the second youngest in the group. Him and Dabio get along great, and tend to pair up if Paisley or Donita don’t nab them first. Basically rex flies the ship (Thinking Terrator or something. It’s not the Tortuga, but the Varmint Crew version of that, perhaps a flying beetle? idk yet. this is a WIP). He also does most of the repairs, this lets Zach have enough time to focus on his projects instead of being stuck taking care of things that can be done by someone else. However anything dealing with the suits is purely to be operated and meddled by Zach.

[esotericas-sims]

George and Ruby's outfits going into the 1890s represent the odd dichotomy of their new lives. On one hand, they live a relatively "simple" life on Ruby's father's farm, and are compelled to dress practically, in simple, sturdy clothes, in order to support a lifestyle of hard labor. On the other hand, they have Moses's consistent financial support - less so cash, more often in the form of lavish gifts, especially of expensive clothing. They often have multiple outfits for the same occasion, one more expensive, and one more practical.

George in particular has taken to Moses's habit of giving gifts. George finds the promise of wealth infinitely appealing, and although he hasn't yet obtained said wealth, Moses's expensive presents often make him feel as if he has. Because of this influence from his father-in-law, George's outfits have also trended more towards Moses's all-black color scheme, becoming darker in color and adding in more blues and jewel tones, to replace George's teenage greens and yellows. He dresses in Moses's gift-clothing whenever possible, only returning to more practical garments while working on the farm.

Ruby, on the other hand, seems discomforted by the expensive clothes her father throws at her. Her hunger for independence and identity tends to push her away from making use of his gifts, no matter how lovely. She does dress up when he asks her to, or when the situation arises, but otherwise Ruby favors sturdy, comfortable, practical clothing. Some of her outfits do retain her teenage greens and yellows, especially those given to her by Moses, but the majority of her clothes are in a soft, neutral color palette, made up of mostly creams and browns. Still, Ruby does have a taste for drama, and what she lacks in fashionable clothing, she makes up for in her variable, expressive hats, often covered in flowers or feathers.

Links below the cut

George

Genetics: Skinblend / Eye shape / Blush / Hair / Beard (High School Years)

Everyday: Outfit / Shoes / Ring (Basegame) On The Farm: Outfit Going Out: Jacket / Pants / Hat / Gloves (Get to Work) Wedding: Outfit / Hat / Gloves (Get to Work) Formal: Top / Pants / Hat Underthings: Pants Sleep: Union Suit (TSR warning) Morning: Robe / Slippers (Basegame) Hot Weather 1: Outfit / Hat Hot Weather 2: Outfit / Hat Cold Weather 1: Outfit / Scarf / Hat Cold Weather 2: Outfit / Scarf / Hat (Basegame)

Ruby

Genetics: Skinblend / Eye shape / Structure (retired) / Nose Details / Eyebags / Updo / Blush (High School Years)

Everyday: Glasses (TSR warning) / Top / Skirt / Apron Acc / Ring / Shoes (Post deleted) On The Farm: Hat / Top / Skirt & Apron Acc Going Out: Hat / Outfit (1880s set) / Jacket / Gloves (Get to Work) Wedding: Dress (Anachronistic) / Necklace / Veil / Earrings / Gloves Formal: Dress / Earrings (Growing Together) / Gloves / Flowers Underthings: Corset / Combinations / Socks (Dream Home Decorator) / Hair Sleep: Nightgown / Braids Morning: Robe / Slippers (Basegame) Hot Weather 1: Dress / Hat Hot Weather 2: Outfit (The Schoolmistress) / Hat Cold Weather 1: Top / Skirt / Scarf / Hat (Eco Lifestyle) / Gloves (Horse Ranch) Cold Weather 2: Outfit / Scarf / Hat

Playing with SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules

Started: 1800

Current year: 1890

Family tree

Spreadsheet

CC Finds

[ellsbclls]

can’t stop thinking about ellie finding a strap while she’s on patrol . . . ( 18+ minors please for the love of god don’t interact )

stumbles upon this desolate ‘adult world’ where, in an odd and rare display of post-apocalyptic serendipity, it’s last breath clings to the still blinking open sign. waves at her with red and blue fingers that say “we’ve got what you need!” and while jesse flattens a wrinkled maid costume against his lean frame, she manages to stuff the harness into her bag before he could see it and give her a whole patrol’s worth of regret

can’t stop thinking about how shy she gets when she first brings it up to you, because there are a slew of things that ellie is, and shy has never been one of them. so it ticks you off at first, puts you into high gear, squares your shoulders and tightens your spine until you finally see what she’s talking about — long, and girthy, and so shiny that the fluorescents drown out the pseudo-veins. the only reason you laugh is because you’re trying to cover a flustered sigh.

can’t stop thinking about ellie making a home between your thighs. one arm hooked around the dip where your tummy meets your leg, thumb stroking against your clit, sending you up the fucking wall with how feather light her touch is. absent minded. and the other is pulling at your lip , clearing a path for her tongue to lap at your folds, your sweet little hole, all nice and lazy with it . she’d be at it for minutes, hours, fucking days if that’s what it took to make you wet enough for her, all “gotta make sure you can take it, bug.” and “you can barely take my fingers, know you’re gonna strangle this fucking cock.” know your pussy just drools with a mixture of her spit and your own slick, to the point where her chin is painted in it, her throat, hell — the collar of her wife beater.

can’t stop thinking about when she finally puts it in. how you had to beg her, give her a flash of those big, wet doe eyes that make her crumble oh so fast, and just like that you’re both fumbling with the dildo. giggling. trying to figure out how the fuck it goes on the harness itself and “if it comes off in the middle of this i’m gonna kill myself .” and “you’re gonna make me finish myself?” but no sooner than you figuring it out does she line herself up. lays a tender kiss behind your knee as you swallow the tip and murmur a low “it’s so big, els. it’s too fucking big” and she nearly fucking stops. the furrow in your brows and the waver in your voice is enough to make her go into fight or flight, but you lock eyes with her and you’re anything but scared. hell, you’re somewhere else, hazy and sated with enough love and trust to let her keep going. so she keeps burrowing between those snug little walls, huffs a low “that’s it, that’s my girl.”

cleans the tears littering your cheeks with sweet kisses, and you take the opportunity to coax more out of her, whisper “i’m all yours, show me i’m all yours.” because you feel so fucking full, but you could feel fuller, and with every inch by suffocating inch that stretches you out, lights up every nerve it presses into by the minute, nothing compares to the jolt of lightning that shoots up your spine when her hips stutter. hard. bottoms out in a clean sweep and prompts strangled moans from the both of you.

can’t stop thinking about the slick sound that accompanies her thrusts, from tentative to greedy. how it gets louder when she hooks your knee just over her waist. this wet, sloppy puddle that spreads over your thighs, over her thighs each time she plunges into you, and pulls back with spindles of it tethered together. how it’s drowned out by the raspy little grunts she punches out of you. a part of you wonders what you were so scared about, panting underneath her, teeth bared each time she prods against that devastating spot that you can barely reach on your own because it’s just so fucking perfect

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N attends her first Harry Styles concert and catches the unwanted attention of a knothead alpha. Luckily Harry and his team are able get to you in time, leading to some confusing thoughts about the popstar.

Previous Chapters: Prologue

CW: Attempted assault (nothing too graphic but it is there)

Word Count: 4.7k

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“What do you mean you can’t go?” You ask incredulously. Going to the concert wasn’t even your idea. It was your friend Rachel’s and now she’s ditching you.

There’s a pause on the other end of the call before Rachel says, “It’s my dog. Well, my family dog that we’ve had since I was in middle school. She’s not doing well, and they think she only has a couple days left so now I have to drive back to Delaware to see her and say goodbye.”

“Oh my god, Rach, I’m so sorry!” And now you feel like a jerk for being mad at her canceling.

“Thanks. We knew it was coming but I hoped we had a few more weeks. Uhm, anyway, I need to finish packing and get on the road.”

“Of course, yea, safe trip home,” you quickly reply.

“You better take some videos of the concert and send them to me. Especially if he does something different for night one at MSG!”  

“Rachel, I’m not gonna have any idea if he’s doing stuff different from his last shows, as I have no idea what his shows are like. But I promise to send you a couple videos, okay?”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t watched any videos from tour. What rock do you live under again?” You laugh at her teasing, mostly cause it’s true. The fact that you’ve made it this far without knowing much about Harry Styles surprises even you. “Have fun for both of us tonight,” Rachel says.

“I will, give your dog a belly rub from me. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

The call ends and you sit for a moment. You don’t really want to go to a concert alone, but that’s what your night now has in store. Rachel had tried calling some other people in your friend group, but they were all busy. You’d also texted your two best friends, Amelia and Violet, but it was too last minute for them to change plans and go with you.

So, alone it is.

You look at the outfit you had planned but decide against it. The leather pants and crop top ensemble isn’t exactly in your comfort zone, but Rachel chose it and wanted the two of you to match. Now that you’re on your own you switch to a pair of jean shorts with tights underneath and a flowy top, something you’re much more comfortable with. Harry’s music plays in the background while you get ready. You’d been studying the setlist to make sure you would know at least some of the songs he’ll perform. You’re happy when you find yourself singing along, showing that listening on repeat had worked.

After getting dressed you do your hair and makeup, then drive to your local train station. Living in north Jersey has its perks, and the quick train ride directly to Madison Square Garden might just be the biggest.

You get off the train and follow the trail of feathers from the boas which leads you directly to the venue. You show your ticket and are led to the entrance for the pit.

Being in the pit had also been Rachel’s idea. You’d never done that before, and you would have preferred somewhere with a seat, and honestly a better view from a higher vantage point. But you’d agreed to pit and in the weeks leading to the show you’d actually become excited to experience something new.

But now that you’re alone, you’re a bit overwhelmed. You’re one of the last people to arrive, since it’s only half an hour before the opener is set to start, so you end up hanging in the back. But even then, the large amount of people around you has you on edge.

Being a single female is hard. Guys are always hitting on women, feeling entitled to your company, not taking no for an answer. But being a single female omega is even harder. The way you see it betas have it easy, especially since they’re the majority. And alphas? Well, what do they have to worry about? They’re bigger, they’re stronger, they have their alpha voices that can command you and take away your free will if they want. Plus, they have an unmatched sense of superiority, thinking they’re so special just because of their secondary gender.

But you’re an omega. Often considered to be the weakest gender. Which is stupid. You’re the gender that gives birth, which takes way more strength than alphas could ever possess. And yet you’re still looked down upon by plenty of people in society.

So, you choose to hide your secondary gender. Only your family members plus Ameila and Violet know the truth. You don’t need anyone judging you based on one little trait.

Going out in public, especially at places as crowded as MSG always gives you anxiety. You never know if a knothead alpha is going to be there and literally sniff you out as an omega. But you trust your suppressants and soothers and, most importantly, your scent blockers, to do their jobs and hide your omega status from the strangers around you.

The pills have never failed in you in the eight years since you started taking them. You have no reason to doubt them now.

And yet, you can’t help but feel uneasy about the attention a certain man in the crowd is giving you. He is undoubtedly an alpha, one that for sure does not use scent blockers. In fact, you’re almost convinced he’s doing something to broadcast his scent, somehow make it even stronger. It’s an unpleasant odor, one that practically burns your nose, but you pretend you can’t smell it. Afterall, a beta wouldn’t be able to notice the scent.

But as much as you try to ignore the scent, going so far as to move to the entire other side of the pit, it still lingers. Because you are most definitely being followed. Seemingly casual glances at the crowd around you shows that the man has moved with you.

Going closer to the stage is the last thing you want to do, but getting deeper in the crowd might be what you need to shake off the man. The girls around you gladly welcome you and make space for you to join. A moment later the opening act starts to play, and you no longer smell the alpha. You’re relieved and get into the music for a few minutes.

Then the girls around you start to move, and you hear them say something about the bathroom. You decide to go with them since you could use a bathroom break and there will be safety in numbers. You keep your head down and casually follow, in hopes that the man won’t see you leaving the crowd.

Only once in the bathroom do you lift your head up. There’s a small line since most people are out listening to the first band. A moment later it’s your turn and you enter the stall. After using the restroom, you notice a large rip in your tights. You look at them, hoping they can be considered fashionably torn, but then you see another hole and decide to give up on them altogether.

It takes you a couple minutes to get rid of them, needing basically to fully undress from the waist down to get them off. Finally, you’re put together again, and you exit the stall, throw out the destroyed tights, and wash your hands. You notice that the group you came with is gone. In fact, the entire bathroom is now empty.

You sigh, disappointed that you’re on your own again, but you suck it up and start making your way back to the pit.

The second you walk out the bathroom door you smell it. Him. That acrid, somehow fishy, definitely revolting scent that alerts you that the alpha is nearby.

Before you even see him you hear him say, “Be quiet, and follow me.”

Shit. That’s an alpha command. You’re aware of that fact, but unable to fight it. You want to run, go back to the crowd, but you have no choice but to follow this man deeper into the back hallways. You want to scream, but every time you open your mouth, no sound comes out.

He leads you to a deserted corner, pushing you so your back is against a wall, and says, “Now stay quiet, and don’t move.”

Again, you do as he says, not only because of the command that you have to follow, but also due to the fear paralyzing you to the spot and rendering you silent.

“What a good little omega,” he says as he walks closer. He leans towards your neck, breath ghosting over your mating spot, and a loud whimper escapes you.

Realizing that you don’t need words to call for help, you begin to let out whines and whimpers as well as release distressed pheromones. Sure, you have scent blockers, but they’re not perfect and fear this strong will surely overpower them. You hope it’s enough to alert any other alphas nearby that there is an omega in danger.

You see the anger cross the man’s face, note the furious pheromones he’s releasing, but before he even reacts, your world goes dark.

***

Harry’s stylist is putting the finishing touches on his hair when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Harry says.

The door opens and he sees his band standing just outside the room.

“Blood Orange is about to start,” his drummer, Sarah, says. “You coming to watch with us?”

“Yea, of course. I’ll join you in a minute.”

As soon as he’s left alone, Harry takes some calming breaths. Night one of fifteen consecutive sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. He can’t believe how far he’s come in his career. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself that he’s worked hard for this, that he’s completely ready.

After spraying one more dose of scent blockers, he walks out of his room and goes through the hallways to find his band. They’re at the end of one hall, standing at the opening they’ll use later to walk to the stage. Harry joins them, making sure they’re all back far enough that they are still hidden from the fans.

Harry mingles with his band while they wait for the opener to start their set. But after a minute, Harry starts to get an uneasy feeling. He himself isn’t nervous or scared, so he really doesn’t understand where this sudden anxiety is coming from.

Harry looks around and sees a worried look on Sarah’s face. Aside from Harry himself, Sarah is the only other Alpha in the band. So the fact that they both have a sudden bad feeling while the betas around them seem unbothered has Harry on edge.

He begins to look for any type of potential threat. Right away he notices that the two Alpha security guards are scanning the area as well, hinting that they’ve picked up on the same thing. One of them walks away to start looking for anything that could be going wrong.

Blood Orange takes the stage, and that anxious feeling seems to go away. Harry checks with Sarah and she’s feeling better too, so they assume whatever was wrong has been taken care of.

Everyone enjoys the first few songs, and suddenly, the feeling comes back, way stronger than before. Harry’s alpha is immediately alert. He starts moving before he even realizes what he’s doing. He hears footsteps and sees Sarah and a security guard following close behind.

None of them know exactly where the trouble is, they just follow their instincts through the backstage hallways. Suddenly, the feeling of overwhelming terror hits them, and they can faintly hear whimpers coming from a distressed omega.

They start to run in the direction the sounds are coming from. Rounding a corner, they come across a scene that has their blood boiling.

There’s a female omega, seemingly unconscious, being physically held up against a wall by a male alpha.

“Let her go,” Harry growls out using his alpha voice. It’s less effective on the man than it would be on an omega, but his grip on the girl involuntarily loosens. Harry and the security guard move in to pull the alpha off, and Sarah runs forward to catch the girl.

More security guards move in and drag the alpha away to be questioned.

Harry’s focus shifts to the omega now being held in Sarah’s lap on the floor. Adrenaline is still coursing through Harry’s body, but he feels himself relaxing faster than he thought possible. That’s when he realizes Sarah is releasing calming pheromones. He immediately works to do the same, rather than continue to broadcast the anger he’s feeling.

He knows his emotions can affect the vulnerable omega, and the last thing he wants to do is cause her most stress.

His most pressing worry is that she’s dropped. It wouldn’t be all that surprising. Omegas tend to drop during stressful situations. This can be dangerous for a number of reasons, especially if they don’t have a trusted alpha to keep them safe while they’re under.

Not only can they not protect their bodies, but a drop can also be a scary experience mentally. Omegas have described it as feeling untethered, like they’re stuck in darkness, unable to find a way out. There are good drops as well, ones you go into on purpose to give your mind rest. This is always done when there is an alpha there to hold and scent them and keep them safe and grounded throughout.

But if this is a drop, Harry knows it would be a bad one, and they’d need to gently bring her up immediately.

“Sarah?” Harry says to get the other alpha’s attention.

“Yes?” she replies, not taking her eyes off the girl.

“Do you think she’s dropped?”

“No. At least not fully. I can still catch a bit of her scent. If she went fully under it would have disappeared completely.”

There’s movement all around them, members of venue security and Harry’s team all coming and going to ensure everyone is safe. Music and loud cheers can be heard, meaning the opening act if still playing, that the show was not interrupted by what happened backstage.

Harry and Sarah are focused solely on the omega, until they hear a familiar male voice say, “There you guys are. Sarah, you scared the shit out of me running off like that.”

She looks up at her husband, Mitch, and smiles sheepishly before saying, “Sorry, I really didn’t think. We heard her distressed whines and just reacted.”

“Is she okay?” Mitch asks, crouching down to be level with the group on the floor.

“We think so,” Harry answers. “There was an alpha who had her cornered. Not sure what exactly he was planning but it was obviously nothing good. She was unconscious when we got to her. Just wish she’d wake up so we can check that she’s really unharmed.”

“Is she in a drop?” Mitch asks. Being a beta he’s not as knowledgeable about these things but he knows enough to be concerned about the girl.

“No, definitely not a full drop. But I’ve been flooding the area with calming pheromones and she’s still not waking up,” Sarah says worriedly.

“Maybe she just senses unknown alphas around her. Why don’t I try holding her and you guys move away a bit?” He senses how reluctant they are to move away from the omega, but eventually they listen to Mitch.

He settles on the ground and Sarah passes the omega to him before moving to give them space. After another minute the girl begins to stir, groggily at first before her eyes shoot open and she jumps up to move away from all the people around her. They watch cautiously, unsure what to do with the sudden change in the situation.

***

For awhile you’re stuck in the dark. This isn’t a drop, not really. You’ve only ever dropped twice but you can tell there’s a difference this time. You’re still aware of what’s going on around you, even if the details are fuzzy.

The alpha is gone. That you know for sure. The awful smell is gone, replaced by a much more pleasant one. It’s a mix of black tea and maybe the ocean? Whatever it is reminds you of early morning walks on the beach during family vacations. You relax more into this scent, and then notice that fresh laundry smell which always means someone is releasing calming pheromones.

You start to relax, the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. You can still sense multiple alphas, which keeps you a bit on edge. You try to open your eyes, but you’re still in a deep fog, probably due to the mix of intense emotions and the multiple alpha commands you’d been subjected to.

You don’t realize that someone is holding you until they shift and place you in another person’s arms. The alpha scent fades and you know the person now holding you is for sure a beta.

Finally, you manage to open your eyes. It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but when you do, you’re overwhelmed, and honestly a bit embarrassed. Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, the world-famous popstar you’re here to see, is sitting across the hall from you, studying you closely. Next to him is a woman you recognize as his drummer.

After these discoveries, you fully realize your current position; that you’re being held in someone’s lap. One glance at the man shows it’s Harry’s guitarist. You’re no longer embarrassed. No, now you’re completely mortified. You quickly extract yourself from his hold and stand up, looking at the group, totally speechless.

They slowly stand as well, all looking at you. And not just them, but the other dozen or so people that are still in the hallway. There are so many eyes on you, watching you, and you just want to disappear.

Picking up on your unease, Harry says, “Why don’t we go somewhere less exposed, hm? You can hang in my dressing room and maybe have a medic look you over if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you begin to nod your head, just wanting to get somewhere quiet with less people. He reaches out as though to place his hand on your back and lead you but seems to think again and pulls his arm back. Instead, he walks ahead, and you follow, Mitch and Sarah coming as well.

You arrive at the room, groaning when you see more people waiting there. One’s the medic Harry mentioned, another is obviously a police officer, and the third is a man you don’t recognize.

“Harry, need to you choose your outfit and get dressed. We’ll take care of, uhm, sorry I didn’t catch your name,” says the man.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say immediately, surprised at just how scratchy your voice comes out.

Sarah must pick up on it because she asks you, “Would you like a cup of tea love?”

You can’t help but smile and let out a laugh at that.

“What’s go funny?” she asks, smiling as well.

“It’s just, your scent, it definitely smells like tea. And the first thing you say to me is about tea. Sorry, I know it’s not polite to comment on someone else’s smell,” you finish, head lowering in a new wave of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended,”

“Plus, you’re right,” Harry adds. “Swear I can’t make a cup of tea without thinking of her.”

“Aw, H, you think of me? How sweet,” she says with a joking tone.

“Real sweet,” Mitch says, then adds, “But stay away from my girl.”

You smile watching the easy interaction, happy to be distracted by their banter, sipping on the tea Sarah brings you.

That is until the man, whom you’ve learned is Harry’s manager, Jeff, reminds Harry that he’s supposed to be getting dressed, and the cop and medic walk over to you. There’s a table in one corner of the room and they lead you to it.

“Y/N, I’m Kate, I’m just going to get your vitals and check you over to make sure you’re okay, is that alright with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” you reply.

“And I’m Officer Michaels, is it okay if I ask you some questions about the incident tonight?"

“Of course.”

And so, as Kate does a quick exam you tell the whole story to the officer, starting with the uneasy feeling when you first noticed the man, all the way to him using his alpha voice to corner you in a back hallway.

Harry had reentered the room by this point, dressed in his show outfit and looking completely ready to get on stage. But he’s making no moves to leave the room, even though Jeff is reminding him the show is supposed to start in five minutes. Mitch and Sarah leave to finish getting ready themselves.

“Are we all set here?” You ask Kate and Officer Michaels.

“I have everything I need,” he replies. Kate adds, “Everything checks out just fine,” and they both exit the room as well.

This leaves you with just Harry and Jeff.

“Great, so I guess I should go back to the pit then?” You knew you were holding everything up and didn’t want to be more in the way than you already have been.

“Actually, Y/N, it would probably be best if you stay here for the show. Jeff, can you go grab Jada for me?”

The man nods, leaving you alone in the room with Harry. He motions to the couch, inviting you to sit and you do so. He sits on the coffee table facing you.

“I know you want to see the concert, and I know the man is gone, but I have to admit, my alpha is a bit on edge right now. To be completely honest, I don’t know if I could go out there and perform if you’re not completely safe. I would really like it if you stayed in this room and watched the concert on the TV over there. I promise to get you and your friends tickets to another show, alright?”

You’re taken aback by this, surprised by how much he seems to care about you, a random fan he’s never met before. And knowing that his alpha was triggered by what happened to the point where it’s still uneasy is a pretty big deal. That normally doesn’t happen with strangers. Sarah was no longer worried, and the alpha security guards were completely fine the second they caught the man.

So why was Harry’s alpha still calling the shots? It would make sense if you were partners, or at the very least, friends. Maybe Harry does truly care that deeply about all of his fans. That must be it. Because it certainly can’t be you in particular. There’s nothing special about you, other than being a damsel in distress and nearly derailing his show.

He must see the confusion on your face and continues, “Jada will be here in a moment, and she’ll hang out with you. Anything you need, just ask her. I won’t see you after the show, I leave right from the stage, but talk to Jada and Jeff and they’ll make sure you get home safely.”

“Okay, thank you so much for everything,” you reply.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do. Y/N, I am so very sorry something like this happened to you here. I always want this to be a fun, safe place for everyone.”

“It’s not your fault. Please, don’t feel bad. It is completely that knothead’s fault. You guys are the ones that saved me.”

He reaches forward and places his hand on top of yours, just for a second. Your hand tingles as he pulls away, like a bolt of electricity had just gone through it. You meet his eyes, and see he felt it too. You stare at each other, frozen for a moment, until there’s another knock at the door.

Harry stands quickly and introduces you to Jada as she joins you on the couch.

“Okay, I have to go before Jeff kills me. Y/N please give Jada your contact info so we can get those new tickets to you. Get some safe,” he says.

“Thank you, break a leg,” you reply and a second later he’s gone.

You talk to Jada throughout the start of the show, smiling as she lets you in on some behind the scenes info about the tour. After a few songs she asks if there’s anything she can get you.

“I actually have kind of a weird favor. I was supposed to come with a friend, but she couldn’t come at the last minute. I promised to send her videos and she’s going to be suspicious if I don’t have any. Would you be able to take a couple videos from the pit? I just don’t want to have to explain what happened. At least, not yet.”

“Of course, girl, I’ve got you. I’ll go get a couple of the next songs. Are you okay in here? There’s security outside the door so no one will be able to get in.”

“Yea, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a smile.

She walks out and you sink into the couch, grateful for a few minutes alone. Everyone has been so lovely, but it’s been a lot, and you need a minute just to breathe. You close your eyes, relaxing your body, and when you’re fully calm, you smell it.

There’s another alpha scent, but not one of a person nearby. No, it’s in the fabric of the couch. And the blanket next to you. And the shirt draped over the back of the couch.

It’s Harry’s scent. And it’s amazing. So clean, and fresh, with hints of chocolate, and the forest, and something sweet. Maybe roses, you think. Definitely a hint of floral. And once you catch the scent, it’s all you can think about, like it’s wrapped you in a warm hug. You feel better than you have in hours, the stress of the day fully washing away.

Even when Jada comes back, Harry’s smell is what you focus on the most. She notices you’re quieter than before and must assume you’re just tired from everything that has happened. She goes back out towards the end of the show to grab another video and you can’t help yourself. You turn to the side, right where the shirt is, and purposely take a deep breath. It’s almost overwhelming, your omega telling you to steal the shirt so you’ll always have the delicious scent with you.

That snaps you back to reality. You need to get your omega under control. You’re just like every other fan, thirsting for the amazing Harry Styles. Get a grip, you tell your omega. He’ll never be ours, don’t get attached.

Jada comes back, the show ends, and she leads you to a car that will bring you home. She asks for your car keys and ensures someone else will grab it from the station and drop it off at your place. She rides with you back to your home, along with a security guard.

You exchange numbers during the drive and breathe a sigh of relief when your apartment building comes into view. It’s been an exhausting day, and you can’t wait for a hot shower and your comfy bed.

You thank Jada for everything and notice them waiting for you to get safely inside before driving away.

You scorch your skin in the shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and burrow under your covers.

You fall asleep that night not thinking of the horrible alpha, and the horrors of the day, but rather of green eyes, soft hands on yours, and the delicious scent that can only belong to Harry.

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you have any questions, comments, concerns, (requests), please let me know!

I hope I got everyone who asked to be added to the taglist. If I didn't get you or you want to me added just leave a comment or a message!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305 @creativelyeva @daphnesutton @selluequestrian @lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely @eversincehs1

[readychilledwine]

Broken Part 3

Summary - Rhysand and Aelia finally have their reunion, and the consequences of it be damned.

Warnings - smut, Minors go away, or at least don't interact. I'm not your mother. I, in reality, cannot control you, BUT the warning is there. Fluff, some praise kink stuff.

A/N - this is very different from the smut I normally write, but after re-reading the original, it did not feel right. This moment needed to be just... love and worship? Forgive me for any errors, I'm currently editing and rewriting on my phone as I wait for my new laptop to arrive (internal squeeling it's purple.)

Word count - 3173

Rhysand's hands felt like feathers dancing across Aelia's skin. Her back had arched, pressing her chest closer to Rhysand as he kissed down her throat. "I adore you," he licked the column of her throat before gently biting down on her pulse point and making her whine. "I missed you so much, snowflake." 

She sighed happily as he continued kissing, nipping, and licking his way down her body. Her hand had tangled into his hair. "Do you know how often I think of worshiping you," His voice was soft, deep, and gentle. "How often I dream of you?"

Aelia's head fell back further into the pillows when his mouth wrapped around the tender peak of her nipple. This wasn't the hard pent up years apart sex she had been expected. The sex where Rhys would fuck her against the nearest surface with his sole mission in mind being her completion and submission.

This was the gentle sex he treated her to on special occasions. The sex that'd leave them both breathless. Where every roll of his hips into her was laced with emotion. Where every single second was spent with Rhysand whispering his love for her. Where every soft touch held meaning and a message. 

I love you, he purred into her mind. His tongue flicked at the sensitive skin before he kissed his way across her chest. His hands were gripping her hips tightly. As if he was afraid of letting her go, as if she'd slip away like a dream if his grip loosened. 

He had spent years waiting, praying, fighting, and playing all of his card right for this moment. The moment he filled her again, felt her again, could be vulnerable with her again. He had never questioned the Mother nor the Cauldron, even after the deaths of his mother and sister, Rhys understood everything served a purpose.

But what could his purpose truly be without Aelia there, at his side, holding him, loving him?

He moved further down her body. Nipping gently at the skin of her stomach and the faint scars from pregnancy that still lingered. He kissed each one delicately, praising her body for the gift it had given to him before continuing his journey lower.

He couldn't stop the growl that came the second he hovered above her core, nor the quick flicker of his eyes up her panting body, admiring each bruising mark beginning to adorn her pale beautiful skin. He placed a teasing kiss above where he knew she needed him, "Please," he groaned at her breathy voice. "Rhys please."

"Please, what darling?" He knew what she wanted, a feline like smirks gracing his face as he moved her legs over his shoulders and kissed the soft plushness of her inner thighs. "What does my darling need?"

Aelia had never been good at this. Growing up in a conservative household where sex had been a taboo topic. She remembered vividly the first time she had caved to his wants and tried to speak to him the way he wished for. Instead of sex, Rhysand had ended up on the floor laughing while Aelia buried her face into a pillow from embarrassment. She had learned. Slowly, but she did learn. "I need you to play with me, make me feel good. Please."

Rhys bit her skin gently, eyes rolling back as he realized what he was in for. "Need me to lick this pretty pussy baby?" The soft yes please had him grinding against the bed for any friction he could find, his mind beginning to cloud and his cock growing restless. "Lay back, darling. Let daddy take care of you." 

Aelia almost screamed at the first long drag of his tongue from her licking hole to her clit. She sighed softly and whimpered as she leaned back fully. Eyes fluttering shut as Rhysand moaned against her and began sucking her clit gently and rolling it under his tongue.

She tasted like magic. She always had to Rhys. He was hooked all over again, remembering now why any female he had tried to touch after their first casual hook up held no candle to Aelia. He switched between sucking that bundle of nerves to licking her hole and feeling a drunk state set in as he drank her essence.

He moved his hand up, gathering wetness on a single digit before moving his mouth back. "Tastes so good, baby. Like the finest of wines." Aelia whined at the praise, another moan fall from her parted pink lips as he ran his finger up and down her folds. "Did you play with this pretty girl while I was gone, darling?" Aelia's hips tried to move, chasing his finger or mouth as she desperately begged him for more. "Answer my question, Aelia. Did you play with my pussy while I was gone?"

Aelia shook her head, causing him to smirk. "Only yours. All yours." Her voice was laced in need. "Please, Rhys. I need it. I need you." 

His finger pushed in slowly, her jaw dropping at the stretch of the intrusion before a loud moan fell from her lips. Her tight heat was stretching around that single finger, burning her so deliciously she couldn't help but to start lightly rolling her hips. "Such a desperate little thing." Rhys went back to licking her clit, timing each movement of his tongue to match his fingers. 

Aelia was quickly becoming a mess. Rhys had begun a physical assault on her body while playing another in her mind. He was sending her memories. Memories of her riding him, head back in bliss. Memories of her taking him from behind as he forced her to watch in the mirror. Memories of her on her knees for him, cock deep down her throat as she stared up at him with wide blue eyes rimmed with tears. 

She was so lost in the pleasure of it all, she hardly noticed he had pushed a second finger into her until both of them were dancing on that spot inside of her only Rhysand could find. "Fuck! Rhys!" She felt herself tightening around his fingers. His mouth began to work harder. He trapped her clit between his lips, sucking, licking, gently scrapping his teeth against her. Her moans were mixing with breathy pants until finally a band snapped inside of her.

For the first time in 50 years, Aelia truly saw stars. Her mind fell into a lost fog and haze as pleasure rushed from her toes to her stomach. She screamed for him, calling his name as he pushed her over the edge of bliss. Her body shook and shattered with his touch. Good girl, just like that, darling. He praised her gently as he slowed his mouth and fingers. Just like that, Aelia. 

He pulled away gently with on last kiss to her clit but kept his fingers inside of her, stretching her open with a scissoring motion. He kissed up her body, licking each nipple, before kissing her lips gently. Aelia's hands roamed the muscles of his body greedily. Rememorizing the familiar hard planes, mentally noting each new scar. Need you inside me, she told him as his tongue gently massaged hers allowing her to taste every lingering drop of herself. 

Soon, he purred to her. His fingers began to speed up again. And he pulled his mouth away, leaning his forehead against hers briefly before hovering above her to watch. 

That coil began to form again and Aelia started gently meeting each thrust of his fingers. "Look so beautiful riding my hand, darling." Rhys was enchanted watching her face contort and her chest begin to rise and fall again. "Give me another one, baby. Soak my hand." 

He kissed her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Her moans were music in his ears. They reminded him of happy times, of not so distant memories. "I've missed you so much, Aelia." He bit her pulse point, savoring the cry she made as her pain mixed with pleasure.

She was on fire, the magic losing control as she couldn't help but to drop every guard she had. The windows were frosting over, snow beginning to fall harder. Rhys shivered in delight, bringing his body closer to hers. "There we go, darling," her soft inner walls pulsed again. "Cum for me. Let go." He pressed his thumb to her clit at just the right time, causing her to fall off the ledge again and cry out his name. 

Rhysand couldn't wait any longer, all but ripping his hand from her dripping cunt and sucking his fingers clean as he claimed his space between her thighs. He could have her any way he wanted, but he knew this was right. He forced her long smooth legs around his waist and took no more time to enter her in one quick harsh thrust knocking the breath from Aelia's overestimated body. 

"Fuck," he groaned out, eyes rolling back slightly as he felt her trying to adjust to his size. "Feels like home, darling." She whimpered at his praise. "Can I move?" 

"Please." Rhysand set a slow pace, enjoying the soft whines and sighs his wife was making as her hands came to explore his arms and chest. Every deep drag of his cock shot shivers through both of them as he hit all the right places. 

Aelia raised her upper body, resting on her forearms and hands to touch his forehead against hers again, silently pleading with him for intimacy. He could never deny her. Never resist her bright shining blue eyes. He leaned her back down, large hand spraying between her shoulder blades as he pressed his chest against hers. 

Her arms wrapped around his waist and one copied his, going between his shoulders to bring them as close as possible. 

He began whispering words of love and praise into her ear, watching every little change in her face as his hips met hers. She was moaning his name, whispering how good he felt, how much she had missed this. 

Rhys focused in, knowing he wasn't going to last long with the way she was squeezing him and how good she felt wrapped around his cock like a perfect warm sleeve. "Hold on to me, darling," Rhys kissed her gently before switching the angle of his thrusts. 

Aelia threw her head back into the pillows, a lewd moan ripping through her throat as he found his mark. Rhys began picking up speed as her nails sunk into his skin. Each time he hit that spot inside of her, Aelia felt herself slipping from reality. "So good," she panted as she clung tighter to him. "Feels so good, Rhys. Right there, please." 

She could feel that coil getting tighter and tighter, begging to be released. Her walls were fluttering. "Rhys please," he knew what she wanted. She watched his brows pinch together, jaw falling slightly as he began to moan and pant.

"Not yet, Aelia. I, fuck-" he couldn't even finish the sentence, his cock beginning to twitch at the feeling of her walls trying to milk him. "I need."

She kissed him deeply, "Need more?" He nodded desperately, whining as his thrusts became sloppy. Need to cum together, he said into her mind, mouth to preoccupied with moaning her name as she grew tighter and tighter. Almost there, darling. Just hold on a little longer. 

Aelia whimpered but obeyed, moving to lick and nip at the shell of his ear, then his pulse point. She began doing anything she could to offer him more pleasure, suddenly saddened by the lack of wings being displayed.

After a few more thrusts into her tight heat, he couldn't hold back any longer, bringing the hand holding her waist between them to play with her clit again. At the same time that he began to gently circle her nerve point with those long calloused fingers, Aelia bit down on the part of his neck that made Rhys putty in her hands. 

She screamed his name as she came, and he growled and groaned out hers. He growled harder as her nails redug into his back, making him give her a few more sharp thrusts. Her walls were draining him for everything he had, causing their released to mix together on her inner thighs and bedsheets. He began to kiss her sloppily, feeling their hearts racing in unison as he held her tight. He oulled out her slowly, watching as her back arched and then rested on top of her, studying the ethereal haze setting in on her face.

His attention was drawn to faelights in the courtyard suddenly snapping on. "Aelia, is your room sound shielded?" Panic fell over her face as she realized it wasn't because she had not been awake to do it herself. "We have to go, darling. Now." 

There was no basking in the post bliss high of their love making. Not as she heard guards and Kallias yelling. "If you are coming with me. I need to know now Aelia. My banishment is punishable by death, and I will not fight him in his own court." 

She didn't know what else to do, she nodded and clung tighter to him as darkness surrounded them. They landed hard on their marriage bed in the Riverhouse. Rhys was sweating again, the magic pulling so much out of him he had to pause every administration of aftercare and love he wanted to give Aelia. 

He finally lifted her and carried her to their large bathroom, walking into the already filled and warmed waters before sinking down with his wings appearing. 

"He's going to banish me, isn't he?" Rhys nodded, his mouth tightening as he tried to comfort her. "I can never go back?" 

He kissed the top of her head. "I will prove to him I didn't do it, darling. I will fight this so we can still enjoy our Winter home." He made her the promise, unknowing if it was empty words. "Let's not think about it right now, hmm?" He tilted her head up to him, "we just had a beautiful reunion, do not let darkness and sadness ruin this for us."

She nodded, blinking away the tears lining her eyes. He summoned her favorite wine, running his hand up and down her spine as she relaxed back into him. "I love you," she breathed as her head fell into his shoulder. "I never realized how much I truly loved you until you weren't here anymore."

Rhysand paused, his arm resting on her hips holding her tighter against him. "I realized how deeply I loved you when I realized the extent I would go to in order to protect you. To protect our son." Rhys looked down at her. 

"I knew there was a chance you would never forgive me for what I had to do, but I had to risk it. I had to risk losing you as long as it meant you were alive. She wanted you down there. She knew who you were. Knew you weren't in Winter. I had wiped everyone's memories of where you were." His hand come to rub his jaw. "I had to cage memories of Nyx learning to walk, to talk, of him throwing his food so deep down into my mind I almost forgot at times I had a son." His voice cracked. 

"I would have given her anything to protect you two and our family. If she asked for my own head on a spike, I would have let her take it." Aelia clung to him at the confession. 

"I never wanted Feyre, Aelia. I had always hoped it would be you. That it was you, and it had been delayed due to trauma or timing. I was desperate for that snap between us. When it wasn't you, I felt like part of me shattered. Like I would never be whole again."

Rhys paused again as she kissed him, enjoying the feeling of her lips lingering on his. "I went to Spring to reject the bond, darling." The words crashed into her like waves beating against a shore. The intensity of the statement could have cut her. "And when I came back and you were gone. That last bit of me broke. I wanted to chase after you to go there immediately and rip you and our son out of the beds you were in and bring you both home. But Azriel refused to tell me exactly where you were."

Aelia would have to thank Azriel later when she wasn't naked in her husband's lap, when her chest pressed against his watching as he sipped wine. "When Nyx came home, part of me came back to life. I had hope again. We sat for a while, just talking. I learned he prefers hand to hand over weapons training, thinks my taxation system is unfair, and needs to be updated. He has found a way to sneak out of my shields and into an illyrian camp, tricking the minds of everyone there to ensure he could partake in the Blood Rite." 

Pride laced into his voice as he smirked. "I learned from my son that you were devoted to him. That you waited on him, hand and foot pushing your own emotion and physical well being to the side the whole time I was gone. He told me if I didn't bring you home within 3 days, he'd leave and stay by your side, regardless of where that was."

Aelia responded, pulling back to look at Rhys. "I never asked that of him. He came with me by choice and of free will." Rhys nodded. 

"I am aware of that, snowflake. I also told him that Summer would freeze over before I left tonight without you." His face was serious. "Because, I had hoped deep down, your heart and soul were aching for me as much as I was longing for you."

"I will always long for you. I will always be yours." Rhys shut his eyes, basking in her quiet confession. "I love you"

He answered sincerely. "And I love you. More than the stars in the sky."

"Wash my hair?" He nodded, allowing her to turn and began caring for her.  It was a simple act of love. He rubbed shampoo into her scalp and massaged it to eliminate the tension she was feeling. She sighed in content as he washed away the suds and switched to working conditioner into her long white strands. He pushed her hair over her shoulder, allowing it to set for a bit, and began to massage her shoulders and kiss the back of her neck. 

Soft moans began to fall from her lips again as he worked out what felt like years of knots. 

He took her in the bath again. Then made love to her in front of their fireplace. And again on their bed. 

She slept soundly in his arms that night, allowing him to wrap his wings around her to block out the early morning sun that would disturb them in just a few short hours.

Rhys did not sleep at all, too afraid if he did she would be gone. That this was all a dream.

But Mother, even if it was, Rhys could not imagine a happier one.

Tag list: @we-were-beautiful @daedriclys @historygeekqueen

[just-a-creep-babe]

Candy's Kitten

Candy Pop x Reader Smut

Commissioned by @isimplywantakiss -- tysm darling, I hope you enjoy!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

“What a good, obedient little kitten~”

Candy’s voice is smooth and low, entirely too seductive for his own good as he chuckles darkly

He's standing over you, leash in hand, while you're on your hands and knees in front of him, completely naked with nothing but a pair of cat ears, a fluffy cat tail plug, and, of course, your collar around your neck

Like a good little pet

The whole thing would be so humiliating if you weren't so turned on right now

If you weren't so eager to please your Master

He reaches out, stroking through your hair, petting you like a cat, and you whimper in response

"Aww," he snickers, "is my little kitten all needy? A few minutes with the toy inside of her and she already gets all desperate, doesn't she?~"

You bite back a whine of agreement

He’s been toying with you all evening, riling you up just to see how desperate he can get you—all for his own entertainment

You subtly try to wriggle in an attempt to get more friction from the plug, and it has the tail swishing against your thigh from the movement

It’s almost like you’re wagging your tail for him, like an excited little puppy

Try as he might to keep his composure, you don’t fail to notice the way the bulge in his pants twitches at the sight of you

He hums, and the hand at your hair moves down to caress your jaw

His touch is feather-light in its gentleness, like you’re made out of porcelain

Like you’re his favorite doll

You try not to move too much, try to squirm as least as possible, as he tilts your face this way and that with a low hum

"Good pet," he praises, "come"

You don't need to be told twice to follow as he leads you to the bed

And even though it's demeaning, you crawl the whole way because you know that's what he wants

Every time you move, it has the plug grinding inside of you, so that by the time you reach the bed, your thighs are practically shaking and there’s an embarrassing amount of arousal between your legs

He sits at the center of the bed, watching you squirm and whimper with a cruel grin at his lips

“Here, kitty~”

He tugs at your leash for you to join him on the bed, and then he pats his lap in a wordless command for you to sit on it

Your face flushes

He’s still fully clothed and you’re completely naked—if you do as he says, you’re going to ruin his pants

But even though the order is embarrassing, you know better than to disobey him

He feels strong and sturdy beneath you, even despite his lean build, as you sit yourself nice and pretty on his lap

And almost as soon as you do, a pathetic moan falls freely from your lips as the plug pushes even deeper inside you

“Aww, how cute~” he coos, his tone all husky and condescending, “my little kitten is all sensitive, isn’t she?~”

Still holding your leash, his hands roam freely up and down the curves of your body, like he’s getting a taste of you for later

Like he’s already imagining everything he wants to do to you

Goosebumps nip at your exposed skin, and you find yourself biting at your lip

You shift on top of him, trying to adjust to the gentle tickling of the pads of his fingers, but all that does is move the toy inside you, giving you an additional wave of friction near your entrance

You choke out a whimper, inadvertently clenching around the plug while your sex throbs with want, and all you can suddenly think about is how good he would feel filling you up

You just want him to take you already

Almost as if reading your mind, he hums

"Does my kitten want Master's cock?" he teases

His free hand, the one that isn’t holding your leash, snakes around your front to press at your clit between your folds

You release a breathy sigh, your body reacting way too eagerly to the slightest touch he offers

Trying to remain somewhat subtle, you rock back and forth to feel more of him, and it causes the plug to stimulate you at the same time

You try not to whimper, try to keep your composure, but it’s like you can’t help the hitch in your breath, and he very obviously notices what you’re doing

“I asked you a question, pet,” he hisses, and you’re about to answer when suddenly he gently slaps your clit in warning

You yelp, clenching, the mix of pleasure and pain an intoxicating combination

“Y-yes! Yes, Master, I want your cock—”

He lifts his hand again, like he’s about to give you another slap, but when you flinch, he lowers his hand back down with a chuckle

He’s not even trying to hide the way your fear amuses him, the way it excites him

"Good girl" he praises with a snicker

He circles your clit a few times, watching your reactions, watching the way you try your best to be as obedient as possible

And even though you want nothing more than to reach down and finish yourself off already, you, instead, let him toy with you as much as he pleases

Once he seems satisfied with how sheerly riled up he's gotten you, he hums

“Make yourself cum on my lap, and I'll give my little kitten what she wants, what she deserves”

You swallow thickly

“Y-yes, Master”

Slowly to begin with, you rock your hips back and forth on his lap, trying to get friction from both the plug and your bare sex rubbing against his thigh

You're so wet, you’re practically dripping all over him

Your body keeps tightening, keeps tensing as the toy rubs inside of you

But you still feel so empty without him

Every time you rock back, you can feel his stiff hard-on against your asscheek, and it just makes you all the more eager for him

You want to make your master proud

“Atta girl, good pet~” he praises with a hum

He tugs on your leash to help guide your pace, and at the same time, he bounces his leg up and down in tandem with your movements

The combination is euphoric

The plug keeps stimulating all the right places, and every time he pulls your leash just a bit harder, you find yourself gasping, the lack of oxygen making you even more sensitive

When his knee bumps right against your clit, you mewl, your back arching and your hips buckling in a feeble attempt for more

"M-master—feels... feels so good~"

You’re already starting to feel overwhelmed by him, and he's barely even doing anything

Filthy sugary sweet praises encourage you to keep being so vocal, and then, sensing that you’re approaching your peak, he helps you reach your climax by bumping his leg up even faster, even harder up into you

You cry out with another loud moan, your tits bouncing with every thrust while the plug in your ass grinds so wonderfully deep inside you

The room is filled with your shameless sounds of pleasure, accompanied only by the jingling of the bell affixed to your collar and Candy’s occasional hums of praise

“Such a perfect little slut for your Master,” he groans, “be a good kitten and play with your tits. Show your Master how much of a desperate little pet you are for him”

Immediately obeying his command, you bring your hands up to your chest and start toying with your nipples

And it all feels so fucking good

Your back arches, a needy whine falling from your parted lips as your body succumbs to the pleasure

A knot of tension coils in your abdomen, getting increasingly harder to ignore until it's all you can focus on

“That’s right, my slutty little kitty~”

When he brings his hand down to your tail to twist at your plug, you know you definitely won't be able to last much longer

In and out, he pumps the toy into your clenching opening, and the mix of every different sensation’s driving you insane

“C-Candy! Master—M-master, fuck!~”

When he drops your leash in favour of pressing his fingers to your clit, the tension in your stomach suddenly snaps and you come undone—loudly

Shuddering waves of ecstasy crash into your system, turning you into a moaning, shaking mess on top of him

Your body stutters as you attempt to ride out your high on his lap, moaning and whimpering so shamelessly as you do

His hands latch onto your waist to control the movement of your hips as you lose yourself completely to the feeling

And even though it all feels so good, you know it could never compare to the kind of orgasms he can give you

"On your hands and knees," he hisses, and the command is sudden, with an undeniable demonic impatience in his voice that has you scrambling to follow his order

Knowing exactly what position he wants you in, you bend over for him, your face down and ass up—completely exposed and vulnerable for his viewing pleasure

He purrs at your compliance, and you hear the sound of fabric shuffling, followed by a quiet grunt as he frees himself from his pants

“Cute little kitty~” he hums, and then he’s tapping the thick head of his cock to your exposed cunt, like he’s preparing you for what’s to come

Even just as he teases himself around your entrance, he feels so good

Your stomach tightens every time his length smacks! into your puffy opening

You wriggle your ass against him, trying to coax him to just put it inside you already, but all that does is earn you a chuckle and a few playfully punishing slaps to the flesh of your ass

“Impatient, aren’t we, little pet?”

When you bury your face in the sheets, embarrassed at how obviously eager you are, it has him laughing again, and the sound is somehow both melodic and devious

“Good kitty~”

He twirls the tail of your plug around his hand, and then he’s pushing and pulling it in and out of you again, stimulating you while rubbing his length up and down your slit

Your walls clench around nothing, body shuddering as every nerve ending rouses to life beneath his touch

And you’re already sensitive from your first orgasm, so even though he’s not being particularly rough, it’s like everything feels twice as intense

He teases you until your thighs are shaking again, until you’re whimpering and dripping with arousal

And when he finally pushes his hips forwards, sheathing the entirety of his length inside you, it’s pure bliss

Your head falls forwards, a desperate moan escaping as you struggles to accept all of him inside your tight little walls

Behind you, Candy curses, and his grasp around your tail tightens, causing the plug to shift inside you

You release another moan as it does, your cunt twitching around the jester’s cock, and he hisses out your pet name in response

You feel so full with both of your holes stuffed

“M-master, please—f-feels so good~”

He rocks into you as a reward for being so vocal, and you whimper, your muscles seizing from the pleasure

“That’s right~” he groans, “moan for your master—moan for who owns you”

And you’re about to do just that when he suddenly snaps his hips forwards again, stealing the breath from your lungs as the tip of his cock rams into your g-spot

You cry out, mewling, and with a cruel snicker, he repeats the same motion at the same angle

Even though his pace isn't fast to start, the sheer intensity of his thrusts are utterly euphoric

Over and over again, the head of his cock kisses your cervix, stretching you out, forcing your walls to mould around him

Your tits bounce with every thrust, the fat of your ass jiggling against his pelvis while your bell chimes to accompany all of your needy moans

But it seems like he can only stand the slower, rougher pace for a short amount of time before he needs more—like all of your cute little sounds just drive him absolutely feral

Because it isn’t long before he’s moving faster, bouncing you along his shaft like you’re nothing but a sex doll for his personal pleasure

“M-Master! Fuck!~”

Your cry out for him, gasping, trying to catch your breath as he all but ruins your sensitive little cunt

The ringing of your bell borders on obscene as he abuses your squelching sex

You’re gushing around his length, reduced to nothing but a mere whining toy for him—a perfect sex slave to satiate his needs

“Who owns you?” he demands, snarling as he leans over you, his hips never once relenting from their brutal pace, “who owns this little cunt?”

“Y-you do! You do! You own me!~”

As if hearing you admit it triggers something dark inside him, he pushes your head down into the pillows and yanks on your tail at the same time

Your eyes roll back as he does, your mind blanking and jaw going slack as you’re overwhelmed by him

He’s merciless as he pounds into you—every thrust hard and fast and absolutely mind-numbing

Your cries are muffled by the pillows as you cum, the feeling so intense that you’re whole body’s shaking as your cunt spasms around him

Needing something—anything—to ground you, you bite down into the pillows, fisting the sheets between tense fingers as everything inside you clenches so tightly

Your master grunts behind you, hissing out a sound that isn’t human, and the hand holding you down pulls at your hair, forcing your head up so that he can hear every little sound you make for him

“My little pet. Mine. All mine. My little kitten—“

He moves so fast that you can barely register his movements, and the next thing you know, there’s a burst of pain in your neck as he sinks his teeth inside you

You yelp, inadvertently tensing around his stiff cock fucking you open, but even as you do, he doesn’t release your flesh from his teeth

He keeps his mouth at your throat as he fucks you through your third orgasm of the night

The intensity of it has you squirming and thrashing beneath him, which only intensifies the pain at your neck, but it all feels so good that you don't even mind the pain

You’ve no choice but to take everything he forces into you until your voice is raw from screaming for him

And then, as you’re at the tail end of your orgasm, it almost starts to feel like he’s growing even bigger inside you

You whine, sounding small and pathetic and completely submissive, as his knot starts forming at your entrance

He snarls into your neck, his teeth still busy branding you, and you can tell by the way his thrusts are growing sloppy that he’s getting close

You babble out a mess of incoherent moans, tears gathering in your eyes from the overstimulation

You can feel just how slick your inner thighs are—every thrust sounds so obscene as your cunt squelches as loudly as ever

Just as the stimulation is verging on painful, just as you’re starting to think you can’t take any more of his animalistic fucking, he snaps all the way forwards and finally cums

His thick cock twitches as he spurts out wave after wave of cum inside you, breeding you, filling your womb with as much of his seed as you can handle

You clench around both him and the plug, trying to squirm away from all of it, but you’re completely trapped beneath him

His knot fills you up to the brim, stretching out your poor little cunt, and it all has your toes curling and your legs trembling from the overstimulation

His knot’s so big

Even with the sheer amount of cum stuffed inside of you, it’s impossible for even a single drop to leak out

He forces you to accept all of him—accept that you belong to him and him only

When his knot’s fully expanded inside of you, only then does he unlatch his teeth from your neck, leaving behind yet another one of his many marks littering your body

“Atta girl” he purrs, shifting his hips against your ass to get comfortable on top of you, “my good little kitten~”

[tickly-giggles]

Watch Your Back (My Hero Academia)

A/N: This is a sequel to Feather Ticklish, so I highly recommend reading that before this :D Also, this does get kinda angsty at the end, but I promise it's a fun read and there's no warnings aside from the mention of cigarettes :>

Warning: Tickle fic ahead!

Characters: Dabi, Hawks

Shipping: Technically DabiHawks but they're still not together yet

Lee: Hawks

Ler: Dabi

Word Count: 3,093

Summary: It's been a few weeks since Dabi warned Hawks to watch his back, but nothing has come of it. Hawks decides to go about his work without worrying about it too much (spoiler: he worries a lot) and, during a private outing to the hideout late at night, he runs into Dabi.

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

Weeks had gone by like normal with no signs of hostility from Dabi aside from his usual snarky attitude. He didn’t want to admit it, but Hawks was on edge, and only grew more so as time dragged on. 

“Watch your back, birdie.”

He shivered at the unpleasant memory. Hawks may have only tickled him, but Dabi was a villain. Did he really expect him to solve this amicably? 

"I'd be lucky if all he did was burn me," 

he muttered to himself as he sifted through a cardboard box he had found behind the bar counter of the hideout.

He had joined the League to gather intel, so that was what he was going to do. Or, at least, it's what he tried to do. He couldn't get what Dabi said out of his mind, and the fact that he never made any move or gave any indication of revenge only worried him further.

With a frustrated grunt, he shook the thoughts out of his head and continued to search through the box. There wasn't much worth noting. It was mostly filled with junk, aside from some polaroids. Hawks couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. 

The League of Villains looked like anything but. One photo depicted Toga and Twice holding hands and dancing together. Another had what looked to be Shigaraki shoving at the camera. Judging by each villain's personalities so far, Hawks figured Toga was the one to take the picture. 

The last polaroid showed all of them. The camera must have been set on a timer, because they were all positioned together in a group.

Toga and Twice looked happy as can be, Toga sticking her tongue out and winking with Twice ruffling her hair and giving the camera a thumbs up.

Mr. Compress did his best to look formal with a bow and a tip of his hat, but it was easy to tell he definitely didn't mind the camera. 

Spinner was the opposite. He tried to look like he wasn't interested by turning away from the camera, but his overall demeanor was that of childlike excitement.

Shigaraki did not prefer to be on camera, and it was obvious in his reluctant pose. He had one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, and the other scratching at his cheek absentmindedly while he stared off to the side.

Then there was Dabi, apathetic as usual. He stared into the camera, thumbs stuffed in his pants pockets, and his face void of emotion. Hawks furrowed his brow, as if trying to decipher what Dabi was thinking at the time of the photo.

"The hell are you doing?" 

Hawks squawked and fumbled the polaroids, haphazardly shoving them back into the box. He whipped around to see Dabi standing there, eying him curiously. He leaned to the left to peer at what Hawks was looking at.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked, his tone indiscernible.

"I- uh- I- it.."

Hawks swallowed and collected his thoughts,

"It was behind the bar. I was just curious."

A moment of awkward tension passed before he handed the box to Dabi,

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop."

"Yes you did,"

Dabi smirked as he took the box from him,

"You wouldn't have gone through it otherwise."

“Ah,”

Hawks rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle,

“Ya got me. Um, what’re you doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same question, birdie.”

Dabi set the box on the counter and stared intensely into the hero’s eyes. Hawks stared back, not daring to blink.

“Couldn’t sleep, I guess,” he breathed.

“So, naturally, your first thought was to come here,”

The hot headed villain took a step toward Hawks, 

"Why dont'cha tell me why you're really here?"

The number two hero didn’t back down. If there was anything he learned from being a pro for so long, it was to never show fear. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowed his heart rate as he tried to think of an answer. 

When he couldn’t think of any substantial excuse, he simply shrugged and laughed airily, 

“I was curious about everyone’s lives. We hang out a lot, but it’s mostly for meetings and all. I wanna get to know everyone a little better.”

“And what better way to do that than snooping through our stuff~?”

Hawks’ relaxed smile faltered at Dabi’s tone. He watched him as he got ever closer, practically pinning him up against the bar. The air in the room felt quite warm all of a sudden, and there was a tightness in Hawks’ chest that he couldn’t relieve. He wanted to avert his gaze, but he knew doing that would practically be admitting defeat. Instead, he continued to stare into Dabi’s harsh, ice blue eyes.

“Well?” Dabi breathed,

“Are you gonna be honest with me, or am I gonna have to- GAHAH!”

The pro hero watched Dabi clutch his midriff and stumble backward. He didn’t really mean to squeeze his side, it was just the first thing that came to mind! He was trapped, he had no other choice. It was a survival instinct.

Suddenly, Dabi's intense glare pierced through Hawks, and he quickly realized that he was probably better off dead.

Hawks’ fight or flight response kicked in. Being as quick as he was, he was relying on his skills to get out of the hideout faster than Dabi could blink. Sadly, that didn’t end up being the case. Dabi tackled him as soon as he made to run, and the hero grunted as he fell face first into the floor. The villain grinned and sat on Hawks’ lower back. After a small struggle, he was able to pin his wings underneath his feet, effectively rendering him immobile.

“Guh! L-Lemme up!” Hawks growled, squirming fruitlessly.

“I warned you, feather brain. I can’t believe you had the balls to do that again,”

Dabi chuckled coldly,

“I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed off.”

Hawks desperately tried to flap his wings, but to no avail. He foolishly tried turning his head around to at least see Dabi, but was met with nothing but pain in his neck.

“So what’re you gonna do?”

He snapped at the villain,

“Kill me?”

“I told you to watch your back, didn’t I? Not doing such a good job at that right now,”

Dabi’s tone was pondering as he scanned the hero beneath him,

“I wonder…”

Silence filled the room, and the tightness in Hawks’ chest returned. What was Dabi going to do to him? Fully expecting the worst, he clenched his fists and readied his body for whatever amount of pain he was about to endure.

And then…

“GAAHAHAHAHAHA WHATTHEFUHUHUCK!”

Dabi cackled at the reaction. He skittered and scribbled his fingers along Hawks’ back, greedily drinking in the desperation of his victim’s thrashing.

“What’sa matter, birdie? Your back a little sensitive~?”

“WHAHAHAHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!”

“What’s it look like, you moron?"

Hawks wriggled and squirmed helplessly, the tickles feeling even more intense because he couldn’t arch or turn his back away from them. He was completely trapped, entirely at the mercy of a member of the League of Villains. Even his wings were unable to flap properly due to Dabi putting most of his weight on them, not to mention the odd angle he was at. Being so vulnerable only increased Hawks’ sensitivity, and his face erupted in red.

“OKAHAHA- HAHAHAHA!! OKAY YOHOHOU GOT YOUR REHEHEHEVENGE! Y-YOHOHOU CAN STOP NOHOHOHOW! GAHAHAHA!!”

Dabi smirked at the mess of a hero beneath him. His thumbs and forefingers nipped at his shoulder blades with intense accuracy while the rest of his fingers scribbled along the sides of them,

“I’m just gettin’ started. You tortured me, so I’m gonna get you back twice as bad. You shouldn’t have messed with me, Hawks.”

“STAHAHAHAHAP! I-IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!”

Dabi jolted and he grumbled as he dug into the hero’s back with even more force, relishing the delightful shriek he ripped out of him,

“Just shut up and take it, bird brain.”

Hawks slammed his fist against the floor in ticklish frustration. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was tickled. He didn’t get much attention, if any, when he was a kid. The pro heroes dedicated their lives to work and keeping the public safe; there was rarely time to kick back and relax with each other. 

He remembered poking at Endeavor once or twice, but he never showed any desire to get him back. Jeanist tended to lean on the serious side, but he had a playful bone in his body. If Hawks tried to mess with him, there was a chance he would fight back. Mirko was probably the only pro he could mess with and expect revenge from, but he never had the chance to try.

It tickled so bad. The way Dabi’s fingers vibrated against every inch of Hawks’ back, especially around his shoulder blades where he elicited the most extreme reactions, was torture. His touch was so precise, it was like he knew just what to do to drive him crazy. There was no chance to get used to any one feeling either, considering the villain would switch up his tactics every few seconds. Whether it be the amount of pressure he used, the way he moved his fingers, or the spot he tickled, every new moment provided a fresh combination to drive Hawks completely insane.

And yet, despite the fact that the number two hero had tears of mirth streaming down his bright red face, and his throat felt slightly sore from his screaming laughter, he would be lying if he said this wasn’t the least bit fun. To completely give up mercy and laugh like there was nothing to worry about was an experience Hawks never realized he needed.

“I can’t believe your back is this sensitive,”

Dabi chuckled after a while,

“Kinda makes me wonder about these pretty little wings of yours~.”

“N-NAHAHAHAHA!! C’MOHOHOHOHON, DAHAHAHAHABI! ENOHOHOHOHOUGH, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“Begging already? Pathetic, especially for someone who once called himself a hero.”

The tickling ceased and Hawks gasped for air, falling limp on the floor. The villain smirked down at him. The way his disheveled hair fell over his gorgeous face, the tear streaks that marked his flushed cheeks, the residual giggles that bubbled past his bright smile. Dabi’s chest tightened, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“A-Ahahare you… dohone?” Hawks asked past breathless giggles.

Dabi’s smirk returned and he chuckled evilly,

“I told you I was just getting started,”

He ran his fingers through the feathery fluff on Hawks’ wings,

“I really am curious about these~.”

Hawks jolted and his wings twitched violently, practically bucking Dabi off of him. The villain laughed in amazement and quickly regained his balance.

“Hohoholy shit! I think I found the jackpot~.”

“D-Dahahabi,” the hero laughed nervously, his wings already tingling,

“Ihihi’ve had enough, plehehease.”

“Can’t take what you dish out, huh? Too bad, I’m not done with you yet. I’ll stop when I’m ready to,”

Dabi positioned his hands on his victim’s wings, causing them to twitch again,

“Until then, you’ll lay there and take it like a good little bird.”

The shriek that escaped from Hawks was ear-piercing. He bucked and thrashed violently as Dabi dug his fingers into his wings. The villain took note of how much more of a reaction he got closer to the hero’s back. Hawks’ hysterical laughter suddenly went silent. He slammed his fists and kicked his feet against the floor, his face was engulfed in cherry red, and he couldn’t tell his tears from his sweat at this point. Words couldn’t describe just how bad it tickled. The way Dabi mercilessly dug into his feathers drove him ballistic. It was torturous, his nerves were electrified, every single movement of the villain’s fingers sent a violent jolt of ticklish agony through Hawks’ entire body.

Why did he love this feeling so much?

Hawks wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed before Dabi finally decided to have mercy. His wings were burning with residual tingles, his feathers were all ruffled from the constant tickling, and he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. The villain chuckled and stood off of the hero, giving him a moment to recover.

“God, you’re so sensitive. If only I had known this little secret sooner. But, now that I do, I’m never letting you live it down.”

After a few moments of residual giggles, heavy breathing, and slight coughing, Hawks shakily stood up. He used the bar counter as leverage, but stumbled and almost fell back onto the floor. He grunted when he made contact with Dabi, who had moved forward to catch him. With a hum, he absentmindedly nuzzled against the villain’s chest, then finally stood on his own. Dabi decided to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks from the gesture.

The number two hero chuckled fondly and leaned up against the counter, 

“Thahat was uhh… something. You are awful.”

“Not my fault you’re so sensitive~.”

“Can you not say it?”

Dabi frowned,

“Say what?”

“Tickle.”

The villain jolted and looked away bashfully, eyes narrowed in embarrassment,

“I don’t like saying it.”

“Why? Does it fluster you~?”

“No!” Dabi shot a glare at the hero,

“It’s just a stupid word. I hate using it, so I don’t.”

Hawks simply shrugged in response, then caught the box out of the corner of his eye. It was seated on the counter, right where Dabi had left it. He turned around and plucked one of the polaroids out of it, examining it once again. It was the group photo of the League. Dabi approached him and ripped the polaroid from his hands.

“Hey! I was lookin’ at that,” he pouted at the hot head.

“Ya shouldn’t look through other people’s stuff, bird brain,” 

Dabi punctuated his sentence with a flick to Hawks’ forehead,

“Besides, what’s in here that’s so important to you?”

The winged hero grumbled and rubbed the area, then gave Dabi a small smile,

“These photos. They’re really cute,”

He chuckled and poked Dabi’s cheek,

“Would it kill ya to smile once in a while, though?”

“Yes,” Dabi replied bluntly, smacking Hawks’ hand away.

Hawks grinned and sighed fondly. 

Silence fell over them for a few moments. Dabi reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He took one in between his teeth, and his index finger suddenly burst into a small, blue flame. He carefully lit the cigarette, then offered the pack to Hawks. 

He chuckled and shook his head,

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Dabi shrugged and stuffed the pack back into his pocket, extinguished the flame on his finger, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and wistfully breathed the smoke out.

The aura in the room was peaceful, almost like the two of them were genuine friends. A pang of guilt tugged at Hawks' heart, but he ignored it and turned to Dabi, who was staring at the polaroid. His expression was calm. 

The hero smiled, feeling melancholy, and decided to break the silence,

“So, why are you up so late?”

Dabi remained so still that Hawks almost thought he didn’t hear him. He opened his mouth to ask again, but was interrupted by the villain letting out a low, mirthless chuckle.

“I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

Silence reigned once more, and he took another puff of his cigarette before he continued,

“Ya ever hear of ‘the butterfly effect’, Hawks?”

The question was so sudden, Hawks gave the villain a puzzled look. After a second, he responded,

“Ah, a butterfly flaps its wings in Rio and causes a tornado in Chicago, right?”

“Correct. Though, I guess in your case, you flap your wings in Japan and cause a ripple in some other part of the world.”

“Where’s this coming from?” the hero asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

Dabi huffed sharply, and his grip on the polaroid tightened,

“Ya ever wonder where you’d be had you made one choice a bit differently?”

“I… dont–”

“Heh, never mind. That was a dumb question.”

Hawks frowned, but otherwise didn’t respond to Dabi’s sudden drop of the subject. What did he mean by that? Surely he didn’t regret becoming a villain. Granted, the winged hero had no idea what Dabi’s motivation was aside from the main goal of the League. Hero society was corrupt, he knew that was an idea they were passionate about, but…

"I'm not one for sentimental talks,"

Dabi chuckled suddenly, putting the cigarette up to his lips,

"So don't take much of what I say to heart,”

he inhaled deeply, then crushed the finished cigarette against the counter while exhaling the smoke through his nose. He flicked it across the room, then turned to look at Hawks, who had a look of befuddlement on his face.

“Do you… regret the choices you’ve made?” Hawks asked carefully.

Dabi stared at him for a moment, emotionless, before he grinned wickedly and blew the remainder of the smoke in his face,

“Do you?”

Hawks scrunched his nose and coughed, whisking away the smoke with a disgusted grunt. He then watched Dabi as he made his way out of the room, but was surprised when he turned to address the hero a final time,

“We’re even now, got that? Don’t even think of trying that shit with me again.”

With that, he disappeared deeper into the hideout. Hawks couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. He shook his head and casually left the building, taking into the air with a swift flap of his wings. He cringed when the air hit his feathers, they still felt a bit sensitive.

As he flew back to his own home, he thought about the conversation he and Dabi just had. He didn’t know what to make of most of it. How did they go from tickling to a serious discussion about fate and paths in their own lives?

…Did he regret his own choices?

Hawks sighed and shook the thoughts out of his head. He was a hero, Dabi was a villain, and there was no way to change that. Even if there were moments where Dabi felt like a genuine human being, even if he felt like he was actually bonding with him, he couldn’t allow that to cloud his judgment. He was on a mission, and he would see it through to the end. 

His chest felt tight again.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 26th

Day 26: Tentacles, Demons/Angels, Crying

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 759

Warnings: Vaginal sex, mentions of injuries, mentions of oral (male receiving)

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The first time Ezra saw you, you were laying on the ground. Some little backwater planet he had been working on. Toiling on. Your right wing, a monstrous thing that was both fearsome and beautiful, had been torn nearly off. Bleeding and raw. An ironic mirror to his own injury. 

He had been hesitant to approach, his breathing a bit labored and his mind telling him that his eyes are playing tricks on him. That or the hooch that is served in the lower levels of the Pug is causing a hallucination. 

Still, even though there are two large, feathery white wings protruding from your back bones, he is curious. Marveling at what manner of creature you are and when he crouched down to see if you were alive, your eyes positively haunted him. 

“Kevva sent, angel.” Ezra groans, sweat beading down the side of his forehead and he pants as he continues to thrust. “This cunt is heaven sent, pardon my pun, but you steal the words right from my head.

A hand, his hand, holds onto the neatly healed folded up appendage. Knowing that it will not hurt you and he likes to touch your wings. To stroke the feather or hold onto them as he fucks into you. In exchange for his kindness, which had been freely given, when you had healed, you had in turn returned to him something that he had sorely missed. His right arm. 

It was like no injury had ever occurred. His hand was perfect, just like you were once your wing was healed. Your eyes roll back into your head, moaning softly as your body takes the quite punishing thrusts. You had been told that humans, some of them could pleasure extremely well and you had found the perfect one. On your hands and knees, rocking forward everytime he buries his cock inside your wet cunt like it's the last thing he will ever do. He might not have stamina like you would have with another angel, but he has passion. That’s everything in this lusty exchange. 

“Filthy.” He grunts, chuckling darkly and twitching inside you. “An angel on her knees for me.” He lets go of your hip with the other hand and slaps your ass. Groaning when you moan and clench down around him again. 

Apart from having wings and being a literal angel, with powers beyond everything that he could imagine, you are surprisingly human. You have the same needs as he does, the same desires. He had been shocked when you had asked him to fuck you. 

Not that he hadn’t immediately jumped on the idea. You had given him his arm back, his primary weapon. It doesn’t hurt that you are gorgeous. He had immediately showed you all the filth he could think of and was delighted when you demanded more. 

“You- you like me on my knees.” You huff, looking over your shoulder, past the folded down wings to see him staring at where his cock is plunging into you. You have found that Ezra enjoys watching his cock fuck into you. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass. Whatever hole he is determined to fuck at that time. 

“Especially with my cock in your mouth, angel.” He groans again, cock twitching deep inside you. “You look positively sinful, gagging on my cock.” He had been delighted to find that angels had a gag reflex that he could train. You were apparently perfect for him. 

You laugh quietly, a sound that Ezra has equated to the most beautiful music. He groans and his rhythm increases, his breaths panting out harshly as he rocks into you, his hips slapping against your ass. 

“Touching heaven, angel.” Ezra hisses. “Especially when you could have any mere mortal you wished and you humbled yourself to allow me to touch you.” 

It’s not exactly true but you can’t convince him of that. You find Ezra exceedingly attractive. Dangerous slightly with his less than stellar morals and the silvery scar on his left cheek. One day you will have to ask how he got such a scar. 

“Ezra.” You moan again, dropping down and unfolding your wings to spread out as you start to cum. A harsh, beautiful flap as your cunt clamps down on him and you soak him with your angelic cum. 

You are an angel, one that has fallen in love with a mortal. You don’t tell him that you’ve abandoned your plan to go back, to leave him. You can’t. Not when Ezra touches you like this. 

[chanshoesunite]

"Go harder for round two?"

Content info: YN and Chan have just fucked, but why not go harder for round two?

Word count: 1K

Warnings: dirty talk, the sex is a bit on the rougher side maybe idk

You lie there, on your stomach, basking in post-coital bliss. Chan and you have just had a very enjoyable tumble in the sheets; a playful little tussle during laundry folding turned less playful and more heated, and now here you are, naked, the late spring afternoon sun falling through the window, tickling your bare back.

Chan returns from discarding the condom and slips under the covers next to you. Immediately, his lips find your shoulder blades as he presses soft kisses to your skin. You giggle into the pillow, enjoying his gentle ministrations.

He continues to kiss you, his hand tenderly stroking your side, his touch light as a feather against your sensitive skin. You could doze off, and you almost do, because the rhythm of his strokes is so calming, and you have just had an orgasm, and the sun is so nice and warm…

Chan lets his hand slide across your arse and between your legs. You open your eyes in surprise as you feel him slide two fingers into your still-wet pussy. “Channie?” you ask, because you hadn’t expected this. The mood was sleepy, comfy, relaxed just a minute ago, and now, you wonder why you thought that – clearly, your cunt wants more, it delights in the way Chan is slowly fingering you.

He shifts his weight, and he is above you, his front pressed against your back, and now you feel it – he is hard. Very much so. You moan involuntarily, and he bites your neck. “I was thinking,” he rasps, his voice rough with want, “I feel like for round two, we can go a bit harder.”

“Go harder for round two?” you breathe, because that sounds overwhelming and incredible at the same time.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says as he grabs your hips and lifts them so he can push a pillow under them. “You just have to lie there and take it like a good girl.” He spreads your legs a bit wider, showing you exactly what he means – he’ll do all the work. “How does that sound?”

You glance back at him and smile. “Why are you not inside me already?”

His eyes darken, and an evil little smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know my little slut was even more eager to be filled than I was to fuck her.”

You begin to say, “Well, clearly, you were wrong about that,” but you cannot finish because with one swift, hard stroke, he is inside you, and the smallest delicious soreness of having just been thoroughly fucked and doing it again so soon takes over your senses. Chan does not wait – you don’t need time for adjusting, you are wet and eager to be taken. And so he does – he pounds you like that’s all you’re good for, and you just lie there, feeling his thick length filling you over and over again, stretching you. Your eyes are screwed shut, your hands curled into the sheets; the angle is so good, the cushion helps him hit your sweet spot with almost every thrust. His hot breath and his grunts against your neck do the rest: Being silent is out of the question – it is the middle of the day, but you can’t help but moan, pant, scream, beg for him to move, to give you more, to fuck you harder. It’s too fucking good, you’re almost sobbing with this assault of pleasure, the way every fibre of your being is focused on your pussy being railed by Chan’s hard cock.

He then shifts his weight onto his one arm, freeing his one hand to put over your mouth. He doesn’t stop fucking you, though. “Shhh, baby,” he growls into your ear. “You’re being so loud, we’ll get kicked out of the building. Everyone can hear you, baby girl, everyone knows I’m fucking you so well. You like that, hm? You like giving me all the control, letting me use your tight little cunt for my pleasure. You like making me feel good, being my little slut. You’re so hot, baby. Come to think of it… I do want everyone to know who’s fucking you this good.” And he takes his hand off your mouth, and he redoubles his efforts, his thrusts become incredibly harder, making the bed squeak. You almost howl at the pleasurable assault and bury your head in the pillow, dead set on keeping quiet. Then –

“Oh no, you won’t.”

Chan is not having it, though; you feel yourself being pulled up onto your knees, your back against his front. He is still thrusting forcefully, but now his hands find your breast and clit, stimulating you even further, making your moans more keening and breathier. “If I want you to come on my cock screaming, you will,” he growls, biting your shoulder and pushing into you relentlessly.

You know it’ll soon be over for you, this is too much, and it only takes a few more well-placed rubs against your clit and you’re coming with a moan that is positively pornographic. Behind you, you can feel Chan shaking with the effort, but he’s a lost cause, too, coming as soon as he can feel you spasm around him. Grabbing your chin, he pulls you in for a messy, wet kiss that swallows most of his groans.

When you both still, he gently pulls out and lays you back down on the bed, once again discarding a used condom before pulling you against his chest. Slowly, both of you catch your breath. He softly kisses your temple. “Was that okay?”

You glance up at him – his dark curls are a sweaty mess, his pupils are dilated, his cheeks are flushed. He looks young and vulnerable and sexy like that, and you’ve never found him more attractive. “Very okay,” you say, kissing his collarbone, clearly underselling the exquisite sex you've just had. “But do I get to nap now?”

Chan chuckles. “You do, baby girl,” he allows, kissing your nose before settling with you under the covers, snuggling closer and closing his eyes.

[ch4rryc0smos]

REVERIE | 20

I KISSED YOU UNDER THE STARS!

synopsis ┊kenji sato returns to japan, leaving behind everything he's ever known. and fate plays a cruel joke on him, when hazel vellichor walks back into his life, albeit not by choice. she makes a trip to japan, for a charity event, for another speech, and somehow; media wrangles her in for more drama. what they don't know is that she's ultrawoman, and kenji's ultraman, and there's more than to the eye here. they're well intertwined and every time they tug away, the knot gets tighter. everything leads them to each other, and now japan is in their hands, and they have to unravel every secret they refused to acknowledge prior to this. and they have to accept every role bestowed upon them, whether they like it or not. somehow, all of this leads to is them learning that there was always more to their friendship, and that they were truly two puzzle pieces, fit right next to each other.

genre ┊ childhood-friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, slight angst, tooth rotting & chaotic fluff, co-parenting (?)

pairing ┊ken sato x fem-self insert/oc, ken sato x public figure!self insert, ken sato x childhood-friend!self insert

warnings ┊ mild cursing, mentions of drinking, trauma, heavy topics (?), events in ultraman: rising take place alongside this story.

word count ┊1.4k

author's note ┊this is actually reverie's last part. i'm just a bit emotional because i've finished it. i finished it a while ago, but posting it made me feel like it was still being continued. but it's over. this is the epilogue, and it's reverie's end, but kenzel aren't going anywhere, i think i'll participate in selfshiptober, so if that happens, you'll most probably be getting many oneshots, some including them <3 happy reading.

prev.

Ken can’t stop looking at Hazel. Who he intends to marry. Or propose to, at least. She’s smiling at him. She’s wearing her floral print dress as they bask in the sun, hands working to weave together flower crowns. Ken’s eyes aren’t focused on the flowers, rather on the way her lips form a light pout and her eyes don’t stray anywhere but to the stems she works to weave. A smile is playing on his lips, and he’s so lost in her concentration, he doesn’t even realise she’s done until she turns towards him, and their eyes meet.

Something about the fact that she doesn’t know what’s going on his mind, and the fact that his heart beats faster when she smiles. And then she holds his hand, intertwines their fingers, and tugs his face closer. Then there’s some rustling, and when he reaches up, he feels the fuzzy feeling of flower petals. Hazel leans closer, and presses a feather light kiss onto his forehead. He latches his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

Her soft gasp of surprise is muffled against his chest. And he chuckles. Her hair tickles his neck, but he weaves his hand through it. She leans into his touch, and he places a kiss on the top of her head. One of her hands finds its place onto his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

Ken curses himself for letting his heart rate increase. He thinks he might be blushing and closes his eyes.

“Are you flustered, Kenji?” Hazel asks, and she sounds like she might be laughing. He looks down at her, and the smile on her face makes his heart flutter. Hazel’s grinning. Ken leans down, he can’t help but capture her lips in a kiss. She leans up, and then it’s her hands in his hair and he’s pulling her by the waist, even closer. And she’s practically on his lap. 

He doesn’t end up answering her question, but with the way she’s blushing, and the way she’s panting, he doesn’t think she wants the answer anyway. He stands up, holding her up. And she holds onto his shoulders for support.

“Put me down!” she says, hitting his shoulder lightly, and he just laughs instead. He’s carrying her somewhere and despite every protest, he continues. At some point, she does make a valid point that he doesn’t know the U.K well enough, but he doesn’t care. He’s listened to everything she’s said, about her childhood here, and if he can create positive connections to everything that’s affected her here, negatively. He wants to. 

He intends to, today. 

The simple thought of it makes him want to laugh out loud, with joy, at the aspect of finally being able to devote himself to her. He always could, yes, but he didn’t realise it until she walked out of his life the second time, and now he promises that he’ll be what she needs. 

At some point, he finally places her on the ground, and now they’re not in a meadow anymore, they’re at the garden that Hazel said she’d been last before she left the U.K. How that was the last time before she started travelling and speaking, she thought of her childhood. 

How adulthood kind of started right here. 

She turns around to Ken, and it’s like eighteen washes over her, again. But it doesn’t feel scary, how it did then. Instead of frowning, or crying, she’s smiling at him. At the fact that he remembered. She’s a bit confused when he asks her to turn away, to close her eyes.

“May I know why?” she asks.

She’s so polite he almost just wants to tell her, but he laughs. “No, darling. Just trust me, okay?”

She nods, turning around. Ken sighs shakily, getting onto one knee over the stone pathway, a bit worn with age. He pulls out the box, eyes the velvet cover as he opens it. He smiles at the moss agate ring that sits in the plump cushion. He holds it up. Smiles at the back of Hazel’s head as she waits patiently.

“Turn around, my love.” Ken’s heart might just fall out of his chest as he says those words, and it doesn’t get any better when Hazel turns around, and she’s smiling softly but then her eyes widen, and she claps a hand over her mouth.

She thinks she might cry. She doesn’t even know if she’s smiling anymore, but she’s happy. So happy, she can’t even think right. She doesn’t know if she’s understanding this correctly but he holds up the ring, moss agate, but as he’s saying it, like her eyes. She drops to her knees, clutching onto him, wrapping her arms around him, gripping onto his shirt with dear life. He falls on his ass, but he holds her. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, his cologne faint now but the scent of nature lingering on his skin.

Flower petals fall around them, scattered scarcely as they drop from her flower crown, and from in between his curls and the crevices of her dress, but she’s still clinging onto him for dear life.

“I promised I would be all yours, and I promise now that I’ll stand by you, for as long as you’ll let me,” he says, and she can’t think he’d ever practise this, because it feels like those words that you say when you’ve spent too long in your room and the dust is visible in the ray of sunlight and your eyes meet as you’re messing with something on the wrinkled bed sheets, duvet thrown across the bed. 

Those ‘I love you’s that transcend written and practised speech, those words that aren’t meant to hold so much value, but weigh more than a heart that grieves. 

“If you’ll let me,” he continues.

She thinks he’s outrageous.

“I’m yours, Kenji. As long as time allows me, I’ll be yours,” she whispers against the crook of his neck, and her heartbeat is loud against the quiet breeze that catches her hair. 

“You’re mine?”

“All yours.”

“Then, say yes,” he murmurs against her hair.

“Yes, yes, yes. As many times as you need me to say it, yes!” her voice is growing in volume, and he cups her face in his hands, making her look up.

Emerald and amethyst, meet once again. The books have lost count of all the gazes they’ve shared, and writers couldn’t use a million words to describe a single second of what they felt when their eyes met. How that feeling stayed the same, and never got old.

How when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles, her heart fluttered, how it has for a while now. Then the ring appears in her vision, and he slides it on.

It fits her finger perfectly. And the stone is the colour that her eyes are. 

He doesn’t resist when she crashes her lips against his, noses pressed together, breaths merged. Bodies pressed so close, considering them two would be a joke. 

“You’re my wife now.” 

He sounds elated, and he’s grinning, even while he’s panting and his chest is rising and falling rather quickly. His hands are in her hair, and he’s tucking the stray strands behind her ear. 

She runs her fingers down his face, his jaw, and he leans into her touch, turning his face to place light kisses against her fingertips. 

She hesitates.

“Promise, I’ll stay.”

Those words become a part of his wedding vows. She doesn’t know that just yet, but knows that even if they didn’t, it was a promise that would linger in the mornings he spends in her arms, and the alarms he misses to watch her sleep, or the breakfast he tries to make and shows up to the bedroom with his clothes stained and a little clip holding up his hair. 

He loves the way she laughs when he does these things.

And he vows to be the reason they happen, and to give her that simple sort of happiness for as long as life allows him to. He says that in his wedding vows too. And he’s never been a romantic, but for her? Always.

She is a reverie, and she is his. He didn’t know devotion, until he met her, again. And now all of his was for her. For his reverie. His daydream. And his anchor in life.

And everything she is, is a part of him. Two halves of one. That’s what they were. 

It’s always been like that. They just didn’t know all those years ago. Now they do, and they wouldn’t trade it for the world, they say.

They know they wouldn’t, when their eyes meet, after the tears clear up, they know that they would find each other, every time. Somehow. Some way. Every, time.

THE END.

— H. 

ch4rryc0smos © 2024 … do not repost, alter, translate, or steal my work.

[sysba]

cal x edith - ropes

...anyway. caledith smut era. i've posted (and deleted) this before but i have, expanded it a bunch lmao. promised @night-triumphantt this wld be here when she woke up so yeet.

3.2k words; 18+/E; warnings under the cut

(cw soft bondage, unprotected s/ex)

“Too tight?”

She hovers above him, studying Cal’s every move as she secures the bindings on his wrists, ready to stop at even the smallest twitch in his expression. He doesn’t flinch, though. Just shakes his head lightly, deep red eyes focused on her. She ties the last knot quickly enough.

Edith’s lips find his a second later; it’s tentative at first, a feather-like peck on the corner of his mouth (it’s enough to make him shudder). Then a real kiss follows, a proper one, intent yet still gentle. It doesn’t take much to coax his mouth open. Instead he docilely allows her to deepen the kiss, drinking her in as if parched yet unwilling to take more than he’s been offered. If it were up to him, if she ever wished to, he’d let her break his skin and flow through his veins.

She’s soft, too soft as she kisses him— Cal has seen her fangs, seen just how deep her teeth can sink into flesh till bloody, but her mouth is silk and honey and smooth as whiskey whenever she kisses him. Yielding; just like the steel of her eyes whenever they rest on him. The bluntness of it still catches him off guard after all this time.

Cal’s breath hitches once more when she nibbles on his bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. It’s all too intense. Her weight on him as she straddles him, and… 

He pulls on the restraints almost experimentally; like he’s trying to gauge if they’ll hold. They do. The cotton bandages (the ones usually binding Edith’s hands during training) are now expertly wrapped around Cal’s wrists and then the headboard, keeping him in place. He could probably tear himself free, if he really tried. But he only gives another weak yank while Edith kisses him more, a strangled sound escaping him helplessly when he finds himself unable to hold her. 

“Does it hurt?” She pauses, leaning back to get a better look at him. There’s an edge to her tone that he misses as his eyes flutter close in focus, a feeble attempt at calming his panting. But he senses her waiting for an answer, and when words don’t come out he shakes his head. It really doesn’t hurt. 

“I need you to use your words, Cal.” 

He thinks she’s teasing him, at first, enjoying the effect she has on him. But then he sees her, and his heart lurches. Because she’s pleading with him, he realises. 

Edith watches him expectantly, frozen in place, tense as she readies herself to put a stop to all this. She half-expects him to ask her, but would he? Worry hisses and coils in her stomach, and then it vanishes in a single moment, replaced by kindled warmth as Cal flashes a reassuring smile at her.

“I’m alright. Just feeling a bit…”

“Out of control?” She finishes for him when he hesitates, and Cal swallows.

“Mmh.”

Edith lets out a shaky huff, halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. Her head dips to rest on him, lodged between his neck and shoulder (right where his tattoo coils elegantly across his skin, as if marking her place on a map), letting her lips brush against his pulse. It’s strong. Alive.

“Tell me about it,” she murmurs, and he wishes he could look at her and see the frenzy pooling in her eyes. The same frenzy that’s making her voice shake as she admits darkly, “‘m losing my fucking mind, here.”

He thinks he gets it, now, why she looked at him so desperately just now, like she was the one unable to move and not the other way around. ‘Out of control’, she said… He does feel quite helpless, tied up as he is. But giving up that control is the whole point, and Cal doesn’t find it in him to feel uneasy. Not when it’s Edith he has to trust; that’s always been rather easy, with his life or anything more.

No, out of the two of them the one struggling the most right now isn’t him. Edith is holding back for his sake, unwilling to ruin what’s most dear to her, Cal realises. Dear. Treasured. Delicate. Never would he think of those words to describe himself, except for when she holds him. Except for when she buries her fingers in his inky hair and kisses down his throat lightly, as she’s doing now. 

That’s what he thinks of as her tongue runs along his jugular, one hand reaching over to rub his tied wrists, and the other placed on his bare chest; right above his heart. And if he is all that she believes, if he is priceless and fragile, he’d let her break him over and over again, as long as it were her hands piecing him together.

But he wouldn’t know how to say all that.

“It’s okay,” he blurts out instead, voice ragged, “You can—” 

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, choking back the words as she descends on him. At last. It’s her hand that finds him first, touching him in a way that has Cal’s thighs tense, his muscles spasming at the warmth of her palm that so easily seeps through the fabric of his clothes. She thinks herself cold, so why does her skin always burn like this?

“Tell me what you want.” 

An order. But if he could see her face now, he’d know she’s begging.

You. What else could he want? His head feels completely empty, yet buzzing all the same. It’s taking all of his focus not to grind into her touch, a frantic need for more clouding his thoughts. He thinks she asks a second time— he can’t be sure. The dizziness only fades when Edith grasps his chin and tilts it up so he meets her gaze. She’s smiling a bit. That helps.

“Kiss me?” He finally finds his voice again; it comes out as a question, though he’s not sure if he means it that way. She laughs, then. A real laugh, bright and airy, and a fond shake of her head before she takes pity on him and complies.

Everything that happens after, Cal can barely register. He doesn’t notice the button of his pants being undone, or the cool air on his skin; he doesn’t notice his own hips shifting restlessly, or his fingers gripping and pulling at the bindings whenever she grips him in a way that has his back arch beautifully, just like a bowstring. 

All he knows is the taste of her tongue (sugar and lemon), the torment of waiting for more. The wetness of the sickly sweet lube that’s so foreign it’s almost unpleasant, until Cal reminds himself whose hands are toying with him. 

Edith’s mouth muffles the low whine pulled from him as she strokes him, her grasp firm and blissful and inescapable. My darling, my baby, so perfect… A shameless string of coos washes over him as her head moves lower, each word making the tips of his ears burn hotter. And with every praise he feels her breath inch lower, her mouth leaving a trail of bruised prints in its wake. It feels maddening, maddeningly good. He can’t cover his face like this, Cal realises suddenly; and so does Edith, smiling as she drinks in the sight.

And what a sight he is, head thrown back against the pillows, silky strands of hair splayed around him like a halo, the curve of his throat completely exposed. His chest is flushed, rising and falling so breathlessly. From where she’s nuzzling his stomach, nipping at the flesh right below his navel, Edith watches his lips part in a silent gasp. It turns into a moan when she lowers her head again.

“I love you.” 

How much time has passed? Edith’s voice sounds rougher, almost as if scorched by his heat. The way she says those words so easily while slotted in between his legs, feasting on the most sensitive parts of him… Cal would want to hide if he weren’t so lost, fumbling to chase his high.

“Please,” he twitches under her, trying to keep still, to not bury himself deeper (not that she’d mind) and drown into her.

“Please what?”

The husked taunt almost makes him want to whimper, to cry for mercy. Maybe he will.

“Edith…”

“Anything you want,” she cuts him off before he can, and even in his haze he hears the want barely concealed in her tone. A want to claim that makes her breath taut. “Anything, everything, I’ll give it to you, so just tell me.”

Her voice is nearer, now. Cal’s eyelids flutter open, pure black pupils blown wide as he takes her in, sees the gentleness in her gaze as she leans in to kiss away the tears at the corners of his eyes. He barely hears himself answer, a slurred mumble of pleas that sounds a bit like “…inside you,” but it’s enough for Edith. He only knows she’s freed his hands when he rushes to pull her closer, the force of it startling him more than it does her.

There’s a certain decisiveness to his movements, to the wanton way he kneads the back of her thighs and then yanks down her hips so she’s flush against his hardness; no blank space or hesitation when he flips her onto her back and presses against her side. So driven when he lowers his mouth to her chest, the cold metallic taste of her piercings on his tongue, so selfish when he wordlessly taps her lips until she parts them to suck on his fingers… It’s a kind of selfishness he only shows when she pushes him past his limit, something she’s been doing more and more lately. 

When he slips a hand past the elastic of her briefs Edith doesn’t make a sound, but he feels her breathing grow more ragged as he easily pushes a finger inside her, and then two barely a minute after. It’s not usually this rushed, this sloppy —Cal has always liked to take his time with her— but she seems to understand his urgency, meeting it with her own. 

For one maddening moment Cal forgets where he is; the salt of Edith’s skin is a stray thought in the back of his mind as he chases something he can’t see, his blood ringing loud in his ears. Like always, she’s the one who brings him back.

Edith wears the same expression the whole time. From when she wraps a hand around his wrist to still his movements to when she hastily discards the rest of her clothes, she smiles. It’s wide and a bit crazed, a flash of white teeth and wet lips. She watches him twitch, desperate to hold her again. The colour of his irises is a thin, barely visible ring, pupils blown wide as he fixes her with a drunk stare. Still, he waits. 

It’s admirable, how he wills himself to be patient; she’s never had much patience to begin with. His chest, which has been heaving frantically ever since she released him, stops completely when she touches him. For just a moment, he’s breathless. And it makes her smile grow sharper. 

She doesn’t need to guide him to her, with the way he pounces on her almost instantly. He thinks he hears her laugh, though the sound is lost beneath the feeling of sinking into her. He does so slowly– or at least tries to. She feels him tremble with the effort of staying still, waiting for her to adjust, but the burning ache does nothing to hinder her when she digs her heels in the back of his legs.

“Move or I will,” is the threat grumbled against the shell of his ear, a roll of her hips to show she means it, and he lets out a sound that’s one part laugh and three parts moan.

He complies, ever the soldier. Fast and loose, painstakingly patient as he carves his way into her and her nails dig into his shoulders. 

It doesn’t take her long to grow restless, but Cal expects it; she never likes feeling caged. He leans back before she has to ask him, not pulling out as he lifts her, and when her weight falls on top of him again he buries so deep inside of her that they both hiss. She presses her lips to his brow and his lashes quiver. 

When she moves again she has none of his patience. She seems to have outlasted whatever tenderness has been colouring her actions so far, hooded eyes barely concealing the hunger in them. Cal turns to kiss her wrist where it rests at the side of his face, and the next time she captures his lips it’s even rougher than before, bruising; he doesn’t mind, he thinks to himself while he writhes beneath her. His hips meet hers with just as much abandon. Chasing the friction that has her clench tight around him, the heat of it so torturous and addicting he thinks he’ll come undone without a warning. 

She reaches it first– heavy breaths and muscles convulsing, a hand at the base of his throat to steady herself (a gentle grip). He can feel her pulse around him as he rocks into her, and knows he’ll soon follow; almost as if to agree, Edith’s hips stubbornly jerk above him. Taunting and imploring. Cal sits up in a fluid motion just in time to keep her upright as she falls against him, coming to a halt after a few urgent thrusts when he finally spills into her. 

They stay like that for a while, limp against one another, Edith on Cal’s lap and Cal panting against her collarbone. There’s a few more slurred words exchanged in whispers, sweet nothings and promises and stunned praises.

Only when the stickiness between them gets too uncomfortable to ignore do they force themselves to move, both wincing when Cal pulls out; they clean up quickly, barely enough just so they can lie back down.

***

It takes them minutes to come down from their high, heady heat subsiding into something quieter, something intimate. There’s still a faint thrum at the back of Cal’s mind as he lies on her chest, both of them still gleaming with sweat, but his mind feels clearer– less wonderstruck.

“Good?” Edith rakes her fingers through his long hair as asks. Her heart pounds steadily within her ribcage, the sound lulling Cal to peace. 

There’s a dull, pleasant ache spreading through him; it feels way better than ‘good’.

A quiet hum answers her, and he shifts in her arms to caress her cheek and press a kiss to her temple. 

The contented smile on his face wavers when she catches his hand to stop him; then disappears entirely when he sees her expression.

It confuses him at first, the anger in her eyes. He almost apologises out of reflex— for what, he’s yet to find out. And then he follows her gaze to his wrist, and it clicks. 

He understands, suddenly, that it’s not anger darkening her face. Fright, maybe. Guilt, definitely. Cal curses inwardly for not having noticed just how carefully she’s been holding his hand, staring at the reddened lines on his skin and rubbing gently at them as if to try and erase the soreness.

“That was too much,” is her only comment, more to herself than him. It sounds almost dejected. He sees her eyes dart from his hand to the rest of him, examining his state in silence. He knows what she sees without having to look down, if only from the way her jaw clenches.

“I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

His torso, covered in marks from neck to belt, large lovebites blooming dark on his beige skin while the imprint of her teeth is barely starting to fade. There’s scratches on his arms, and more on his back that she can’t see but knows are there. She takes it all in, the criss-cross patterns of old pale scars already peppered on his body, and then the new swollen marks she dared to leave on him. 

Do they sting? She can’t help but wonder. Forgive me.

Cal says something. It takes her a moment to even realise he did, but he patiently waits for her to focus back and look at him before repeating it.

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

He gathers her in his arms, embracing her as tightly as he did earlier.  Dozens of kisses peppered from her jawline to her collarbone, unhurried. She sighs, a bit shakily. 

“You could never hurt me,” he whispers it softly into her hair, firmly enough that she has to believe it. She clings to him, gripping his shoulders.

What a liar. She could hurt him in so many ways, this beautiful man in her arms who can only ever smile at her so brightly; the problem is he’d let her. Probably smile even brighter as she did.

He senses the stillness in her, guesses the train of her thoughts, and it fills him with such sudden grief that he shudders. 

He doesn’t know, exactly, what possesses him to act next. But he grabs her hand and pushes it down between their bodies where it’s still slick, so she can feel him. Feel the growing hardness against her fingertips, searing and eager to be hers again. The oddly bold action, so at war with the bashfulness tinging Cal’s cheeks, seems to surprise her. But she simply waits. 

“It didn’t hurt.” It didn’t hurt, I liked it. Still can’t bring himself to say that last part aloud.

He says it with such conviction, yet heat rushes to his face. It makes for a lovely view that finally pulls a faint smile from Edith.

“Mmh. Then it’s fine,” she hums after a moment, placing a small kiss to the bridge of his nose, “‘Cause I’m still hungry.” 

He’s about to ask what she feels like and sprint to the kitchen, for just a moment. And then he catches her meaning and sees that grin of hers, that ravenous light in her eyes that tells him he’s the next meal— he can’t stop the rush of excitement that ripples through him at that, and she feels it in her palm before he pulls her flush against him.

She laughs at the impatient look he gives her.

“That’s a good puppy,” she teases, lips ghosting over his without touching them.

Cal, who seemed about to dive in to kiss her himself a second earlier, sobers a bit at that. 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” Oh, he’s flustered. So much so that he can barely hide the way he trembles as he turns to the side, hiding his face from her for a moment. 

She doesn’t have it in her to be merciful, though; not when he’s just offered himself so enthusiastically… Her smile only grows wider. His throat bobs nervously as he stares back at her.

“Husband, then.” 

That does it. A weak groan of protest, and then he’s burying his face in the crook of her neck as if he plans to live there, strong arms locked in place around her waist. 

Another laugh shakes her at the ridiculousness of it, of him, and then it softens into something else. Happiness, and disbelief, at how they found such ease despite the world outside this small, bare room. She sighs against his hair, pressing a kiss against the crown of his head that sends pleased shivers down his spine and through his marrow.

“Mine,” she declares, and this time he doesn’t object to the choice of words. Revels in it, even.

Hers.

[stray-kaz]

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : six

A/N: I have taken artistic liberties with this fanfic. For example, I have given Walt some different mind abilities and have removed the canon vamp claws because I find them distasteful and overkill, pardon the pun.

18 and up, y’all.

You spent the next couple of days receiving scandalised glances from the maids and even Mr. Field due to the blossomed bruise on your neck, the identical holes in the centre now gone. Mrs. Swift eyed you with obvious concern whenever she saw you, and even cornered you on your way out of your room one morning. You met her gaze with caution, stretching your neck out slightly.

“Miss Alexander, you must be careful” she insisted in hushed tones. “He may act human, but he is not. If you push him too far, he might very well kill you, whether he means to or not.”

You shook your head, a small rueful smile twisting your lips.

“I do not think so, Mrs. Swift” you assured her. “I have been pushing him rather hard lately and he has not taken a single liberty I have not given him. I know what he is, I promise, and he is still honourable. I do not fear him.”

The older woman sighed and hastened away, leaving you alone. You spoke the truth.

You had many hours alone, but whenever Walt had a spare moment or two, he found you and either talked or kissed, often kissed you breathless, kissed the thoughts from your mind.

In a hidden alcove, mere inches away from where Mr. Field stood waiting for him to return.

Against any wall he could find, and there were many.

On top of his library desk, you sitting on the blotter, Walt standing between your legs, his hands on your jaw, your back, in your hair.

Always, always the scent of blood on you drove him away hard, panting, wild eyed, needing, teeth sharp.

He whispered love in your ear in Romanian, Hungarian, making you shudder against his chest, leaving you longing for when he’d murmur it in English.

Viktoria even caught you once, lying on a chaise outside the ballroom, Walt draped over you with his mouth on your pulse and his fingers up your skirt between your legs, damp and slick with blood. He caught her looking and waved her off with his bloodied hand, returning his attention to your neck without even waiting to see that she had gone.

“It is nearly eleven” he murmured into your feathering pulse. “You should get some rest.”

He sat back on the chaise and eased you up using his clean hand. He kissed your lightly, his lips barely touching yours, his teeth softly nicking your flesh as he pulled away with a hint of a smile.

“Goodnight, my love.”

Long after midnight had passed and you were still not asleep, your mind a riot as you lay back on the oversized four poster bed in the semidarkness, when a quiet knock on the bedroom door drew you slowly out of your reverie.

“Come in” you said, and sat up.

You pulled your knees to your chest as the door swung inward on a soft creak and Walt padded inside on bare feet. He closed the door at his back, keeping his silver blue eyes fixed on you.

“You wanted me, love?” he asked, moving slowly towards the bed.

You eyed him over the tops of your knees, confused.

“I didn’t call for you” you told him. “I didn’t touch the bell pull. Nothing.”

He just smiled and tapped the side of his head with one slender finger.

“We are this close to being bonded” he replied. “I can feel what you want and hear your thoughts if I’m close enough.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your knees down so you were cross legged, just as he reached the end of the bed to look down at you, nostrils flaring slightly.

“When will this damned bleeding stop?” he wondered aloud.

You felt hot and flushed under his stare as he sat down near you and reached out to touch your knee, sliding his hand up to the top of your thigh and back down.

“Does it bother you?” you asked softly, curious. “It hasn’t seemed to before.”

Walt shook his head, dark brown hair flopping untidily in his eyes. He pushed it away impatiently.

“Not particularly. I’m not hungry anyway.”

His lips pulled into a smirk that tightened your core and sent an extra ripple of heat through you. He leaned in to press his lips to your temple, moving his hand up and down your leg again.

“I know this is what you have been preparing for for more than a decade, but I did not expect you to become as eager as you have so quickly.”

Walt’s gaze was intense.

“What can I do for you? Sex is off the table until our wedding night, as you know; your father made that abundantly clear to me” he said, his tone amused and a half smile tugging at his mouth. “So what is it that I can do for you?”

You felt your cheeks heat and his smile grew.

“Miss Alexander, my love” he purred, his fingers reaching to tug at the hem of your lacy baby doll nightie, the material rustling over his fingertips. “We are about to be married. What do you want? Tell me.”

You bit your lip and his eyes caught the movement, his teeth baring for just a sliver of a moment before his lips closed over them again.

“Can I show you instead?” you asked, tugging at his hand that rested on your thigh.

“By all means” Walt answered, nodding.

He climbed onto the bed at your insistence and went willingly, deceptively pliable, to be pushed up against the headboard, long legs extended. He cocked a graceful eyebrow as you settled yourself down on his right thigh, your knees to either side.

The insatiable tingle between your legs spread outwards as you pressed gently down, just enough to feel the muscles in his thigh drag up against your heat. Walt dug his fingers into the flesh of your thighs and tilted his head back so he could watch your face. His gaze was distracted on the way up, though; your lace nightie was almost entirely sheer and as you ground against him, your nipples pushed into the fabric and he could see them, as if they were waiting for him.

“Ah, my love” he said in a hushed tone. “Were you thinking about me?”

“Mmm” you mumbled, shutting your eyes to avoid the intensity of his.

Then you felt his fingers grasp your chin and shake it slightly.

“Look at me” he commanded gently.

Without protest, your eyes flashed open again as you dragged yourself over his thigh. His fingers gripped like steel on your thighs, and you were certain there would be bruises in the morning.

This man, this monster among men, was drawing you out, out of the cocoon you had wrapped yourself in, knowing you were always for him and nobody else. With a sharp smile, taunting kisses, soft speech and strong hands, he had made you fall in love with him.

Incoherent clouds of thought in your mind, your fingers clenched red nailed at Walt’s shoulders, twisting against his bare skin and the cotton of his white tank; he had been sleep mussed but listening out for you.

Your breath came in pants, soft and unrelenting as you moved on him, jaw slackening and high colour staining your chest and cheeks as you chased the relief the animal part of your brain knew only he could give to you.

Walt watched you rut desperately on top of him, the heady scent of the blood between your legs bullying his senses until he was ready to snap his last gossamer thread of control, throw you down on the bed and sink into you right then and there.

And then a whimper left your lips and he couldn’t take it any longer. He scooped you up, ignoring your startled squeak, and tossed you onto the feather down mattress on your back. He ground against you once, then groaned and tore himself away from your softness and warmth, almost flying to the door. It slammed shut with a loud crack and one of the hinges fell onto the carpet.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and stared, pink and panting, at the now empty space Walt had only just occupied. When he did not magically reappear, you rolled over onto your stomach and groaned loudly, muffled, into your pillow.

Pressed against the wall inches from your bedroom door, Walt stood breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He winced as he bit into his lower lip, his pointed canines piercing the fine skin. He tasted the bite of liquid copper on his tongue and shoved away from the wall, uncomfortable in his own skin, his trousers too tight. He had come so close to ruining you. Too close.

He pictured you as you had been moments ago, wild and wanton and flushed, unbearably divine. He strode towards the stairs, picking up speed on his way down, desperate for blood.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly​ @sky0401​

[esotericas-sims]

Now enrolled in college and an entire ocean away from his family, Jules well and truly considers himself an adult, and dresses accordingly, in jackets and long pants. He's glad to be free of the shorts and knee socks of his childhood years, and has perhaps turned too far in the other direction, favoring serious, withdrawn adult's clothing. Indeed, many of the influences on his wardrobe come from his father. Although he and Jules have had a rocky relationship, George has been much of Jules's musical inspiration, and is thus the reason he's out of the house in the first place. Despite any conflicts they may have, the two are decidedly close, and that is reflected not only in Jules's color palette of blues, but in his sensible, simplistic clothing choices. Despite his aspirations towards adulthood, however, Jules is not grown up yet, a fact that displays itself best in his unkempt hair. Lacking the resources to cut it himself while away at college, Jules has instead elected to let it grow out, and the shaggy, uneven curls set him apart from the adult he insists he is.

Dressing in similarly subdued clothing is Florence, who continues her past pattern of blues and browns. Florence feels especially strong connections with her father and brother, and with men in general, so ehe tends towards masculine clothing, her outfits heavily featuring buttons, suit jackets, waistcoats, and other similarly boyish details. However, the occasional ruffle or puffed sleeve still presents itself, even when surrounded by her simple, flat hats, and sturdy boots. Florence is unable to escape her bond with her sister, even if their childhood arguments have solidified into chilly silence. While it's true that Florence doesn't bear the same curse that Olive does, they still share a similar cold-hearted, single-minded attitude towards their lives, which tends to manifest itself in overlap between their wardrobes.

Olive dresses in stark contrast to her siblings, and to the rest of her family. Her dresses are elaborate, covered in lace, ruffles, and frills, and she continues her pattern of pastel pinks from childhood, which cause her to stand out against the generally earthy, muted tones of her family. Olive's personality is similarly stark against the backdrop of her academic, introverted household, and her outfits are clearly chosen for attention. She shares her mother's love of elaborate hats, and is almost always bedecked in flowers, ribbons, or feathers. Her skirts tend to be shorter than Florence's, as Olive is often more "childish" than her twin, easy to anger and hatred, and irresponsible with her relationships. Unlike Florence, Olive's clothes are not suited to the outdoors, and her impractical heels are often a detriment in her countryside lifestyle.

Lydie, however, spends nearly all of her time outside, and dresses in accordance with that. Her skirts are short and practical, and she's usually seen in heavy, muddy boots. Her bond with nature is the strongest out of all her siblings, and it's exemplified in her color choices - her outfits are almost entirely green, with only touches of other colors. Lydie's lack of interest in other people has led also to a lack of interest in fashion, and one which Ruby hasn't bothered to try and change, so her clothes are very plain, often almost entirely lacking in details.

[No links this time, but WCIFS are welcome]

Playing with SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules

Started: 1800s

Current decade: 1900s

Family tree

Spreadsheet

CC Finds

[masterqwertster]

Hi!

So I love your writing, especially the prompt thing you've been doing recently. I'm super curious on what you think it would look like after the last little fic with Ashton and Orym, since they have no healers.

Maybe #6, #19 or #27, if you haven't done those or are okay with repeats? With Orym having to accept Ashton and Laudna's help until they can find a way to heal him, since it doesn't seem like he can even lift his arms? Or even accepting help from the other three traveling with them right now.

Or maybe for another focus, Laudna being panicked and scared about him being hurt and almost losing them both, but also worried about Imogen, so she's projecting onto Ashton and Orym to feel in control and maybe a little too pushy about helping him heal and making sure Ashton is alright too.

Thanks! 🤗

Alright, last one for this prompt list (for now) Sorry this one took a while. The prompt decided to fight me, but I got that sucker in the end! 6 "Don't move, you're still hurt." 19 "You need to eat something." Gonna pass on 27 "I'm going to carry you, okay?" since I've done Ashton and Orym both separately and together on that one. And since episode 63 was a whole thing, this references that, just the tiniest bit. Also, my brain decided this is a canon adjacent where Orym, Laudna, and Ashton are off on their own having split from their guests. So it's just the three of them in this little fic. A follow up to this one.

Laudna clutches her boys close.

For a bleak while there, she thought she'd lost them. How could she have gone back to Fearne, to Fresh Cut Grass, and told them their best friends didn't make it? That her reflexes hadn't been fast enough to catch them in a life-saving Feather Fall? And what about her, left alone without her family?

Lucky her, they managed to save themselves.

There's even the pleasant surprise of Ashton returning the hug, pinning her and Orym to their chest. Laudna really does enjoy hugs from the genasi when they're willing. Just the reassuring weight to their arms, the seemingly unshakable solidity to their body and presence, juxtaposed with the absolute care and gentleness they handle her with. Sometimes she'd swear there's nothing more grounding than an Ashton hug.

A hiss escapes the group hug, sending Laudna scrambling backwards as Ashton's arms spring open.

With that space, she fully takes her boys in, almost immediately spotting the problem: Orym's arms look a dreadful mess. Bright red and swollen at the joints, and dislocated too, if she's any judge (and she is, with as often as her own joints will pop out of place).

"Oh. Oh, that doesn't look good at all. Hold still, give me a moment," Laudna worries, hands going into the motions for a Wither and Bloom. Healing is hardly her specialty, but this spell can heal. It doesn't have to kill hurt.

And it's not as much healing as what Fresh Cut Grass or Fearne could provide if they were here, but it is some measure of healing. The worst of the swelling reduces, the redness recedes some, and some nasty cracks and snaps indicate that all the bones have popped back into their sockets.

"Wait," Orym pants out as Laudna's hands begin the motions for a second casting. "S-save the magic. We might n-need it later."

Laudna bites her lip. She really thinks Orym should take a second round of healing, even if it does bring her magic reserves down to uncomfortably-low-should-another-fight-occur. Because it's either her magic or one of their few potions to get the halfling into something better approximating working order.

"Heal him," Ashton commands, cutting through the indecision.

Orym splutters as Laudna quickly completes the spell, trying to be indignant about the used resources even as the tension in his body relaxes a bit more from the second dose of healing.

"Can you hold your shit, or does Laudna need to hit you again?" Ashton demands, no room to lie or evade in their gaze.

With a stubborn jut to his chin, Orym picks up his sword and shield. He only slightly fumbles stowing them away on his back, earning a grunt of approval.

"Alright, let's keep moving," the genasi says, groaning a bit as they lever themself back onto their feet.

"Are you okay?" Laudna has to ask. It can be a little tricky to tell when Ashton is vocalizing his chronic pain or a current injury.

"I'm good," Ashton says, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hands a bit, producing a barely audible popping that Laudna’s fairly certain wouldn’t be audible at all if his body wasn't made of stone. "After all, I'm not the one who caught, like, ten times their body weight and still some-fucking-how held on."

"Are you complaining?" Orym raises an eyebrow at them.

"Nah. Just saying you absolutely fucking needed the healing after doing something that crazy," Ashton easily explains, flicking the halfling's ear.

Orym grumbles, but lets it go.

Laudna, for her part, is very glad Orym managed such an impossible feat, even at great cost to himself. Certainly, having Ashton handle their own weight is always the better option, but needs must. And they obviously got around to it quick enough, since Orym's arms are still attached and the boys did haul themselves back up the cliff.

And maybe, maybe, Laudna spends the rest of the day hovering and worrying. Even though her boys are perfectly fine besides Orym's sore arms, Ashton's sore everything and there's really no need to worry. They're quite capable and can handle themselves. She's seen them in action, so of course she knows that. There's really no need-

"Here. Eat," Ashton grunts, shoving a bowl of stew into her anxiously wringing hands.

"Oh. Oh. I'm alright," Laudna demurs, even as her fingers curl around the warm bowl.

"Eat," Ashton demands again. "I know you don't need much, but you still need some. 'Sides, food is energy and you need to regain yours for-" and he wiggles and flicks his fingers at Orym in what is actually a half-decent impression of her casting Wither and Bloom.

And well. When they put it like that.

Laudna eats her stew.

As they settle down for sleep and watch, Laudna hits Orym with another Wither and Bloom, getting a little sigh of relief from the halfling. Then she spins one last one on Ashton as well for good measure.

"Good night," Ashton intones as almost a threat, flipping her off good-naturedly. And they resettle in their seat, obviously feeling some relief from her spell as well.

"Good night~" she sing-songs back, curling into her bedroll. Her boys live (she can hear them breathing), and soon, all of Bells Hells will be together again.

[heycerulean]

(This is for the OC travelling ask game. I'm not too sure about the rules but I'm under the impression that I'm the one giving a description of one of my OCs and you'll tell me which of your OCs will get along with them.)

*You encounter a young man with blue hair and blue eyes. He sports a pair of stubby horns, with one having an accessory dangling from it.

*There was mischief in his eyes but he allows you to approach. He sports a dark blue cardigan and navy blue pants. You take notice that his tail was had some feathers, yet occasionally, you do see a poisonous stinger sticking out of it.

*He refuses to give you a name. (You'll later find out his name is Kazuya. But that is for another time.) His first instinct was to pull a prank on you within the first 5 minutes of meeting you.

*Depending on when you meet him, he could either be an antagonist or just a headache. You later realize that it's mostly because of his creator that he's civil. No matter how much he would rather sow discord and chaos, he would listen to her word. Her word is law to him, despite her obvious discomfort of the fact.

*However, despite that, he often tries to provoke her anger by causing headaches from his misadventures with his spells and potions. Should you participate in these pranks, he will teach you some tricks and give you magic lessons. (Or you could just ask. He'd indulge you but be prepared to have a strict teacher. "All that talent for magic and he uses it for pranks," his creator would say despite smiling.)

*He prefers not to talk about his feelings but he does occasionally give you things you mention you wanted in passing. If he does leave you a note with the gift, he puts his words in the most annoying way possible.

*He's not one for dates but he can arrange an outing to cheer you up should you have bonded enough. Bond with him even more and there is a chance he wouldn't mind destroying the world if it means you are safe and happy.

TL:DR : Kazuya is a powerful prankster who has a lot of talent in magic. He would rather be chaotic but he wants certain people to not be upset with him (still pulls pranks on them though). He carries hints of "villain who'd destroy the world for you" sometimes.

(Haha. Whoops. I gushed about him a biiit too much. XD I hope you don't mind. I'm curious which of your OCs would get along with him should they meet.)

(thank you so much for the ask! kazuya sounds super cool, i love to hear about other people's ocs.) I'd have to say Az, or maybe a young Lexi Mayridge. See, on one hand, Azalea Xirelle could probably relate to him the most; they're both powerful people with a penchant for general mischief and tomfoolery, though Az might find his loyalty to one person a little unsettling. However, a young Lexi- before all the government stuff, maybe back when she was still a student athlete with the world before her- they'd get along great too. He's got spells and potions, Lexi works with magic chemistry; and thought Lexi doesn't exactly have something to be loyal to, she's very determined to reach whatever she sets her eyes on, and i think he'd respect that. Also, third option; Teq Quetzeve. They've probably got the most in common; Teq's a heavy weapons specialist that further specialized into integrating magic into weapons, so I think they could pull off some really cool stuff. Add that to their extreme loyalty and love for jokes, and they'd be a pretty powerful duo. I feel like most of the cast wouldn't be immediately hostile, just very distrusting. Again, thank you so much for the ask- your ocs have always seemed cool and i love Kazuya's design.

[dearlavender]

❀°•Arguments•°❀

[Ghost x Male Engineer! Reader]

[Part 1: Rookies, Part 2: Sleepless Nights, Part 3: The Past, Part 4: You're here!, Part 5: TBA]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

"How the fuck long have you known, Price? "

There were rare moments Ghost would lose his temper, they happened few and far between as he'd just take it out on the training equipment.

The older man let out a frustrated sigh as he listened to the masked lieutenant gripe at him, again.

"That you both grew up in the same neighborhood? Since I read his file, but that's not why I requested he be placed into the 141." Price answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His reply only seemed to aggravate the other male more. "He's got skills like no other is a good mate to have on the team. "

"Then why the hell didn't you say anything? " Ghost demanded, standing up from his position of having his hands on the desk.

"It wasn't mine to tell, perhaps you should be asking him. He has been awake for a few days correct? "

*****

Groaning lightly, Benedict bit his bottom lip as he slowly but surely pushed himself off the medical bed. He honestly felt a little exposed without his facial coverings, god only knows how long he'd been wearing them—keeping the ugly scars that littered his face hidden away.

He whimpered quietly as pain shot throughout his body, causing him to put a hand on his abdomen. It had been a few days since was admitted into the base's small hospital, and he was sick of it. Already wanting to get back to work.

"What are you doing? " A woman, a nurse, asked as she walked past his room. Immediately trotting inside and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Can't sit in here anymore, gotta get some new sights. " He grunted, gripping the drip line pole to give him more balance.

"You haven't been properly discharged yet! You must rest until your wounds have healed fully-! " The nurse argued as she tried to stop him, but she was half his size and felt like a feather trying to push him back into the jail he called a bed. He was not a fan of downtime and would rather be busy than bored.

"I'm fine I-"

"Back in bed, L/N. That's an order. "

Both individuals froze and looked up, gazing at the tall and intimidating masked man who stood against the doorway. The woman immediately stood up straight, even if he wasn't part of the medical team, he was still her superior.

"You can go, I got this." The lieutenant stated with a wave of his hand before fully walking into the small room as she scurried out. Benedict just watched with a subtle surprised expression on his face as Ghost just plopped down onto a chair that was by his bed.

"You wanna talk about why you're here?" He suddenly asked the wounded engineer who still stood. Clad in a blue hospital gown with white pants on underneath.

"I got shot, bloody hell else does it look like?" The scarred man replied, his eyes narrowing at his old companion before he gradually sat down on the edge of the uncomfortable bed.

"You know what I mean Ben. What's up with Alice and Emmett?" Ghost asked, bringing up his mother and father. 

"As I told you, they died when I was a teenager." The engineer answered, half falsely and half honestly. It'd be a quiet day in hell before he ever told the truth.

"Bullshit, they were healthy and well off. You and I both know they wouldn't have just kicked the bucket just like that." The masked male scoffed, resting his elbows on his knees. Losing his patience.

"Honestly, I find it all little unfair you're grilling me about this when you've said jack about your side of the family." Ben rolled his eyes as he spoke, slowly resting himself on his back as he fully lied on the bed.

"Got something to do with the marks on your face?"

That, made his head turn before his eyes shot down to his lap and he turned onto his side. Facing away from his lieutenant. "I'm not talking about this with you."

━

"You cannot be serious."

"I am, and it's final. No more debates on this you two."

Benedict exhaled into his hands in frustration as his shoulders dropped. 

"Your wounds have closed up but you still have more healing to do, so, you can do it at home." The captain restated, sitting back down in his chair. "Ghost, you'll watch 'im and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. You'll both be paid for your leave." 

"If I can't be in the workshop, what the hell am I supposed to do?" The engineer complained once more, he was so not happy with the arrangement and had come close to begging Price to reconsider.

"Benny? Is that you?"

Both men stopped trying to make their way up the stairs of the flat's building as they heard an older female's voice.

"Yes miss Bea." Said male answered as he slung his bag over his shoulder, ignoring the pain he felt as he saw a more elderly woman wander out of a room. Instantly enveloping him in a hug once she saw him before she noticed the silent man behind him.

"And who is this? Have you been on those dating sites again, Ben?" She asked in a low mutter, looking up at the young male.

"Huh? No! No, of course not. He's.. a coworker." Benedict waved his free hand as a small hint of red dusted over his cheeks.

"Ah, I see. Well, it's good to meet you. Beatrix Greene, I'm the landlady here. Thank you for taking care of Ben, he's far too reckless to be left alone." The old woman smiled as she nodded her head over to Ghost before turning on her heel so she could head back into her flat.

"I'll make something so you both can have a hot meal!"

The injured male let an amused chuckle rumble through his throat before he refocused on slowly making his way back up the stairs. She was always doting on him like he was her grandson, even volunteering to take care of his dog while he was away.

"Dating sites huh?"

"Ah shaddap."