#eventually they dig their way into his lungs and they take a breath filled with moss and soil

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

That nosleep post about the lady who killed her husband who came back six months later is making me think things

[theorphicangel]

18+, mdni, remember when I said I needed to fuck Toji? this is what I meant

Your legs wrap around Toji’s waist as he stretches you open, your sweet cunt swallowing him whole.

Currently, neither one of you move. You feel so full as if you could burst at any moment, a bulge appearing in your lower abdomen. Two bodies pant heavily in the humid room, damp sheets sticking to your skin. You can’t recall how long you and Toji had been at it but it must be reaching the third hour by now.

Fatigue was clearly taking its toll on the two of you; Toji panting heavily in your ear and your lungs struggling to inhale enough oxygen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, his tone low and raspy making you tremble beneath him. He’d completely bottomed out, your warm cunt welcoming him in. A short grunt left his throat as your walls clenched around him, practically milking him.

“Toji–” your voice shook, increasing a few octaves. The burning sensation in your gut threatened to snap if Toji even dared to move.

“I know, doll.” He replies. You feel his lips move against your shoulder, his head buried in the crook of your neck. It was too much for him too. It took him everything not to let the feeling of tension in his lower abdomen. Toji’s thighs shiver slightly as he thrusts gently, it’s only a single movement but immediately a high-pitched whine leaves your throat.

“I know, I know. “ Soft lips kiss your skin, your scent driving him crazy. No matter how long you spend in his arms, Toji will never be satisfied. His tongue licks at your skin, decorating your skin with hickeys. He groans, his lips attacking your skin making you let out a needy moan in response.

It would never be enough, there would never be a day where his hunger and thirst for you would ever be quenched. Not today, not tomorrow or ever. It seemed impossible.

“Fuck, I love you so much doll, you don’t even understand, so fucking much.” Toji groaned, his tone thick with passion. “I love you so fucking much it could kill me, doll.”

Your jaw falls open, instantly overwhelmed. You’re overwhelmed by his words, his kisses, the thick tension in the room and the way that his cock continues to stretch you out further. It takes a few breaths before you can collect your thoughts, replying with clear infatuation in your tone.

“I love you too, I love you Toji, I love you, I love you, I lov–”

Your words are cut off by a harsh gasp as Toji fucks into you, beginning his relentless pace.

“Tell me baby, tell me, don’t stop.” He seethes, sweaty locks sticking to his forehead.

You continue to babble your three words of affection to him as he pounds your cunt. It’s all with love, every grip of your thighs, every smack to the fat of your ass, every time he cups your breast and his tongue swirls around your nipple you know that it’s all out of love — and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Toji continues, allowing the pressure in your gut to build up like an elastic band ready to snap.

“Toji!”

“I know, just one more for me, can you do that for me?”

You struggle to reply, nothing but endless moans leaving your lips. The room fills up with sounds of Toji’s grunts, your whines and the filthy sound of skin smacking. It was too much.

“Can you do it for me, love? Wanna cum for me?”

Your eyes finally peer up at his dark green irises, his eyes never leave your face. Watching as your face contorts, lips parted to an ‘o’, eyebrows raised and your eyes widen as you reach your climax.

“Yes, yes, yes! M’cumming, m’cumming—”

Your thighs shake under Toji’s body, he bottoms out again as your walls clench around his cock. His groans fill the room, reaching his own peak. Your eyes roll back and heels dig into Toji’s back. You’re more than sure that your fingernails have scratches down his back.

Eventually Toji’s lips find yours, brushing lazy kisses.

If it was possible, the two of you would stay here for an eternity. Your bodies seem to fit perfectly, molded perfectly for this exact reason. Toji swears you were made for him, usually you laugh it off as him being a sap but it’s at moments like this when you’re gazing into each other’s eyes and peppering kisses across each other’s skin that you believe him.

You were made for him and vice versa.

The corners of your lips turn up and Toji feels your smile print against your skin. “What you smiling ‘bout?”

“Remember when you’d ramble on about how I was made for you?” Your voice is croaky, throat dry. Toji makes the mental note to get you water asap. “I think–” a giggle erupts, “I think you were right, I was made for you.”

Instantly, Toji’s own lips curve into a wide smile.

“That’s damn right, doll.” He groans, his voice raspy. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me neither.” you murmur before delving into another kiss.

[sempersirens]

a bird in your teeth, III

masterlist

summary: joel deals with the aftermath of a traumatic experience

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. reference to past SA, trauma, nightmares, general symptoms of PTSD. eventual smut

a/n: hello lovelies! slightly longer part ahead. i've decided to make the next part the final installment of this mini-series, i wanted to explore some more intimate aspects between joel and reader that didn't quite fit here. i hope you enjoy! <3

word count: 3.5k

The sweet chirping of birdsong felt like Mother Nature was playing a cruel joke on you as you stood on the side of the street, arms hugged tightly around yourself. You felt as though the birds were laughing down at you, cackling at your wretched state, sharing an inside joke at your expense. As dawn drew in, her rosy fingers pulled at the remnants of the night's sky. The beauty of the orange and pink hues was wasted on you. To you, it served as a reminder that even as a new day rolled in, the memories swarming your mind wouldn't fade quite as swiftly.

When Joel's truck came hurtling towards you, all notion of time had faded away. You couldn't tell if seconds, hours, or even days had passed since you had lowered your phone from your face. Fifty dawns and dusks could've gone by for all you cared.

The heat from your pumping heart manifested into a blush that crept up your cheeks, and the consequence of your damsel-in-distress phone call settled in your gut.

Joel was here. You had called him, and he had come.

"What happened?" His expression was stern, hair disheveled, and flannel shirt almost comically misbuttoned. You would've laughed if you could remember how.

He grazed your bloody lip with this thumb.

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

"This was a mistake..." You became aware of his hands now on your arms. "Please, don't touch me."

The words tumbling out of your mouth must've sounded as limp and pathetic as you felt. Joel's eyes softened into confusion, and then concern. You didn't have the energy to pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore. You feared his gaze would open every locked door inside of you and allow the mess to collapse onto him.

He said your name, softly, removing you from his grip and opening the passenger door.

"Let me take you home."

As you had done all night, you silently obliged. Joel guided you into the truck, his hand hovering over the crown of your head. He closed the door gently and made his way into the driver's seat, starting the ignition in silence. Was he angry? You couldn't work it out. His knuckles were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel they had turned white.

"Joel, please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry. I'm taking you back to my place, gonna get you cleaned up, and then when you're ready..."

"Is Sarah okay?" You interrupted.

"Sound asleep. I gotta take her to school in a coupl'a hours, but I'll come straight back to you."

This wasn't right. You shook your head in soft defiance, staring at your lap where your hands sat, fingers interlocked. As you thought of all the trouble you had caused him, you noticed your thumbnails digging into your hands so sharply that you had drawn blood. You turned your palms shakily onto your bare thighs to hide the fresh droplets.

"Honey, where are your shoes?"

Joel's soft inquiry snapped you out of your trance; you hadn't even realized you'd left those fucking cowboy boots on the bedroom floor in your rush out of the front door.

"I left them... I-I didn't think to..." Your breathing became erratic again, chest heaving with each rise and fall feeling like a weight was crushing into your ribcage.

"Hey, hey hey. Breathe. You're with me. You're safe with me, you know that." He reached across your lap and squeezed your still interlocked hands, filling his lungs with air and then exhaling slowly through his mouth like he was a midwife guiding you through childbirth.

You copied his rhythmic breaths, focusing on the emerging purple colors now littering the sky. It was cruel for the sky above you to be so warm and inviting.

You wished for an English February; for thick layers of ice coating the ground with black ice hidden underneath. You wanted it to be the cold that had caused your muscles to freeze, or the harshness of a dry wind to be clawing down your throat. You wished you could blame the weather for the way your body was reacting.

Of all people, you didn't want Joel to see you as weak. You internally reprimanded yourself for pulling him out of his home, away from his daughter to come and save you. Your body and soul had never taken to relying on others easily. Who had you become? You were supposed to be strong. You moved across the world all by yourself, for god's sake.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

"Everything."

The remainder of the journey was silent.

Joel pulled into his driveway, soon exiting the truck and jogging to your side to help you out.

"Easy, darlin'."

He carried your handbag on one arm and looped the other to support your waist. With his free hand, he unlocked the door and closed it quietly behind him.

"Sarah's not gonna be up for another couple hours, you go make yourself comfortable in my bedroom, I'll bring everything y'need."

You gave him a pathetic nod before traipsing up the stairs you had watched Sarah scurrying up only six hours ago. Despite your years of friendship with the Millers, you had never actually gone into Joel's bedroom. You had snuck a peek or two inside whenever the door was left ajar if you passed on your way to the bathroom, but had never set foot inside.

His bedsheets were haphazardly thrown back, half dangling onto the carpeted floor. The fan on his dresser was still humming, sending ripples through his pillowcases. You were reluctant to make yourself at home as he had instructed, so perched on the edge of his bed eyeing the posters dotted on his walls. His bedroom looked like it hadn't changed since his 20s, reminding you of how young he must've been when he started a new life to bring up Sarah in a home he could call his own.

Joel appeared at the door, shutting it softly behind him. He was balancing a steaming mug and a first aid kit in one hand, and some pillows from the sofa under his other arm. He set the mug down on the nightstand beside his bed. Tears swelled in the corner of your eyes at what you recognized as the Yorkshire Tea he kept stocked in the cupboard, especially for you.

"Want you to sit back and get real comfy, alright?"

"Okay."

You hesitantly lifted your legs to rest on the bed, shuffling backward towards the headboard. Joel set the first aid kit at the foot of the bed and leaned over to place the pillows behind your back.

"That okay?"

You nodded your head without looking directly at him.

Wordlessly, Joel walked around to the other side of the bed, setting himself down with a barely audible groan. He brought the first aid kit into his lap and started sifting through the contents.

"You mind if I take a look at your lip?"

"No. I mean - that's fine."

You parted your lips slightly, Joel's fingers lifting your chin up towards him.

"Washed m'hands, promise."

He pulled your bottom lip down to inspect the wound, cleaning the now-dried blood from your chin. The silence in his bedroom made his touch even more intense. You'd felt his hand on your waist, or accidentally brush past your bare skin now and then, but this... You had never been touched by anybody like this before. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly as he put all of his focus into handling you with care.

You had been with your fair share of guys before; boyfriends, one-night-stands, whatever. But the way you felt under Joel's gaze in this moment, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, made you feel like nobody had ever truly touched you before. Like you were brand new. It made you want to sob. You had to start regulating your breathing again to prevent your lip from wobbling, shattering your impenetrable exterior.

"M'I hurtin' you?"

Finding courage hidden somewhere deep inside of you, you leveled your gaze with his. This close to his face, you could've sworn you saw his pupils dilate.

"No. It's fine, thank you."

"You're doin' so well, honey. Keep breathin' for me." He moved his thumb to stroke your jaw as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

"Don't say that. This ain't your fault."

"How can you say that? You don't even know what happened."

"Don't need to. But, I'd be grateful if you'd be so kind as t'fill me in."

You sucked a breath in and brought your knees up to your chest. The birds outside the window began mocking you with their song again.

"You get in a fight? W'that friend of yours who picked you up earlier?"

Oh god. He really had no clue.

"No, nothing like that."

"Somethin' while you were out? Sweetheart, someone had t'have busted your lip like that?"

"I said no."

"So what, you don't remember? You taken somethin'? You're scarin' me, darlin'."

He was pleading. It was dripping all over his face, this deep despair searching your features for the answers your voice couldn't quite give him.

"No, I do. I mean- I said it, I said no. To a guy. O-one second I was falling asleep and then... he was just there, Joel. He appeared out of nowhere. I thought he had gone home. And I was saying no but he was all over me. He was everywhere."

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, a dichotomy of relief and anguish flooding through your veins so intensely that any hope of maintaining a stoic facade had long washed away.

You didn't make a sound as you sobbed. Your entire body jerked with each breath, snot ungraciously dripping onto your upper lip. It didn't matter. Joel wrapped you into him without hesitation, your face nestled against his shoulder. He rocked you in his arms, back and forth, back and forth. Your sobs intensified into his t-shirt, eyes squeezed shut. You could feel the tears clinging onto the material, but all he did was hold you tighter.

"Oh, baby girl. It's okay, I got you. I got you now."

"I'm so sorry, Joel." You choked the words out.

"Don't you dare apologize. You let everythin' go. Give all that hurt t'me. I'll take it for you."

Joel pulled you into his lap, your legs collapsed underneath you. He placed a hand on either side of your face, holding you inches away from his own. He had never seen you like this. It shattered his damn heart. He had to keep blinking to fend off his own tears.

“You did the right thing, callin’ me.”

Every inch of him wanted to go back in time to you lingering in the doorway and ask you to stay the night. Hell, he would've gone back to that first time he saw you and taken you in his arms like a sailor returning home from years at sea. The only reason he'd even had the courage to turn up at your front door, mumbling something about burgers, was because Sarah had caught him peeking at you through the curtains for the first few days of you moving in. If you like her so much, why don't you ask her on a date? She had asked so innocently. But she was right; it was that simple. He fired up the grill before straightening himself up and jogging across the street. A Glenn Campbell record had been echoing through your house, something he found even more endearing when he was struck by that accent of yours.

He wanted to tell you that the reason none of his first dates made it to a second was because none of them were you. He was setting these poor women up to fail; how could they ever compete with you?

But right now, you were here. Safe in his arms. He was going to do everything in his power to bring that light back into your eyes.

An hour or so passed like that. You pressed against his chest, falling in and out of a dreamless sleep, Joel's fingers grazing soothing patterns on your arm.

The sound of Sarah's bedroom door closing jolted you awake.

"Ssh, it's okay. S'just Sarah getting ready t'head out. Gimme a minute to go say good mornin'."

You nodded in response, mustering a small smile.

You felt tiny alone in his bed, the absence of his body leaving you feeling hollow. You pulled the covers up to your chin and drew you knees up to your chest, dreading to think what Joel would tell Sarah. She called me in the middle of the damn night, what was I s'posed to do? Maybe she'll get the hint and leave. Imagined narratives swarmed your mind.

Why was it so hard for you to accept his help?

"Oh my god," you gasped, sitting up. "Daisy."

In your state, you had left her there all alone. Mark seemed like a nice enough guy, but didn't they all?

You reached for your handbag hanging off of Joel's door handle and searched for your phone.

14 missed calls. You tapped your foot against the floor anxiously as the dialing tone sounded.

"Moooornin' Ms. Cocktease. How's ya head?" She chirped, the relief that engulfed you allowed your body to slack back onto the bed.

"I am so glad to hear your voice." You breathed.

"That's romantic. You gonna tell me what had you scurrying off in such a hurry at 3am? Y'left your damn boots behind."

"I was... really worried about missing my 9am. It's with my thesis supervisor."

"Sweetheart, a love you but you gotta learn to relax once in a while. Let off some steam! Unclench your jaw, woman."

"I know, I know. I'll work on it."

"How'd you get home, anyway?"

"Oh, um. I called a cab."

"I feel like you're lyin', and I intend to find out what's goin' on. I swear to god if you're fuckin' that old man I'm not gonna know whether to be proud or-"

"Listen, babe, I'm glad you had a good night. Give me all the gritty details over coffee tomorrow?"

"Oh fine. Enjoy your meeting."

The line disconnected as Joel re-entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm gonna drop Sarah to school, but I'll be right back. Need me to pick you anythin' up from your place?"

"No, that's okay. I should get out of your hair-"

"I'll be right back."

He walked over and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

---

Joel couldn't concentrate for the entire drive back to his place. He had to pass the street he had picked you up from hours prior to get to and from Sarah's school. The image of you standing there so broken, now knowing exactly why, filled him with grief for the version of you he knew and adored. He wished he had known there and then what you had endured. He knew how strong and capable you were of looking after yourself, so he had to fight every urge to raid each block of flats along the street to find the guy who had done this to you.

He flexed his knuckles back and forth over the steering wheel, forcing himself to go straight home. Back to you. However you decided to deal with this, whether it be today or in five years' time, he would be behind you.

What he would do to find that pathetic excuse for a man, that boy, and slowly take each finger off that he had dared to touch you with. He would make him hurt in ways he didn't even know he could feel pain.

Joel's mind flicked back to the image of you breaking down in his arms and he sucked a breath in to steady himself. He wished he could take all of your pain away and alter the course of the last six hours to have you waking up in his arms unscathed.

He returned home to find you curled up asleep in his bed sheets. He crept under the cover next to you, about to pull you back into his arms when you started thrashing your arms and legs.

"No, stop!" You murmured, still fast asleep.

"Sweetheart, it's me. Hey, hey, hey. It's me. It's Joel." He spoke, holding your face between his hands to try to coax you out of your nightmare.

"Wake up, darlin'. You gotta wake up. It's me, you're safe."

Your eyes finally widened, consumed with fear and confusion. You searched your surroundings and backed away from Joel's grip, still calculating where you were and what the threat was.

"You're okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby."

"Joel... I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop apologizing, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'scare you, honey."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, slowing your breathing back down and ridding the sound of blood pumping in your ears.

"Do you mind if I have a bath, please?"

"Anything. I'll run you one now. Sarah has some o'that fancy girl soap if you want?"

You smiled softly.

"Sure, that sounds nice. Thank you, Joel."

Before heading to the bathroom, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, lingering with his lips on your skin for longer than he had before. Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened to his footsteps out of the bedroom.

Part of you was desperate to scrub away Elijah's touch until your skin was raw. But, another part of you didn't want Joel's smell to fade from you. In his arms his scent had consumed you, replacing the smell of your laundry detergent with his.

You squeezed your eyes tightly and shook your head.

Stop this. You're projecting onto him. He's looking out for you out of the kindness of his heart and you're taking advantage of it.

You tried to distract yourself from the fixating on the feeling of Joel's lips against your skin by shedding last night's clothes and replacing them with his dressing gown. Which of course also stunk of him. Great.

"S'ready." He called.

Catching sight of you in his dressing gown, Joel had to remind himself to close his mouth.

"Suits you." He smiled.

The bathwater was obscenely pink, bubbles almost escaping over the side of the tub.

Joel stood uneasily as you smiled at the domesticity of the scene.

"I'll give ya some privacy. Make myself busy downstairs. You just holler if y'need me, alright?"

"Joel, wait. Would you... it's stupid."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Would you sit with me? I really don't want to be alone."

Joel’s response came so quickly you didn’t even have time to feel bad for being so forward.

"Of course I will. You get yourself comfortable, I'll wait outside the door."

You discarded his dressing gown onto the floor, sinking into the warm tub. You ran some more hot water, feeling unsatisfied until the water was hot enough to leave your skin red wherever it touched.

"Come in." You called, your torso submerged underneath the bubbles with just your collarbones and toes poking out of the pink waters.

Under any other circumstance, he would've dropped to his knees by the side of the tub and told you that he had never seen someone look so perfect before. Your flushed cheeks and hair bundled behind your head against the tiles made Joel feel like he was staring at an oil painting in a gallery.

He adored you. Fuck it, he was in love with you. From the very beginning.

Joel lowered himself onto the closed toilet seat, arms resting on his knees.

"Temperature okay?" Was all he could muster.

"I added a bit more hot, I hope that's okay."

"You women and your damn hot water." He teased. "S'absolutely fine, honey."

Neither of you spoke for a little while, you rested your head back and soaked in Joel's protective presence.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course, Joel."

"Did he..."

"No. It's funny actually, he couldn't get it up." You said dryly.

"But he tried?"

"Yeah, he tried."

"I'll kill him."

Joel's protectiveness overwhelmed you, feeling for the first time in your life that you had someone unconditionally in your corner. You lifted your arms from the water to cover your face in embarrassment, revealing finger-shaped bruises that had formed on both of your upper arms.

"Fuck," he breathed when he caught sight of the way you had been mistreated.

He knelt down beside the bathtub, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"What can I do, honey?" He searched your face for an answer. "Tell me how to take all this away for you."

"Joel, you've done so much already. More than I could ever ask from you."

"I just wanna fix it."

By nature, Joel was a fixer. He patched up Sarah's knees and elbows after soccer games. He bailed Tommy out of jail more times than he would admit. Hell, he even fixed things for work. It was what he did.

"I want you to take me back there." You exhaled a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. "To the apartment. I need to go back."

"Y'sure that's a good idea?"

"I am. But I need to go in alone. I just want to know you'll be waiting outside for me if I need you."

"Sweetheart, I'll always come when you call."

[greytongue]

that boy is a monster.

-

cw: las plagas leon chasing you. he’s rlly infected. primal play possibly???? he drinks your blood. no penetration. non consensual touching, grabbing, biting AT FIRST. ambiguous gender reader

-

you were sprinting for your life, exerting yourself so hard you felt you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. the old run down cabins of the infected villagers flew by as the landscape slowly turned into dark forest.

you had gotten split up from leon during this whole baby eagle mission, this whole escapade was a fucking shit show. you kept asking yourself why the hell you agreed to be shipped off to spain to rescue the friggin presidents daughter. guess it was the prize money. it’ll be a miracle if you ever see that cash.

something was wrong with leon. very wrong. you’d found him eventually, but he looked… no persons spine is supposed to be cutting out of their skin like that. no person is supposed to have scorpion-like features. his teeth were too sharp.

you shook your head trying to rid the image of him out of your mind. god, it was terrible. and you knew he was coming for you. knew it by the footsteps close behind you, by the growls and the unnerving clicking sounds coming from his throat.

tears filled your vision. you were praying to god, the universe, whatever is up there, that you’d live.

they didn’t answer, if anything it’s almost as if they purposely planted that oversized tree root for you to trip on. you cursed as you tumbled to the ground, you felt your ankle twist painfully. you didn’t have much time to register the pain as the creature you’d been running from threw himself on you.

you screeched in terror as his huge hands (well claws now really) gripped your shoulder to flip you over and he shoved his horrible face into yours, hissing loudly as he barred his teeth. they all looked like sharp canines now.

“god, please, stop! it’s me!” you begged for him to let you go. you squirmed, kicked, scratched, anything. ‘leon’ growled viciously, sharp finger nails digging into your wrists as he pinned them to the ground, knees holding down your struggling thighs. you were done for, you thought. he was impossibly strong. you sobbed as you waited for him to kill you, eat you, anything.

you waited, eyes shut tight and teeth gritting, but nothing came. all you could feel was his heavy breaths fanning across your face.

you hesitantly peered up, to see what the fuck he was doing. his face was impossibly close to yours, his nose almost bumped yours. you glazed over the his furrowed brows, his bloodshot eyes, the veins that spread across his face. you took this in with disbelief, he looked so different.

“leon… please…” you whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. you regretted saying anything as he growled, shoving you harder into the dirt, big hands gripped your wrists tighter. you whimpered partly in fear and confusion as he leaned in towards your neck, inhaling deep. you shut your eyes tight and shivered when his long tongue licked a strip up your throat, starting at your collarbone and ending at your jaw. you cringed as he shivered in delight, letting an inhumane groan fall from his lips.

‘just lie still and take it, lie and take it, lie and take it-‘

“taste…” your thoughts were interrupted when he attempted to speak. his voice was raspy, dry. it’d probably been a while since he’d talked. you opened an eye, examining his face. he was having trouble finding the words. his demeanor was changing.

“taste… good…” shit. how? you were covered in dirt, sweat, blood, tears, you name it. some tastebuds he must have now. your train of thought was once again interrupted as he started… kissing your neck? a sharp exhale left your mouth, now falling agape at the sensation of him beginning to lick at you some more.

he was so rough a second earlier, this was… soft. this felt nice- no! no. don’t think that.

you groaned, partly at your inner conflict and the way his razor sharp fangs grazed over your pulse, careful to not cut too deep, but enough to start a steady stream of blood. he greedily sucked at your new wound, practically moaning as he drank. your breathing quickened at the sensation of him desperately getting his fill from you, head lolling back as you became light headed. he hummed in approval as this ended up giving him more access to shove his face in, his chest lowering to relax on yours.

one of his hands released your wrist, coming to slide down your body. the knee that was pinning down your thigh let up, and he hiked your leg to rest on his hip. instead of forcing you down, he moved your bodies to press into each other. you were too weak anyway to fight it. if anything this felt good, not just for him. especially when he ground his hips down like that onto yours, he was getting desperate for more than the pleasure that came from your blood, and honestly? you were too now.

he finally let go of your neck. sitting up, panting hard, blood dripping down his mouth and throat. only now did you realize how much blood he’d taken from you.

“come… with me…” his big arms enveloped you, lifting you with ease as your legs wrapped around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. you whimpered, you were so dizzy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. you blacked out as soon as you shut your eyes.

-

regaining your senses, you found leon situating himself on your hips. his big claws moving you legs how he wanted. you turned your head, taking in the room he put you both in. he probably broke into one of the village houses and put you both in what looked to be some sort of loft. he placed you both on a mattress shoved into the corner.

your face heated up as his dark eyes bore into yours, hovering tall and big over you. you liked his weight on you, you felt grounded. helped your dizziness. you ran your tongue over your dry lips, trying to put moisture back onto them.

he purred appreciatively at the sight of you. hair slightly messy, eyes glazed, face flushed, throat bruised. his thumb swiped over your lips, gathering the sheen of your saliva that laid there. he made eye contact, sucking his thumb clean before leaning down. your eyes went wide as his lips brushed against yours, his were surprisingly soft despite he was mid transition to a literal scorpion. you tried your best to kiss back, you were still fucking exhausted from the amount of blood he took from you. his tongue grazed over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. you allowed him permission immediately.

as the kiss deepened, he shifted your legs to rest at his sides, your hips flush against each other. a hand remained on your waist, the other still cupping your face to keep you where he wanted. this continued to get more and more heated, his tongue was... different. longer, rougher, pointier? whatever it was, it felt amazing against yours.

his hips ground against yours instinctively. you groaned loudly, struggling to move your arm and grip his waist.

“holy shit..” you were breathing heavily as he continued to roll his hips. you bucked your hips up in response, feeling his shaft through his pants rub delightfully against your crotch. his eyes fluttered shut at the movement, a sharp, raspy growl leaving his lips.

he was getting overheated, with how high his body temperature must be now from trying to fight off this parasite. he hurriedly tugged his shirt to bunch up and expose his chest. you whined, drinking in the way his ab muscles rippled with each thrust. you wanted him, badly. you managed to gain enough strength to sit up and you dove in to worship his strong torso. leaving kisses all over with occasional nipping and sucking, you were determined to leave some marks on him. his head fell back in pure bliss, purring shamelessly. he shuddered while you licked a strip up his sternum. growling once more, he shoved you down onto the bed, knocking the wind out of you. he grabbed your jaw and forced your head to the side and sucked on your pulse, making you squirm. hips colliding once more together, you both grunted.

“leon…” you panted, his eyes darted to yours, pupils blown wide. “…need more.” the way he was reaching to pull your pants off was enough response.

he unzipped and shucked your pants off in a second, along with your underwear. he didn’t bother with your shirt, not enough time. you shivered as the cold air hit your exposed sex.

hastily, he unbuckled his belt, not bothering to slide it off. he unzipped his pants, only sliding them down slightly below his hips so his size wasn’t confined in them, taking out his sizable member.

holy. shit. his dick was swollen and red. you could literally see it throbbing. was he always that big when he wasn’t the host to whatever this sickness was? it wasn’t gonna fit.

he pressed the tip to your sensitive entrance, but you were quick to stop him. you placed a hand on his abdomen, “hey! no, please, it won’t go.”

he growled in frustration, to which you rolled your eyes. “here, just…” you grabbed his cock and made your sexes reconnect, both of you moaned at the feeling. you experimentally rutted your hips, and he quickly caught on doing the same, adding his hand next to yours. your head fell back, a whimper falling from your lips at the friction.

“fuuuck..” you huffed out, his hands held your squirming hips in place and continued to grind. a snarl bubbled from his throat as you writhed.

though it wasn’t actual penetration, the pleasure built up fast. leon was panting heavily, his eyes were fixated on fucking your sexes together, so focused on getting both of you to cum.

you couldn’t help the noises coming from you, with how his shaft rubbed perfectly against you. he shifted slightly, thrusting against you at just the right angle. you begged for him to keep going, he mumbled out curses under his breath. your toes were curling, and he didn’t dare let up, if anything his pace quickened. he kept you in place, a hand splayed out on your stomach.

“c’mon, baby.” he rumbled, thrusting feverishly. you gripped onto the sheets, nearly crying, trying to ground yourself. his thrusts shook your body forward. your orgasm came quick, he rode you through it as you quivered and shook. one of your hands came to your mouth, muffling the whimpers that fell out of you.

“so good… for me…” he praised, a sly grin falling onto his lips. it fell within seconds, his own pleasure finally coming to a head.

his orgasm hit hard moments later, wracking his body, spilling all over both of your groins. he groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he gripped your hips tight, slowing his pace. though you were blissed out of your fucking mind, you managed to praise him as well.

“mhm, that’s it.” your hand came to cup his cheek. he was still shaking, trying to recover from his orgasm. one of his hands let go of your hip to cradle the hand on his face, turning to kiss your palm.

after cooling down some, he rolled off you. you both lied there, catching your breath, enjoying the afterglow. he was purring so loud he sounded like a damn cat.

you turned your head to face him. your eyes glazed over his lidded eyes, forehead shining from sweat, mouth agape from drawing in as much breath as he could. you could see his fangs poking out.

you gently placed a hand on his cheek, his gaze focused on you now. he looked a lot less angry now, tuckered out more than anything. maybe he just needed to be fucked dumb after all.

you spoke first, “we need to find luis, before this gets any worse.” gesturing to his half human, half whatever the fuck was taking over him, body. he snarled and rolled his eyes, looking away from you.

you scoffed, “yeah, yeah. i’m not happy about it either.”

this was gonna be a long day.

[cyrygher]

The Shadows Desires // Azriel

RATING: 15 / 957 WORDS

Author’s note: I just needed to take this idea out of my mind. I really thought about ending with smut but I think I will eventually write a part 2 for this. Oh btw, english is not my first language, neither it is my second or third language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy! :)

My feet move away from the window, giving him space to enter. Azriel passes through the doorway retracting his wings, landing with elegance in each gesture.

"Did you take a shower?”

"I did. You must need one, since you left early in the morning and only came back now.”

“Are you suggesting I stink?” He raises an eyebrow, forcing an offended expression.

“I’m suggesting that I really want to see you in a bathtub.”

Azriel's eyes widen for a brief moment, but what follows is not astonishment but something darker and more perverse. The chocolate irises become dark, cloudy, the pupils dilated.

“I suppose you will not join me.”

"Not today. I don’t think you deserve it after disappearing all day.”

"Fair."

“Uh-huh.” I walk predatorily towards him, a smile forming at the corner of my lips, as my hands roam Azriel's chest, searching for the buttons to remove the armour.

“How do you take it off?” I whisper.

Azriel doesn't respond. But faster than he can fill his lungs with air, the top part of the armor disappears, as do the blue siphons that decorated it.

Azriel's torso is left bare, rid of any fabric.

My mouth waters at the sight and I don't care to hide it.

My fingers touch the warm, rigid skin, drawing a sigh from the male. Slowly, I look up at him, and he's already staring at me in a way that ignites every pure thought in my mind.

“What about the bottom part?” I ask, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re not discreet at all?”

"Some. Why? Would you rather I had made up an excuse for wanting to see you without those pants?”

"Oh no. Feel free to see me naked at any time… you came so far just for it, isn't that right pet?”

My blood roared through my veins, begging him to do it at once.

Like the top, Azriel's armored pants disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving only the black fabric of the boxers he wears.

I look at him irritated.

“This is starting to get boring, Azriel. Are you going to take it off piece by piece?”

“I believe you can help me remove this one.”

“I can definitely do so. Come here."

Azriel takes my hand and I drag him into the bathroom, turning the bathtub tap back on.

“Cold, please,” he asks.

"Are you feeling hot?" I look at him amusedly, quickly scanning the way the fabric of his boxers is stretched by the erection.

"A little."

I do as he asks, leaving the water cold, looking at him with my lips stuck in between my teeth. My feet move without needing a command and soon I'm sharing the same breath as him, feeling the heat emanating from his masculine body.

My fingers run along Azriel's chest, making a path downward, never losing eye contact. There, in those almond-shaped orbs, you see everything he is feeling and everything he wants to do. It's ecstatic to see desire dancing and intoxicating all of the male's features.

When my fingers finally find the fabric of the boxers, they dig into the sides, pulling the fabric down. It needs to be stretched to free Azriel's member, that is so hard and bounces as soon as the boxers free it completely.

My knees drop to the floor to completely remove the uncomfortable fabric, and my eyes fixate on the monstrous erection in front of me.

Swallowing hard, I blink a few times, trying to calculate how I would make this work, because there was no way this would fit inside me.

"Is there a problem?" Azriel asks amused.

"It depends."

“Depends on?”

“It depends if you mind carrying me around….”

“Not that I’m complaining, but why would I have to carry you, darling?”

“Because there’s no way I’m going to walk after this” I point to the dick in front of me, which seems to be staring back at me.

Azriel tries to hold back his laughter, but it's a futile struggle. He kicks the fabric of his boxers that were stuck to his feet, and pulls me up, placing his lips next to my ear.

“I promise you, the last thing I will do is hurt you. When I'm inside you, the only thing you'll feel is pleasure. And not just in the traditional way. I want to taste you with my tongue before anything else.”

My spine arches at the lustful, husky voice that reverberates through every nerve ending in my body, gripping the male's biceps as if it could keep me upright.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

"Why?"

“Because I’m so tempted not to let you take that shower.”

“Can I confess something to you?” he whispers, as he runs his fingers down my side, increasing the flame that crackles inside my blood.

"You can."

“I love your nightgown. But I will have to destroy it.”

Before I can ask why, Azriel takes me in his arms, stepping into the tub with me, completely drenching the blue silk.

“Azriel!” I shout, slapping his shoulders.

He just laughs, placing me over his lap, his hard member poking me, sending my sanity to hell.

“I warned you I would destroy it”

“Actually, I just need to dry it.”

"No. That won’t do it."

The male's hands go to the neckline of the nightgown and, as if it was made of paper, rips it from top to bottom, revealing the lingerie set of the same colour, his siphons’ colour. My face turns red, but the shame passes away when I notice in Azriel's eyes, a transcendental lust and desire.

[meikadonnelly]

~izzy stradlin~

izzy stradlin x femreader

fluff/angst

| izzy and you have been dating for around 6 months and you come home to your apartment where he stays after being followed and grabbed by a man on the way back from work |

! trigger warning !

stalking / traumatic event / assault

You feel the cool breeze on your face as you walk home from your shift at one of the local bars. You look down at your watch which reads 12:48am and continue walking along the sidewalk towards your apartment. You notice a person walking along the other side of the road going back the other way. It seems to be a man who is wearing a large coat and hat, walking with his hands in his pockets. You continue walking and feel that something isn't right, so you turn around to check if anyone is around. You scan the area and notice a black figure a bit further back. "What the fuck," you mutter to yourself, realizing it's the man from before. You pick up your pace a little, just enough to be discreet. You rang Izzy before leaving so if you took any longer than usual, he would come looking for you. You walk about a block further before looking back and seeing that he's not only still behind you but getting closer. He's quite tall so he can easily walk faster than you. You continue walking and when you can finally see your apartment, you relax slightly, knowing Izzy is staying over. You rummage through your bag to find your key when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and you're only a couple apartments down from your own. "Let go of me!" You yell. The man's hand slides from your shoulder to your wrist. You try to pull away, but the man has a firm grip on you. "Please, I'll give you whatever you want, just please let me go," you say. You hear the man chuckle slightly as you continue to pull, causing you both to stumble closer to your apartment. You drop your purse which makes him look down. "Take it, please, let me go home," you plead once again. He thinks for a moment and then looks back at you, his eyes still shadowy from his hat. You begin to tug your arm away again when you see his eyes look over your head and behind you. You look behind you to see another man with black hair who was standing on your apartment stairs a little bit further down.

"Izzy!" you yell which makes him run over. The man, obviously not intimidated by Izzy, keeps a firm grip on your arm.

"Get the fuck off of her," Izzy says, putting his hands on your shoulders. The man chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, I don't think I will scarecrow," he replies, having a dig at Izzy's figure. Izzy takes a deep breath and, with no warning, lunges forward at the man, knocking him to the ground. "What the fuck are you doing?" The man says.

"I gave you a fucking warning," Izzy replies, swinging his fist into the man's jaw. He stands up and waits for the other man to follow, which he does. "If you don't leave in the next 10 seconds, you'll be knocked out on this sidewalk until daylight, alright?" Izzy says, angrily. He's standing in front of you, blocking you from the man's vision. "Go," he adds on when the man doesn't move however he eventually walks away when he realizes that Izzy is serious.

~~~~~

You both walk into the apartment and Izzy closes the door behind you. He flicks the light on but you don't stop. You drop your purse on the counter and walk straight to the bathroom, where you lean in front of the mirror. You drop your head down and close your eyes as you feel them starting to fill with tears. You sniff a couple of times before hearing a shuffle at the bathroom door which you had left open. You turn and look to see Izzy leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded in front of him. As you make eye contact, you can tell just by his eyes that his heart is breaking seeing you like this. You turn your body to face him and feel the flood gates open as he walks over and embraces you in a tight squeeze.

"You're okay, I'm here," he says, still with a slight bit of anger in his voice. You pull away and he cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumb. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there quicker," he finally says quietly. I shake my head.

"It's not your fault Izzy," you reply, grabbing his hands. "You did everything you could have and I'm so happy you did," you say. He leans down and rests his head on yours. After a moment of silence, he pulls his head up from yours.

"Why don't you have a shower and then we can go to bed, hm?" he suggests quietly. You smile and nod, so he walks over to the shower and starts getting it to temperature. You strip off and wait somewhat awkwardly to get in. "It's ready," he says, turning to look at you. He admires you for a second before smiling. "You're so pretty," he says which makes you blush.

"Do you want to join me?" you ask. Izzy raises an eyebrow. "Nothing like that," you chuckle. "I just want some company."

And with that he hops in with you.

[collabwithmyself]

ourgh it's been so long since i've written something on my own. yeehaw pikmin au time

Hitoshi Hidaka awakens with lungs full of smoke, limbs full of pain, and ears full of alarm bells.

He tries to crack open his eyes and instantly regrets it- slapping a hand over them as flashing red warning lights pierce directly through them and into his brain. His agonized groan trails off into a cough partway through.

Not a great way to wake up, he thinks.

He needs to figure out where he is and what's going on. He's slumped forward over a hard surface, misshapen objects digging into his torso through his clothes.

Dashboard. Right. He was flying. Which means... he probably crashed. That would explain the smoke and alarms.

He attempts a second time to open his eyes, squinting through the haze and light and the film of his own tears. The acrid air stings. He needs his helmet.

He forces himself to his feet, only for his legs to nearly buckle underneath him as his entire body protests the movement. His hands scrabble at the dashboard he was slung over moments ago, seeking support for his knocking knees. He's not strong enough to keep himself upright, and goes crashing to the floor with an unpleasant jolt.

The alarm continues to flash and shriek. The smoke refuses to dissipate. Safe in the knowledge he's at least alone, Hitoshi allows himself one frustrated, childish whine.

He fumbles for the seat to try and pull himself up again. His hand only meets a metal pole and dangling wires. Ejected- without him. Some safety measures.

Still, it's enough support to put him on his hands and knees. He cracks his eyes open a third time, just long enough to figure out where his locker is. At least that's in one piece. He shuffles towards it like a dog, cringing to himself at the sheer lack of dignity.

The suit's tough to put on at the best of times. He's always hated zippers. But in these current conditions, it's nearly impossible to fit into, fabric chafing at his sore limbs and refusing to let him squirm into it properly. He considers just giving up and letting himself choke. It's a damn miracle he manages to get his helmet and pack on.

But it's rewarding. Cool, fresh air fills his helmet, and he takes grateful gulps of it, swearing to himself once more never to take breathing for granted.

He's alive, guaranteed for the next short while. He'd better assess the full extent of the damage, both to himself and his ship, once he can actually get up.

He's not sure how long he lays there, cringing as the alarms continue to beep at him even through his helmet. His ears folding down can only do so much. Eventually it's too much to bear, so he attempts a third time to stand.

He manages to keep his feet under him this time, with fresh air in his lungs and a moment to rest. But his knees and back, poor at even the best of times, twinge with every step. He's forced to stand as he examines the console, and regards the ejected seat with newfound disappointment as he does.

It takes a moment to remember how to turn off the alarm. Blissful silence fills the cockpit after he presses the button, and it's all he can do not to slump in relief.

But it's not silent, it turns out. Even with ringing ears, he can make out the hiss and creak of damaged machinery all around him. He shouldn't stay in here. Once he runs diagnostics, he needs to get out.

He can't help but feel a pang of regret. Ten years he's flown this ship, and he's gone and totaled it over...

...he can't actually remember what he did. Just that he was on a delivery run, and...

He can worry about that later. Trembling hands work the dashboard, clumsy through gloves and pain. He squints as the cracked display lights up.

"Okay, girl," he breathes. "Let's see what I did to you."

The computer renders for a moment as it runs diagnostics.

MAIN ENGINE - MISSING

Hito blinks.

"Wh... missing?"

Missing is very, very different from damaged. How is he meant to repair the engine if he doesn't have anything to repair--?

POSITRON GENERATOR - MISSING

Okay. It's- it's fine. He'll just find the parts, they can't have fallen far--

FUEL DYNAMO - MISSING

#1 IONIUM JET - MISSING

#2 IONIUM JET - MISSING

It's only a few--

ZIRCONIUM MOTOR - MISSING

SHOCK ABSORBER - MISSING

CHRONOS REACTOR - MISSING

Maybe he can call for help--

INTERSTELLAR RADIO - MISSING

ANALOG COMPUTER - MISSING

GEIGER COUNTER - MISSING

Just wait it out until he's found--

ANTI DIOXIN FILTER - MISSING

RADIATION CANOPY - MISSING

GUARD SATELLITE - MISSING

As the list grows and grows, Hito's breathing picks up. His heart pounds in his chest. He's stranded somewhere unfamiliar, with his ship in pieces and only so much battery in his filter pack. It doesn't matter that he survived the crash with minimal injuries- he's going to die here, isn't he?

DANDELION RESIN - MISSING

Something cold reaches into his chest and pulls.

He thinks, the ship kept track of that?

Then he doesn't think anything at all for a while.

[josiewinters1999]

Bloody Kisses

(Drabble)

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Summary: Logan's pain kink headcanon turned up to 11

Contains: GORE, EXPLICIT SMUT, blood, violence, some slight fluff, some slight degredation

A/N: You all wore me down... so I'm posting it... This is actually my first time writing this sort of content and... I'm very nervous... I don't think I'll ever do it again but I find beauty in this type of thing, where you love someone so much, you just want every part of them. Like cuteness aggression for adults lol. Please do not read if underage!!

She sat bouncing on his hips, full to the brim with her sweet, sweet James. Even after all this time, she’d never get enough of him. Atop her throne, she looks down at him, through the haze of her own high, watching as his glistening face twists and contorts in agony and ecstasy. 

Looking down at her hands, firmly inside his waist, she watches the way his healing skin attempts to close around the fingers that dug themselves knuckle deep into him. The squeeze of the muscles with every needy, desperate breath he takes adds to the sensation of the entire experience. 

His entire torso was red, the blood from her scratches the only evidence she had attempted to rip him apart. Beneath the pads of her fingers she feels the slippery, hot, smooth metal ribs just beneath the surface. They rise and fall with every exhale of his lungs. 

Logan grips onto her waist with feigning strength. She wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this, the pain and the pleasure threatening to send him unconscious. Yet he urges her on, his hips bucking up into her own, his fingers digging into her flesh, telling her something his words can’t. 

As the pressure builds in her, her fingers dig deeper into him, feeling his organs shift beneath her touch, her hands curling around the bones. Unable to do anything else, Logan throws his head back into the pillows, a guttural scream ripping from his throat. 

His eyes nearly roll into his skull as he whimpers, “Fuck baby… keep going.” How could she deny him when he so pathetically whines under her like a common whore? Picking up the pace of her bouncing, she puts more of her weight into each downward hit. The sound of skin, wet with a myriad of fluids, fills the air. Her moans and groans mix with his as she makes him come undone beneath her, like a fine symphony. 

She can feel Logan getting close to his end, his hands gripping her a little tighter, using the last of his strength to surely leave bruises. His feet plant themselves firmly on the bed as he picks up his own pace, adamantium pelvis giving him more momentum in his push and pull. 

Craning his head to look at her, he locks eyes with his lover. His brows knit so tight together, they were nearly touching. He almost seemed angry, if his mouth weren’t gaping open like a baby bird. Nails digging into the meat of her ass, he demands, “More.” She pushes her fingers into his waist more, slipping between the ribs, ripping through whatever guts were below. He screams again, gritting his teeth almost to the point of breaking. Tomorrow, he’d surely be getting a call from the neighbors about noise. 

Looking between them, both see her hands, her fingers having completely disappeared inside his abdomen. Nothing but the backs of her palms are visible as they continue slamming into one another. Logan moans at the sight, voice nearly cracking as he curses, “Fuckin’ Christ…”  He lifts a hand off her behind to grab her chin. Forcing her to look him in the eye once more, he growls against her lips, “More…” 

She lunges forward to press her mouth against his, teeth hitting his, as if to say yes of course. Each groan into the kiss, teeth scratching and biting against the other’s lips. Eventually, she travels down his jaw, licking the salty sweat from his beard. She nudges her nose against his throat, feeling the pulsing of his heart through her skin. 

Opening her mouth, she sinks her teeth into the slick flesh, chomping as hard as her jaw will allow. Another scream from James’ lips, another falter in his hips, like a hiccup in his movements before he picks up the pace again. It isn’t long before she tastes the hot metallic fluid of his blood on her tongue. 

Biting harder, she feels the flesh separate against her teeth, like biting into a rare steak. With a mouth full of her lover, she sits up roughly, taking a chunk of him with her. Turning her head to the side, she spits it out, the sound of it hitting the floor overpowered by the pained moans of the man it came from. His throat spews like a fountain, soaking the bed around it.

Logan looks up at her, like he’s about to pass out, the hole in his neck already closing up. Blood gushes onto the sheets as he smiles weakly up at her, his climax coming closer and closer. She smiles down at him, her mouth and teeth red, dripping down her chin. He’d never seen anything more beautiful, his literal lifeblood smeared across her mouth like lipstick. He makes a mental note to take her shopping later, hoping to get a lip shade the same as the one she’s currently wearing. 

Reaching up once more, he fists his hand in her hair, forcing her back down onto his mouth. He can taste himself on her, taste the blood she drew from his veins. The flavor mingles with the salt of her sweat, sending him completely over the edge. He growls once more down her throat, his hips bucking up one last time, emptying himself inside her. The sensation pushes her over with him and she grips into his ribs one more time, screaming along with him. 

With all life sucked out of her, she collapses onto Logan’s sticky chest, the blood mingling with the sweat to form a glue between them. Reaching up much more gently than before, he carefully removes her hands from inside his skin, groaning one last time at the pain of her tearing him apart. He lets them go at her side, the wound she left immediately closing behind her. 

They lay on the soaked, stained, sheets, a panting mess, in a most literal sense. Logan takes a shaky hand to smooth the curve of her wet spine, the skin cooling in the night air. He turns his head to kiss her hair, his lips surely depositing some of the blood she transferred onto them. 

He chuckles, “That was…” he can’t even finish, words not fitting of the spiritual experience he just had. He can feel her smile against his shoulder, now completely healed, as if she hadn’t just bit him like a zombie. A huff comes from his newly healed lungs, a sigh of relief, “Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my fuckin’ life…” 

This time it’s her turn to chuckle, but the exhaustion in her chest prevents her from speaking. Wrapping his arms tighter around his woman, James leans down into her ear, deep voice vibrating through to her heart, “We gotta do that again sometime…”

[fourohfourrealitynotfound]

that night, the bugs and the dirt

For @flashfictionfridayofficial #FFF239 - Seal It Tight

(916 words)

When the door slammed shut behind them, a lump formed in Lockwood's throat. He whipped around and tried to turn the knob: nothing. The door was sealed fast.

"Ugh, Poltergeists," Lucy grumbled somewhere behind him.

Lockwood pulled and pushed at the door, but it wasn't budging a millimeter. Nothing was sturdier than old construction. He slammed a fist against the door.

"Woah, chill," Lucy said. "You're just going to piss it off more. George'll realize we're missing in a few and . . ."

She kept talking, but Lockwood's pulse raced in his ears and drowned out her voice. His breath was catching now, and it felt like a giant hand was wrapped around his lungs, slowly squeezing the air out. Lockwood tried to step away from the door, but his arm bumped into Lucy's shoulder. When he pivoted to give her space, he ended up with his back against the far wall of the closet.

Why the hell were they both searching for sources in here? There wasn't enough room for one person to breathe, let alone two. Wait, how well was that door sealed; were they getting any fresh air in here?

Panic clawed up his chest and throat. Lockwood pushed off the wall and fell on the door; he could barely see it, between the darkness and the tears starting to blur his vision. He threw his torch to the ground and started digging at the place where the door met the frame, desperately hoping he could somehow pry it open—

His arm was snatched away from the door, and hands spun him around until he was forced to face Lucy. There was a shock of cold on his face that forced him to gasp in a breath, and musty air filled his lungs. He realized that the cold was Lucy's freezing hands cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

"Lockwood!" she said. Her tone was forceful and gentle all at once. "Breathe with me! Can you do that?"

He nodded as best he could with her hands holding him in place. He was unable to take in enough air to choke out any words.

"Okay," Lucy exhaled. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

She guided Lockwood's breathing in time her own, a simple in-four-hold-four-out-four pattern that he was eventually able to start counting along with in his head. When he started to catch his breath a bit more, Lucy pulled him down until they were both sitting on the floor, their knees pressed together and Lockwood's back resting against the wall. Her face was calm all the while, guiding him down from the panic with gentle little encouragements like "you're doing great" and "good, keep going."

At one point, Lockwood tried to blink away his tears, and one rolled down his cheek. Lucy, without a thought, swept it away with her thumb, a firm touch trailing along his cheek and back to her hand. The little motion reminded Lockwood so much of Jessica—who used to wipe away his tears the same way, back when he would get overwhelmed as a child—that tears began to stream down from Lockwood's eyes anew.

"Shhh, you're okay," Lucy murmured. "Keep breathing: out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . ."

Lockwood wondered, idly, where Lucy learned how to do this. It sounded like her mother wasn't the type who was capable of such a gentle action. She had sisters, though. Maybe she had a younger sister that she had learned to help, like Jessica helping young Lockwood through his fear when they lost their parents in the Tesco. Or maybe Lucy got panic attacks too, and an older sister had done this for her. Either way, she was great at this. Lockwood stopped feeling like the walls were closing in on him; he felt instead like nothing bad could happen so long as his face was between her palms.

Eventually Lockwood's sobs and panic lulled enough that he was breathing whole, complete breaths on his own. Lucy pulled the sleeve of her jumper over one hand and used it to wipe away his tears, the other hand tilting his head for better access. "Doing better?"

"Yeah," Lockwood said. He tried for a reassuring smile, but it felt watery. "You, uh . . . you can probably tell I'm not a fan of enclosed spaces."

"No shit."

Lockwood barked a wet laugh. "Thanks. For, uh—"

"Don't mention it," she said. Lucy pulled her hands away and sat back, then winced. "Ugh, there's something—" She reached behind her and came back with her discarded torch and then a tiny rib bone.

"Shit," Lockwood said. "That's not a . . ."

"Have you got a spare silver net?"

"Yeah." He rummaged in his inner coat pocket for the square of netting and passed it over.

Lucy stood and turned to place the net. She gasped. "Oh, it's—I think it's a cat?"

"You're kidding me," Lockwood said. "A cat did all of this?"

"One way to find out." Lucy dropped the net and then turned and tried the door. It opened with ease. She turned to look at Lockwood with a shocked expression; they both burst out laughing, somewhere between astonished and relieved.

Lucy offered a hand and pulled Lockwood up to his feet. As soon as he was out of the room, he spread his arms wide and took a few deep breaths. Lockwood looked up and caught her watching with some concern and gave her a relieved smile. "Thanks for helping me out back there."

Lucy smiled back. "No problem."

[everestphillips]

A Loving Touch

"This was insane, right?"

In one moment, Everest was in the middle of a board room where people barking about his performance at each other, while another bunch was yapping about pretty clothes and frivolous events he needs to attend next. It was all jumbled noise until he heard the song, which cut through everything like a sharp blade. Without much warning, he stood from that room and made his way out, leaving everyone in confusion.

The last thing he remembered was being in his room and sending his family a text that everything will be fine and that he was going to miss them. And practically the moment after he sent that message, he was in darkness. The air cool and damp, and his surroundings unfamiliar, with creatures only barely fathomed through media. Everest was definitely going insane.

Truly, everything from the moment he arrived to his walk to the temple was a blur. Things Everest was witnessing that he couldn't quite believe. Hell, even in the big temple where he's had a moment to be in, he was in disbelief. The godling felt his body was basically on autopilot, instinctively taking him to a certain spot in the giant marble structure before he noticed everyone was waiting patiently before a different god. Maybe he'll finally figure out who his parent is. Maybe it was someone that would make sense of his life. Then he turned around and saw Aphrodite.

"Hmmm." Seemed like it was the only thing he can respond with to this new discovery. He shouldn't be disappointed. I mean, he wasn't. Because at the end of the day, his mother was and still is a stranger.

Nothing seemed to click for Everest, even when the voice started to ring through his head, he just thought it was some elaborate ruse. Though, it's not like he do could anything else but stare at the clocked figured coming closer to him with the chalice. Taking it in his hands, Ev inspected the ornate cup and the weirdly pretty drink inside of it. "Awfully pretty for something that can supposedly do such damage," he thought to himself. Of course, he should have just drank it like he was instructed. The racer did already come this far but he still had some concerns. Even so, before he could say anything, he already saw a few men downing their drinks and being escorted out.

"Oh, so we're just drinking the kool-aid with blind faith?"

Which probably got an ugly look from those who could hear him. Now, all he could think about now was the Jonestown massacre. If this is happening, might as well not be the last one to drink it, he didn't want to be the last one dead. And for some reason, he looked back at the statue once more, feeling a strange sense of comfort before he got the courage to drink his first sip. God, this was fucking awful, he thought to himself as he choked on the strange substance, making sure not to accidentally spit anything out. Nah, he needed to drink everything in one go and not prolonge his torture. So, he raised his chalice like it was some shot and knocked it back in one chug.

When the last drop was swallowed, he felt his blood become hotter, and his heart beating faster until eventually, it felt like fire burned under his skin. Everest gripped onto the chalice while his other hand gripped his chest, his nails digging into his skin, desperate in stopping the acceleration of his heart one way or another. But it was obvious he was losing this battle, and once he lost the grip on his cup, the ring of the metal against the marble was paired with the sound of heart going *pop*.

Everest regained consciousness with a scream, fighting to fill his lungs with the air he needed. It took him many deep breaths until he could feel himself calm down, but once he felt composed, he noticed he was back in his old room. "So it was just a dream" the driver said to himself before reaching out to his phone and noticing that no one texted back. Not even his family. It was bittersweet, but now, they had no reason to worry.

However, now that he was back home, everything he just dreamed about felt real. Like it was meant to happen. Regardless, there was nothing he can do now.

Ever since that day, Everest felt like his days have become meaningless. Everything he did was becoming monotonous, even losing the passion he had to drive. But they still had him in full display, using him to get all they needed from him. He just became a puppet for those he worked for.

Everest has become an emotionless husk, but he still dreaded being made to go out. He was now uncomfortable everywhere he went, because now all eyes were on him. That shouldn't have been something new to him, but this felt completely different. Like they were dissecting him. Like they were undressing him. Like he was in an enclosure for everyone else to enjoy.

Regardless how uncomfortable he was, what was going to come next was even worse. Like clockwork, the crowd just stampeded towards him. The same things being screamed at him, the same empty words trying to take advantage of him, as they clawed at him, ripping through his clothes, through his flesh, until his chest was bare and heaving, ashamed to be at the mercy of the public once more.

Everything has gone exactly the same as every day since his weird dream. Everest expected things to go black, and he'd wake up again back in his car. But instead, he felt the some cool droplets on his skin. Somehow, the gentle rain tethered him to reality, and made him realize, was his life always like this? Beyond the exaggerated horror's he's experienced these past few days, his life has been nothing more than a pageant and a mean for others to climb up the social hierarchy.

Slowly, he was feeling more like himself, the rain now began to pour, washing over his wounds, slowly foaming up only for them to disappear. Everest even felt his heart beat faster. But instead of the same frantic fear he felt when he drank the ambrosia, it made him feel butterflies at the pit of his stomach. He could feel his cheeks turn red, and couldn't stop smiling. Yeah, he was alone, but for once in a long time, Everest didn't feel lonely.

As cute as that heartwarming moment was, he still endured days of torture in just the past eight hours. And now, Everest was on the floor of this strange room. Clearly fallen from the bed with how the sheets have dragged along with him. "Water. I need water," he shouted to no one was as he attempted to get up and find something to drink. Running to the bathroom, Everest splashed water onto his face before he gave himself a good look at himself in the mirror. The godling might have been the son of Aphrodite, but he's definitely seen better days.

"I guess this is real... and i'm doing it too."

[so-called-yokai]

“I want to know who hurt you.”

Protective Chief @ Eshra?? 👀👀👀

Remember when I said I wanted to eventually tell the story behind Eshra's nightmares? I guess "eventually" actually meant "now".

1600 words of hurt/comfort. I don't know how this happened.

Technically M/M, Rise OCs, rated G

And it had all been going so well before that moment…

Chief’s hands had been heavy on him, rough but never cruel, assertive but never demanding. They’d shared breath and hot, hungry kisses in between whispers of playful affection, soft laughter heard just as often as quiet moans and wanting sighs.

Then the slider’s fingers had moved up his left arm, gliding across his bicep and over the curve of his shoulder, and Eshra had recoiled so violently the entire bed banged against the wall. He’d lashed out without meaning to – no, without even thinking – and he could only be grateful his claws had scraped over tough keratin and not… not…

Eshra stares at Chief in horror, clutching his own offending hand against his chest and trying to stammer an explanation around the lead weight that was suddenly filling his lungs, suffocating him. “I– I didn’t– I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Перья,” Chief croons. Rather than looking angry or hurt or frightened, all things Eshra would have expected and was terrified of seeing, the turtle simply watches him with soft concern. He reaches out, although his fingers stop before actually making contact with the agitated so-called-yokai, and for that Eshra is grateful. As much as he craves the other’s touch, he still feels like he might fly out of his skin at any moment.

“Who hurt you?”

Eshra flinches hard, then can’t help but let out a brief, humorless laugh. Spirits, Chief always knows how to cut right to the heart of the matter, both literally and figuratively. He shoves both hands back through his crest, curling his fingers and tugging hard on the iridescent feathers, desperately needing the slight pain to ground himself.

“Fuck, am I that obvious?”

Chief just gives him a look, and Eshra’s bitter amusement fades. He looks away, out the window at the neon-lit Hidden City night, and the silence that stretches between them seems interminable, until it feels like it’s pressing down on Eshra just as his earlier panic did. He knows Chief won’t break it first; the slider is waiting for him, for whenever he’s ready, but spirits, how can Eshra ever be ready for a conversation like this?

The yokai– the anavri curls up, hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. If he can just get small enough, maybe the memories won’t find him. Maybe they won’t find a place to dig their claws in and flay him open like they’ve been doing for weeks, months, years. It doesn’t work, of course, and Eshra shudders. This time he’s grateful when Chief moves up the bed and reaches to gather his little extraterrestrial into his arms whether Eshra likes it or not.

He does. It lets him hide his face against Chief’s plastron and spend a few moments simply listening to the steady thump of the slider’s heart, waiting and willing for his own to eventually match it. It refuses, and finally Eshra gives up, instead taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment as he tries to figure out where to start.

“My brother,” he eventually settles on. Okay, but where does he go from there? Where does he start? Way back when they were children, and his brother was his hero, his protector, and his best friend all rolled into one, indefatigable and irrepressible and larger than life? Or maybe later, after Ark had discovered the dark knowledge that ultimately consumed him, that ate away at his psyche and his soul until Eshra was sure his brother was gone and it was some ghoul simply wearing his skin? Or later even than that, when it all came to a final, horrible head and Eshra had finally realized only one of them could walk out of that room, and yet he’d still been unable to do what needed to be done and had instead fled his colony, his planet, his entire life, because that was still easier than facing the reality that the hero, the protector, the best friend he’d known was long dead.

No, he realizes after a long while. No, he has to go back even further, back into the hazy mists of time, before his species had even known themselves. He takes a deep breath.

“The krang.” Eshra feels Chief startle a little bit, but the turtle remains silent, and he’s grateful. “Ark – my brother – he was always fascinated by old stuff. History, ruins, ancient artifacts, all that kind of thing. So I guess I’m not surprised he was the one who found them first – found out about them first,” he quickly corrects, because he can feel Chief tensing up. He waits until the slider relaxes a bit again before continuing. “He never told me what exactly he found, whether they’d ever been to our world or if it was all secondhand from others they’d… visited. It didn’t matter, in the end. Whatever he learned about what they do – did, I guess… – it broke him.”

It’s hard. Spirits, it’s so hard. Eshra would have thought that with how eagerly the memories claw at his mind, it would be easy to coax them out into the open, but they’re cowardly little bastards, hooking their talons into his throat and fighting like hell to stay hidden behind his teeth. Without the strength of Chief’s arms around him and the warmth of the slider’s breath ruffling against his crest, Eshra never would have made it, he’s sure of it.

But somehow, slowly, haltingly, he gets it all out. Kihy’ark’s descent into madness, slow and subtle at first, and then terrifyingly fast, as though his brother had thrown himself bodily off the precipice of sanity. The unending paranoid ranting that had morphed into political rhetoric once it moved beyond the boundaries of their own pack and into the colony at large, and from there became all out anti-krang, anti-dissident, anti-thought propaganda. And finally, Eshra’s discovery of what Ark had been doing to himself, the forbidden technology he had been dabbling in, immersing himself in, entombing himself in.

“I confronted him, because of course I did.” Eshra’s voice is rough from so much raw emotion scraping over a mind still not truly able to process the horror of those last few years at home. “We fought about it, because of course we did. I… said some things. Stupid things. I should have known what kind of reaction they’d get.” He huffs out a dull, soundless laugh. “I asked him what his loyal followers would think if they found out what he’d been doing to himself. What he’d been doing with krang tech. He… he didn’t like that.”

Eshra’s arm and shoulder throb with phantom pain, and he rubs the former absentmindedly. The ache is familiar to him now. Then, after a few moments’ consideration, he gently takes Chief’s hand and guides it to his right bicep. He thinks the slider might be holding his breath as he presses those thick, callused fingers into his feathers so Chief can feel the divots hidden underneath. Chief growls, and Eshra can’t help but smile at the righteous, protective sound.

“He grabbed me,” the anavri explains, stroking Chief’s plastron soothingly. He can practically feel the turtle wanting to object to the mundane language, wanting to rage in his defense and seek out this monster who had dared to lay hands on Chief’s little bird. Eshra is a little sorry he’s about to make it worse.

He moves Chief’s hand over to his left shoulder, letting the slider feel out the shape of the scar underneath, and he can tell the moment Chief realizes what it is, when those intense green eyes flick towards Eshra’s mouth and the growling starts up again.

“He bit you?” Chief’s voice is low and dangerous. Eshra isn’t afraid, though. In fact, he feels something warm bloom in his chest; there’s nothing quite like knowing someone is ready to go to war on your behalf.

“Mm,” Eshra replies, deliberately apathetic. If he isn’t, if he doesn’t consciously divorce himself from his own psyche just for a moment, he knows the knife-sharp memories will seize hold of him again, as they’ve been trying to do this whole time. “That’s when it finally hit me that I wasn’t– that he wasn’t–” His breath catches on a suppressed sob, and he stops, swallowing hard. The memories almost got him that time.

Chief hugs him hard, and for a little while Eshra simply lets himself be held, face pressed against the slider’s shoulder while they both compose themselves. Then, in some vain attempt to lighten the mood, Eshra says, “Gave better than I got, though. Took the fucker’s eye to make him let me go.” He feels more than hears Chief’s huff of amused approval, and it eases the tightness in his chest a minuscule amount.

“And you pretty much know the rest,” the anavri finally finishes. “I knew I’d never be safe while Ark and I were on the same planet, so I ran. Ended up on this backwater, bummed around for a few years, and now here we are.”

They meet each other’s eyes for the first time in what feels like hours, and the warmth in Chief’s gaze nearly breaks Eshra. His eyes sting as the turtle presses a long kiss against the anavri’s brow, then his snout, then his mouth.

“Yeah,” Chief rumbles. “Here we are.”

And finally, in that moment, Eshra thinks that maybe everything is going to be alright after all.

[lampmanliveblogs]

The 16 masks of the prior Grimwalkers are actually a disturbing low estimate of the numbers Philip's created over the years. The book that outlined Grimwalkers and the ingredients needed to create them noted one of them as a 'bone of ortet' - in botany terms, an ortet is the name of a parent plant that a liniage of cloned plants is descended from.

( on the subject of said book, it also listed some of the active ingredients as Galderstone for the heart - there are some empty slots in the looking glass ruins where stones used to be, palistrom wood for keratin - which Dell noted were being over-harvested, stonesleeper lungs- the same beast that once guarded the collector's disk in the skull, and selkidomus scales- the same sea monster hunter was hunting down out of blind obedience in 'Separate Tides', meaning even from the very moment we met him, the poor boy was being used to gather more ingredients for his 'replacement ' once he eventually grew disillusioned with belos, as he's implied to have come to take for granted, rather than considering if the problem lies with him)

Plants are grown in the ground and burst through the soil eventually, and at the back of the corridor filled with dying Grimwalkers, you can see a hand sticking out of the ground next to a tube aparatus that sticks down into the soil beneath it. A similar hand sticking from the ground can be seen in Philip's lair in 'elsewhere and elsewhen ', with a number tag attached to it saying 4. This implies that Grimwalkers are not created as children and grow to adulthood, but instead literally emerge as adults from their 'earthen womb' and have to dig their way out. The portrait at the back of the hallway is depicting the birth of a grimwalker, contrasting against all the deaths they suffered once Philip was done with their services. The example shown in the cave implied that it took Philip a while to realise they also need air, hence why that poor bastard suffocated in his metaphorical crib, and the breathing apparatus is needed to ensure they live long enough to dig their way out.

In the portrait depicting wittebro's body, you can see some of Philip's face reflected in his knife blade, showing his nose is unbroken, meaning it occurred before he met luz and lilith. This implies that Philip literally dug up his brother's body once his witch lover buried him, and used the corpse to make fully-grown adult clones of him that he would then spend the next 400 years or so systematically murdering over and over again, and has already started in the process by the time luz met his younger self.

Hunter stated that he was the youngest golden guard, meaning he was the youngest Grimwalker Philip had made to date, implied to be an experiment of his. After all, children are more likely to listen and obey their paternal figures, right? Perhaps a child version of Wittebro might not be so quick to turn on him, and be more susceptible to Philip's intent to mould him into something he's not.

This also means that if he was making and killing adults over and over since the deadwardian era, implied to still be within Philip's natural lifespan in the 1600s, then logically there must be a lot more bodies than are depicted in that memory corridor... Which is precisely why it has so few of them depicted. Killing people with a similar face over and over again, for hundreds of years, and they'll start to blur together.

For a bit of surplus information, in a livestream AMA, Dana said that Philip used to give the Grimwalkers individual names at first, before he got tired of it after the first few betrayals and, rather than go through the effort of making up a new name every time, went with calling them all the same one.

Hunter, as an inside joke to himself.

Hunter's name is not a name, it's a label, and the only name Philip ever intended to bestow upon him would not have been his, but wittebro's, once he'd 'earned' it. Killing similar-looking people with a uniform name over such a long period, and not even Philip could keep track of how many he'd actually killed, save a few noticeable ones here and there.

Darius: you son of a bitch! You killed Hunter!

Belos:... Do you have the slightest ideas how little that narrows it down?

And Belos gave the child a cruel name A name that means "killer" Hunter!

I already hate Belos, you don't have to keep giving me more reasons, you know.

Although I gotta say, there is something funny to me that Philip was somehow able to figure out how to create a goddamn clone of a whole human from wood and rocks....... yet it took him at least four tries to figure out they had to breathe.

(I suppose it's possible Philip found the grimwalker recipe from some other source... but that raises the question of why that didn't tell him the grimwalkers needed to breathe)

In the scene where we saw Philip don the Belos mask and preach the Titan's will, I noted that it couldn't take place too long after he met Luz & Lilith (due to the presence of a child that hadn't visibly aged). The fact that he can grow an adult grimwalker explains the presence of the first Golden Guard.

That does raise another question though. What exactly does the memory of a grimwalker look like when it first emerges? Can Belos plant memories within them?

That also raises the question of how old Hunter actually is and what his early memories are like if he wasn't made as an infant or really small child.

[exlwandering]

Celica and Lemal part 4

I'm just trying to get as much of my story out in one go as I can because I think it was like a month or two of just no updates even though I had a bunch written. So here, take it!!

—Celica—

I wake up to Relua picking me up out of bed. I didn’t sleep well last night so I’m exhausted. She drops me to the floor as soon as we’re out of Lemals room, I land on my face and bend my arm in a very painful way. But I grit my teeth, get up and follow her. 

I’m thrown in the cold water and scrubbed quickly and harshly yet I almost fall asleep. More water fills my lungs. 

I’m dried softly and I fall asleep in my only friend's arms for who knows how long. 

When I wake up I’m being shoved in another corset. Then  another horrible dress. Much older than yesterdays. 

I’m pushed into my seat at the breakfast table and I fall asleep again, only my head on the table. 

A chair is pulled out and someone, probably Lemal, sits down. Food is put on the table. Lemal puts his hand on my head and I shoot up like a shot. He pulls his hand back, probably from shock.

 I eat all of the food in my bowl, once again putting the meat into Lemals bowl. 

When we finish eating Lemal looks over to Relua, she’s behind me apparently.

She picks me up and when we leave the room she puts me down, more gentle than before. Then she drops a note to me. 

“Are you going to follow me? Or are you going to run back to that hole again?”

I glare up at her. She looks indifferent.  

“The hole.”

Dig, dig, dig some more until I’m in such a trance from all of the turns that I’m making. The goal of all of this is to make one giant maze. If I can do that, even if anyone other than a Compatu manages to get down here they won't be able to get to me or anyone else. Not before I can dig my way out and run away. And anyone else in the future to get stuck here.

I march myself out of the entrance tunnel pulling up mounds of dirt as well. I take a look at my state and, remembering how Lemal looked at me yesterday, realize I need to clean up at least a little.

There is a small neglected pond just beyond the tree line. I get out of my tunnel and run up to it. Earlier I had ditched the dress in that circle section of the maze -technically the entrance of it- and I had slipped the corset off… somehow. (it was one hell of a fight actually, I felt like I couldn’t breath. Thinking about it they probably put it on me so that it’s harder to move, and it sure as hell accomplishes its goal is that;s the case. Maybe I can start ditching them eventually, or maybe hide them until they don’t have anymore to put on me? I’ll think of something.)

I run to the pond and submerge myself into the water, get out again, scrub my fur to get the rocks out and return to my tunnel to get dressed again. When I do, I begin to push the dirt into even more of a garden shape. The plan with the garden is to expand it with all of the dirt that I get from the maze and then plant a whole garden to not only hide the hole to the maze but also to block it off, it'll be difficult for anyone bigger than the bushes to get through them. Which, here, means pretty much anyone trying to find me. 

Sitting down for dinner we once again eat meat. Of course. 

I might not ever have a meal free of meat again. We eat it in more or less silence. But every now and then he looks up at me, he might be talking to me but he should know that I can’t hear him. Maybe it’s a test? Or maybe he’s not talking and he’s just looking at me. I mean, he looked pretty shook yesterday, what with me being in the dirt, which I later saw that it covered every part of me. Usually I can position myself and make the tunnel wide enough to not cover myself but I want the tunnel very snug so that it looks smaller than it is, so it's never even noticed. But since then he doesn't quite look at me the same. Or maybe he does? It’s so difficult to read a face when the entire lower half is a beak and the eyes are so encompassed in dark that you can’t even be sure there are whites to them! Maybe I can’t see enough color for it? Papa used to tell me that Shatoo can apparently see more color than us and as such not only do you have to worry about scent when hiding from them but also completely hiding your body. Nothing can be visible at all. It’s a mess. 

I lean back in my seat, losing a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. (Or trying to, instead I look Lemal right in the eye. He just stares at me. I know he’s not talking to me at this moment. His mouth is closed and he just looks right at me. Predators only look forward. I can see completely behind me but that doesn't do me much good when he can see completely in front of him.)  I look back down. He’s putting his hand to my side of the table. My poster stiffens and I pull my hand back. He soon pulls his hand away.

At night I’m apparently not allowed to undress myself at all. Lemal waved at me as I was being carried over to the dressing room. And I’m quickly undressed and then shoved into  more lingerie. It’s so much more revealing this time. Completely clear, my only grace being that they’re black. But still nearly translucent. They also put me in a black night dress that ties around my waste. (that is also, say it with me, fucking translucent!!!) They carry me to Lemal’s room where I’m plopped onto the bed. 

When Lemal himself sees me, his posture changes and he walks over to me. He puts his hand to my check and I pull away. After a moment he goes to lay down in the bed and so do I. 

A few minutes go by. I’m almost asleep (if only for my very activity-heavy day) but I feel something wrap around my waist and pull me down a little. I’m about to scream but Lemal puts his head over mine and pulls me very, very close to his chest. His hands are completely wrapped around my chest. He’s cold but his hold on me isn’t uncomfortable. At least it dosen;t seem to be to keep me from going anywhere, more so just… A cuddle, like how a child would hold his stuffed toy. Despite myself I eventually fall asleep.

—Lemal—

When I wake up Celica is nowhere to be found. That Relua must have decided that she needed a bath so early in the morning. I need to have a talk with her to not do that again. Maybe when I get back to work but not when I’m on a supposed honeymoon. Not that it’s going well so far. We’ve barely talked at all. I couldn’t tell you anything about her other than she writes and… Digs. 

Sitting up I realize the only thing to do this early is to get myself a bath as well, which is exactly what I do. 

Getting out of the bath I hear Celica at the table, her seat pulled out for her, her climbing in it and then it being pushed in. I practically chase after the sound and scent of her. In reality I can barely smell her here. Yesterday might have been a scare, what with the dirt, but I finally learned where her smell comes from. Dirt. And not shallow dirt, I know that for a fact. When I was younger I would tear up the lawn of this palace and none of that dirt looked or smelled anything like that. My dirt smelled dry and like grass but her dirt smelled like rain, or river rocks, hell even just like a memory. It’s shocking to me just how good she smells to me and all it was was her being dosed in dirt! It makes me feel… I don’t know how it makes me feel.  Just confused I suppose. 

I pull out my seat at the table and quickly plop myself into it, she looks right at me, I think. Those eyes on the side of her head make it hard to tell. I can’t see how she’s expressing her face unless her head is pointed away from me. I don't even know if she can see straight on now that I’m thinking about it. 

I put my hand on her head and whisper, “Good morning my little wife.” She, once-a-fucking-gain does not respond. I try to get her to talk by talking about myself. Bringing up what I like. I barely get through just a couple of sentences before I go quiet again. 

We just sit there eating in silence, and right when I think she’s finally gonna eat her meat, she throws it into my bowl. I eat it almost in spite. The woman is more picky than an infant. Can’t eat meat my ass. 

Despite myself I slither into my office room, getting a good eye of what might await me when my honeymoon is over. Or maybe of what awaits me just tomorrow. 

I sit down starting to work, answering correspondence from family, friends, and with the Decome King of the west. Everyone is congratulating me on my marriage. Other than one at least. This Madam Lady. No fur, feathers, or scales. Said she was from another world. I throw the letter aside. 

“What a nut.”

 I lean back into my seat, closing my eyes once I’ve finished the last one. Then I hear a squeak. 

“Lemal, what the hell are you doing here?!” 

Shooting up to look at my mother I exclaim, “Nothing!” Like a child with his hands caught in the boow bowl

“Well…” She looks over my papers and pens out, “It doesn't look like nothing. I swear you children just want to be old and dry. Get up!”

Standing up quickly I say, “is it really so bad if I decide I wanna get some things done early?”

“Oh please, even your father- as much as he wanted to stay away from me after consummating- he didn’t get near his work. He enjoyed his damned break and now you’re going to do the same. Now stop trying to escape your marriage and-”

“Mother, that is the last thing I’m doing! I am not so bad a husband as Father and you know it!” 

“Well you've yet to show it now haven’t you?”

That one stings. What’s worse is that I know she can see it on my face. 

“Oh,” crossing her arms she says, “just don’t work right now… You’ll only bog yourself down. Besides, there’s nothing to do.” Walking up to me she attempted to console me with, “just relax. If it doesn't work It doesn't work. All she’s good for is the honeymoon and then nothing. Enjoy this. Find her and take her if you must to enjoy her but just enjoy her.” She turns and as she walks away whispers, “it’s your right, remember?” She looks at me at the door pointing outwards. “Now get out and do something else.”

Leaving my office I decided to find Celica. I check all the places she wasn’t yesterday, sure enough she’s decided that she won’t be getting her fitting done today. Maybe she’s just modest, although I doubt it. Instead I check her little… garden. I don’t go outside though. Instead I grab a knife, some Belly Bulb fruit and I open the window closest to her. 

It’s odd watching her. She seems so precise. As well as she disappears in a hole for several minutes at a time. Then pulling dirt out of said hole. Over and over and over. No wonder she’s got such visible muscles, even with all of my strength I couldn't do that. I don’t understand why she won't just get dirt from the surface. Maybe it’s more fertile the deeper you go? I don’t know. I just sit, eating my Belly Bulbs while watching her. This goes on for hours. 

It is a treat watching her run to some pond to rinse off, if a little improper. She’s wild. Willing to do anything just for her own entertainment. She just decided, not a day into living here that she wanted a garden. And that is exactly what she’s doing. Not even asking for it, just taking it and doing a better job than others might be able to. It’s a little inspiring. I erase any thought of forced love from my mind at the sight of this. I want her to want me like this. It would be wonderful to be watched and cared for so much. True desire. It feels more like a need thinking about it. 

At dinner she once again puts the meat in my bowl. I admire that too. How she’s so determined. I watch her and talk random nonsense. Books I like, shows I’ve seen, my favorite music, anything that might catch her interest. 

At some point she looks over to me. Or more so up. I keep forgetting how much taller I am than her. 

I look back at her. I take a quick risk and reach for her hand. It's so small, and unfortunately fast as she pulls it back. 

I pull my hand back as well. 

“Y'know… I believe I’m starting to admire you. And just like on our wedding night I’ll say that we move at your pace. I’m happy to wait, so long as I can wait with you.”

I just walk out of the toilet room when Celica is plopped on our bed, looking a little peeved at Relua for carrying her, I’ll admit, it’s probably a little strange to going to a people that probably can’t pick her up a little to being carried but it is a necessary evil. However I don’t think about that for long. Her dress. That’s what I’m looking at. 

Black, and thin, and tight. 

“Was… Was this your idea or?” Heading over to I say again, “because if this was only them- Relua- then they need to stop. I can’t handle this.” I put my hand to her cheek but she pulls away again. 

“I- I’m sorry, it’s too much too soon. I’ll leave you be.”

I slip into the bed and so does she, silently. She must be embarrassed from yesterday and in a moment of slight desperation, I reach out to her and pull her close to me, tucking her head under my chin, and holding her tight to my chest. “Yesterday was fine, I still love you not to worry. Sleep now.”

And lucky me, she does.

https://www.tumblr.com/exlwandering/754014869241626624/finally-wrote-something-for-the-first-time-in?source=share

Part One ^

https://www.tumblr.com/exlwandering/760536359040630784/celica-and-lemal-part-two?source=share

Part two ^

https://www.tumblr.com/exlwandering/760547077703991296/celica-and-lemal-part-3?source=share

Part three ^

[kittys-writing-blog]

As Sonic was running through the Green Hill Zone, he noticed something was off. All the badniks and rings were…Gone. What was weirder was, at the end of the third act, Eggman was nowhere to be seen, and the Egg Capsule was empty. What was going on? He ran further, going into the Marble zone. Going into the brick underground maze, all the rings and badniks are gone here too. As he parkoured above the lava, his feet slip on the last jump…and he tumbles into the lava. It hurts. It burns. Its melting his skin. He tries to call for help, but his vocal cords are burnt out. His insides feel as if they are on fire, as he's melted alive. Soon, his screaming fades..And the hero of Mobius is no more. A shadowy being with long, hedgehog-esque quills and pinprick eyes soon jumps over where Sonic slipped, jumping the gap and going through the Zone.

Metal Sonic was making his way through Lava Reef zone, with one goal in mind; Get to the Hidden Palace. As he carefully makes his way through the zone, he gets to a narrow hallway. As he walks through, a giant spiked ball thunks onto the floor behind him. He attempts to activate his internal engine, but Lava Reef is too warm. He tries to run, but the spiked ball catches up to him almost immediately, crushing and impaling him on one of its spikes. As it rolls at a concerning speed, it eventually falls into lava. Metal barely manages to get himself off as the ball slowly sinks. Thats when he realizes he cant move his legs. He's stuck on top of the ball as it sinks. He beeps and screeches his internal speaker, but no one comes to help. He is eventually slowly melted in the lava, and eventually nothing remains of the metal hedgehog. Mission failed.

Tails was making his way through Aqua Ruin zone, using the lower route as a change of pace. He completely ignored the absence of badniks and rings, brushing it off as Eggman giving up for a change, or something. He quickly gets through Act 1, and moves onto Act 2. As he falls onto the bottom path, he takes a large gulp of air before he plummets into the water. As he slowly walks through the water, he notices a pillar about to fall. He tries to speed up, but…He was too slow. He gets crushed under the weight of the pillar, starting to panic. His lungs start to hurt. He's losing air fast. As his lungs burn like fire, he gives in, and gulps down a breath of water. It hurts. Dear God, it hurts. As he slowly loses consciousness, he notices a tall, dark figure with white, pinprick eyes watching him from a distance. After a few moments, blood fills the water, and Tails is gone.

Knuckles lands in Sandopolis, almost burying himself by accident. He quickly digs himself out and brushes himself off. As he makes his way through the winding paths, he notices a strange absence of rings and badniks. Its…eerie. He jumps down to the Golem boss, but the pyramid is already raised, and the Golem lay scattered in front of it. As he enters the Pyramid, he immediately notices the lights are on, and the normal ambience generated by the Spirits is gone. As he gets to the rising sands part, he readies himself, and pops open the sand. Immediately, sand goes everywhere. Its in his eyes. He cant see. He feels the sant rising way too fast, and gets pinned against the ceiling. He cant breathe, sand is going in his lungs. He's slowly suffocating on sand. As sand fills his lungs, he goes limp. And such, the echidna species is extinct.

Eggman is walking around the Death Egg, noticing his sudden lack of badniks. He suddenly gets a ping on his telewatch. "Metal Sonic Offline." It blares out, echoing through the Death Egg. He quickly swipes the notification away, silencing it. Eggman continues walking throughout the Death Egg, soon getting to a elevator. He looks around, he cant shake the feeling that he's being watched by…Something. He gets in the elevator, clicking the 'Control Room' option. As he rises, something feels off. Suddenly, he hears a creak, and a snap. The entire unit plummets downward as red lights flash and alarms blare. He gets thrown onto the ceiling, and then slammed into the floor, headfirst. His neck snaps upon impact, and the good doctor is no more.

[parallelslaydying]

 He's hit rock bottom and continued to dig.  

Rock bottom, the place most find themselves often, but it wasn’t low enough, deep enough. The jagged rocks and gravel were sharp, digging into his flesh, cutting through the skin. Yet he ignored the pain, the bleeding. For a while, he stayed there, convinced the solid enough ground was not the worst, not that bad. But then the pain broke past the haze, pierced deep into places he couldn’t find a way to use the solid earth to fade and suppress. After multiple failed attempts, he became desperate, driven to a place where the only safe or available option was to begin using his hands to claw and dig at the jagged rocks and gravel.

At first, the digging gave the illusion of escape, a way out of his despair. It didn’t last long, and the more he dug, the worse each onslaught of pain broke through. The rocks tore through his hands, beneath his nails. He had a few brief moments of clarity and awareness of how fucking bad it hurt, but eventually, the pain in his hands became distant, muted out, allowing him to continue his frantic and eventually nonstop digging, unaware he’d managed to break through the solid surface of what had been his rock bottom.

Something stopped him, causing him to cease his digging, allowing the world above him to come back into a distant view. Everything was wrong, the only thing he felt physically, mentally, and spiritually was pain, intense, agonizing pain. But he tried to turn back, something in him telling him that continuing his descent would only lead to the point of no return.

For a while it worked, he felt like he might be able to get back to the solid earth, but the pain continued to increase until it reached a crescendo. It overwhelmed him all at once, driving him back down, deep into the loose dirt of the pit he’d dug. The dirt was choking him, suffocating. Pure panic set in, he COULDN’T breathe, he was going to suffocate.

There was no way back, no way out. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to go back, to take in gulps of fresh air, fill his lungs with something other than the *dirt*. He’d managed to find a way to not only reach rock bottom but not stop there, continuing to dig himself down to where he was, breathless, suffocating, darkness blinding him completely. There was no reaching him here, no one would ever be able to get to him, hear his cries and screams. He’d dug too deep.

Something happened though, light broke through. A hand reached in, giving him the strength to grasp and pull himself upward with fervor. He made it back to the solid and rocky ground. He let his body cough and purge all the dirt, using his broken hands to wipe the dirt from his vision. When he looked around, he was still alone, startled and confused as to how he’d pulled himself out. There was no way, no amount of strength in suffocating mind and body.

For a while he had to just rest at rock bottom, take as much air into his lungs as he could manage. But a strength he had no way to summon seemed to hit him like a mac truck, allowing him to scramble up, grab the rocks sticking out from the cliff side as leverage to use his newfound strength to drag himself up the cliff side, up away from the rock bottom he’d been at for far far too many years.

The closer he got to the surface, the lighter broke through, strangers, people he’d jumped away from to fling himself down to rock bottom were able to take the hand he reached out. Then he heard her, felt her… his saving grace. It was *her* she’d cried out to him, reached her hand past the veil separating life and death, grasped on, and lent her strength to him to allow him to claw his way back from that place far, far beneath what should have been rock bottom. All he could do was grasp the hands that gripped his when he reached out, relying on them and the strength she’d poured into him. Fuck was it painful, but the pain was nowhere near the agonizing place he’d been. He could breathe and feel the warmth of the sunshine on his skin. Things he hadn’t experienced for longer than he even realized. Finally, fucking finally the healing and living could begin, his second chance. A fucking goddamn miracle. He was out and determined to get as far away from any cliff edge or anywhere near rock bottom ever again. Not just for himself, but for her too.

[starrconch]

INTERRUPTED WHILE MAKING OUT

★ Includes: Xiao, Gorou, GN reader, suggestive content, leaks for gorou's namecard as it's being used to section of his piece of writing

★ Word Count: 923

★ Master List

★ Notes: You can find Diluc and Childe's version here and Kaeya and Zhongli's version here :))

XIAO

★ The adeptus had been thinking of you all day, distracting himself from his work. Each thought dragged him deeper and deeper into a hot and bothered feeling that he couldn’t ignore for much longer.

★ Eventually, the task of taking out hilichurls became too difficult with his growing desire, so he fled home to see you.

A sudden noise behind you in your shared bedroom scared you out of your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as you spun around to see what the loud thud was. Your partner had let his polearm fall to the floor after he had teleported into the room, and was now pacing over to where you stood.

“Xiao? Is everything okay?” You had never seen so much emotion expressed on his face, but you couldn’t seem to place your finger on what emotion it was exactly.

Without responding, he crashed his lips against yours, snatching your breath from your lungs. He kept walking, backing you up against the wall where he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above you.

“Xiao?” You managed to ask between kisses. It wasn’t a complaint, but a curious question.

He held you in place with so much care, gentleness, as if he were afraid to hurt you, but his actions were still filled with just as much passion.

“Not now,” he growled, pressing himself closer to you. Xiao didn’t know what was happening either. All he could process was the urge to feel you close to him, to feel skin on skin. He wanted all of you, no, he needed all of you.

You melted into his touch, the warmth that radiated off of him, and kissed back just as fervently.

Without warning, the door opened beside you, revealing a familiar geo archon. “Y/N, do you happen to know where-“ Zhongli stopped his words, the question he was about to ask being answered when he took in the scene before him. “Ah, I shall see the two of you later.” He quickly backed out and shut the door behind him.

Xiao dropped your hands and rested his head on your shoulder, cursing under his breath. “What is he even doing here?” A bright red coloured his face and the tips of his ears, making you chuckle.

“Next time,” you kissed the top of your partner’s head, “we’ll lock the door.”

GOROU

★ War was a tough time for everyone, especially for you and your partner. When you used to spend almost all your time together, now you hadn’t seen him in months.

★ You missed him so much that it hurt you. That’s why you decided to sneak into the camp he was currently stationed in to see him.

Frantically looking around, checking on your surroundings every few seconds, you snuck your way up to a grand tent that you knew for sure that your general would be in. You slipped past the entrance, hiding to make sure nobody was around before heading into a partitioned section you knew had to be Gorou’s office.

A head of brown hair looked up from where it stared at battle plans and your partner’s eyes widened in shock. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I miss you, can I not come and see you?” Matching wide smiles appeared on both of your faces as you approached him and reached your arms around his neck. You pressed your mouth to his and pushed yourself into his lap where he sat.

Between gasps of air, Gorou managed to reply, “of course you can.” His hands found their way to your waist. The general began to say something else, but he decided it wasn’t as important as the person capturing his attention.

You ran your hands through his hair, stroking the back of his ears which had Gorou breathing heavily against you. His tail twitched in excitement as you felt his fingers dig into you.

“Looks like someone’s happy to see me,” you whispered against his ear, smirking as you drew soft circles on them.

Your partner growled in annoyance and grabbed your chin to return your mouth to his. He hadn’t realised how much he needed you while he was away. You were his air, his life, he needed you in order to survive.

As you ran your hand up his chest, kissing back passionately as Gorou pulled you closer to him, you didn’t hear someone enter the tent.

“Gorou? Are you alright? We have a-” Kazuha halted his words when he saw what was happening in front of him. He coughed nervously as a flustered look appeared on his face and turned around. “We have a meeting with Lady Kokomi soon. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

“Kazuha! Wait!” Your partner called out, still holding onto you, but it was too late. The samurai had already fled the scene.

“Ah, sorry,” you apologised, knowing that if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have had to embarrass himself in front of his friend.

“No, please, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s my fault too.” The general rested his head on your shoulder, torn between continuing with you or preparing for his war meeting.

You squeezed his shoulder, which caused him to look up, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Go and get ready.” This was a war, you couldn’t be selfish and take one of the most skilled generals of the Watatsumi Army away from them.

He placed a soft one onto your lips too. “Wait for me, I will see you later. That’s a promise.”