#getting my maw all cold and feeling it slowly warm up again feels so good :3

[grapeagata]

I say I eat rocks as a joke but for real I love eating ice, my favorite part of going to restaurants is that they always put ice in your drinks and I cannot get enough ice, you put 50 ice cube in front of me and I will eat them all like hard candy, there's days where I get myself a glass full of ice cubes with not drink, just to chomp them down. I like just licking it while it's in my mouth and feeling the cold until it melts and becomes small enough to destroy comopletely and I bite with an incredible crunch!

[evolvingchaoswitch]

Rocketober: Day 8 Drinking or Free part 2

TW: Dubious consent

You are trapped arms under your torso, ass in the air with your head to the ground as your aphrodisiac fueled crew mate crawled towards you; you could just make out Rockets form in the darkness. You could feel as his claw tipped paws started to slowly remove your pants off of  you like peeling a ripe fruit, you could hear the hitch of his breath followed by a low growl as the smell of your dripping pussy must have hit his keen senses. You couldn’t help but whimper as you felt him blow hot air over the vulnerable folds before him, you cursed how easily the slick fluids of your arousal flowed during your ovulation; maybe that was why you couldn’t bring yourself to make him stop.

Rocket laid a trail of kisses from the top of your mons pubis just above your cliteros before moving his attention to lay sloppy kisses on the sensitive skin just beyond your outer lips. You feel as your neuro pathways ignited into a thrumming heat that stoked sensation in every section of your body, the cold stone beneath you did not help to cool you down only contributed to teasing you as your now erect nipples were dragged slightly by Rocket’s ministrations forcing you to lean slightly forward. Rocket slipped his maw deep into the dripping folds before lashing his tongue around your aching walls, drinking in your cum as if it was the first drink he was able to get in days. The whorish moans that tumbled from your lips quickly echoed throughout the cave as a sinful symphony of slurred words and firm clit suction filled the silence.

Rocket claws gripped your hips leaving tiny pin pricks in your skin that welled with small droplets of blood, he didn’t want his meal to move an inch till he felt sated and he wasn’t satisfied yet. You felt delirious from the pleasure as you felt Rocket move his mouth up to start rimming the delicate ring that was your asshole. You hips bucked desperately as Rockets tongue pushed into your tight passage slowly fucking it looser and you continued to do the only thing you could which was add to the sounds of the cave. You could feel as his cock lined up against the entrance to your asshole “This is all the restraint I can muster sweatheart or I’m going to fuck you till your ripe with my kits” if he didn’t have a good grip on your hips you would have sunk into the floor when your quivering knees gave out. 

Rocket had done too good of a job in making sure your asshole was well lubricated as his cock slipped from one rosy hole into the warm slippery depths of your pussy. You let out a quivering moan when he rutted up against you causing delicious friction to rub against your g-spot for a few minutes moaning to himself “No gotta be good” before sliding out and trying to slip within your ass again. As he slowly slid past the tight ring of muscles he had touched something on your suit so you could use your arms again, placing them forward to brace yourself in doggy as Rocket simultaneously removed your top and bra. 

It took a few slow moments for Rocket to fully seat himself inside your ass, stroking your back gently as you trembled, body slick with sweat as Rocket let out soothing trills to help get you to calm; you were getting the idea that words were starting to become hard for him as the pollen flooded his body. Once your body was relaxed allowing him to fully sink he, Rocket started with slow shallow thrusts to let your rectum get used to the intrusion before beginning to increase the tempo a little bit at a time till it built into quick thrusts. The wet slapping of fur to skin joined the sounds of the cave as Rocket pounded out the last bit of sense you had left in your body before spilling his first shot into your wanton hole letting out a gloriously savage snarl as he did so.

You could feel as he slowly pulled out, cum leaking from your anus as you laid nude on the cold stone of the cave trying to soothe the trembling of your body and deciding to roll on your back to see if the stone on your back will help return your temperature to normal. You look into Rocket’s glowing jasper coloured eyes as an aftershock riffles through your body, as if this orgasm is stronger because Rocket is able to see machinations of it as it washes over you.

Rocket’s eyes roam over your body still hungry before focusing his attention back on the glistening treasure that was your cunt. The small bit of reasoning that Rocket had left to fight the contaminant allowed him the sense to wipe off his cock on a discarded piece of clothing before sliding into your pussy once more giving your hips matching claw marks on the front. You could feel your legs wrapped around him pulling Rocket even deeper into you, and a thought came to mind that perhaps the pollen had also affected you too but you didn’t care.

All you wanted to do was to be filled as many times as Rocket was able to, coating every section of your insides till there was nothing left unclaimed within you and Rocket was more than happy to claim every inch of you that he could.

Mission Success.

@raccoonfallsharder (you made a comment of wanting to see more and I do deliver) @glow-autumz @rebel-21 @funkydancingdinosaur

@honeypleasesugar

[debiteful]

Okay so this one is based on an anon request I got. A particular detail made me uncomfortable, but otherwise the concept was solid. If you want elaboration on my feelings on that, you can ask, but I don't wanna bog down the story with that ramble ^,....,^'

A wereboar discovers a human living beneath their floorboards. This person is in exile and being hunted; to make matters worse a very tough person is hunting this human. The good natured wereboar decides to help the human evade capture.

Content: soft, safe protection vore, panicking prey, willing human prey, boar-human hybrid pred, belly bulge, fearplay, threat/false claim of digestion, regurgitation, comfort afterward

Tuki walked up their front steps, feeling the familiar creak of boards beneath their feet. The bungalow stood alone in a woodland clearing, the perfect place for someone like Tuki to live. Isolated, yet close enough to civilization to get the supplies they needed.

Once inside they let their loaded sack fall to the floor. They knelt and began going through it, sorting the things within; food went to one side while fabric went to the other. Behind them, they heard a rustling noise. Very slowly they stopped rifling through the bag and listened. Their nose twitched and they snuffled curiously while slowly turning their head.

Something was scraping against a floorboard over there. Had to be big, a rat wouldn't sound like that. Maybe a raccoon? Looking around, Tuki could see one of the cabinet doors was open in the kitchen. That little thief!

The homeowner crept across the floor as quietly as they could. Unfortunately, stealth was not their strong suit. Their weight made the floorboards groan with every step.

The rustling went quiet. Tuki bent low and sniffed at the floorboards with little grunts. They had to be getting close. The scent of some creature wafted up; it didn't smell like racoon.

"Hey!" They called gruffly, "Get out here you vermin!"

A soft whimper and hasty scrabbling from below the floor was the only response. Tuki growled and leapt to their feet. In a flash they were out the door and scrambling under the cabin. Leaf litter and dirt kicked up as the creature tried to hurry away. Tuki crawled on their belly, moving arm over arm with surprising speed thanks to bulky muscles.

As the creature became silhouetted by the daylight on the far side of the cabin, its pursuer frowned. That almost looked like a person… 

Tuki stopped and called, "Hey! I won't hurt you. Wait!"

It froze. They could see a head swivel and bob while it tried to get a look at them. They approached slowly.

The creature backed out from under the house, sunlight revealing its form. It was a human! Mud streaked their ashen face and twigs stuck from their unkempt hair at odd angles. They kept taking steps backwards, eyes trained on the crevice where Tuki would emerge.

By the time they were free to stand, the human was halfway to the tree line. They brushed themselves off and stood by the back of the house, "Hey! I said I wouldn't hurt you. You look like you could use some help. I- well I don't like that you stole some food, but you clearly need it. Come inside and I'll help you."

The frail person tilted their head one way, then the other. Big, dark eyes glittered as they considered the offer. They seemed human, but right now they reminded Tuki more of a yearling doe. 

Tuki held out their hand, "Come here! I promise it'll be okay."

They blinked, then approached. Tuki let their arm fall and turned towards the front of the house. They didn't need to look back to sense that the bedraggled human was following a short distance behind.

Inside Tuki was able to heat some water so they could bathe. While they did, the host picked out some of their own clothes that might fit. An oversized shirt made a dress-length tunic for the human. Then they set to cooking up some warm food; they could tell it would do them good.

Over the meal, Tuki managed to gather that his name was Lark, and he was hiding from someone. He was vague about that, as if worried Tuki would change their mind about being so hospitable if they knew. Sensing the reluctance, they didn't press the matter. 

After even this small bit of care, Lark was looking much better than he had been. His cheeks had a warm, healthy glow, and his hair was hanging in loose curls just above his shoulders. He looked a little silly in the large shirt, but at least it was soft and clean.

A loud knock at the door rang through the cabin. Lark jumped and spilled the soup he had been sipping from a bowl. His eyes were wide with alarm, and suddenly his whole body shook.

Tuki stood to answer the door but he darted over and grabbed at their arm. "No! Don't!" He hissed, looking up with pleading eyes.

They frowned down at him, "Why not?"

"They're here for me; they'll hurt me. You gotta hide me somewhere- somewhere they won't find me!"

Their frown deepened and they cast a worried glance around the simple dwelling. The only room besides the main area was their bed and bath room, but that didn't exactly have any hiding places. If he could get back under the floor, then maybe- 

Another flurry of knocks rapped at the door. This time it was accompanied by a warning voice, "Whoever is in there, open up or I'll have to come in myself!"

Lark trembled and clung to Tuki's arm. His wordless plea was all across his face. Their face softened and they whispered, "Do you trust me?"

"I- what? I have to; if you have a plan, then do it!"

Tuki nodded and gently removed him from their arm. The human watched with a creeping dread as before his very eyes his host's shape shifted. Their face elongated, sharp tucks sprouting from between their lips. Their stubble lengthened and hair thinned, becoming thick bristles. Ears lengthened and flopped, and their form filled out their shirt better.

Beady black eyes full of concern gazed at Lark from that monstrous face. His host wasn't human; they were a were-boar! 

He sucked in a shaky breath and fought the urge to turn and run. Filled with desperation, he knew flight was not an option.

He squeaked as their powerful hands grabbed his slight shoulders and lifted him. His feet reflexively kicked a little as they left the floor. Their jaws opened wide, saliva hanging in thick strands that trembled with their hot breath. The humid air washed over his face as he screwed his eyes shut. Terror pricked at his belly and sent his heart racing as he felt a slobbery tongue rise up to greet his face.

Their maw shut around his head and shoulders gently. Even if he wanted to cry out, he couldn't, smothered by wet flesh as they crammed his head down their throat. They swallowed; it was a sickening feeling to have those powerful muscles constrict around him.

He could hardly feel their hands grasp his hips now and heave him deeper in. His legs kicked wildly and he fought for air through the panic and slime. His whole body became completely enveloped in rippling muscle and coated in saliva as he slid downward.

Tuki wiped their mouth with the back of a hairy hand while the other slid down to support their swelling belly. They felt their gut stretch as their hastily gobbled prey slid down and was forced to curl. Their stomach walls were taut and smooth around Lark's quivering form. The bulge of their belly strained against their shirt, making it ride up a little. It wasn't very inconspicuous, but it would have to do. 

They plodded over to the door just as whoever was outside turned the handle. The door swung inward to reveal the would-be intruder, a hulking man carrying a baton in one hand and clutching the short leash of a massive dog in the other. The beast snarled and snapped at Tuki, but they held their ground. The man looked surprised, but a snear took over, "There you are, you dumb brute! You couldn't hear me knocking?"

Armed and with that vicious dog, Tuki knew they couldn't fight. Especially stuffed full like this. They would have to talk their way through this. "I could," they said crossly, "but I was finishing my dinner when you so rudely interrupted."

"I have important business, more important than you stuffing your face, pig."

Tuki narrowed their eyes, "What is it then?"

"I'm on the trail of a dangerous fugitive who is an enemy of the state." At that Lark squirmed inside their belly nervously, but went still as the man continued, "I tracked him here, intending to apprehend him so he can be exiled permanently."

The dog was straining against its tether, sniffing with interest at the threshold. Its master didn't spare it a glance, stone-cold eyes fixed on Tuki and club raised menacingly. They replied, "Well I haven't come across anyone dangerous." 

"He's a sly curr, might not seem dangerous. Have you seen any strangers around here? Heard anything odd?"

"Hmmmm," Tuki said, weighing their options. They scratched at their belly, drawing up the shirt to reveal the rounded bulge sagging over the waist of their pants. "There was this one little fella, big doe eyes. He stole some food from me," the anxious squirms started up again, making their protruding gut wiggle. "So I ate him instead!"

"You what?" The man snarled. Slowly his gaze drifted down to their taut stomach, and horror crept into his eyes at seeing it move. He looked back at Tuki with disgust, "You ate a man?"

"Hardly a man," they shrugged, "More of a vermin. I'm not too picky though," they said with a smirk.

Seemingly at a loss for words, he just gaped at the wereboars belly for a while. Then he looked past them, into the house, "I'm going to have a look around, just in case." 

"You won't find much," Tuki gloated, patting their belly. A burp rumbled up and escaped loudly. The dog sniffed the air then bayed and reared up to investigate their snout. They laughed and the man dragged it away and into the house by its leash.

Tuki kept a wary eye on the two invaders while they leaned against the threshold. Lark still hadn't settled down, his body writhing within the flexible limits of the stomach. Little muffled grunts could barely be heard above the gurgling fluids shifting around him.

The dog barked with savage excitement as it found Lark's dirty clothes. The wash water had already been drained away, leaving little explanation. The man hooked the tattered clothes with a finger and brought them to Tuki, "Whats this? Is it yours?"

"No, you're welcome to it. I took those filthy rags off that human before I devoured him. I have some standards," they huffed. 

The man eyed their still moving gut, "You ate him alive?"

"Of course! Killing is so messy, I don't like to do it in the house. Besides," they leaned in with a ghoulish grin, "I like to feel them squirm as I digest."

Lark flailed as best he could within the cramped confines, but the real reward was the brief widening of the intruder's eyes at that comment. He scowled, "Can't you spit him up? I have a job to do."

Offended, Tuki leaned back, "What? And waste a perfectly good meal? No, you were too slow. He's mine now. Besides, it's not like he's going anywhere. Just tell your master you did it; how're they gonna know any different?"

He considered, then trudged past the wereboar, hauling his dog along, "Fine. But if I get in trouble, don't think I won't send someone after your hide too!" 

"I expect nothing less from a scoundrel like you."

He froze and clenched his cudgel. Tuki dearly hoped he wouldn't try to use it. Thankfully, that was the case, and he stomped off without another word.

Tuki shut the door and locked the bolt into place, just in case. They went over to their chair and sat down heavily. Their belly bumped against their legs as Lark continued to wriggle frantically. His whining could be heard by Tuki, and their heart lurched. The poor creature must be terrified. If only they had had more time to explain.

They got up and hurried to get a towel, then went to their bedroom and stood infront of the bed. They heaved, and with great effort Lark slid up and out of their stomach. He landed on the towel laid out to catch him and lay there shivering. Before he could scramble away, Tuki shifted back to their human form and bundled him up in the towel. He fought against the warm folds of cloth weakly before realizing he wasn't in danger. The wereboar sat on the bed and cradled the swaddled human in their lap, using a corner of the towel to wipe his face and hair. 

He looked up with wide, tearful eyes, "You…." He couldn't find the words.

They hugged him tightly then gave an apologetic stare, "You're quite the mess, again. I didn't know what else to do. He would've found you if I hadn't-"

He cut them off, "I know. I know. It's just- the things you said, they were terrifying. Especially from, well, in there," his eyes flicked meaningfully to their belly.

They nodded and continued to clean him up carefully. He relaxed into their hold, inhaling the fresh air deeply.

Neither of them spoke. Both of their minds independently wandered to the same, simple question: what next? Neither of them had the answer right now.

[scrumptiousprey]

So Cold...

(Feelin' in a pred mood tonight, so it's time to switch things up! This thing is a self insert prey blurb, with me as the pred. Surprise, I'm actually a switch! Prey is just my preference, hehe.)

It was so kind of you to invite me to your house. In all honesty, I wasn't sure how well we would get along after our... first encounter. Ahem. That's in the past. What matters right now is setting my plan in motion. I turn down the temperature in the house, putting it to an absolutely frigid level. Now, I just wait....

I hear the door unlock after you arrive home, and the door swings open. "I'm home!" You shout out, filled with glee. "Welcome! It's good to see you, hehe." You smile, and shut the door behind you. I watch you go about, getting yourself settled in, putting things down and taking off shoes, before you make your way onto the couch next to me. I watch as you start to shiver, the cold air of the house starting to seep in. Good.... you complain to me about how cold I seem to like it. I shrug it off, simply telling you that I prefer the cold. I hear you mention something about getting up to change it... I gently put an arm in front of you.

"Relax, if you're so cold, then come here." I say as I bring you in for a gentle hug, wrapping my arms over you. I hear you groan, and sarcastically ask about how this is on purpose. I chuckle, then turn you around to face me. "No, this isn't my plan. This is..." I say as I lift your mouth directly in front of my now open maw, the warm humid breath washing over you as I hear your breath shake for just a moment. I close my mouth, and look at you with a smug smile.

"Well? Yes, or no?" I see you sheepishly look away, blushing as you say yes. It's so adorable... and so very tasty~

I slowly place your head on my tongue, delicate in my movements, as if savoring a delectable dessert. Well... I essentially am. My tongue curls over your face, cheeks, under your chin and across your neck as I taste you, humming all the while. I'll never get enough of this flavor... but it's time to move on. I push you in just a bit further, enough for....

Glk~!

That first powerful gulp pushes your head completely into my throat, and I sigh, delighted at the feeling. I waste no time as I swallow again, the sound booming around you as you are pushed further down, my throat tight and squishy as it kneads your body, caressing and pulling you deeper... and I continue swallowing, gulp after gulp causing you to slip down into my stomach, until a final, resounding "Glup~!" is heard, and your feet to begin to slip down. I sigh in relief and satisfaction as you begin to curl up... what's that? I could just ask you next time? Well, where's the fun in that?

I prefer it when my treats want to be eaten~

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: Slight description of Animal Violence. Nothing too graphic, but if the genre of stuff you see on Shark week isn’t for you, skip over the part denoted by the *******

Word Count: 3530 words

Summary: You learn more about Cruz and about yourself

Prologue

Chapter 1

“-and then he just leaves. What do I even do with that?”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Your roommate hums, refilling up your glass of wine. “And you don’t have his number, so you can’t call or text him right?” You take a large sip, nodding and trying not to spill wine on your pajamas.

Well, kind of.

You hadn’t told anyone about Cruz, not even your family, because frankly you didn't know where to start. But when you walked into the apartment, sullen and dragging your feet, your roommate, Caitlyn, had offered wine, ice cream, and a willing ear. That's when the floodgates opened (with some modified details, of course).

“We’re meeting at our usual place in a couple days, I just…”Another sip of wine,”...hate sitting here, not knowing what he’s feeling, what I did, how I’m feeling.” You set down your glass and throw yourself back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. “I feel so stupid, like a fucking teenager, and I hate it.” Caitlyn sets her own wine glass down and nudges the half-empty ice cream carton towards you.

“It’s for the best your feeling all this now, then you can come at ‘im all composed and articulate. Really throw him off his game.” You grab a spoon and the carton, Caitlyn patting your shoulder as you take a pathetic bite.

“You’re right but I-I don’t even know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Sounds like this guy’s got you hooked. At least that’s a start right?” Caitlyn hums, pressing her chin into her palm. “To be completely honest, Sam took a couple days to warm up to me. And I never told her this, but she gave me hardcore pretentious vibes on our first date.”

Caitlyn gives a long spiel about her awkward first soulmate date (“Seriously, who brings up ‘the superiority of vinyl’ on the first date!”), and if you were in the mind to be a good roommate, or hadn’t heard this story before, you might’ve listened closer. But only one question was occupying your thoughts; Did Cruz like you?

--------

You arrive at the boardwalk an hour early. You don’t immediately go to the tidepool, instead choosing to take a long walk on the beach, taking a moment to calm your racing heart and collect your thoughts.

You like Cruz. You like him as much as two people who just met can, despite a less-than-romantic first impression. But does he like you?

You never thought you would have to ask your soulmate that.

There’s a small thwap as you slap your cheeks, heat simmering your skin even as the cold water laps at your feet.

This is ridiculous. You’ve talked twice. Caitlyn and Sam have a thriving relationship (You should know, you share a wall with Caitlyn) and even they got off to a rocky start.

The pit grows in your stomach, thinking of Cruz’s disinterested stare as he swims into the open ocean. The weight of it almost sinks to your toes.

You shake your head, slapping your cheeks once more.

Today is a new day. Just go through the motions _____.

You reach the tidepool, setting down your picnic blanket and bag. You grab one of your notebooks and prop it open as you bite into an apple. You’re 30 minutes early, might as well get some reading done.

The waves crash and pull against the rocks, pleasant studying ambience, but is interrupted by several clicks and abrupt, out of rhythm, splashes. You look up, immediately in awe of the sight.

About 50 feet away from the entrance to the tidepool is a pod of dolphins, breaching out of the water. You grab a pencil, your phone, and your notebook, tiptoeing through the tidepool to get a better look.

Good choice wearing water shoes today.

From closer up, you notice the distinct lack of dorsal fins and realize they must be Northern White Whale Dolphins. 60 of them have congregated in a group, most likely scouting for easy food or taking a rest.

Their pod is pretty small though. What are they doing so close to the shore?

The pod continues to play as you take shaky photos with your camera, trying to balance your notebook and pencil in the crook of your elbow. Through your viewfinder, you spot a familiar shape, not 30 feet from the pod, peeking his head out of the water. Cruz’s black eyes narrow into focus before he fully submerges. Your eyes widen as you lower your camera.

The water above Cruz rushes as he swims closer and closer to the pod. You tuck your phone back into your pocket as you finagle your way up to a nearby rock. You need a better view, and it might be best to be out of the water while this happens.

The dolphins haven’t noticed Cruz yet, still gliding along the waves. There's a quick flash of his strong back before he dives even deeper into the water. The rock slightly digs into your stomach as you lean over to get a better look.

What I wouldn’t give for a drone right now.

Before long, there is a burst of clicks, the largest dolphins quickly surrounding the group and issuing them away. They’ve spotted Cruz, but one is a little too slow.

Cruz’s dorsal fin cuts through the water, close enough to the surface that you can make out the details of his determined face. His eyes have latched onto the slowest dolphin and his speed increases exponentially. His long tail flicks back and forth as he gains on it.

*******

The dolphin flips into the air, trying to gain distance. But like a flash Cruz’s large hand shoots out of the water, getting a hold of the dolphin’s tail, and pulls. You see his shoulder and tricep bulge as the dolphin thrashes in his grip. His head once again breaches the water as he digs his other clawed hand into the dolphin’s side, raking into it as he pulls the dolphin closer to him. The two tussle and wrestle against each other, going in and out of the water as the dolphin tries to push Cruz away.

But Cruz is limber, keeping a tight grip on the dolphin as he maneuvers his body alongside it. His torso raises up as he pushes the dolphin down under the water and into submission. Cruz then yanks the dolphin’s front upwards and out of the water, grip still tight on it’s rear, before opening up his maw and tearing into the dolphin’s neck. He rips his head back and forth until the dolphin stills, a large pool of red slowly cascading around them.

*******

Your pencil hangs loosely in your fingers as you watch, eyes locked on Cruz. You think the struggle must’ve lasted only 20 seconds, but in the moment, it felt like hours. Cruz’s chest heaves as he takes another bite, serrated teeth easily ripping the flesh, as casual as the lobster roll from your last meeting.

Blood drips from his mouth and covers his claws. His cards his fingers back through his hair, leaving crimson streaks that shine against his black locks. Cruz bites off another mouthful before heaving the dolphin onto his shoulder.

As a large science nerd, you’ve always enjoyed watching nature in progress. But a new, exciting, vaguely uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut as you watch Cruz suck in his fingers, picking out stray bits of meat from his large, sharp teeth. A feeling like a shiver rushing down your spine and heat in between your legs.

Oh my god. Why was that the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?

Cruz turns away and submerges himself, giving you a nice shot of his defined back muscles as he sums up his hunt. You can’t take your eyes off his form moving just below the water, even as your 5 PM alarm goes off.

You knew Cruz was larger, and far stronger, than you, but seeing him in his element reminds you just how easily he could tear you apart.

God, and I kind of want him to.

As he swims further away from the shore, you see two black dots in the distance. You take out your phone again and open up the camera to zoom in.

Speaking of huge. Holy shit.

The focus is a little blurry, but it’d be hard for you to miss the massive mermaids. With only their shoulders and up out of water, they still tower over Cruz by at least a head each. Both have long black hair, intertwined with what looks to be seaweed and various types of shells. The one on the right is holding two larger masses over her shoulders, positioned the way a lumberjack would hold a fallen tree. Cruz reemerges with his dolphin in tow, frighteningly small.

Cruz’s gestures indicate they’re having a conversation, mostly one-sided. The dolphin on Cruz’s back bounces as he talks animatedly, his hunt small when compared to the two weights the right mermaid carries. With your old phone you can only catch a glimpse of the left mermaid’s lips moving. Cruz’s energy dims as she continues and he seems to sink deeper into the water.

The left mermaid holds out her hand. Cruz hesitates, then throws his dolphin into her arms. She swings it over like it weighs nothing and then shakes her hand as if to shoo him away. The right one rumbles with laughter. Cruz nods, solemn as the two submerge and swim away.

Cruz stays there for a minute, looking out at the horizon. When he finally turns, his movements are lethargic as he swims towards the tidepool.

You scramble down from the rock and quickly tiptoe  back to your blanket, fumbling to stuff your notebook and pencil back into your bag.

Cruz glides in, his eyes not meeting yours, locked in thought.

“Hey Cruz.” You wave, struggling to catch your breath from your impromptu rush.

Cruz slowly looks up at you, still slightly downcast.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” You  shake your head furiously.

“It’s no problem! I got her kind of early, and then I saw you hunting and didn’t want to bother.” Cruz’s eyes widen a bit, before her recoils into himself and sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, sorry. You probably didn’t want to see that….” You once again shake your hands and head back and forth.

“No! No I-, I actually thought it was super cool!” Cruz quirks his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Yeah! It was like my own personal Shark week. Like wow, you looked amazing out there.”

Cruz’s cheek tint a cerulean blue, the corners of his lips turning up at the sides as he fiddles with his fingers.

“And those dolphins are the fastest kind around here, but bam! You were on them like a firecracker, kind of wish I had a slow motion camera.” You laugh, before realizing Cruz probably didn’t understand half of your analogies. “You looked uh, you were really good at it.”

Well duh, you idiot. He’s a shark.

“Thank you.” Cruz shoots you a tiny smile, blush still running across his face and down his neck. The ensuing silence is only slightly uncomfortable, as Cruz’s blush stays strong and you're sure you develop one of your own. You try and focus on something else to calm down, but catch a glimpse of his biceps, and fail miserably.

“Oh, that’s right.” Cruz reaches over and sticks his hand in between two nearby rocks. His brow furrows before his eyes light up, and he pulls out a….handbag?

It’s loosely sewn together with kelp, made of some sort of seal skin and closed with a seashell button. Cruz pops it open and begins to rummage inside.

“Gotcha.” Cruz pulls something out of the bag, before turning and hiding it behind his back.

“Uh, whatcha got there?” Cruz smiles, his blue blush painting his face from top to tip.

“I found this thing and thought you um….might want to look at it?” Cruz pulls his arm in front, revealing a reflective white shell, just a bit longer than his palm.

“It’s not a crab, but I thought it was neat looking so….”

You slowly move towards him, gesturing to ask if you can hold the shell. Cruz nods, almost shoving it into your hand.

The color is completely white, sharp, almost polished-looking. It carves into several rings before sloping into a point. It’s empty, the inside free of any sand or tiny algae.

“Do you know what it’s called?”

You look back to Cruz and nearly brush your nose against his. You realize how hot his body heat is as he leans over you to look at the shell. Your shoulders just barely touch.

As if dipped into boiling water, your face alights into red and your body convulses to jerk away from the heat.

“Yeah-Yes! Actually I do, it’s-it looks like a Kellets W-Welk. Well, the remains of one’s shell anyway.”

Cruz stays close, letting out a small “Ohhh.” as he squints his eyes to get a closer look. It’s the most on-land you’ve seen him, with the water lapping at the base of his tail. Sitting down, your head only comes to his clavicle. The uncomfortable burning stirs in your gut.

“Is it a hermit crab?”

“Not, it’s a sea snail. They're not really on land like crabs.” You brush your thumbs over the shell’s ridges. “There are quite a few varieties of sea snails around here, lots of beautiful shells. Their babies look pretty cool too.”

Cruz nods, eyes intent, and it reminds you of the elementary kids you saw when working at the aquarium. Your heart skips as you futilely try to fight the smile on your face.

“Can you eat ‘em?”

You chuckle and Cruz’s face grows a darker shade of blue. “Yeah, you can. You’ve got a good eye for snacks huh?”

Cruz pouts playfully, blue still awash on his cheeks. “Maybe, but I’m not always thinking about food.” Just as he finishes, you hear his stomach rumble. You stifle your laugh with your hand and Cruz grabs his stomach angrily. “Sh-Shut up! It’s almost dinner!”

The two mermaids flash in your mind. You see Cruz handing over the dolphin as they swim away. Then you see Cruz, furiously cracking open crabs with a single-minded purpose. The smile drops from your chin.

How often does that happen?

Cruz was small for a Great White. You hadn’t even thought about why. You don’t even know if you want to.

“They’re pretty tasty, but their shells are a lot more fun.” Cruz furrows his brow again. “Here, let me show you.” You scoot yourself closer to him, putting the white shell against his ear. His eyes widen and he leans backwards a bit from your closeness, but the shell still lingers by his ear. “Do you hear it?”

Cruz stills, furrowing his brows even deeper, but then they rise in surprise. He leans back towards you, tentatively grabbing your wrist and pulling the shell closer.

“Its-”

“The ocean.”

The same childlike wonder from before flushes on his face as he looks at you, bringing your stomach a flutter. Cruz presses his head down closer to the shell, the bottom of his cheek now touching your palm. Cruz’s skin is cool against yours, slightly damp, and you feel the hint of roughness as his chin brushes against your wrist.

“How-How did you-”

“My mom showed me once. I mean, technically it’s the echo of the blood coursing through your ear, which reverberates and sounds like waves crashing. But it’s still a neat trick.”

“Oh, I see….”

From this close, you can see the small freckles which dapple Cruz’s cheeks, peppering across the bridge of his nose and up onto his forehead. Specks of dark blue, black, and green contrasts against his light gray skin, like the setting sun catching the pulling tides.

In the moment, you long to touch them.

So you do.

It’s so….soft.

As your thumb brushes up his jaw, the mottled colors are overwhelmed and overshadowed by Cruz’s furious blush. Cruz moves away so quickly that he unfurls his grip on a nearby rock and loses his balance. He braces himself and hisses as his thin skin nicks the corner of a rock.

“Oh my god, I’m so-so sorry! I just- oh my goodness are you okay?” You retract the shell closer to your chest, your other hand outstretched to steady Cruz. When he flinches away, you pull it back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space like that.”

Cruz's chest heaves but he doesn’t move or say anything. From the corner of your eye you spot a tiny bit of blood leaking onto the rock.

“Oh shit, wait I-I should have something.” You whip around to your backpack, shuffling and pushing aside your notebook to find your emergency first aid kit. Water wells in the corner of your eyes as you frantically search. You desperately try to will the tears away.

Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid-

Your inner insults are interrupted when your fingers brush against the familiar plastic fabric pouch. Before turning back to Cruz, you hastily wipe your eyes.

“Here, this should help.” You hold out the small thing of gauze and an antiseptic wipe. Cruz slowly takes them, fiddling with the gauze until it's undone. He picks up the antiseptic package with the tips of his forefinger and thumb, eyes squinting as he tries to read the small text.

“That’s to clean the wound with, to get the gross stuff out.” Cruz’s eyes narrow even further, brushing his thumb over the paper wrapping. Tentatively, he plops the unwrapped wipe on his wound. He looks back, clearly confused. “You have to unwrap it first, then wipe it.” His blush returns as he jerks his eyes away from you, embarrassed with you watching.

“I could do-”

“I’ve got it.” Cruz snaps, finding the perforation and ripping it off quickly.

“Okay, but it’s gonna sting-”

“Ow, shit!” Cruz curses as he presses the wipe against the apex of his cut, whining and biting his lower lip.

“If it’s hurting that means it’s working.” Cruz nods, but he hastily wipes the wound and sighs as he crumples it up.Cruz wraps his cut with medical precision, reminding you of boxers right before a match. He cuts the gauze short with a snip of his teeth

“Wow, you're really good at that.” Cruz snorts.

“I don’t need any jackasses going into a frenzy anytime soon. That would be the perfect end to this shit day.”

Your heart freezes as your stomach drops, and you recoil into yourself. The nausea of guilt washes over you. And then that makes you feel even worse, and so the cycle continues.

Cruz notices your sheepish, downtrodden stare, and frantically waves his good hand.

“Wait, shit, no, thats-thats not what I meant. Uh…” He loses track of his sentence, mouth agape as he looks for words. “I mean….thank you.” He fiddles with his claws. “For the bandage, a-and the food a couple days ago. This is...nice.”

You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly his praise perks you up, rolling over your tense muscles like a masseuse.

“Thank you for the shell, it was very thoughtful of you.” Cruz sputters.

“I just passed by it on a swim, it wasn’t a big deal. The reefs got a ton of them, so, y’know.”

You don’t know, but it’s cute watching him fumble with his words. He’s so bashful for an apex predator you saw kill a dolphin not 20 minutes ago.

“I could even-well, it’s close that we- we could go sometime? You and me?” Cruz fiddles with his claws once more, and you wonder if it’s a nervous compulsion. “It’s a little ways away from the coast but with me carrying you, we could probably see a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Cruz’s nervous smile is much more lopsided than his regular one. It accentuates the dimple on his left cheek.

“I would love that.”

-----------

You decide to meet up early on Saturday to get a head start on the sunlight. You leave the boardwalk giddy, your nerves tingling pleasantly with pre-plan jitters. All this energy means you might have to spill to Caitlyn once more, just to let it all out. You’ll most likely tell her you two are getting breakfast by the beach, maybe stop by an aquarium.

Looking at all the coral and the crustaceans. Just me, in Cruz’s arms-

You stop, your nerves bubbling up under your skin, like steam is blowing out of your ears as you think about what is in store for Saturday.

You’re still not sure how Cruz feels about you. But there isn’t a show of a doubt now; You have a crush on him.

----------

Cruz sits in the water, cracking open a leftover oyster he had left in his bag for emergencies. Emergencies like being so flustered he can't possibly go back to the pod, not without looking incredibly suspicious.

He brushes his thumb over his cheek, and it’s almost like you're there again.

So….soft.

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

A Scoundrel’s Folly

Patches makes good, or at least tries to, on an old favour.

(2384 words)

-

“Why-“ Patches took a moment to pant out a few breaths, and rub away the blood leaking from his split cheek. “Why’d you do that? You could’ve been killed, you sorry fool.”

“I know,” the hunched over pale man with a peculiar hat covering his face said. “but you looked to have been in a tight spot. The name is Greirat.” He offered his hand to the bald man laid out against a box in the small fort ruins. His hat obscured every facial feature - even the eye holes sloppily cut out of the hat seemed to be blacked out.

Patches reached to shake his hand, but noticed Greirat held out a knitted handkerchief instead. “You can call me Patches.” He held the handkerchief over his cut. “I owe ya.”

That small memory flashed through Patches’ mind when the Ashen One approached him, asking if their little scavenger Greirat had returned.

“Not curled up in the dankest part of the sanctuary, is he?” Patches offered his suggestion on where he could be instead. The Ashen One shook their head, and said that Greirat had gone to Irithyll.

Patches kept a neutral air about him and told the Ashen One to wait another day longer. Internally, Patches had been struck with the stomach-churning flash of extreme worry.

Patches was not one to promise the day to anyone, nor did he promise little acts of kindness, nor did he ever offer anything in return for nothing. Just the same, no one had ever gone out of their way to perform an act of kindness for him, and no one had offered something in return for nothing. All except Greirat. The selfless scavenger had risked his life without a second thought, all to save the arrogant troll who spent his days punishing people he saw fit to receive his wrath. He had chosen the wrong person to invoke his wrath upon, but by some miraculous force, Greirat saw Patches deserving of safety.

Not one to be tied to earthly debts, Patches offered to repay his by way of equal exchange. “You saved my hide, I’ll save yours.” he told him.

But there was one glaring issue with the rescue plan. He was fresh out of armour. “God’s blood,” he muttered in disbelief to himself as he searched through his inventory of goods for any shred of sturdy enough armour. “I must have sold it off.”

The leather armour he currently wore wouldn’t be enough to withstand any blow dealt by the tyrannical Sulyvhan’s guard. It was, however, light enough to outrun Sulyvhan’s pup, as he affectionately referred to it, that guarded the bridge into Irithyll.

“Well,” he continued to speak to himself as he rubbed his chin. “maybe I’ll come across some dead fool’s armour…” He shook his head. No, no that was a terrible idea - relying on luck like that. The memory flashed through his head again, and the realization that Greirat wore nothing more but tattered cloth made Patches grind his teeth with indecision. If the skinny man can wear just scraps and throw his life on the line like that, so can the better built man.

“Alright, you don’t do it now and he dies, then-“ Patches groaned to himself. “-you’ll be stuck taking that debt to your grave.”

He paced back and forth before the mountain of items he had accumulated. “Fuck.” He swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, mother- fuck!” His voice raised with each word, until it echoed loud enough to startle the Firekeeper and Hawkwood out of his usual melancholic haze.

It was settled. He would attempt a rescue mission. With the souls he scrounged up, he paid a visit to the Shrine Maiden who had more than a few witty remarks. He ignored her abrasiveness for now and bought a few items he thought would make up for the lack of protection; green blossoms, a birch branch, and other such items.

He said not a single word to anyone. He brushed past the Firekeeper who, although without vision, watched on as the secretive man finally left the shrine.

-

The journey to Irithyll was one he took several times. He knew the ins and outs of the roads and where most hollowed undead hung about. Each time he was faced with the conundrum of taking the bridge and facing the beast, or scaling the perilous, slippery rocks down to the river and freezing.

From his vantage point among the pine trees that sprouted out from the top of the cliffs, Patches crouched low and watched as the alligator maw of the patrolling beast would spark up every now and again with lightning. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of going toe-to-toe with that ghastly beast. He had seen the way lightning burns before. It leaves jagged and black flesh in its wake, with skin still hot to the touch. Nothing like the burning of flames.

As arrogant as he was, Patches wasn’t an idiot. He settled for the slippery cliff, instead.

The slick, ice coated steps that lead into the water on the other side of the river would bring him up through the underworld of Irithyll. No doubt Greirat was looting the houses that contained no end of priceless pieces belonging to nobility.

Patches managed to scale down the cliff side without slipping, and slowly entered the water. Despite being undead, he could still feel the cold biting at his flesh and the numb sensation settle in his toes. He clenched his teeth as tight as he possibly could, and began to wade through the thigh deep water along the bank toward the steps across the way.

The sound of splashing water caught Patches’ attention. It was much more erratic and louder than the water he pushed around with his steps.

“What-“

The ground began to rumble, vibrating the water that stretched all across the river. The ear-piercing sound of what sounded like harsh wind blowing through a small slit resounded just behind Patches. He spun as quickly as he could in the semi-frozen water, and behind him the canine-like beast, twice the size of a human with a long snout filled with sharp teeth, stood on its hind legs. It inhaled, and at the back of its throat sparks of blinding light crackled.

Patches dove under the water, the lightning narrowly missing his head and instead hit the water, scattering all along the surface. Sparing no time, Patches kicked and thrashed his arms wildly in an attempt to swim out from the beast’s legs submerged in the water. He broke the surface with a gasp.

His movements weren’t quick enough, and a tooth of the beast caught Patches’ arm, flinging him through the air. A bloody gash was left behind. Patches landed on a chunk of solid ice floating in the water, close to the archway of the city’s undercroft.

The undercroft. That’s it!

The forceful landing knocked the air out of him, but he knew he didn’t have much time to recover. He rolled off the ice and into the water again, his arm stinging terribly. He ran through the water, skipping awkwardly to get above the thigh high sloshing. Just as he entered, the hot breath of the beast blew at the back of his neck. Patches dove for cover in the water as another bolt of lightning shot just above his head. He crawled through the water, digging his fingers into the earth beneath to gain enough traction and quickly get out of harm’s way. He crawled for cover to the right of the archway tunnel, and out of the beast’s sights.

He held the cut on his arm firm and heaved as quietly as he could. He peeked out from the stone archway, just enough to spot the beast sticking its long maw into the tunnel, sniffing around. It stopped suddenly. It couldn’t fit.

Patches nearly fell over into the now knee deep water of the undercroft, and sighed in relief. He remained as still as he could until the beast finally got bored and left. He looked around the undercroft he escaped into. Pillars of stone arched over him, holding up the city above. Bent metal spikes that served as little barricades sat tipped over and some discarded in the water. Who knew what they were for, but near them plants grew. Lastly, he noticed long, thin white skeletal bodies of strange insect-like creatures with long black hair. They laid face down in the water, dead. Someone had been here before.

Patches pushed himself up along the stone wall he sat against and made his way toward what he saw was a set of stairs that lead up to an alcove that hosted a faint, warm light. He limped himself up the stairs, and saw that it wasn’t an alcove at all. It was a kitchen, with a massive fireplace that roared with flames, and sat cross-legged before the flames were two distinct silhouettes; a rotund body with what looked like a mug in hand across from a small, thin body with a strange long hat who also held a mug.

Greirat was the first to hear his footsteps, and turned in surprise. “Oh,” he certainly sounded startled. “hello there.” He saw Patches’ arm and shook his head. “What brings you out here? You’re injured.”

“What what? Someone’s hurt?” Siegward turned his head the best he could in his armour towards the steps to the undercroft. “Well come on in, then!” Siegward rocked his body back and forth a few times before gaining the momentum to roll forward onto his feet. Patches watched on as the round knight plucked a pewter mug off the counter across the room and filled it with a thick, glowing liquid that sat steaming in the cauldron beside it.

“Here you are, old boy. My famous estus soup!” Siegward didn’t allow Patches to refute and shoved the mug, filled to the brim with the hot glowing liquid, into his free hand. “Drink up! That will set you right as rain.”

Patches gave it an experimental sniff. It smelled delectable enough, then gave it a taste. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. Patches greedily downed the mug, and as he drank the pain faded into nothing.

“Say,” Siegward started. Patches hadn’t noticed he stood examining his figure. “don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You’ve met the terrible Patches before, have you, Siegward?” Greirat teased from his place by the fire.

Siegward mulled Patches’ name over by repeating it, but Patches hurriedly intervened. “Can’t say I’ve come across you, old boy.” He mocked Siegward’s affectionate nickname. He pushed past Siegward, who remained lost in his memory. “Greirat!” Patches called loudly with his arms spread wide as he approached the warm fire. He was finally beginning to dry. “How’ve you been?”

“Better now.” He answered, but tilted his head. “Did that beast rough you up a bit?”

Patches scoffed at the notion. “What, you think Sulyvhan’s dog can get the better of ol’ Patches? Think again, friend.” Meanwhile, Siegward was audibly humming in thought now.

“That gash on your arm proved otherwise.” Greirat pointed out playfully. He held no ounce of malice in his voice.

Patches squatted low before the flames. “‘Tis but a scratch. All healed up now.” He took this moment to divert the conversation. “That Ashen Tart told me you’d been here a while.”

It was made clear to Greirat why Patches had come all this way. Greirat chuckled gleefully beneath the hat he wore over his face. “Oh, oh ho ho, I see.”

Patches furrowed his brow. “What you laughing at?”

“I’m tickled you would come all this way for the life of a lowly thief.”

“I- I did not!” Patches huffed and took a sip from his mug - only to remember he had drank it all. “Lots of goods out here in rich people’s homes.”

“You can lie better than that - I know it.”

Patches growled out, “What of it?”

“Ah!” Siegward snapped his fingers the best he could through his gloves, catching the other two men’s attention. “I remember where I met you, old boy.”

As Siegward approached, the urge to bolt grew in Patches. Instead, he feigned an uneasy grin. “Oh? Where’s that, then?”

“I had been made a fool of by someone with that same bald dome of yours-“

“Now wait just a minute-“

“-and they stole this very armour.” Siegward gestured to his body. “Dear Ashen One found it and tossed it in the well that dastardly con-artist pushed me down.”

Siegward stopped before his old spot by the fire, and took his seat. “Now if my memory serves correct, I believe that scoundrel took the same name. He even had that big nose of yours.”

Silence settled among the three. Patches eyed up the Zewihander strapped to Siegward’s back. He tried to look him in the eye, but the slit in his helmet was too tiny to properly tell what expression the usually jolly man possessed.

“But you came here for your friend, didn’t you?” Siegward finally inquired after several moments of silent tension. “No one can truly be bad if they journey far for their friend’s safety. All is forgiven, so long as you don’t do that again.”

Patches released the breath he didn’t know he held. “This bloke saved you, did he?”

Greirat nodded. “And what a tight spot I was in.” He said. “I was running from that ghastly beast and fled into that low space you came from. I was cornered by those monsters.”

“And I was in here, trying to take a well needed nap.” Siegward declared. “But then I heard all the commotion, and knew those spidered women had someone in their trap.”

“So I was too late. Ah well,” Patches sighed, but put on a playful smile. “suppose I still need to hold up my end of the bargain.” He said to Greirat.

“I think coming here for me is plenty payback. You and your conscious are off the hook - not that you have much of one to begin with.”

Silence settled among them once more as they stared into the fire. This time the air wasn’t hostile, but instead, peaceful.

“So,” Siegward interrupted the peaceful moment. “who wants more soup?”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Terror in the Night

Prompts: Hello question/prompt for your among us imposter syndrome story: (if they sleep) black having a nightmare about something bad happening to purple and going to check on them in the middle of sleep cycle. Hurt/comfort cuddles follow. Can be applied to either the imposter syndrome story or the younger!purple ones. Either way. I love it. (Hope you are having a good time zone!) - anon

I have a request for your among us stories— we’ve seen Black comfort Purple, but does Purple ever comfort Black? Maybe Black has a bad dream, or another imposter wants to see what’s so special about this little human, or something else happens to one of them and Purple plays the role of comforter? Idk it popped in my head and I figured I ask, haha. - anon

moar somft coming up

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: nightmares, implied/referenced child abuse, death but it's in the nightmare and isn't permanent

Pairings: y'all know the drill for these babes, it is platonic all the way down

Word Count: 2408

Fear has such a distinctive smell.

When the crew of the Skeld was still here, the walls of the ship used to reek of fear, embedded into the rivets, wafting down the corridors. A more sadistic Impostor would call it intoxicating, or even an aphrodisiac. It tapered off, naturally, now that it’s just Black and little Purple.

At least until Black is sitting in the captain’s chair one night cycle and their maw suddenly begins to water.

They’re out of the chair before they know it, hustling down the corridors, legs pumping, maw on the verge of a snarl. Images flash through their mind, the crew somehow found a way to survive, Purple is hurt, Purple is dying—

They burst around the corner and the door to Purple’s quarters opens automatically. They dash inside, maw agape, a roar at the back of their throat only to see a tiny huddle under a mass of blankets, trembling and shivering and reeking of fear.

Oh, no…

Black takes a few deep breaths. No use terrifying the poor little thing any more than they already are, no use acting like anything could hurt them right now. Not with Black here. They let the helmet go, and after a moment, let the suit go too.

Be soft. Be gentle. Be kind. Don’t hurt them.

“Purple,” they call quietly, slowly making their way across the room, “Purple, baby, can you hear me?”

The mound is silent, still trembling.

“Purple,” they try again, now at their bedside, “baby, are you in there? It’s just me, it’s just Black, baby, I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, so slowly, Black begins to lift the blankets off the bed. Layer by layer, peeling them back, never far, never all the way off. Just enough to peer inside and see a shaking little Purple with their eyes squeezed shut.

“Baby,” they murmur, “baby, it’s okay, open your eyes for me.”

Purple twitches. Their hands ball up and open again in the fabric surrounding them. They twitch again and another wave of fear rolls off them.

“Oh, Purple,” Black whispers, “are you still asleep, baby?”

The twitch that follows is enough of an answer. Black bites back a curse and rests their weight on the edge of the bed, carefully widening the hole in the blankets they’ve made. They take a deep breath and reach in, gently shaking Purple’s shoulder.

“Baby,” they whisper, “Purple, baby, wake up. Wake up, baby, come on…”

Purple doesn’t move. Black tries again.

“Purple? Purple, wake up, wake up!”

Nothing.

They start to shake harder, shoving blankets out of the way.

“Purple? Purple!”

Nothing.

Purple’s head begins to rock back and forth as Black shakes them harder.

“Purple!”

Snap!

Black’s eyes widen in horror as Purple’s neck snaps in two. They drop the corpse from their hands and stagger back, unable to breathe.

Purple’s head lies there, twisted at the most unnatural angle. Their mouth is open in a soundless cry. And their eyes...

Their eyes stare directly at Black.

Because what else could an Impostor do but kill?

Black bolts upright, chest heaving, maw flopped open and whining. They place a hand against the steel wall, the cold shocking their nerves as they cup their helmet in their arm. Nausea threatens the back of their throat and they dry heave, thankfully not actually bringing anything up as they swing their legs out. They sit there, on the edge of the bed, trying frantically to calm down.

Purple is safe. Purple is safe. Purple is safe.

They groan, scrubbing their hands over the helmet. Their maw finally starts to calm down, tongue losing the barbed point as they take deep breaths.

“Fuck.”

Their hands shake as they begin to stagger to the bathroom for a glass of water. The sudden change in position has them disoriented, sending them crashing into one wall after the other. They’re dizzy. Why are they so dizzy? Why don’t they remember how to do this?

The glass shakes in their hands, almost sloshing the water over the edge as they bring it to their lips, only remembering just in time to get the helmet out of the way. Their maw growls in protest as the cold burns down their throat but it soothes some of the churning.

The glass thuds back down onto the counter as they bend over the sink, still breathing heavily. They look up to the mirror and see bruised-bitten lips, sallow cheeks, and red-rimmed eyes.

Purple’s dead eyes stare at them—

Black flinches away from the mirror, fist tightening in their hair and pulling. No. No. It’s not real. Purple is fine.

They breathe in and the scent of fear hits their nose.

They freeze.

Slowly breathe in again.

It’s unmistakable now.

Black’s throat tightens as they slowly, slowly back away from the mirror and sit on the bed. They school their face into an inscrutable expression and place their hands on their knees. They breathe in and out.

The fear only grows.

Their hands twitch toward the door and they clench them into fists.

It’s getting stronger.

The memory of the snap keeps them rooted to the bed.

It’s still getting stronger.

Dead eyes. Because what else could an Impostor do but kill?

“B-Black?”

Black is moving. Black is up and out the door and standing in front of Purple’s quarters. The door slides open slowly and they brace themselves, preparing for the worst—

“Black,” Purple mumbles, blanket clutched over their face, “Black, I—I want Black—“

Black swallows. “Baby?”

Purple slowly lowers the blanket, peering out at Black. Their eyes…

“Black,” they manage around the fabric, reaching out one little hand, “Black, I—I’m sorry, I got scared—“

“It’s okay.” Black swallows. Get it together. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here now.”

“Can—can I have a hug?”

“Yeah, sure, baby, can I—let me come over?”

Purple puts the blanket down and opens their arms, reaching out for Black as they stumble across the room. They pause just out of Purple’s reach, shaking their arms to get into the rest of their human form. Purple lets out a quiet noise as their wrap their arms around Black’s chest, burying their face in the soft shirt.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Black murmurs, clumsily patting their head, “it’s okay, we’re okay, you—you’re safe.”

Purple’s little hands ball up in Black’s shirt, tugging as they try and lie back down. Black just manages to catch themselves on the wall behind them.

“Hold on, baby, you’re gonna pull me over.”

Purple pouts, tugging insistently at their shirt.

“Do you want me to lie down with you?” Another tug. “Words if you can, baby, I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“Will you come lie down, please?”

“Sure, baby, shift over.”

Purple scoots, barely giving Black enough time to calm down before they’re clinging to their arm and trying to scoot into their chest.

“Hey, hey,” they chuckle, turning to lie on their side and open their arms, “there. Come on, warmth.”

Soon, they have a little Purple buried in their chest and stomach, a cold little nose pressed into the crook of their neck, soft warm breaths puffing over their shoulder. Black hums, their maw opening just enough to nibble gently at Purple’s shirt. Purple sighs happily, burying a little closer.

“You’re really warm.”

“Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?”

Purple shakes their head, pushing closer. “Have you.”

Because what else can an Impostor do—

“Black? Black?”

Black blinks and immediately bites back a curse. Their grip must’ve tightened on Purple. They loosen it as quickly as they can and let Purple pull away from them.

“Did…did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, baby,” Black promises, fighting the urge to reach out and cup their little face, “no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Purple rubs their shoulder absentmindedly. “You didn’t.”

Doubt. Black sighs, rubbing their eyes. When they lower their hand again, Purple stares at them with a furrow in their brows.

“You don’t look good.”

Black huffs a laugh. “I don’t feel that good either.”

“What’s wrong?”

Oh, is that all? “I, uh, had a nightmare.”

Purple’s little eyes widen so large Black can see the whites. “You have nightmares too?”

Black’s breath catches for an entirely different reason. “Yeah, baby, everybody has nightmares, it’s okay.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” Unable to resist the urge any longer, Black reaches out and gently strokes a thumb over Purple’s cheek, drawing forth a soft noise when the poor thing starts to sniffle. “Oh, hey, hey, c’mere, it’s okay, shh, shh…”

Purple crawls back into their arms, wrapping them tightly around Black’s neck as Black turns them over, laying Purple out across their front and tangling one hand in their hair, rubbing their back with the other.

“It’s okay, baby, we’re both okay now,” they coo, wrapping themselves around Purple, “you’re okay, baby, I’ve got you, we’re just gonna lie right here.”

“You—you were scared too?”

“Yeah, baby, I was scared, but that’s okay, everybody gets scared.”

Purple just sobs and clings to them tighter.

“Oh, shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, I’m not scared anymore, I’ve got you here with me, yeah? You keep me safe, I keep you safe, right? It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Black keeps crooning to the little thing, using a few tendrils to carefully coax the blankets back up over their shoulders, tucking them snugly under the covers. “There, here we go, see? Nice and safe.”

Purple sniffles before reaching out and tugging one of the blankets a little closer around their heads. Black chuckles at the determined little face before Purple cautiously reaches toward their face. They take Purple’s hand in theirs and carefully place it on their cheek.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

“I’m sorry you were scared.”

“Oh, it’s okay, baby, it isn’t your fault.” Black smiles and strokes Purple’s hand with their thumb. “You’re safe, baby, that’s what matters.”

Purple sniffles again.

“Hold on a second.” Black coaxes them back down to their side and shuffles back a few of the covers. “Watch this.”

They hear and feel Purple’s delighted gasp as they flick out a tendril to snag the tissue box from inside the bathroom. They reel it back in and take one tissue out, holding it gently to Purple’s nose.

“Blow, baby.”

Purple listens, their eyes squeeze shut as an adorable little honk rings in the room. They dispose of the tissues and wipe the last of the tears from Purple’s cheeks.

“There,” Black murmurs, “all better now.”

“That was so cool! How did you do that?”

“Remember my arms, baby?”

“Your tentacles!”

Black chuckles. “I can control them, make them stretch if I want to.”

“Wait,” Purple says, their eyes going wide again, “does that mean you can be as big as you want to be?”

“Well—“

“Could you eat the whole ship?”

Black’s heart stutters, reassurances springing to the tip of their tongue that no, they would never, Purple doesn’t need to worry, until they spot the slight pout to Purple’s lower lip and the expression of their face.

“…Purple?”

“Could you?” And yes, that is the voice of an eager child as Purple scoots a little closer to their face. “Could you eat the whole ship?”

“Well,” Black chuckles, wrapping their arms around the little one again, “I don’t think I can get that big.”

At Purple’s disappointed pout, they chuckle again.

“And even if I could, I don’t think I’d want to. Have you seen what this ship is made out of?” They make a disgusted expression and stick their tongue out a little. “I don’t want to eat that! It would taste awful.”

Purple giggles. “You don’t want to eat metal and reactor parts?”

“No!”

Purple giggles again.

“And then where would you stay?” Black tucks a strand of hair behind their ear. “I don’t want to eat your home.”

Purple stills, looking down at Black with a strange expression. Shit, this—this is probably the last place Purple wants to call home. A lump forms in the back of their throat.

“This isn’t my home,” Purple mumbles.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

“You’re my home.”

Black’s chest stutters to a glorious pause.

Oh.

Oh.

Purple’s hands land on their stunned face again, squishing their cheeks gently. Black closes their eyes, overwhelmed by the weight. They hear Purple let out a soft noise and oh, it’s their turn to cry.

“B-black? Black, I’m sorry, I—“

“No,” Black gasps out, tightening their grip on Purple as much as they dare, “no, you don’t—you don’t need to be sorry, Purple, they’re—I’m—I’m—“

Purple’s quiet for a moment, then…

“Happy tears?”

“Yes, baby—happy—happy tears.”

And they have an armful of Purple, cuddled right up to their chest where their arms can wrap as tightly around them as they want, their maw can nibble protectively at their shirt, and their tears can dry in their hair. Purple hums sleepily, letting out a squeaky little yawn. The covers tug up snugly around them as Black buries their face in Purple’s hair.

“Can we go back to sleep now?”

“Sure, baby,” Black whispers, “whatever you want.”

“Can we stay under the covers?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t we?”

Purple shrugs. “Everybody knows monsters can’t get you when you’re under your covers.”

Black chuckles wetly, tucking Purple’s head under their chin and pulling the blankets into position. “Then here we stay.”

Yes, as they drift off to sleep, safe and warm, wrapped in each other’s arms, here they stay.

[multifangirl69]

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo Prompt: “Too late to save them” Relationships: Ciaran aep Easnillen/Iorveth Rating: M Content Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hurt/Mild Comfort, Ambigious Ending Summary: Iorveth tries to save Ciaran from the ship during the events of The Witcher 2. AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31390580/chapters/77628305

_____________________ Another soldier dropped and the elf slowly stood up. 3 bodies in total, he couldn’t see anyone else moving. His eyes narrowed. There was someone inside the captain’s cabin. Soft candle light spilled from the windows, but whoever was inside didn’t seem to have noticed anything. Iorveth looked down on the soldier before him and caught sight of a bundle of keys. He snatched them off the belt, soon locating the trapdoor to the lower decks. A heavy lock kept it close and Iorveth had to try a few of the keys before it clicked open, his nerves and muscles tense the whole time. A pitchblack maw opened up to Iorveth, who waited for a moment as he held up the trapdoor just high enough to get a good look. Not a single noise reached him and he slipped inside, slowly closing the trapdoor again and then he moved down the stairs. Every step was well calculated, his hands pressed to the floor for some direction. Soon he hit a wall and felt his way up the moist wood until his fingers slipped around the handle of a torch. He pulled it off the metal holster, taking a piece of flint from his bag with his other hand. A low groan filled the darkness and Iorveth breathed in deeply, heart skipping a beat. “Ciaran?” Iorveth whispered into the darkness and something scraped on the wooden floor. “Ior...Iorveth...why…” Iorveth grimaced. How weak Ciaran sounded, just a whisper, his consciousness barely there. The elven commander pressed his lips together and knelt down, placing the torch between his thighs to have both his hands free. “I’m here to save you,” Iorveth replied and a small chuckle filled the space, followed by a cough and more scraping against the wood. The commander swallowed, pulling out a small piece of metal. He hit it against the flint and a spark lit up for just a moment. Another hit, another spark, but the torch didn’t catch fire. “You shouldn’t have…” Ciaran whispered and Iorveth shook his head out of sheer instinct. “I should have come earlier, but I didn’t know you’re still alive.” Another spark and the torch finally caught a little flame. It spread all over, Iorveth had to be quick with taking it from between his thighs and holding it away. The light broke through the darkness and the lower deck was revealed to the elf. Cages surrounded him on both sides. All empty except for some “beds” and bowls in one, pieces of potatoes still sticking on the insides. Iorveth stood up and walked a little further. The fire spread in front of him, hugging a figure lying at the end of the room on the floor. Sweaty, black hair revealed the tips of pointy ears and glimpses of a neck tattoo. “Ciaran!” Iorveth walked closer and the other elf shifted, pulling his hand off his eyes and rolling onto his back. The older elf frowned. Bruises decorated the bit of skin revealed and Iorveth didn’t need a great imagination to picture how it looks underneath the dirty, ripped clothing. Blood soaked the lower part of Ciaran’s shirt, but he was holding a hand right over the source. Iorveth swallowed and let his gaze wander higher. “How did you find me then?” Ciaran questioned, voice barely a whisper through his cracked lips. More blood tainted the skin right between nose and mouth, the nose crooked, one eye was swollen and discolored. “The witcher.” “I’m surprised he told you.” Iorveth huffed and a small smile curled his lips. He put a hand on Ciaran’s hair, slowly stroking over the dark hair, ignoring the grime and blood sticking to his palms. The younger elf sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. “Only because you told him about Letho…” Ciaran opened his eyes again and stared up at his commander. Iorveth stared at the blood soaked hand still pressing onto the open wound. “Good good, you know. I’m glad. I was-” Ciaran coughed and shivered, more scarlet dropping down his chin, “-I was worried.” “You need to stop talking. I’m sure we can make some temporary bandages from the blankets in the cells and-” “Iorveth…” The older elf stiffened, only his hand still stroked the dark hair. Silence befell them. A suffocating silence that forced tears into Iorveth’s eye as he fought against his throat tightening and chest straining. He didn’t want to think. Not about the warm scarlet sticking everywhere and the eerie pale skin illuminated from the torch. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise. I-” “Iorveth!” Ciaran looked up at him, expression firm. Iorveth still didn’t move. “You can’t save me, it’s too late,” the young elf continued and grabbed the hand on his hair, pulling it to his lips instead. “Don’t say that…” Iorveth’s voice trembled, resonating so weakly, no one would have heard the words if not for the silence hugging them tight. He dropped his head and squeezed his eye shut. Ciaran tightened his grip on the hand, pressing his lips against the delicate fingers, the heat crawling right up Iorveth’s arm. “My love, I’m glad I get to see you before I die.” “Please-” Iorveth choked on a sob and shook his head. “They broke my leg. No, not just broke it, they completely ruined it. I can’t…” Ciaran squeezed Iorveth’s hand, expression twisting. “I can’t live like that. Even if I recover. I just can’t.” “You can! I’m here for you! I-” “No!” Ciaran coughed again, lips and hands trembling. Iorveth pressed his lips tightly together and lifted his gaze to his lover’s face. A sickly green shimmered through the crimson flush. “How can you just give up like that?” Iorveth asked and Ciaran huffed, smiling just a little, just enough to soothe the other elf. “I couldn’t protect my unit. I was useless even before-” “Don’t say that.” Ciaran sighed and moved his free hand. Iorveth twitched away, opening his mouth to protest further, but warm fingertips brushed along his cheek and he fell silent. “Don’t let me live like this.” “I give the orders here…” Iorveth said, lips trembling around every word, breath uneven, betraying his firm tone. “Let me give you one order. Just this once.” Ciaran’s fingers stroked further along the other elf’s face, down his jaw, ghosting over his lips. His palm settled pressed against Iorveth’s cheek and his thumb wiped away the first tear daring to fall. “Just this once,” Iorveth repeated. He tilted his head, kissing Ciaran’s wrist. Blue and purple painted the skin there, crushed by metal and probably boots. Searing red bubbled before Iorveth’s eyes and he bared his teeth, burying his face further in Ciaran’s hand. His own hand slipped free from the elf’s grip and he curled his fingers around the discolored joint. He held just tightly enough to feel the skin, so hot against his own. “Then I order you to-” Ciaran coughed and his whole body shivered, Iorveth gripped the wrist tighter. “I order you to kill me.” “Please no…” Iorveth shook his head, squeezing his eye shut. More tears ran down his cheeks, wetting his lips and Ciaran’s palm. Salt and iron mingled on his tongue and he cringed, his guts twisting. The red darkened before his eyes, boiling hotter. He blinked a few times and dropped his gaze onto his lover again. “You can’t refuse an order!” “Don’t use my words against me!” “I demand that you-” Ciaran gagged and turned on his side. Iorveth didn’t move the torch, didn’t look, didn’t <em>want</em> to look. Hearing the coughing and retching was enough. Somewhere above them, someone shouted and both elves turned their heads to the ceiling. Footsteps followed and Ciaran dug his nails into Iorveth’s cheek, pulling his attention back. “You can’t get me out!” Iorveth shook his head. “I’ll come back for you,” the old elf said and the nails dug deeper. “No! No, just…” Ciaran loosened his grip, but Iorveth’s slender fingers around his wrist didn’t allow for his hand to fall. Voices seeped through the ceiling. Panicked yells about a possible intruder and someone calling for a medic. “There is no time,” Ciaran said, breathing deeply, his whole body relaxing against the ground. “Tomorrow, I will-” “Tomorrow, I will be dead.” “You don’t know that. You’re strong, your body is strong, you…” Iorveth drawled off, voice breaking. More tears damped his cheek. “They won’t allow me to stay alive. Let me-” Ciaran swallowed and pulled his hand from Iorveth’s grip. “Let me at least die on my own terms.” “What are your terms?” Iorveth dropped his hand on his thigh, his cheek cold despite the lingering warmth of a familiar palm. More shouting. More footsteps. The hot red strained Iorveth’s chest and he gritted his teeth. “Death through your hands, my love,” Ciaran said and tilted his head back, exposing his pale throat. “I can’t...How could I…” Iorveth squeezed his eye shut, finding the hilt of his hidden dagger and pulling it out. His hand trembled around the heavy metal. He traced the engravings of vines and roses, the smooth material so cold, as cold as his insides, the burning anger almost forgotten. The flickering flame of the torch blinded his sight. “I’ll do it.” Ciaran nodded with a smile barely there. He closed his eyes and Iorveth laid the blade against his throat, the sharp edge pressing right under his chin. Footsteps reached them again and someone ordered light. Iorveth tightened his grip on the dagger, gaze fixed on his lover’s face. A metal sound resonated through the room and he looked up. The soldiers fumbled with the trap door. Pushing aside the cold, the hot red filled his nerves and guts, twisting his insides until he was on fire. “Ciaran…” Iorveth whispered and the young elf turned his head slowly. “You’re forever in my heart.” “And you in mine.” Iorveth smiled and threw aside the torch. The floor caught the flame, the wood soon ablaze and Iorveth breathed in deeply. The trap door swung open and 2 soldiers stumbled down the stairs. One of them demanded for the elf to get away from the prisoner, but Iorveth slipped his arms under Ciaran instead, picking him up like he weighed nothing. “Drop the prisoner!” Iorveth looked beside them. The flames crackled and swallowed more and more, reaching one of the cells and one of the soldiers bolted up the stairs, yelling about the fire. The other still demanded for Iorveth to cooperate, pointing his sword and finger. “Why…” Ciaran whispered and Iorveth hushed him with a kiss that tasted of blood and berries. “Drop the prisoner,” the soldier shouted again and Iorveth turned around. The dh’oine stiffened, gripping his sword tighter. Iorveth stepped closer and the soldier stepped back. Behind the elf, the flames grew higher and warmer, Ciaran watched them over his lover’s shoulder. “Don’t come any closer!” The soldier’s leg hit the stairs and he staggered, catching himself by putting his foot on the wooden step. His eyes darted back and forth between Iorveth and the fire, both drawing closer, faster and faster. The soldier yelped and turned around. Just when Iorveth reached the stairs, the soldier had disappeared on deck, screaming alongside his comrades. Iorveth stepped outside and almost collided with a young man holding a bucket full of water. Innocent eyes stared up at him. Iorveth growled and the soldier stumbled back, out of the elf’s way. “Scoia’tael! Scoia’tael!” Other soldiers looked over to the young man and two reacted to the elves, drawing their swords and moving closer. Iorveth threw his head left and right. Water or bridge. His gaze snapped back to the young man, who lifted the bucket over his head, expression scared by fear, while his eyes sparked with fight. Iorveth kicked him right under his knee and jumped aside, curling his arms tighter around Ciaran. The elf moaned and trembled. Blood dripped everywhere. A soldier swung his sword, Iorveth stumbled away. Bridge it is. He dodged the next sword swing too and bolted over the deck. The soldiers followed, but stopped when the fire broke through the floor and spread further. One dh’oine screamed bloody murder and Iorveth caught glimpse of the soldier half in flames. He reached the edge of the ship and looked down at Ciaran. Face pale, his lips trembling around the weak breaths. At least he was still breathing. Iorveth tightened his grip and stepped onto the railing. A soldier shouted at him to stop, but the elf jumped, landing right on his feet. It strained his knees and he groaned, but another shout from the soldier and Iorveth moved again. The stars above sparked bright, but the flames growing high behind him sparked brighter and no one else paid attention to the elf running through the village with his lover in arm.

[fourmarkdove]

Cider.

Prompt: How about an angsty Henry x reader: she is told during a nightmare/dream that she has only one day left to live - and that she must not reveal anything to her loved ones! Waking up in Henrys arms and realize how lucky she was... Even if it couldnt last forever... @scorpionchild81

Title: Cider.

Words: 3k

Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Fluff. You hear in a dream you have only one day left to live.

Paring: Henry x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Anxiety, nightmares, panic attacks, dissociative disorder, death/dying. DD/lg if you squint and stand on one foot. (I think that’s everything?)

A/N: Pretty close to the prompt. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

~

Henry inhaled deeply, expanding his lungs audibly as he sat up in the bed you shared. He stroked a soothing hand over the curve of your hip while squinting in the dark, searching for the sound that woke him.

Clutching onto your pillow, you buried your face and mewled into it. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched you lying on your side, tense from the battle behind your closed eyes. His brows knitted with concern. It’d been so long since the nightmares claimed you, he thought for the last few weeks that maybe they’d gone altogether. He was clearly mistaken.

Dropping onto his forearm beside you, he carded his fingers through your hair and called to you gently. His first instinct was to burst through those fiery doors to hell and drag you back to this side of consciousness and safety, but it never worked that way. He had to tread gently, let you return to him on your own time. And it was incredibly painful to watch and wait for.

“Darling?” he beckoned, scratching the stubble on his chin over your shoulder like a puppy. “I’m here.”

Your lips parted and nails clawed into the pillow so sharply that the fabric finally ripped along the seam and soft white feathers fluffed out. A frown set his features hard. Cuddling his much larger frame to you, his thick arms encompassed you completely and thighs drew up close behind yours. He pressed his lips just behind your ear and let his warm breath fan over your skin.

“I’ll wait right here with you, Nugget.” As he began to gently rock your body, your grip on the pillow relaxed and he cooed into your ear about what a good girl you were.

Keeping his arms flexed tightly around your body, he hummed a soft tune, remembering how you always fell asleep in his arms in the hammock out back. He’d put a foot down to keep the two of you swaying, and he’d settle you on his chest, right under his chin, so you’d feel it when it’d rumble in his chest. Eventually you’d succumb to his comforting, and he’d feel your body melt into his long frame. He’d scratch the back of your arms, rub circles over your back, even hold your ass with a squeeze that’d make you sigh. You called it the ‘anxious hammock‘; his woman could call it anything she wanted so long as she felt protected and loved in it.

You’d been extra anxious lately with the news and social distancing and people in your social circle getting sick. And with him leaving your self imposed quarantine to focus on training going back to the Witcher set soon, it really ramped up your anxiety. 

It expressed itself little by little, starting with hugs around his neck as he was about to leave for the gym, but then when he would straighten up, you’d still be clinging on, dangling off of your feet. He’d chuckle and kiss all over your face, leaving you smiling. But other times, he’d find you hugging your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks until the shower ran cold and turned your lips almost blue. 

Other nights, he fully knew what your migraines looked like, so when you’d pretend to have one just so you could avoid dinner, he worried. He still finished dinner, cleaned up a bit, walked Kal and came to bed early with that lavender lotion you liked smeared into his palms. You and he spent a lot of time in that bed together, or the hammock, or the shower, just touching and being together. 

When things felt so uncertain and all of the words and tears were wrung out, you’d take turns massaging oil or lotion into each other. He always needed his kitten’s touch kneading against his sore muscles. And you needed his strength to pull you from the anxious knots you tied yourself into.

It really should have come as no surprise that the nightmares returned. The problem was that he wanted to do more - to solve an unsolvable problem - and that frustrated him to no end. He applied himself and conquered so many other areas of his life but in this part, the most important part, he had to be patient.

Sliding his arm under your head like a pillow, he gently tilted your hips back into him to locate the blanket you tucked between your legs. He knew this was more of a marathon than a sprint, so he settled in with a clenched jaw and tried to exhale slowly and sleep.

The black void is a gasping, vacuous, gaping maw threatening to consume first your sanity and then eternity. You can feel the voice rattling through your rib cage, long before the words make conscious sense.

“One day,” the voice calls from nowhere and everywhere. “One day left and then no more.”

Your entire body shudders free of its own volition and you’re aware of the crisp, scratchy bedsheets under your body. Antiseptic. Something metallic on your tongue. Dripping, beeping, wooshing. Buzzing purple fluorescent lights above. Your eyes roll open, vaguely aware of a nurse checking bags, pushing buttons, lifting your blankets. No privacy, no options, no voice.

Why am I here in this hospital? Why am I alone? ‘One more day’ and then - no more?

Panic sets in. You want to scream but the words won’t come out. There’s so much you wanted to do with your life. So many places you were going to see. You wanted to start a family with Hen... wait. Where is Henry? Does he know where you are? What if he doesn’t and you never get to say goodbye? 

The thought of tears spilling over those bright blue eyes of his, knowing you’d never be able to hold him again, kiss him again made everything in your being ache. You are desperate to cry out but nothing. It’s as if you’re dead already.

Almost as soon as his long lashes closed over his stormy blue eyes, like falling down into your own body, every muscle jerked and you gasped back into consciousness.

Scrambling to sit up, you drew your legs in to get your feet under you. You tore away the covers and your hoarse voice ripped through your parched vocal cords: “Hhhhhhennnnryyyy!”

“I’m here, Nugget,” he offered, his broad shoulders ghosting behind you.

Despite its size, his hand curving around your ribs was incredibly gentle. You shuddered at his touch; horror darkened your pupils and bottom lip quivered like a harp string vibrating to the point of breaking. Your nails clawed desperately into the sweatpants covering his thigh. Lips parted, but no words formed just yet; your eyes closed tightly and fingers touched your lips ruefully.

“Just a dream, sweet,” he comforted in a strong baritone, wrapping his whole hand around your small fingers. “You’re alright. See? Your Henry Bear is right here. Let me hold you, darling?”

Nodding emphatically, you dug your toes into the sheets and launched your whole body at him, not thinking for one moment about how pathetic your whimpers and trembling arms clinging around his neck might have seemed.

His brows lifted in the center and he continued to follow your gaze right up until you buried your face in his neck. The corner of his lips ticked upwards only briefly, before he nuzzled his face into your hair. 

It was stored in his muscle memory by now just where to grasp under your bare thighs, so you could bend your knees and spread over his hips so he could ease you down into a more comfortable position in his lap. There was no awkwardness negotiating who needed to move which limb where because you’d been doing this for years. 

Only recently there was less blushing over soaked panties or groans caused by awkward erections; just within the last six months you found yourselves single simultaneously and decided to give it a try.

Your breath was hot and stilted between sobs into his shoulder; his stubble along his jawline was scratchy against your forehead and temple but you didn’t mind. You just needed the closeness. Lifting your hair up into a ponytail, he pursed his lips, and blew cool air across your sweaty neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned, rubbing slow circles with spread fingertips over your back. Your body tensed at his words but began to relax again when you wound your fingers dipped into his chocolate curls.

“I… don’t want to die,” you could barely whisper over his broad shoulder. “I don’t want YOU to die.”

“Oh Nugget,” he sighed, kissing the nape of your neck. “You dreamed I died?”

“No,” you hiccuped, pulling away and tapping the K on his soft gray shirt, attempting to distract yourself while you explained. “I was. And I wasn’t - wasn’t going to see you and - My heart, Hen. It - it feels broken.”

Cupping your face in both hands, he lifted your gaze and kissed your wet cheeks. “Look at us right now…”

Sniffling, you tucked your hands in between his biceps and forearms. “I know. I - It just felt so real. It feels so real. I’m not sure this feels real. It’s too nice to be real. You are too nice. I don’t know how to be sure...”

Deep worry lines etched over his forehead. Pressing his lips together in a flat line, his nostrils flared and he crossed his arms over his chest, peeling off his shirt.

The bear of a man breathed deep and slow, opening his hands to you. He gave you a wide berth; there would be no forcing - ever. His was a silent invitation to this familiar tango you’d only ever done with him.

Your gaze darted from his large palms resting against your thighs to his patient blue eyes watching you carefully.

“It’s alright, darling,” he encouraged, the softest of smiles lifting the apples of his cheeks. He wiggled his long fingers and you held your breath, sliding your hands into his. You felt the rough spots and calluses from the weights, the weaponry, the rope work, the horses. He worked so hard and should be sleeping right now instead of dealing with whatever mess you brought to him.

His soft kiss pressed to your forehead drew you from your thoughts. “Keep going,” he whispered against your hairline and you narrowed your eyes, focusing on his hands again. 

They were warm and so strong holding you and - oh - his middle and index fingers. The amazing things they did together. You forced yourself to stop thinking of it but your two fingers stroking inside his two fingers, and the furious blush across your cheeks, made him chuckle.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned broadly. Despite your blush, you continued to dance your fingertips inside his forearms, feeling the veins and sinewy muscle, the thick curve of his biceps and and shoulders. With a soft sigh, you lifted your head, kissed his clavicle and nuzzled into the light smattering of his scratchy chest hair. It was your favorite place to cuddle into. 

His particular masculine scent filled your senses and soothed every frayed, exposed nerve in your body; his musk reminded you of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, orange and cranberry being mixed into hot apple cider on a crisp fall day.

You continued to lazily trace lines along his ribs and down his back, but he knew by your sigh that you’d come home. Tenderly sweeping your hair over your shoulder, he slowly and deliberately slid one arm high across your shoulders and the other low around the small of your back.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you murmured, your voice returning to its usual sweet timbre. It signaled you were returning from the frenzied dissociative state kicked off by that horrifically anxious nightmare. It meant he could speak to you differently, touch you differently.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” he countered, kissing your forehead.

Sweeping your fingers along the stubble of his jawline, you cooed whisper softly and tentatively brushed your lips to his. Securing you to himself, he touched noses and parted lips, deepening the first kiss. Your fingers pushed into the back of his hair and tugged just gently enough to make you both smile.

With a deep, rumbling purr, he grabbed your hips and rolled you easily under him. He caressed two knuckles over your temple and teased your lips apart with his; he chuckled when you chased after his mouth for another.

But you pressed the heels of your palms against his chest and immediately he planked his body, lifting all of his considerable weight off of your much smaller frame.

Shutting his eyes tight, he huffed an exasperated breath and clenched his jaw. He should have known better. It was much too soon to touch you like this.

He intended to roll off and give you all of the comforting and cuddles you needed - until you wiggled a little under him. You shifted just a bit on the bed, reaching down and dragging your t-shirt up your bare stomach. His head was dropped just enough so his dark curls caressed your chest when you lifted your shirt off over your head and sighed softly under him.

You couldn’t help but giggle just a little at the arched brow and wide eyes he gave you when his gaze dragged up your nearly naked body to your face again.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, all better?”

“Yes, my love. Thank you.” Your answer was purely peaches and innocence during the act of wrapping your arms behind his neck drawing him down to you; only this time, he kept some of his weight lifted onto his forearms tucked under your shoulders.

“I thought I was crushing you.” He had a hint of playful warning in his tone.

“Oh. No, you know I love it even if you were,” you cooed, bending your knees and drawing your soft thighs up his ribs. “Isn’t it Oxytocin from the skin to skin contact?”

He smirked and grunted, catching one of your feet working on dragging the sweatpants down his hip. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

The corner or your lips twitched and your chest felt heavy all over again. You hated to admit it but the specter always lingered. “At the moment.”

“I know darling. We do these things one day at a time though, don’t we? Sometimes, by the minute?” He glanced up while you rolled the curls of his hair over your fingers. Collecting your wrist, he drew it to his mouth and kissed your hand.

Swallowing hard, you blinked but a tear escaped and rolled down your temple.

“Hey, shhh, Nugget.”

You sniffled and looked up into those beautiful, truly concerned, blue eyes of his. “You’re so much better than I deserve, Henry.”

He sighed and his shattered heart tore away from your gaze. Rocking his hips further down between your legs, he wrapped both arms under the small of your back and rested his head on your chest. 

It was the first he’d ever put himself in that position unless... he was there to give your breasts some attention? Your nipples hardened at the thought of his hot mouth sucking. He must have seen, or felt your nipple pebbling so near to his lips, because he fisted the edge of the bed sheet and covered your exposed skin.

Uncertain what to do exactly, you laid quietly and listened to his deep breaths and slow heartbeat for a long time. It wasn’t until you heard his breathing pause and stutter that your stomach dropped. “Henry? What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know what else to do. What other way can I say it so you’ll understand?” His stormy eyes were dark and cheeks flushing pink when he put his chin on your sternum and glanced up at you. “I’m a patient man but you sure are putting me through my paces, sweetheart.”

Panic started to tighten your chest. Hearing your heartbeat and breathing quicken, he pressed his palm over it and spread his thumb away from his fingers to kiss your skin hidden under it.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” You asked bracing yourself with a fistful of sheets in each hand, practically panting the words.

Bearing his teeth, he sat up and stroked your cheek with his calloused thumb. “I want you to not be afraid anymore. I want to take away all of that worry in that beautiful mind of yours.”

As he swept the pads of his fingers over your forehead and down your nose, you gave them a kiss when they passed over your lips.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, swallowing hard so his Adam’s apple bounced. Your brows lifted, confused, but before you could ask, he dropped onto his side and pulled you to him, sheets and all. Legs and arms tangled together, you touched foreheads and shared the same warm breath fanning over each other’s skin.

“Hen?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Nugget.”

“Hen?”

“Hmm.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it was only a minute. And in the middle of nowhere. I’d want that last minute with you. That’s home… with you. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

You thought for a moment that the wide eyed expression he gave you was surprise, until a smile lifted his features so brightly, his canines appeared. His mouth pressed to yours, gently at first, but taking a breath, he tipped your head and closed his lips over your top one, causing you to whimper and give him your bottom lip next. As your kisses became more hungry by the second, your attention was drawn from his tongue flexing into your mouth to his hands at your back.

They were fumbling with something, although you couldn’t tell quite what. Reaching behind you curiously, he grasped your hand and pressed his thumb inside your palm. Instinctively, you closed your fingers around it as he returned your hand to your chest.

He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and grinned. “Until I can get you a real diamond,” he panted breathlessly, lips reddened and slightly swollen.

Peering down inside your closed hand, you recognized the gold flash immediately. “Henry, darling, you can’t give me your signet ring!”

He scoffed, arching an eyebrow and collected your left hand, “’Course I can.”

Putting your entire ring finger in his mouth, he pulled off the artificial pearl you wore with his teeth and slid his ring on instead, making you giggle and wiggle your fingers.

“It’s a bit large,” you confessed, attempting to keep your fingers pressed tightly together. Turning your hand over, he let it drop into his palm and slid it onto your thumb instead.

“It’s only temporary,” he reminded you, lying back on the pillows and opening his arms so you could put your head on his chest. He let out a long, gruff sigh feeling your body settle down tucked in against him. Closing your eyes, you already felt your body starting to get heavy.

“You know,” he continued, gently raking his spread fingers through your hair, “I wanted to kiss you the first night we met.”

“That birthday party?” you cooed, nuzzling along his jawline. “That was almost ten years ago, Hen. I wonder where we’d be if you would have.”

“I imagine the exact same place. Only there’d be a couple more pairs of little feet running up and down the hall. What do you think, darling?”

You’d have absolutely agreed, and probably squealed at the thought, but you were already fast asleep by the time he finished his sentence. And it was the best sleep you’d had in months.

[balladeer-angelo]

carlos x reader with 6. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” im really a whore for this man what can i say

we’re all just a fictional man’s whore here lbr

Carlos x Reader (N/S/F/W)6: “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

"Carlos, c'mon! This isn't fair!" He was already maneuvering you across his lap, your new seat becoming one of his large thighs with your knees resting on either side.

"Who said I like to play fair?" He smirked, rubbing and squeezing your sides with those big warm hands. "Maybe I like to play a little dirty every now and then."

You scoffed. "Every now and then?"

"Well, maybe only when I wanna watch you work for it..."

"Which is always!" You give him a look of disbelief. He shrugs, unbothered and unapologetic.

"Can you blame me? You just look so pretty like this." Like this, meaning completely naked on top of his leg while he's still wearing a shirt and some sweatpants. Again, not fair. His eyes zigzag across your body, drinking in the sight of you. It's hard to feel cold beneath a gaze that trails a path of fire into your skin.

He cups both of your breasts, rolling your taut nipples with his thumbs. You push your chest into his palms with a throaty moan and he leans forward to meet you. He gives one of those rosy buds a quick swipe with his tongue before sucking it into his warm mouth. You feel a throb in your clit and your hips begin to slowly sway back and forth, compelled by the movements of his lips and tongue. Carlos gives a soft grunt of approval; however, his hands find their grip at your haunches, dragging you even closer on his thigh while he gives your nipple an enthusiastic but gentle bite.

He switches to your other breast, lavishing you with love bites, painting different shades of red on your skin where you know it will dim into a deep purple tomorrow. You watch him do this, breathing and moaning through open lips. He watches you, though you have to push some of his hair away to get a good look at those scorching eyes. He grins at you with your bud between his teeth. Your face becomes flooded with heat and you have half a mind to push away that smug fucking face, but with your nipple still caught in that maw of his, you reconsider. That kind of pain wouldn't be worth it.

"What'ssa matter, baby?" He askes through his teeth, quickly catching that frustrated look you're giving him. The muscles in his thigh tense underneath you as he nudges his leg upward, rubbing at your sopping core. "Aren'tcha enjoyin' yerself?"

There was a gratuitous wet spot blossoming across the cloth of his sweats where you sat, still swirling your hips, getting lost in the way your clit would catch on the fabric. You feel his fingers, spread out and slowly sliding their way down your belly. Your skin jumps excitedly at his touch. He inches lower and lower, closer, taking his time to get between your thighs. When he gets there his fingers massage your slick lips in an idle manner, avoiding that one spot he knows you want those digits.

"Carlooos!" You whine, steering your hips to try and nudge his fingers just a little bit closer to your clit. Even the smallest brush might be enough to make you come undone with how pent up you are and, as embarrassing as it is, you would take it. "C'mon, I just wanna come!"

He tutted you, his hand strolling leisurely back up your belly. "Remember what I said, baby?" You turn your head to avoid his mirthful gaze but he takes your chin and guides your face right back to him. His lips are just barely touching yours and the heat of his breath is making your head swim.

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

He releases you and your head falls back as you let out a frustrated groan, a little on the dramatic side. He just laughs and coils his arms around your lower back. "I know you can do it."

"But your hands feel so much better!"

"And just imagine how good I'll make you feel right after you come like this for me."

You curl over and rest your forehead in the crook of his neck with a defeated sigh. He kisses your shoulder. "C'mon, sweetheart." His hands find your hips again. His lips are by your ear, plush and warm. "Be a good girl and come for me.” You whimper when you feel him start an encore of that push and pull swing with your body. "All you gotta do is move those pretty little hips..."

You grip the front of his shirt, taking the rhythm he's set and running with it. He hums, delighted, keeping one hand against your spine while the other runs through your hair. "That's it, baby."

You're rocking at a pace that's not fast nor slow, losing yourself to the friction you were lazily drawing out. The tempo of your movements was always changing, either of your own volition or by the quiet urging of his hands. When you were content with some light grinding, he was pulling you in, languid and deep. When you were just beginning to find your step in that slow dance he had introduced, he was tugging at you with a growl that reminded you that Carlos was as impatient as he was deliberate.

With the crown of your head pressed to his shoulder, you watch his cock throb and twitch beneath his sweatpants, straining tight against the fabric. The sight alone is enough to make your mouth water, pleasured mewls and heated breaths escaping your lips as you move a little faster now. The sooner you could get off the sooner you'd be able to rip those stupid pants off of him and take what's yours.

"There you go, sweetheart. Just like that." His fingers are gently framing your jawline, angling your head up so you're eye-level with him. He's almost breathing as heavy as you are and seeing him like that tugs the corner of your mouth just a bit for a quick smile.

"I want you to come nice and hard for me."

He's not even asking or demanding yet you find yourself nodding along to his wish, either way, your fingers pressing into his chest as your hips reach a fervent pace. He continues to praise you, urging you on with borderline blue movie words, sharp kisses, and tight hands. He laces his fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the roots. You tilt back and shiver as you feel his mouth slide up your neck to that spot just below your ear.

"Come for papa."

First, you feel a spark ignite in your lower belly. Then it flashes through you like lightning, setting your nerves alight as you shudder and moan wildly. Carlos keeps your hips moving even when it starts to become too much, too hot, one hand sneaking around to grab and slap at your ass.

He snarls. "Fuuuck..." The other hand slips between your legs, collecting all of your silky cyprine. "Look at the mess you made." He holds his glistening fingers up, both of you following every drop that dribbles down his knuckles. You're so dazed that you don't even notice yourself leaning toward his hand and before you know it, those slick fingers are being enveloped between your lips. He groans as he watches you suckle your juices off of him and his cock thrums incessantly. He's so entranced by your shameless display that he almost misses your hands tugging at the waistband of his pants, finally releasing his cock. He's hot and heavy between your palms, pulsing and dripping. Your lips slip from his fingers and you grin at him, giving his erection a squeeze.

"I think this good girl deserves a reward, don't you?"

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “The Wolves”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a humble gardener looks for answers…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “The Wolves” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 1.7k words

Asra and Kipling go to the palace library to see if there are any books on grey magic. They agree to meet Nadia for tea afterwards.

Kipling had a feeling that this visit to the library was going to be a lost cause. And she was right. The gardener didn’t know how long she and Asra sat in silence, leafing through tome after dusty tome under the soft lamplight.

“There’s nothing here, Asra,” Kip huffed. She didn’t want to give up, but she thought it would be best to save herself the disappointment of going through the whole damn library.

Asra dogeared the page of the book he was holding before setting it off to the side and scooting a little closer to Kipling. He brushed a swirl of curls off her shoulder and pressed his forehead against it.

“Kip, come on. Don’t give up now. We can keep looking as long as we need to. There’s bound to be something.”

Kip shook her head. “Asra, no. There’s not even anything that mentions or even hints at the existence of grey magic. And I know exactly why.”

Asra lifted his head. Kipling wanted to gaze into his purple eyes and just let herself get lost in them. But what good would that do? It wouldn’t make her problems go away.

“Why?” The magician asked.

Kip sighed. “There were families on my island who had a lot of money, a lot of power, and a lot of sway over… too many things. They took away all of our records of magic. They employed our finest professors so that upcoming umbras only had the dying elders to rely on. They banned umbras from going to school with the other kids. There was a monastery on a hill where we were all contained.” Tears threatened to spill over as Kipling kept going. “We were only allowed to come down on certain days. We couldn’t stay for long at the market or the festivals or anywhere. Not even the beach…”

Asra tried to wrap his arms around her, but the gardener pressed a hand to his chest.

Asra held her hand instead. “Kip… did no one try to stop this?”

Kip exhaled slowly. “It happened slowly over decades until it was just normal. The people responsible feared umbras enough to cut us off from everything and make sure our magic did not grow beyond that hill.”

Asra waited while Kip insisted on wiping her own eyes. “So when I tell you that there’s nothing about us or our magic outside of the Melting World, I mean it.”

Kip could tell Asra wanted to comfort her. She could feel his concern morphing into waves of anxiety. How long would it have to be this way, Kipling wondered. She and Asra seemed to be in this constant state of worry and confusion regarding her magic. When was it going to stop? When would they be allowed to go back to normal?

“Come on,” Kip whispered, putting those thoughts to rest. “Nadia must be waiting on us with tea by now.”

Kipling walked with Asra hand in hand to the parlor where the Countess served tea and entertained small groups of guests. When they entered, Kip squeezed Asra’s hand before letting go to greet Nadia. The gardener found it a little surprising that the Countess was already at the door. 

Kipling came forward, perhaps a bit too quickly, to embrace her tall, statuesque friend. But Nadia, ever understanding and perceptive, warmly welcomed Kip and absorbed all of the weight behind her burdened breaths. 

While they were still hugging, Nadia said, “Kipling, Asra? There is someone here that I want you to meet.” 

Kipling withdrew and looked up at Nadia in uncertainty.

Her smile was tentative, but still warm. “He arrived unexpectedly. Usually, I wouldn’t permit someone to interrupt the time that I’ve set aside for us, but this man says that he has access to information on grey magic, which I know is something that you, Kipling, have been searching for.”

Kipling’s chest constricted with a sudden, uncomfortable heat. An Elder? Could it be possible that someone from her homeland traveled all the way here?

When Kipling was ready, Nadia guided her and Asra to where the tea was set up. All the while, Kip’s mind raced. Her chest thundered with anticipation.

“Kipling, Asra, I would like to introduce…”

Kipling couldn’t take another step. She saw the back of someone’s head. It could have been anyone. But then they turned. 

No.

Then they stood up.

“An ambassador from the Republic of Floating Isles and an expert in grey magic.”

Kipling took in the long, bejeweled dreadlocks, one of which was starkly white against the rest. The visitor had warm brown skin like hers and a murky green gaze that felt too excitable, too clever for this world. 

“Oz’mandias Sese Mar XIV.”

And that scar. Straight across the bridge of his nose. A jagged brushstroke over his handsome face.

Nadia chuckled, “Did I get all of that correct, Oz?” 

The very same scar that Kipling gave him ten years ago.

“Yes!” Ozy said without looking in her direction. “That’s how you say my name.” His eyes never left Kipling’s.

“Ozy?”

Kipling barely realized she had spoken. She had no idea what kind of reaction Asra and Nadia were having right then. All she could focus on was the boy – no. The man now – from her childhood. How time had matured his features, and yet kept everything that made him the smartest, most talented grey mage she knew. The differences sent Kipling’s mind in a tailspin. 

How could Ozy just look at her like that? With just as much fondness and warmth as he did on the first day they met. How was it possible? After what she did? After the things she said?

“Kipling?” Nadia must have finally noticed. “Do you two know each other?”

Ozy’s gaze dropped in what Kipling knew was uncertainty. He hadn’t told the Countess. 

Asra’s hands were on Kip’s shoulders. She knew he wanted so desperately to protect her, but he didn’t know how and he didn’t know what from.

“Nadia,” Kipling’s eyes were wet, “Ozy is my cousin.” 

Ozy looked up suddenly. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Kipling to say those words. And just as suddenly as his hazel eyes locked with hers, Kip’s sight became overwhelmed by water. Her entire body in fact. Another portal had opened without her permission. Once again her emotions had wrenched open a hole in the fabric of reality. 

Only this time, she wasn’t asleep.

***

Please let this be a dream. Please let me be dreaming. Please…

Kipling opened her eyes to the sound of someone humming. She saw grass first, then flowers. Daisies. She rolled over and saw endless pink and blue sky.

The humming grew louder.

Kipling sat up and looked around for the source. Across an uneven blanket of hills and daisies, she saw a figure kneeling in the flowers, their back turned to her. Kipling started to get up, but she didn’t need to. Some strange gravity pulled her closer, as if she were riding along an unseen belt.

The humming grew. More figures came into focus. The one kneeling was petting something in their lap. That something was a body. Relaxed and half stretched out on the flowers, their head resting on the leg of the first. 

Kipling blinked. It couldn’t be.

The one horizontal, being stroked by the other, had brown curls that looked dipped in gold dust. Daisies and poppies and baby’s breath scattered about them, catching the light. The head turned to soak up more of that light on their face. Kipling’s heart skipped at the glimpse of their cheek. Their freckled cheek.

“Khleo?” Kip wondered out loud. 

She wondered… and yet she doubted. Kipling looked harder, realizing that body didn’t belong to Khleo. It wasn’t long enough, echoing Kip’s shape more than what she remembered of her friend. And this person’s arms… 

Kip stood up this time. She needed to get a closer look.

“Khleo? Can you hear me?”

The one kneeling looked up. The face of a woman and a lion – Kipling wasn’t sure how it was possible.

You broke a lot of things.

The woman, the lion, the sphinx stood up slowly, lowering Khleo’s head off her lap as she did so. She blocked Kip’s path to her best friend.

You broke things. You came from broken things. Beautiful things. All around you. All broken. 

Kipling didn’t want to look at this creature that just kept getting bigger and scarier and breathing hotly against her face.

And now you expect to touch?

The hum from before was a roar now. The woman’s maw was so sharp and closing fast. 

You will not come here and touch my things. I will not let you. They are mine and they are too beautiful for you to break!

Kipling screamed.

The roar drowned out into a gargle as gallons of seawater rushed in from all sides. Kipling yelped as she was tackled to the left, out of the path of the charging lion. The tunnel of water warped her surroundings. She was leaving that place with the lioness and all the other beautiful things that Kipling wasn’t allowed to touch.

The slap of zero gravity pulled Kipling back to her senses. It was short-lived and soon she was back in the Countess’ tea parlor, holding on tightly to her savior. She didn’t hear Nadia or Asra, so she assumed she and Ozy were alone.

“Ozy?” Kip forced herself to lean back some and look up at him. She couldn’t believe it. He was still not angry with her. 

“So you met Strength? Funny that portal took you there.”

Kip shook her head. “A Major Arcana?”

Ozy smiled gently. “Yes. Khleo’s. Strength can be very uh… territorial over them.”

Kipling took a moment to breathe. Her brows pinched as she turned over Ozy’s words. “Them? What do you mean?”

Ozy playfully tugged on her ghost lock. “Or she.”

Kip scoffed and shook her head. “Ozy, Khleo’s not–”

“Not what, coz?” Ozy dipped his chin. “Different? Didn’t you see her arms? It’s been ten years.”

He let that sink in.

“You, me, Khleo. We’ve changed a lot.” He leaned forward and plucked a cup off the table. “So let’s drink this tea before it gets too cold!”

Ozy took a leisurely sip. And then he smiled too wide, too inappropriate for the occasion.

“Because we need to talk.”

[kassofchaos]

Welcome to Gotham

When youngster hero Ben Tennyson finds himself in Gotham city, all seems to be going well. Gotham is soon to leave its impression.

"This is it, huh?" The young man mutters to himself, shielding himself from the slight cold of a dark Gotham night with a particular green jacket. A few years ago, he might have been taken aback by the sprawling height of the gothic architecture or the utter dirt and sprawl of the streets and alleyways, but a few years ago he hadn't yet travelled all across the US with his close friends in celebration of graduating college. Compared to New York, Gotham seems no different, save for the more depressing atmosphere and streets clear of most activity in the dead of midnight. Ben had expected things to look... more crooked; Gotham's reputation doesn't do it any favors.

This, though? The small uptown streets, faint warm glow of inviting neon signs, and glimmer of gothic windows? Ben could get used to this.

Unfortunately, he's in no position to "get used to this". The ringtone of his phone - a stereotypical 80's alien tune - anchors him straight back to the mission at hand. He reaches for his right pants pocket, the green metal of his strange watch providing a soft glow as always, and immediately picks up upon noticing who's giving him a ring.

"Y'ello? Kev?"

"I've arrived, yeah. Not as shitty-looking as I'd expect, remind me to take you and Gwen out here someti-" The youngster's eyes catch onto an ever-so-recognizable sign just as he walks on past it, stopping in his tracks to give it and the small establishment it belongs to a once-over. "-Yo is that a Mr. Smoothy's!? All the way out here, you've gotta be yanking my chain!" Ben rejoices amidst a few chuckles. Through the phone, Kevin's annoyed tone drags him back to the conversation at hand. Ben takes mental note of the establishment before continuing down the street.

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it, okay? Not a soul for miles out here, I can find it and call back before you know it, alright? Tell Gwen I said hi, see ya later." Waiting for Kevin to wish him luck, Ben hangs up and pockets his phone just as he passes yet another alleyway nestled between the crack of two skyscrapers.

It's not long afterwards Ben starts to hear activity rouse up around him; a pair of footsteps behind him, probably someone else walked out of a building and is on their merry way home. The sound grows, soon he's able to pick up on three separate pairs of footsteps besides his own. Things are getting tense, he can feel it. Just before hitting the next street to cross, another alleyway comes into view. Ben sighs in relief, suddenly taking a left turn straight into the narrow space. If those steps behind him are just passers by, they can continue on their merry way and save Ben the stress. If they aren't... at least they're out of the more public eye.

Of course, much to Ben's dismay, all three head straight after him. He turns around to get a good look at three large, scrappy figures blocking the alleyway's exit. By the looks of it, these aren't just regular thugs or crooks. One of them carries a spiked bat, the second dons a rusty pair of knives on his sides, and the largest of the three is nonchalantly waving a rather sizeable firearm about like a prized bouquet of flowers.

"What's with the matching outfits, boys?" Ben breaks the tense silence with a snark, eyeing the thugs up and down a few times. They're all wearing the very same rough jacket - a green and red number with several white stripes to serve as accents. "Did we just come back from a football game?"

"You know you gots some fuckin' NERVE keepin' your little bravado up like this, punk." The one carrying the bat steps forward, whacking his bat against one of the alleyway walls a few times as a sort of warning. "Either you're new here, or you've been gettin' pretty fuckin' lucky."

Ben sighs. This song and dance again. "Right, so you guys want either my money, my life, my phone, my watch, or all four. Name your price." He leans against the dead end of the alleyway, yawning.

The bat-wielding maniac seems to take this a little too personally, running straight up to Ben and pinning his neck to the wall behind him with the handle of his bat. To make things worse, the impact of the thug's knee against Ben's stomach knocks the wind from Ben's lungs and sending his breaths into a disarray.

"Listen here, asshole! You see a Mad Gang crook, and you fuckin' KNEEL to them! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

The tension of heavy silence returns for a few seconds, but it drags on for much longer in Ben's mind. He feels the bat pulled away, allowing him to get a good breath once again. He struggles to stay on his feet, clutching his stomach with both hands as his breathing stabilizes. The crooked fuck continues, a wicked grin upon his face.

"So you understand now, hm? You give us your wallet, your phone, and that dinky watch of yours, and I won't fuckin' bash your head in." Ben feels his chin lifted by the blunt end of the bat, lifted to lock eyes with the twisted fuck and his shit-eating grin.

"You know... I was considering letting you off easy.." Ben responds after another pause, looking up at the thug with an angry glare. Without so much as another word then, he suddenly slams his left hand over the face of his watch, causing it to envelop his body in a bright green flash.

The thug shields his eyes, taking a step back as regret starts to mount itself upon him. By the time his eyes have opened, he feels his throat grabbed onto by a larger, four-fingered hand. It presses tightly, enough to cause an immense struggle for air. The crook drops his bat, hands moving up to wedge themselves in-between the new assailant's hand and his throat, not finding even an inch of purchase.

His eyes can only behold the sight in front of him. Where once the usual everyday Ben stood, now stands a larger, red-skinned monster. Where his eyes stare forward onto a scowling, fanged snarl, his four eyes stare back. A red humanoid dressed in a black jumpsuit from the waist down, the face of Ben's watch in front of its makeshift belt. Most imposing of all is his muscle; built more than Superman, with an additional pair of arms to boot.

Ben, now Four Arms, speaks up, his fanged maw uttering his words in a low guttural growl.

"This-" A sharp jab to the thug's stomach draws out a pained scream of anguish from the now frightened man, all the air from his lungs knocked straight out by the sheer impact. "-is for my throat."

Right as the crooked man was considering saying his prayers, he feels himself tossed aside by the monster as it steps forward towards his little entourage of guards, cracking all four of his fists. "I don't want this getting bloody, boys. You know what to do."

The other two take the hint, backing away slowly before making a complete break for it, the bat-wielding thug soon following suit. Four Arms sighs, shaking his head. Of course, he can't go a single day without-

"You."

A voice behind the alien grabs his attention, and he turns in preparation only to behold the shadowed silhouette he had only heard of through rumor and hushed tone. The large cape and pointed head, the piercing gaze, the yellow symbol.

"Holy shit..." Four Arms mutters, giving the symbol on his belt a light tap, transforming back into the unassuming youngster Ben. "The Batman!? No fooling, you're really a thing?"

Before Ben could continue chattering on, he feels his chin gripped tightly by the gloved right hand of the caped crusader pulling him in close. Now that piercing gaze starts to settle, eliciting a nervous gulp from the youngster.

"You're coming with me."

[hollyhomburg]

so y/n can’t conceive anymore in empireverse? how sadddd 😭😭😭

i never said she couldn’t conceive- only that she hasn’t had her heat yet. her heat is connected to her omega- as is her inability to speak- the mental blockage caused by her trauma and the fact that she hasn’t fully healed yet. once she reconnects with her omega- she’ll be able to conceive again.   

let me remind you that omegas can’t shift in this au- or at least- they shouldn't be able to. (Also tw: for more implied assault, sexual language, violence, and gore, also murder? but like- y’all will be glad abt it)

I think it’s like a good day for you when it happens- you’ve recently taken to exploring out into the outer compound- tired of being in the same gardens as always. and it’s not like it should be dangerous, because you’re just walking with Jimin through the taller older trees when you happen upon them- they’re the sons of some royal family, not too high up in the social ladder of the city but not far off either. they’re the kind of boisterous Alphas that take first and ask questions later, their status only making them more inclined to do so- because which omegas could say no to them. 

the second they see you and jimin they start whistling and saying explicit things that would make most omegas blush. jimin pulls you closer- and tries to ignore them. but when they pass they step in front of you to stop both of you on the woody path- wondering where you’d be going- surely two omegas in the royal compound didn’t have anything better to do than entertain a few high alphas. “you should be honored- pretty things like yourselves” jimin slaps his hand away, “let us pass- or- or I’m warning you” 

 jimin tries to bow out- tries to bring attention to his priestesses gear but that only makes things worse- then they’re gearing- talking about how jimin should let them show him how a knot feels like- they swear the experience is heavenly- they swear he’d turn into a stupid cum slut the second he had a taste of alpha cum. one of them tries to grab you- and you look up at jimin so scared- and jimin sees red- steps up toe to toe with the alpha and snarls, shoving you behind him- using his body as a sheild between you and the alphas. 

because jimin- jimin knows he can survive whatever they could do to him- but you- he knows you’ll never come back if they carry through on their vulgar threats.

he’s deathly calm when he whispers, “I need you to run okay? go back and get the others and make sure you’re safe before they come and find me alright?” Jimin hears you turn, hears the crinkle of leaves as you dash through the woods. one of the alphas snarls “always did like a chase” and tries to run after you but jimin elbows him in the stomach sending him sprawling. The others regroup as he wields his hidden dagger, a tiny thing- ceremonial and dotted with sapphires- but it will have to do- holding it out in front of him to defend himself as the alphas circle him. “you bitch- you’ll pay for that-”  

jimin swipes with the dagger- misses, and takes one hit to the stomach before he finds himself sprawled in the autumn leaves, heaving for breath, the wind knocked out of him. He’s scrambling back, the alphas stalking towards him and yanking him closer by his ankle when he hears the sound- a growl that seems to shake the forest floor. 

Jimin looks up and his blood runs cold,

The wolf in front of him must be an alpha- there is no other reason for their size. only the strongest betas and alphas can shift- the larger the wolf the more deadly. jimin has only seen namjoon shift once- and even this wolf with it’s white fur wirey and matted with blood- seems larger than the leader of the empire.

 The wolf dwarves even some of the trees, rising taller than Jimin's head when he stands. whats more is that it looks mauled- great rents torn in its side. scars lacing over its muzzle. it’s underbelly look like it was shredded at one point- now scared over. it’s missing part of its tail, a black and bloody cavern where one of its eyes should be. Some of its wounds even seem fresh- spilling black blood onto the forest floor.  

the wolf shouldn’t even be able to stand with how injured it is- and yet- it growls, and Jimin sees his assailant's faces go pale. One of them tries to take a step backward, and the massive wolf zeroes in on its first prey- pouncing- leaping clean over Jimin who tucks his head and hides in the leaves, keeping one eye open on the carnage.

The wolf bites the head of one of the alphas clean off- felling the other with a quick lunge breaking his spine with a crack and the third- barely gets his knife out- managing to slash once at the wolves face before he’s being shaken like a rag doll in its maw- sending blood splattering everywhere- even over jimin, The warm liquid hitting his face. Only then- only after that does the wolf turn its eyes on jimin, eyes full of furry, chest heaving, panting into the open air. 

Jimin starts to hear feet running through the woods and thanks to his lucky stars- you’d made it to safety because the others are coming- Jungkook and his elite assassins can’t help but make noise walking through the leafy forest floor. 

The wolf might be bearing down- about to kill him but he knows at least- you’re safe, and an eerie calm hovers over him as the wolf walks close- and jimin closes his eyes- feeling peace settles over him- because at least he’d saved you- even if he’d never been able to tell you how he feels- he’d saved you from this. He waits for the flash of pain, taking in a final breath, the wind whips his robes- carrying Jungkook, Yoongi’s, and Namjoon’s sent on the wind, as the men shout when they see the wolf, swords drawn

but also your scent- it’s so strong- it’s almost like you’d never left. 

jimin opens his eyes, and the massive wolf is face to face with him. it licks at his face gently, letting out a low whine, cleaning him of the blood. wet nose nudging his cheek,  “Jimin” it’s Jungkook’s voice, “I need you to back up very very slowly okay?” Jimin can see in his periphery- one of his assassins cocking an arrow in his crossbow. “don’t shoot- Jungkook it’s- it’s” you look up- making eye contact with your pack, it’s Yoongi’s voice that punctures the silence, half worry and half disbelief 

“Y/n!?” 

and in the next breath, you're shifting with a pained whimper, bones, and tendons cracking, more blood spilling onto the forest floor with the force of the shift. jimin is surprised there isn’t more on your clothes when you finally fall forward into Jimin’s arms, he rises despite the pain in his side to catch you. his hands are urgent- little sobs hurling out of his lungs as his hands search in your blood-stained clothes- only to find not a single wound on your body- all except for a small scratch on your cheek. 

his body sagging over yours when he realized- you’re not mortally wounded- not like your wolf- that could only have been your omega and now- now that he’s seen your omega face to face- he can’t imagine how you survived your trauma if that's what your soul looks like. 

he teeters- unsteady, and namjoon rushes forward to catch you both. 

 it’s only namjoons hand on the back of his neck shouting jimins name has him looking away from you, the alphas crowding around both of you clinging to each other- “Jimin- are you hurt? did they hurt you anywhere?” and then jimin is shaking his head, tears spilling over his cheeks, his limbs shaking,

 “yes- they just- they were going to-” “I know baby I know” jimin barely lets himself shiver at the pet name before he’s pulling back, jimin can’t let go of you- won’t let go of you but that dosent mean Yoongi dosent lean in close cupping your cheeks and checking you for injuries. Jungkook shouting at the warriors as the rest of the pack runs through the woods accompanied by more soldiers, he looks panicked as he cups your cheeks, you rub at your eye (you’d gotten blood in it) “are you hurt my love? are you okay?” “I’m fine my head just hurts” you answer. 

and everyone- even Jungkook’s soldiers- turns and looks at you. 

“What- what did you just say?” Yoongi says, words stressed, his shoulders slumping, you seem to realize it- your hand reaching up to touch your mouth opening it, tasting the words- eyes wide, “I said-” you giggle at the sound of your own voice- kinda a little rough after so many months- but all the others laugh too, all of them pressing close. Yoongi pressing his nose to your cheek and crying, “Jung-kookie- yoongi- Namjoon” you say, and he honestly starts sobbing, all of them do because- you’re here- you seem more lucid than you’ve been in months. you make eye contact with jimin, a small smile playing on your lips, “Jimin i-” 

Jimin almost wants to sigh- your voice- he’d often wondered what it would sound like- if he’d ever hear it- and now he can, and it sounds better than music, better then bird song in the morning, better than hymns spoken on the holiest day of the year. 

You make eye contact with jimin, a small smile playing on your lips, “Jimin i-” 

they think you’re going to be completely okay- until you suddenly grip your stomach- leaning over and vomiting into the leaves. Your eyes rolling back the next second as you pass out- Yoongi supporting your body, the next few minutes are tense and scary- Jimin too- is a little too in shock to make the walk back to the compound but Namjoon carries him- Jimin's head lolling to look at where you lay in Yoongi’s arms, 

 the shouts of the others as they join- Namjoon yelling for them to bring the doctor. Seokjin’s panicked words “what happened to my pups” Jimin passes out from stress sometime after namjoon leans down close. “we’ve got you- you’re both going to be okay” 

when Jimin blinks open his eyes, he finds you curled up tight close to him and a sharp stabbing pain in his side, The doctor informs him that he’d broken a rib, and is on stiff bedrest for the next few weeks. you’re fine as well- as far as they can tell- you’ve only stirred since you’ve passed out- but the doctor gathers that the shift must have taken a lot of energy out of you. the shift- it barely hits jimin- a shifting omega- he asks the others- and yes- you’ve never shifted before today. 

The rest of the pack files in. all of them bowing before jimin, he’s barely sitting up before Seokjin is dashing forward and folding himself in between the two of you- “thank you Minnie- thank you so much- you saved her- you saved her twice and we’re never going to be able to repay you” the older omega is sobbing and all jimin can do is comb his fingers through his hair as he presses close. the elder scent marking him. 

namjoon- the leader of the empire- presses his forehead to the floor in front of jimin, “we will forever be in your debt, there is no limit to what we will do for you park jimin” jimin is tired, feels his heartthrob with the knowledge of the day, before jimin can respond, you turn, blinking your eyes up at him, and Jimin’s attention is diverted, glad he has another focus other than the alphas devoted looks that make a blush rise to his face. 

“Y/n- are you- can you” you blink your eyes and open your mouth you get out a single syllable before your throat is closing around the words and Taehyung is jumping forward, “don’t strain yourself- they’ll come back when they come back” but it is better- “I want- can we all sleep in here tonight?” jimin asks, looking shyly at namjoon- it’s bold for him to ask, even though he has actually slept in the same room as most of them before- he’d been well on his way to integrating the alphas back into bedtimes with you before today- the only one he hasn’t slept next to is Jungkook and Hoseok. and the others easily agree when you turn, nodding your head up and down rapidly. 

“well I guess we don’t have a choice” yoongi giggles, hand coming out to run down your hair and through it- you leaning into his hand, you try to talk again only getting out “yoon-” before you break off again- making a frustrated noise before taehyung is leaning forward to press a finger to your lip.  “don’t strain yourself baby, you haven't talked in almost a full year-” taehyungs smile is boxy and happy as he stands up “I’ll get you some tea for your throat- and call for dinner” 

dinner is a sleepy affair, somehow, jimin ends up with his back up against jungkook’s shoulder, the young alpha supporting jimin and his broken rib with a thick but gentle arm around his waist. You sit across namjoon’s lap and letting the alpha feed you pieces of sweet meat and hot vegetables. you leaning over sweetly to feed Taehyung and Seokjin and each of them- Hoseok shouting loud when you accidentally drop a piece onto his expensive silk robe, and that night- jimin gets to curl up in the middle of a pack pile, his nose pressed to the nape of your neck, Yoongi’s nose pressed into Jimin's hairline the same as yours, his body in line with jimin hot and steady behind him, your nose pressed into Jungkook’s chest, the hand of the young alpha resting over your body to hold Jimin’s softly. 

Jimin wakes late into the night, pain licking up his side, he hears the soft voices, the sound of kissing and dosent shift to listen but hears regardless- it’s Seokjin and namjoon, kissing in the candlelight. jimin hears the shifting of cloth, a low chiding noise, “when you offered that to jimin this afternoon- did you hope he would ask to stay?” 

“I did” namjoon sounds like a scolded pup- and Seokjin’s answering giggle makes the fear ease out of Jimin’s chest- he looked like he was about to combust puppy- wolves court for a reason silly alpha” Jimin’s eyes close so quickly as he feels Seokjin’s stiff fingers comb through the curls on the back of his head. “let him rest- before you give him any more anxiety okay? now he’s healed her- I have a feeling we’re going to need to heal him.” 

“You really think he’s going to be apart of our pack one-day Jin?” 

“I’d bet my life on it Joonie” 

Jimin's heart feels like it’s going to jump all the way to the moon. 

(only after this happens- can she have her heat again and therefore get pregnant)

[theyanderespecialist]

First Times 1 (One Shot) Alastor X Michelle OC (Teasing With Cajun) (Hazbin Hotel) (Yandere)

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Hello My Sexy Readers this was an idea from my co author and man I came so much XD like legit Alastor and that fucking accent XD If they ever do a episode with him with that accent I die XD Legit XD anyways hope you enjoy this chapter!]

(Alastor's pov)

I sat there nervous as I was uncomfortable with being touched as I gripped the chair. "Oh come on Alastor, I'm even wearing gloves."

"Doesn't make it any easier!"

"Well you said I could brush your hair." Michelle said as she hit my ear.

"Oops." She used her hand as a way to create a barrier as I tense.

"Hey it's okay." She said as she rubbed my ear suddenly as I tense before I relaxed as she continued as I started to close my eyes before I felt more pressure being placed on them as my eyes snapped open as I tensed, shaking as I feel her grab both ears as I shake more, gripping the chair arms as I see the gloves on the table.

She was touching me with her hands stroking my ears and I shudder I never felt something so wonderful.

(he's more ocd than me And sensory is competing with mine)

I could feel her leaning on me as she smirked. "Is this why you want me to wear gloves~?" I hear her tease as I shudder, my whole body feeling warm.

(XD That is true vivive says he even break his own neck to avoid being touch XD like someone leans to kiss him just snap his neck and let it dangle until the person leaves XD)

"No...~" I say but moan at the end of it. What was this feeling. Yes I knew I had feelings for her. But here I am loosing to myself to something I have never felt before

(except they have a kink for broken necks xD)

(XD)

"oh it's okay, it's a natural reaction." She said leaning over, her one hand still petting me while the other goes to touch me as I pull back. This was already out if my comfort zone for touching as she stopped and put on the glove as she held my face stroking it before trailing it down.

"And it's only natural to act on these feelings..but you haven't have you.?"

"I-I never--" I hear her give a small laugh.

"No no not laughing at you I just, well j should have expected that response. Here why don't I show you... how to deal with these feelings?" She asked as she reached over, her hand on my stomach

"Even if your Asexual, Alastor this is a nature function of your body no shame in it." She says and unbuckles my my belt slowly. "Let me take care I have plenty of experience and help guide many people."

I growled and gripped the chair nails digging in the chair tearing it. I did not like the idea of her with anyone else. I do not know why but it made me so angry.

"oh Al don't worry that was before I died." She said rubbing my head once more as she pulled down my pants as she kissed her hand before placing it on my forehead.

(Aw that's kinda cute to not push him with too many new experiences)

I felt my face burn at that as my smiled widened, I knew I probably looked like one of those men who was dizzy with a dame.. because I was.

"Now if it becomes to much you tell me. I do not want to force you into something your not read for my dear." She says and smiles with love.

Nodded before jumped when she wrapped her hand around me as I kicked my leg out. "Woah Woah Woah there it's all good calm down. Save down of that energy." She teased as she started to move her hand as I clench the chair arms. "That's it.."

"I've never felt this.. it's odd.."

"but good?" She asked as I could only nod

"If your not used to it it will feel strange. When I sometimes sit down and my clit rubs against the chair i jolt because it feels so strange. Then again I have not done anything sexual since I been in hell. Your the first person I done this with in hell. So in a way your my first to~" she purrs continuing to stroke my cock

I could only let out pants with little moans as her other hand was still rubbing my ear with no barrier between the two. I wanted to be her first. I wanted to be her only one she kept going before smirking as she slowed a little.

"Wh--" I see her just smirking. She was playing with me. Two could play at that.

"Aw Cher come awn now. Ya don't do dat ta someone."

Her face went from dusty pink of her demon skin to bright red. "Don-Dont talk like that~" She moans shuddering.

(XD He going make me fluster XD He better not say Oh Michelle I am legit blushing XD)

"oh maw darling Michelle, ya seem ta like ta tease, only fair ya know what it feels like, now keep going cher~"

"I-I" She says so fluster but nodded. "Okay."

She continue to stroke my ear and cock and I thrust up in her hand. I loved this side of her from so confident to fluster embarrassed. I just got her to feel like that just from my human accent~

Course she also got like that with my normal voice but my accent, well that was a sure fire way. I grip the chair. "T-Take da glove off cher." I said. "I need ta feel ya hand on me mawn Ange"

She shudder and nodded making embarrassed and fluster noises. I like her like this fluster and embarrassed because of me. It felt good getting such a reaction out of her~ She took the glove off both hands and then stroke my cock and ear and I moan her skin was so soft~

(i already came like xDtwice Ahh that accent)

((XD Same XD and when it is directed at me XD Oh my little heart cant take it~~~ X3)

"oh dats it cher~ yes oh god!" I felt this odd sensation as I looked at her before grabbing her head and pulling her into a kiss as I felt myself cum as I held her until I stopped as she pants, her lipstick a little smeared.

"w-Wow.. I-I.. think I need a cold shower. ." she muttered as I grabbed her.

"Now ya'll ain't going no where cher~"

(welp these panties and pants are done for~ XD Cum everywhere)

[XD Yep this panties and pants are beyond saving XD Just let them go and strip I hope you all enjoyed and stay sexy my friends!]

[shadowedson]

Catalyst

Superstition says that bad things come in threes, that the world brings three terrible knocks to your door and gives you no other choice then to open it. Perhaps, the world is just cold, the orchestra of tragedy never ceasing its siren song. Perhaps, instead, bad things come in storms. Booming thunder, wild winds and deadly lightning. A trifecta of true chaos…

Nowhere did this chaos of life and tragedy take more hold than within Inethreis’ mind, brewing and pounding in his head like the swing of an all mighty hammer. The moment he had stumbled in his doorway from the streets of Silvermoon, it all threatened to come crashing down over his head all over again, like it had so often these past few wretched weeks. He gave no greeting, no call into the dimly lit halls to his friends and family. Instead, he made for the stairs,nearly falling up them a few different times with heavy handed and sloppy steps. He did not care who heard him, he did not care who he woke, he only cared about getting there. Tears bit at his eyes like rabid dogs at his heels as he so desperately tried to outrun them, leaving his heart beating in his ears like a drum. Every single part of his body screamed, his mind falling to pieces from the inside out, shoving the doors to the back balconies wide open, before stepping out into the night and pouring rain.

His head fell back on his shoulders, his eyes squeezing themselves shut. Hard rain beat down on him, mixing with his tears as they streamed down his face in quick succession of one another. The downpour was soaking him nearly to the bone, and he saw fit to let it. Somewhere in his soul he wished it would melt his wretched body to nothing, send whatever was left of him away with the wind. But with no such luck, he opted for something different. With a deep breath in, the man let out an ungodly scream, the sound echoing off rooftops and out over the city streets. Barely even moments after he let loose another wail, his eyes shut tighter as the sound he made rung in his own ears like a bell. He found himself screaming into the night until his throat burned and he tasted blood, his whole body shaking with the violent outbursts.

Somewhere behind him he could almost feel the whole house stirring, people waking from sleep and wondering just what the fuck was going on outside. But in the moment he found he didn’t even care. Slowly he came to his knees on the stone below him, too hoarse to scream more, and just cried. The sounds were rasped and painful, leaving his throat raw and forcing him to gag. Inethreis brought himself lower to the ground, hunched over into the puddling water. By now he was not sure if the shaking was from the ice cold rain soaking into his skin, or the sheer gravity of emotion that gripped his body. But behind him, he heard the faint shifting of feet along the stone. Someone had come to check on him.

“Inethreis...it is well past midnight, come on, please get up off the floor young man. You are going to catch some kind of cold out here” Alsunir’s voice rang out behind him, speaking over the pounding of the rain on stone.

The sound of his uncle speaking in his ears forced him still for a moment, the sobs that barreled out of him catching in his throat. It made him feel sick to be seen this way, in a heap on the ground all over again. He could not even remember how many times this had been the case lately. Words would not even form, but Alsunir did not seem to need them instead, he had moved across the balcony to his nephew, the black umbrella he carried shielding away the rain and all else. Slowly, Reyes found himself lifted into the old Farstrider’s side, moved pace by pace into the massive house.

“Stay with me alright? Just keep your feet on the ground, one step at a time. We will get you warmed up and after we can talk about this…” The lord spoke in a coo, not seeming to care that the side of his nightgown was being soaked.

Still too shocked to form any coherent syllables, Inethreis opted simply to nod, biting back on another sniffle.

Moving down the great halls brought them all the way to the Library, the enormous double doors one of the many places in the home Inethreis had yet to enter. Though now, in the state of turmoil he existed in he did not have the mind to care. Instead he was leaned against the lord of the house, trying to focus on not falling flat on his face. But soon he found himself released of that burden, embraced by the plush surface of the couch Alsunir had settled him onto as gently as he could manage. Inethreis was barely processing things around the room, not the wall to floor bookcases, not the desk tucked toward the back walls, not even his Uncle’s scurrying footsteps as he moved in and out of the room to help him settle in. All of it was an empty blur of color, shapes in the candle light. His body fell weightless and cold against the cushions below him, sinking into them entirely.

He could not tell if he had fallen asleep or if he just really was finally losing it for good, moments of that night flashing through his vision. Barren winter snow stained red, the all consuming stench of death in the air, teeth and fangs as they closed around his shoulder like a vice. But more haunting then all of it was her...laying there still and unmoving. Those blank eyes only staring, never blinking and never looking away from him, reminding him that her death was his fault. All of this was his fault, his worgenism, his mother’s death, and now his mother’s eternal torment in The Maw. The catalyst to all of this was his neglect, his inattentiveness to her needs and care. He should have been at her side...and gods above did he regret it now, those horrible dead eyes haunting him like a ghost...burned in the forefront.

Now he could not even imagine where she was, what was happening to the woman who had dedicated her whole life to him. She was beyond him...beyond this world or even this realm. Sucked down into a place of empty wasteland and torment, and he had put her there.

“Let us get you out of some of these leathers Inethreis, come on my son, the fire is warm and these are waterlogging you...stay with me for just a moment okay.”

Inethreis found himself pulled back from the sheer darkness of his mind, his head snapping down to find Alsunir’s hand on his and the man’s voice in his ears again. Meeting that kind green gaze almost brought him to tears again, quickly looking away as he offered the man a muted nod. Slowly, he sat himself up from the loveseat, feeling Alsunir lightly squeeze his hand in reassurance before letting go...and for the moment it seemed to keep him grounded. The warmth of the fire filled him as he finally got a good look at the hearth in front of him, slowly starting the process of stripping away his current clothing. Just beside him on the floor, he found a few things folded up for him...a robe, a towel, and a blanket. Even in this state, the gesture left him blinking with surprise. He had entirely lost track of where his uncle was in the room's vastness, but for right now, he seemed to have privacy beside the fire.

When he finally was stripped down to pale skin, he reached for the towel to dry himself, happy for the distraction of silent self care and the crackling of the warm fire. He felt his body on a razors edge between collapsing again, driving him that much closer to the heat in hopes that it might just burn away all his pain for once. The bite of cold was one thing off his mind for now, the robe and blanket picked up from the floor with haste. First the robe, cinched in tight at the waist and leaving the black linen to flow with his body, and then the blanket almost immediately overtop and pulled as lithe as he could manage. His body finally came to a stop for the first time in minutes, shaking legs bringing him back down to settle on the loveseat. Almost instantly he felt that clarity slipping, but before he could be consumed all over again Alsunir had moved from the window to sit with him. One of the older man’s pale hands came to rest lightly on Inethreis’ shoulder, his voice quiet as he began to speak.

“I know you might not be able to talk right now, and trust me, that is okay my son. I do not expect you to.” Alsunir gave a deep sigh before continuing. “But, I have been where you are now when I lost my son, when I lost my family. I know about The Maw, you do not need to tell me that. But I promise you, I will get you everything you need to get her out of there safely.”

Inethreis found his violet eyes going wide, choking on a sob somewhere between a thank you and incoherent sound. At his shoulder he felt a squeeze before he finally collapsed into the man’s fatherly arms, feeling them close right around him as he sobbed. But rather than chide him, Alsunir simply swayed and continued speaking.

“It will take some time of course, but not more then a week to get ready. For right now though, I think you need to focus on basics my son. Sleeping, eating, hygiene, and company. I am so proud of you and how you fight, finding your way to tackle unimaginable fears, even the way you found help for your shifting. Your lovers are likely worried sick in their bed for you...people care about you little one. I know I am neither of your parents, but if you are living under my roof you are family. It will be okay and we will get you through this together…”

His words trailed off in Inethreis’ ears, but their meaning still resonated through him, their meaning still reaching well into his core. Wrapped up like this he felt safety and warmth he had never truly known, the love of a father and the soft hand of comfort. It eased him like nothing ever had, even as he sobbed and rasped against him. For once the pain felt ephemeral, he felt as though he could breath...that things might just be okay. Alsunir did not speak, did not shove him away, Instead he felt a hand rise into his hair, fingers easing through the raven locks as he rocked inethreis as one might a child. Inethreis found himself losing track of time, not knowing how long he sat there crying or how long Alsunir rocked him, and he also found that he did not care. Soon, he felt his eyes closing and it left him with only one thought in all the world…

He was loved, and it would all be okay.

( Mentions for: @lifeofaranger and @varment-wra )

[nomstellations]

Hesitant pred and prey trying vore for the first time. Full of lots of encouragement from the prey and just overall very sweet and cuddly? In the end, they're both super happy about it and glad they did it with their friend? (Not good at writing prompts but I tried ^^;)

“Are…you sure about this?" 

A large red eye gazed down at the tiny moth before it, clearly broadcasting worry. Cyril had been through many things as a frost giant, but being confronted with someone who wanted to be eaten was not one of them. That person being his much, much smaller girlfriend only made things worse, and the air around them both grew chilly as his nervousness grew. The pastel pink moth simply beamed in response, fluttering up to eye level with him.“Of course I am, silly! I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t!”

Nocturne was always this headstrong, she was never one to back down from something she wanted, even if it was something as strange as being eaten. Truthfully, she just wanted a comfortable way to beat the heat as the fluff she was covered with made her prone to overheating in warm weather. The cold air Cyril always gave off was nice, but his insides were likely even cooler. Not only that, but she wanted to help him overcome a fear of his…and she was doing it directly, it’s the Nocturne way! Cyril frowned, lifting his hand up to allow her to land on it. “I don’t know about this, Nocturne…I don’t want to hurt you. You’re so small, it’d be too easy and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I injured you…” She pouts, before fluttering up again and giving the blue skinned giant a gentle smack on the nose. “Come on, Cy! You’ve been nothing but gentle with me since we met, you haven’t hurt me once! I trust you would never hurt me, even now.” The frost giant’s cheeks turn blue, and he shyly turns his gaze away from her. “Noct…that’s sweet, but me handling you is different from me eating you. I told you, I don’t do that kinda thing.” 

Nocturne crossed both pairs of arms, he’s being really difficult…how can she show him it’s okay? “Well…think of it like this. Even though you don’t want to, you do get cravings to eat people right?” He frowns, begrudgingly nodding. “Yes…it’s in the nature of my people to devour people. I don’t want to do that though, I don’t want to bring harm to people regardless of my nature.” “But I’ve seen how you get when those cravings get overwhelming…Cy, I want to help you with that! So eat me! It’ll be fine and you won’t feel bad anymore!” She flits her way over to rest on his shoulder, smiling at him. “I have full faith that you won’t hurt me, I’ll be fine in your care!” She brings both pairs of her arms up, giving his cheek a soft and somewhat ticklish hug. The giant grumbles in response, thinking over her words and still feeling a bit reluctant. “…are you sure I just can’t blow on you till you’ve cooled off? It’s less risky…” Nocturne shook her head, giving him a reassuring smile. “No, you’ll get tired out doing that. Come on, let’s try it just this once! I won’t ask again if it truly makes you that uncomfortable.” His expression reflected a mix of worry and reluctance, and he sighed a gust of frosty air as he delicately picked her off his shoulder and held her in front of his face. “The things I do for you, Noct…” She let out a delighted giggle, her wings shivering in glee as she finally won him over.“Uhm…how do I go about this exactly?”She blinks, staring at his visibly puzzled face. Eating something should be pretty simple, but he really must have never done this sort of thing before if he’s asking her how to do it! “Well, you just open your mouth and put me in it! C’mon Cyril, just pretend I’m a big berry or something!” After a beat of hesitation he opened his mouth, looking down at her as she gazed at his sharp teeth. "Uh, um…can’t you just, climb in? I don’t want to graze you…” Nocturne laughed quietly, crawling close to his fangs and resting a hand on them. “Gosh, some predator you are, heehee~” He stopped responding to her now that she was this close, and with a bit of effort the little moth climbed past his jaws and flopped down onto his large tongue. The difference in temperatures was immediately noticeable, she went from the hot balmy forest air to the cool inside of his mouth. “Wow Cy, it’s like I walked into a freezer! This is nice~”“Awah?” He jostles her around trying to speak, and when he stops Nocturne can feel him tense up with worry. He’s not really doing anything, his maw is still open and he’s not making any effort to move her around or taste her…but the building amount of saliva tells her just what she needs to know. “Cy? You can y'know, taste me and stuff! Don’t be scared, my dress didn’t even get snagged on your teeth!” There’s a rumble from him as he begrudgingly closes his mouth, and Nocturne’s vision goes dark as his tongue starts to gently push her around. Cyril gently moves her around, noting that she tastes rather sweet like cotton candy… A strange feeling overtakes him and his sampling suddenly becomes more voracious, much to her surprise. Nocturne giggles, playfully pressing her hands into his tongue as it rubs against her and coats her in surprisingly chilly saliva. All her fluff gets slicked down and her wings are more or less useless, but she doesn’t mind as her intended destination would be far slimier. Noticing he hasn’t made any moves to swallow her and his mouth is full of saliva, she pats at his tongue to get his attention. “Cyril? It’s alright, you can swallow me now!” This whole time he had felt…strange. He wanted to swallow her down now, and though she couldn’t hear it his stomach was growling impatiently as if he had never eaten today. The feeling was familiar and he ached to finally full his stomach with something wriggly, but he was still hesitant…this was his girlfriend after all, and he still worried about hurting. However her words and the gentle tongue massage she was giving him reassured him, and after a moment he slowly and gently tilted his head back. Nocturne began to slide towards the back of his throat and with a quiet glurp, she was pulled into it. Squeezed at all angles she began the slow descent downwards, with the occasional deep gulp helping her along. The muffled beat of his heart comes and goes, and it’s a short while before she’s deposited in the giant’s stomach. It’s fairly empty and it feels like she stepped outside on a winter day, much to her delight. The walls around her shift and try to close in on her, but they can’t fully conform to her small size and instead happily gurgle around her. Though she can’t see very well, the blue folds of his stomach grow darker as the tense feeling vanishes and is replaced with a happy sigh from above. “Nocturne…ah…this f-feels really nice. Are you okay?” She giggles, of course it would! And just as she said she was unharmed, and she pushes on his stomach gently as a response. She can feel Cyril shift and he lies on his back, feeling a sense of satisfaction he’s never felt before. “….thank you, for this. I feel…surprisingly really good, having you in there. Having you close…” His voice is a murmur to him, but she can still clearly hear it and it makes her blush and grin. Instead of responding, she eases all four of her arms into his stomach and gives him a loving massage. He sighs again, rubbing his stomach as thanks for the sweet gesture as he gets used to feeling her little movements. Make no mistake they’ll be doing this again, but for now he wanted to enjoy how close she was to him and how happy he felt.