#got bugs crawling out of his mouth ears and eyes

[kankuroplease]

Will you show Shigeki without the eyepatch, in action whit his weirdness?

The boy is a hazard some days 🪲

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[nuitnotions]

Task Force 141 ;

Hey, Sexy Thing! You got a name I can scream for you later tonight?

{ suggestive content; mdni! gn reader }

john price quite frankly freezes in his footsteps, his brain scrambling to try and fully grasp what is currently happening. he takes stock; it’s nearing 21:00 and he’s about two blocks away from the little corner shop that he all but crawls to on nights like these when his cigar box is nothing but sweet love and fresh air (truthfully a needed excuse to escape his suffocating office), the streets are quite empty and the pub to his left has seen livelier evenings, many of them due to suspects he can unfortunately name.

but there, just in his periphery, you linger with an arm around your waist to hold you up, your grin sloppy and hair as wild as the look in your eyes. your friend cusses softly beneath their breath and apologizes profusely for your behaviour, something along the lines of “not usually that forward” and rushed excuse of a “rough day at work” and you being too brave with the bottle. the captain can barely offer any reply, still frozen in place has he comes to terms with the fact that the soft pretty thing all but dangling from your friend’s hold had just cat called him. his hand comes up to scratch at the rim of his hat, forehead hot and sweaty as he opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t give him the chance.

“don’t worry mister, the hat can stay on. i don’t mind it one bit.”

kyle garrick is quite used to attention. the soft touch of a suggestive hand on his bicep, the flutter of eyelashes that shade a ‘come hither’ gaze or words that border just this side of not-safe-for-work. it’s flattering, really, sometimes it’s enough to warm his cheeks and evoke a gentle chuckle out of him, other times it has him adjusting his stance around the stiffening cock against his fly. kyle is used to it. what he is not used to, is the whistle ringing from pouty, pillowy lips as you walk across from him, turning so that you’re walking backwards to watch his stride falter and slow down from the shock.

“good grief, please do wake me if that’s the view leaving my bedroom come morning.”

he actually chokes on his own saliva, eyes bugging just a bit as the laugh rumbles from the core of his chest and he cannot help the grin that spreads across his lips. kyle turns to look over his shoulder and you wink at him, unabashed and too fucking charming for the shit that you just pulled. before he thinks better of it, he’s turning on his heels back in your direction, silver tongue lashing behind smiling, lush lips. “a cheeky thing, aren’t you?” he asks as he comes to stand toe to toe with you. he considers bending at the waist to get closer to your face, tempted to see all your pretty in detail, tempted to seek out your fluster.

well best wishes to this man, because all he achieves is adding a glaring spark to the mischief in your eyes. you roll onto the balls of your feet to meet him there,

“i don’t know, wanna fuck around and find out?”

john mactavish does not shy away easily. he may go red up his neck to the tips of his ears, but it will not stop him from taking an advancing step with a very loose strategy and an adrenaline rush to fill in its gaps. that usual instinct however, falters for him today.

he’d been needing some time out, just away from base and he thought the walk would do him good. the park is lush and there aren’t too many people around with the shite weather but it feels good. his lungs feel clearer, chest feels lighter. he had just shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans when the whistling sounded, accompanying words hitting him between the shoulder blades. johnny blinks before the amusement of the situation hits him so fiercely, he’s already laughing when he turns his body in your direction. he’s already got a response on the tip of his tongue but it falls flat when he sets his eyes on you.

it’s over for mactavish then, that eager thrill of meeting your match all but bows at your feet when he looks upon your face and he feels to start singing praises to the lord for the decision to take this walk. you’re looking at him with the smallest of smiles, teasing in its own right but christ help the man, you’ve got this look of defiance in your eyes and it’s eating at him. he stares wordlessly, his own eyes taking their fill in heaping hands. you don’t falter though, no you’re the one taking that advancing step forward as those pretty lips round out words sure to be the last nail in his goddamn coffin.

“got you speechless, stud? that’s quite alright, we can find other ways to occupy that mouth of yours.”

simon riley needs a break. he is sure of it and yet he is acutely aware that once presented with one, he wouldn’t fully know what to do with it, really. he’s in town, seated on the bench across the road from the post office mactavish is currently queueing inside of. for the life of him, he cannot understand why he’s been dragged out and why his sergeant insists on taking him beyond base when the fucking zoomies hit him, but here he is. simon obnoxiously takes up as much space as he can with the spread of his legs as he leans back against the rickety wood, it groans beneath his bullk. it’s been all of 8 minutes since he sat down that it happens.

you’re walking up the sidewalk, a low whistle sounding from you as your eyes soak up every last detail of him, a string of words leaving you almost as if the sight of him has stubbed your motor neurons into malfunction. simon watches it play out with rapt amusement. your eyes go comically round and the set of your cheeks tell him that had you forgotten yourself completely (again), your mouth might have been agape from shock. which it is shock, given you become deer in the headlights of its fast approaching death. a small shake to your head as if you want to take back your words. too late for that now, isn’t it?

“are you looking for an early death, pet?” simon asks, voice low as he leans forward, elbows to thighs as he looks straight at you. he doesn’t entirely mean it (maybe he should) but you’ve just given him something to toy with. it’s so pitiful, so cute how you’re immediately shaking your head more vehemently. you let out a warbling “no” as you stand not even a foot away from him. actions finding consequences within its magnetic field. well, that’s what simon thinks until you open your mouth again, close it and then you choose to continue on.

“i can’t really be blamed now, can i? you’re spread out across that bench like a damn centerfold.”

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 24]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 6.8k 🌶️

ao3 link

It is by some birthday miracle Minnie has yet to run out of energy.

Usually, once she has her bath and changes into her pajamas, she starts to wind down, but today is a special, exciting day, so she just keeps on going. 

It probably does not help that as part of her massive birthday haul, she got a new onesie pajama that makes her look like an oversized mouse - including big ears and a long tail. As soon as you finished zipping her in and pulled the hood up, your daughter went absolutely feral. She started scampering around on all fours - pretending she was indeed her namesake.

That was ten minutes ago, and you don’t think she’ll stop anytime soon. Especially not with Matt encouraging her. 

You watch from your spot on the couch as Minnie scurries over to the dining table, crawling under one of the chairs to hide. In the kitchen, Matt is dramatically pretending to look around while he holds up the butterfly net that came with a toy bug hunting kit. 

“Here, mousey, mousey, mousey,” he calls out in a low voice, which only serves to send Minnie into a fit of giggles. “Here, mousey, mousey, mousey.”

You, of course, play along and muse out, “I don’t know Mister Exterminator, this mouse may be too smart. I don’t know if you’ll be able to catch her.”

“You’re right,” he says, straightening up and he turns to face you. He rests the net on his shoulder, then taps at his chin with the index finger of his opposite hand, “I think we are going to have to set a trap.”

“A trap?” you question. You appear to keep your full attention on Matt, but in reality, you are sneaking a picture. Mouse is crouched in her hiding spot, hands covering her mouth. It takes everything in you to not start laughing.

“A trap, my Queen. We’re going to need some cheese, a stick, and a bucket.”

“I’m bigger than a bucket!” Minnie suddenly protests before realizing she’s given away where she is and clamps her hands back over her mouth. Matt whips around and starts towards her, raising his net with a mock menace.

“Gotcha!”

Minnie tries to dash towards you and the couch, but Matt, gently and with amazing precision, brings the net down on her head. Your little one instantly collapses to the floor like she has no bones. She reaches towards you, and with a performance worthy of an Oscar, declares, “Tell Scooby I loves him!” before falling over. 

You do your part by gasping as Matt scoops up her limp little body. He brings her over to you, presenting her with a slight kneel, “The Mouse Princess has been slain, my Queen.”

Minnie is trying her best to keep her eyes squeezed shut and suppress her giggles, so to make it even harder, you take on a blasé attitude, “Oh, how very sad. Now she can’t come to the super-secret dance party.”

Little eyes pop open and Matt sets her on her feet as she squirms back to life, “I wanna go to the super...super secret dance party!”

The Dance Party is your scheme to get the last of Minnie’s energy out. You do not want her to stay up too late past her bedtime, or she is going to be grumpy tomorrow. No one wants a grumpy toddler at the zoo. 

“You want to go to the super secret dance party?” Matt confirms, a large grin starting to form on his lips, and Minnie nods so hard her eared hood falls off. 

You go to fix it, fluffing the ears so they properly stand up, “What song should we play first, Mouse Princess?”

This is a hard decision, and as she thinks over her options, Mouse sticks her fingers into her mouth. This is a behavior you are beginning to think you should address, but you want to do more research and consult with Matt as well. You have been wondering if it helps her focus - her own way of limiting out the various inputs she must be constantly receiving. You think that maybe having her hand in her mouth helps to mask other smells, because you have noticed she doesn’t actually suck on them - they just are inserted - and it's something she does when she’s thinking.

Or it may be that she's a toddler and likes the taste of her fingers and you are once again overthinking everything. 

“R-B-S-T!” Minnie finally declares, throwing her hands up in the air. Matt looks absolutely baffled by the decision, but luckily, you speak Minnie, and know exactly what she wants. You grab your phone, open up your music app, and go to your daughter’s playlist to select the requested song. 

You get up as Aretha Franklin begins on the speakers.

This is one of Minnie’s favorite songs to sing and dance to, and yours as well. You have listened to it so many times you almost have little routine together. You begin to shimmy your shoulders at your daughter as she does the same to you, leaning forward and singing in sync.

“What you want. Baby, I got it! What you need, you know I got it!”

Matt lights up and it takes him less than a beat to jump into bopping along. It is one of those songs you think everyone knows the lyrics to, so you aren’t surprised when he joins in singing at Minnie. You quickly become a dancing circle, grooving together. Minnie stumbles over some words but her toddler heart is completely in it. She belts out the song, the biggest smile on her face as you mime some of what is being said.  

You continue to dance as the song changes to one that filled your childhood. You carefully curated the playlist to be free of any Disney Sing-a-longs or other toddler centric jams - these are strictly songs you actually enjoy that are safe for Minnie to listen to. You picked one-hit wonders and things that tend to fill the radio airwaves on a Friday night. 

The song is popular enough that Matt seems to know some of the words - or he is shamelessly making them up. You aren’t going to fact check him. You are too caught up in watching him dance - he’s completely thrown himself into it. He even has a little bounce in his step. 

His t-shirt is tight around his chest and when he raises his arms, his shirt rides up, showing off a belt of skin above his pajama pants. You can see the band of his boxers - a brand you aren’t aware of - and it makes your skin warm. You know you should not stare, but it is hard not to.

Especially when he does a spin.

Your eyes drop down to his behind and you feel like an absolute pervert ogling him. How does he manage to choose clothes that emphasize how wonderfully fit he is while still looking so casual? 

You tear yourself away from his perfect physique and try to enjoy the playtime with your daughter. You need to wear her out, which means you need to be more enthusiastic with your dancing.

You have found a strange upside to Matt being Blind and that is you are more comfortable acting a bit of a fool around him. He isn’t going to stop and stare at you for doing something silly for Minnie and the idea that he can’t perceive you in that way is doing wonders for your anxiety. You are very much aware that he knows what you are doing because of those amazing senses of his but you don’t feel judged in the way you do if you know someone is seeing you. It is probably Ableist in some way, but you like being able to relax more around him. 

You don’t need to hide who you are or pretend to be someone you are not. 

You begin to move your hips, swirling them as you throw your hands up into the air. You get a full body motion going, quickly adding in a few twirls. 

Mouse is quick to copy you, arms up, spinning, and rocking side to side. You slowly add in some arm pumps to get her little muscles really going. Matt seems to catch on to what you are trying to do, as he starts to add in some leg kicks to his dances, which Minnie instantly incorporates into her movements. Soon enough, she looks like she’s either in a mini mosh pit or - since she’s in a mouse costume - she’s a tiny kaiju trying to ravage an invisible town. 

You go through two more pop chart toppers before Minnie shows any signs of slowing down. As soon as you sense that her enthusiasm is dipping, you move onto step two of your devious plan.

“Do you want to dance with Daddy?”

The answer is obviously a yes. 

The Mouse Princess gets scooped up and set on Matt’s hip and he takes one of her small hands in his so he can guide her around in a dance. You let them have one bopping dance, where it is all energy and Minnie shimming like crazy before you sneakily switch the playlist. 

The next song has a beat to dance to, but it is nothing like the previous ones. Matt gradually slows so he is rocking in place, pretending to slow dance with his daughter. 

You stop at that point and stay on your phone, holding it up to record him mouthing the words to ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ while Minnie slowly starts to sink against his shoulder. You can’t help but sway to the music, a soft smile spreading across your face. 

You never thought you would get this - not just seeing Minnie’s father being so absolutely sweet with her, but having a family where these sorts of moments can happen. You didn’t think this was the type of life you would get to live. 

Instead of indifference, you are surrounded by love. It may not be love for you, but you get to soak it all in and enjoy how your daughter is absolutely spoiled. Matt is so clearly head over heels for her, wrapped around her little finger more than you are, and it seems like he is dragging his entire network along with him. 

His friends went hog wild in terms of getting gifts for your little toddler. Not only did Foggy give her the pogo stick, but she got all sorts of stickers from him and coloring books - and his Mom - who you really need to meet at this point - sent home baked cookies and Scooby Doo themed puzzles. Karen was not to be outdone, though, as she and Frank went the doll route. They entered your apartment with a two-story wooden Victorian style dollhouse that the Punisher apparently refurbished. They had full Princess themed furnishing to go with it and you can only imagine that poor Karen is going to be getting doll ads for months.

Sister Maggie sent along more practical things - some learning to read books. To your great surprise, all of the simple stories come with print lettering and Braille, and Minnie now also has a big letter board that has the same. You want her to learn the language and now she and Matt can read bedtime stories together. 

You still have trouble comprehending that all these people are in your daughter’s life now. It so effortlessly went from being just the two of you to an extended Family. 

And even Minnie is understanding that. 

While Foggy is Froggy and Sister Maggie is Daddy’s Mommy, Miss Karen has been officially upgraded to Auntie Karen. You do not know what triggered the change in title, but she was lording it over Foggy and Frank like it was a status symbol. 

You have promised to take so many pictures to send to them while you are at the zoo and the sheer idea that other people want the photos makes you giddy. You know you are going to end up printing some out to frame. You want to send something to Sister Maggie and you just know Matt will want one - or fifteen - for his desk. 

You are dragged from your thoughts when Minnie finally, finally yawns. 

You stop the music before it can go onto the next crooner and step towards your favorite pair, “Are you getting sleepy, baby?”

She nods against Matt’s shoulder before turning her head so she can use him as a pillow.

“Okay, let's get you into bed,” you coo. Luckily, she does not protest - she is completely petered out and you are not sure if she’ll even make it to the bed before she's in a deep sleep. 

The Dance Party was a complete success, and you decide it will be something to keep in your back pocket when Mouse is too active at night.

You follow Matt as he carries Minnie to the bedroom. He is still just barely swaying her in his arms still, tempting her closer and closer to Dreamland. 

You slip around him to get into the room first so you can make sure the sheets and covers are turned down. As the dead weight that is your daughter is slipped into bed, you turn on the air conditioner, so the room gets nice and cold. By the time you get back to Mouse’s side, Matt has gotten her sleep headband on and secured, and you can't tell if she's awake or not.

Apparently, she is still somewhat conscious, because Matt asks in the softest and sweetest voice, “Did you have a good birthday, my love?”

Minnie’s lips barely move as she mumbles out an, “uh-huh.”

“I'm glad. Mommy and Daddy love you very much. Sweet dreams, my little angel.”

He gives her a kiss to the cheek, then steps aside so that you can do the same. As you pull back, she weakly smacks her lips together and breathes out, “Luff.”

Your heart grows three sizes, and you truly feel like the Grinch when you have to pull Matt from the room. You know, if he could, he would stand there all night, standing dutifully by her side as she slept.

But Mouse Princess Minnie needs her rest, and you need help cleaning up the aftermath of the party. 

The dining table is covered in various arts and crafts projects. Minnie had practically run a little sweat shop with how she had multiple adults sat and focused on painting and building things with popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners. Luckily, everything is dry now and can be moved. You have a scrapbook you are going to put some pieces in, and others are going to be hung up around the apartment. 

You want to keep everything Minnie makes - you have no relics from your childhood, and you don't want that for her. You want to sit down with her when she's an adult and laugh together about how cute she was. 

As you start to clear the table, Matt begins to walk around the room, picking up any lingering trash. You've been good at cleaning throughout the day and not letting things sit, but you still had things like empty birthday bags and toy boxes out. You can see him snapping out of the corner of your eyes as he gathers things, and it makes you smile. You are always fascinated about how he navigates the world and using echolocation to clean isn’t something you would have thought possible.

“I didn't picture you as the dancing type,” he teases across the room as you sort arts and crafts.

“Oh, I am not,” is your instant reply and you can’t help but screw up your face at the idea of you being a dancer.

“Really? You seemed to know what you were doing.”

“Definitely not,” you insist. You feel yourself start to flush as Matt chuckles behind you.

“I think you are selling yourself short. I bet there were more eyes on you than you realized when you went dancing.” You know he is being sweet and trying to boost your ego, but you’ve never been out dancing. You didn’t even go to your prom. In fact, the last time you danced with someone who wasn’t Minnie was in middle school, at one of the in-school dance events.

That isn’t something you really want to admit, so you go with, “I don’t really go out dancing.” 

He gives the faintest of sighs from the living room, so you decide to try and humor him and add, “I don’t think I’d enjoy a club, but I always thought learning ballroom would be fun. Less people and..you know,” you motion up and for some reason twirl your hand, “less bass.”

“That does seem more your style,” he replies, and you heat up even more. You know he can’t see you, but you duck your head to try and hide how you must be blushing.

As always, when you feel yourself start to get flustered, your brain takes a backseat to your mouth. You muse out, “I always wanted to learn to slow dance.”

You instantly start to mentally berate yourself. You sound like a complete idiot - as far as you know there is no method to slow dancing beyond swaying. You equate things like waltzing and other partner dances with slow dancing - even though the terminology isn’t right.

“You’ve never slow danced?” 

He sounds surprised and you want to smother yourself with the artwork in your hands. You are digging a hole of pathetic-ness and you need to abandon this topic of conversation before Matt realizes how lame you truly are. To do this, you tell him, “I told you I’m not the dancing type.” 

Matt doesn’t respond, so you think you are in the clear. You don’t dare look over at him, instead keeping your focus on Minnie’s painting of Max you’ve just picked up. Her drawings are getting more and more defined - you can actually tell this is meant to be a dog as opposed to her usual circle-based creatures. You are so proud of her, and you can’t wait until she’s more comfortable with writing. You think her toddler handwriting is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Siri,” Matt suddenly says from right behind you, making you start with fright and drop the painting back to the table, “play ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”

You whirl around to find Matt impossibly close, holding his phone up to speak into it. You quickly start to shake your head, just barely chanting, “no, no, no, no,” at him.

“Getting that from your Music Playlist,” the phone traitorously replies before the song starts to play.  Matt reaches past you to set his phone down on the table, then that same hand goes to your waist.

You try to protest by saying his name, but he cuts you off, “Humor me.”

Your anxiety can’t fight that as much as you want to, so you very reluctantly let him pull you away from the table and towards the emptier area of the kitchen. You cannot look at him as he guides you into position - you can only stare at your feet and pray for the internet to cut out and turn off the music. 

But of course, that doesn’t happen. 

Matt slowly begins to sway, and you force yourself to awkwardly follow along. He must know how uncomfortable you are, as the thumb that is on your hip starts to rub in slow circles and he starts talking in a soft voice, “they never played a lot of music at St. Agnes’, but Father Lantom used to have a radio in his office. He’d have it going after hours, when he was doing paperwork or working on sermons. I would focus on it to help me sleep - they’d always play the same things over and over and it became like white noise to help dampen everything else. He used to hum along with this one.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to him and not the lyrics to the song. You don’t think you’ve heard him refer to this person before, but you are guessing this is the man who ran the Church Matt grew up in. 

“It’s a good song,” you mumble, trying your best to engage with him instead of being overwhelmed. 

“It is,” he agrees. He steps a breath closer to you then oh so gently, just barely touches his forehead to yours. All of your embarrassment evaporates, and you are very hyper aware of everywhere you and Matt are touching. Your throat tightens a fraction, and your heart begins to pound so loudly it drowns out the music. 

You want to apologize because you know Matt must be able to hear your heart becoming a drum and it must be annoying, but all you can do is sway in his arms. 

You feel his breath on your cheek when he asks in a whisper, “is this okay?” and you can’t do anything more than get your head to nod up and down once. His response, for some unknown reason, is to give a pleased hum. The noise is like lightning down your spine, making you shiver against him and instead of letting you go like you would expect, he becomes even closer. 

Your reaction is to curl your fingers tighter around him and you don’t understand why. Part of you wants to run and hide under your covers and never speak of this moment again, but another wants to stay like this forever, because despite your panic, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

To be held?

Even if it is a ruse. 

Matt is taking pity on you and dancing with you as a bit of a tease, but he’s not being cruel. You told him you don’t dance, so of course he wants to dance. You’ve seen the interaction in film and television plenty of times - Matt is a good man and wants you to have fun.

And you are, aren’t you? 

You’re having fun.

You had a wonderful day filled with laughter and joy, and now it is ending in a sweet moment. 

You can let yourself enjoy this. 

Matt breathes your name against your cheek and the lightning feeling is back, “you’re overthinking again.”

“I’m trying not to,” you promise him, because you truly are trying to tamper down your thoughts. It is just hard not to when your mind won’t stop spinning. 

“Do you want this?” he asks after a moment and you have no idea what he means, but honestly it doesn’t matter. Every fiber of your being screams the same thing as soon as the words leave him.

“Yes.”

The world comes to a sudden halt as Matthew Murdock’s lips press against yours. 

They are soft and warm and as sweet as you remember them being. They are hesitant, almost delicate, as they move against yours. A gentle hand comes up and cups your cheek and it snaps you back into reality. 

The dam inside you breaks and you do not think - you only act.

Your hands launch up to tangle into his short hair and you kiss Matt back with a hunger you did not know you had.

His reaction is instantaneous - within a moment you are backed against a countertop, and he is practically devouring you. He is groaning low in his throat, sounding almost animalistic, and the hand that was on your hip is now on the small on your back, keeping you pressed firmly against him. Gone is the sweet, innocent moment - you need him in a biblical way, and you think he feels the same. 

To your own surprise, it is you who pushes things further, biting at his lower lip. He opens himself easily for you and you reward this by licking into his mouth. 

He may have you pinned to the counter, but you do not feel trapped. You know if you showed any doubt about what was happening or indicated you wanted to stop - consciously or unconsciously - Matt would be across the room in a second. 

You don’t need to be scared with him - you know that now - and that only fuels your fire.

You need to be touched.

You need to be held. 

You need Matt to fuck you stupid.

And by the bulge starting to press into your hip, you think he is more than happy to do just that. 

Matt breaks the kiss, only to move his mouth down to your neck. He drags his tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin there causing obscene little noises to come out of you.

“Sound so good,” he growls into your throat and all sorts of heady reactions course through you. “Smell so fucking good. Drives me crazy.” He emphasizes his point by burying his nose into your pulse point before biting down. Your cunt clenches around nothing and you whimper out his name, but he isn’t done with his praise yet, continuing on between lapping at your skin, “Sit there so innocent and sweet, not knowing I want to bury my face between your legs. Can’t think when you get all flustered. Want my tongue on you at all times.”

His words wash over you, but you can’t contextualize what he is Actually saying. All you can hear is his current need and desire and you want his tongue on you as well. You know how well he can use it and your body craves him.

You don’t know how to tell him what you want beyond hiking your leg up to wrap around him and pressing your hips forward with a needy, “Please, Matt.”

It seems that is all he needs you to say. 

Like you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and sets you on the counter. You lean back to push your sleeping shorts and panties down and he is there to help, practically tearing them off your legs and sending them across the kitchen. As soon as that barrier is gone, Matt wastes not one second - he drops to his knees between your legs and drags you forward by your hips, throwing your thighs over his shoulders. 

Any shame you may have is gone the moment he drags his nose from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit and only then do you realize how absolutely soaked you are. 

He starts to mumble something under his breath, but you can’t hear him over how heavy you are breathing. The hot puffs of air against you are the worst type of tease and already making your muscles quake. To keep yourself from slipping, you place one hand on the counter, then use the other to grab onto Matt’s hair. You must grab too hard as he shudders under your fingers, but he keeps up his soft words.

He’s so close and you haven’t been touched in so so long that you cannot take this. 

“Matt, please,” you beg and again he shakes under your hand. 

“Amen,” you just barely hear before his voice raises just enough to be actually audible, “Don’t worry, my darling, I’ll take care of you, now.”

You nearly lose it when he finally puts his mouth on you. You are already worked up and so sensitive, that a few flicks of his tongue has you mewling. That only serves to encourage him, and he buries himself deeper into your core, moaning shamelessly like he is the one being pleasured. You grip tightly onto his hair to try to keep some composure, but you are already right on the edge. 

Your hips start to twitch, and your abdomen starts to tighten before you realize it. Your head rolls back as you start to chant Matt’s name in a pant, begging him to chase your incoming orgasm. 

He, of course, happily obeys. 

It is not mind shattering, but it has you rocking forward to curl around Matt’s head, your other hand coming around to claw at his shoulders as you come. He keeps his tongue working until your thighs stop quaking, then he pulls back. He grins up at you like he’s a kid in the lewdest candy store - his mouth and chin and glistening with your juices and it’s clear he couldn’t be prouder of himself.

“One,” he purrs out and you start to laugh a little from how cute he is in your giddy state. You remember in your night together all those years ago, he had also counted your orgasms. It didn’t come off as smug then and it definitely doesn’t now.

He effortlessly raises up to his feet and you let your legs fall from his shoulders to wrap around his waist instead. His hands glide down from your hips to your thighs before he tugs you forward so he's holding you up. He slowly starts to back away from the kitchen and you secure your hold on his shoulders, so you don’t slip as he carries you.

You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him. Your slick tastes tart on his lips, but you don’t care - especially when you can feel him melting into your touch. You keep things slow and languid as he brings you to the couch. You pull away as he gently lays you down, but not fully. Your hands drop to his stomach, and you tug at his shirt, “Off.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

He fluidly pulls it off before crawling over you and boxing your head in with his large arms. You loop yours around his neck again as he dips to kiss you again. 

The feral need inside of you has been temporarily satiated, so you can enjoy this slower exploration. Your hands smooth over his neck and back and you cannot believe how muscular he is. His suits do a good job to keep him looking lean so that you often forget how much raw power he holds. You feel like you could get lost in just touching him - tracing along his skin to feel each little freckle and scar. 

It seems like he could do the same for you. While keeping one arm down to keep himself held up over you, the other makes its way between you. His hand pushes up under your oversized t-shirt and up to your ribs. You aren’t very ticklish, but you still shudder and arch at his touch. He easily finds your breast and massages it a few times before pinching at your nipple. 

You gasp into his mouth, and as he begins to tweak and play with it, you have to turn your head away because you can’t keep up with his kissing.

“So sensitive,” he teases in a whisper. He nips at your ear before starting to make his way down your neck again. 

“Feels good,” you reply, trying to not whine, but you are pretty sure you fail. 

Matt hums in response before scooting down your body. You hook your legs around his waist as he pushes your shirt up to reveal your breasts, then watch as he bends to take one in his mouth. You close your eyes as he begins to suckle and pleasure washes through you. 

You bring a hand up to scratch lightly at the base of his skull as he starts to worship your chest. He is sure to make sure your other nipple isn’t neglected, pinching and flicking at it in time with his tongue. It doesn’t take long for your core to start pulsing and gushing again, but Matt stays focused on his task. He starts to alternate which breast gets the attention of his mouth versus his hand and soon enough you are thinking you can cum again just from this. 

You start to squirm and pant under him, but it is when you rock your hips into him that he changes course. 

You feel him move and adjust, but you don’t know how, as he never neglects you for a second. Once he is how he needs to be, the hand not already preoccupied slips between the two of you. He runs one finger over your slit, pushing between your labia to coat himself in you. You can’t help but moan at the teasing. 

But he doesn’t do it long - as soon as he’s slick, he pushes into you. 

His finger is thick, and the stretch feels perfect - it isn’t too much, but a little more might be too uncomfortable. He starts to pump his finger in time with his tongue and all you can do is lay there and take it. You are on the edge of being overwhelmed, but right in the state of bliss.

Praise starts to tumble from your mouth this time, as you keep up scratching at his neck and shoulders. 

“Feels so good. Already so close. Please, Matt. Need you.” 

Before you even realize you are ready for it, he pushes a second finger into you, and you are nearly seeing stars. You know his cock is big and you need the stretching, especially after so long, but part of you just wants him in you now. He’s always so sweet and he’s not going to hurt you in that way, so you know he’s going to make sure you are ready before fucking you. 

But you are still going to be needy about it. 

You start to roll your hips, wanting more and more and more. It takes you a few tries to match his pace, but once you do, the buildup is quick. You can feel it in your thighs first, tingling and spasming as your release gets closer. 

Matt releases your nipple from his mouth long enough to encourage you, “Cum for me, darling. Cum on my fingers.” 

He crooks his fingers as he latches back onto you and you white out. You shake and curl as your orgasm rocks you and Matt doesn’t let up at all. His fingers pump and work your way through it until you cannot take any more stimulus and you have to try and crawl away. He takes pity on you and pulls back and slides his fingers out. 

They instantly go into his mouth, and he licks them clean in the most obscene way possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, admiring everything about his physique. 

Only once he’s finished his task do you reach for him. Your fingers skate from his chest down his abs until you can grab his boxers and pajama pants. You tug them down enough to free his cock and it is a thing of beauty. It’s thick with a slight curve and one pulsing vein running along it. The head is swollen and red and leaking pre-cum like a faucet. You wrap your fingers around the base and slowly stroke up. Matt’s head rolls back, his lips parting just slightly, and he looks like he is in absolute heaven. 

“Didn’t get to taste you last time,” you tease, and you are practically salivating at the idea of having him in your mouth. You want to return all the pleasure he's given you. He needs to be the one to lay back and enjoy your mouth on him.

He groans before rolling forward, so he is hovering over you again. “There will be time for that later, can’t wait for you any longer,” he says in a low voice, and despite his eyes not functioning as they should, you can see the hunger in them. 

You more than understand that and lean up to meet him in a kiss. Your hand is still wrapped around him, so you give a few pumps to smear his pre-cum, and as you do, he quietly swears.

“I don’t have a condom.”

The words hit you hard and your eager and horny mind of course throws out the first thing you think, “You already got me pregnant once with one.”

Matt’s nose flares at that and his cock twitches hard in your hand. He swallows thickly before asking, “Are you clean?”

“I am,” you promise. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. Are you?” He gives a jerky nod and when he does, you rub your thumb over his head, teasing the slit, “then I’m okay without one.”

He surges forward to crash into your lips, and you release your hold on him so that he can position himself. You tangle your fingers into his hair again, and to test a little theory, tug at it. He all but moans into your mouth and you can’t help but ask, “Do you like that?” 

“Yes,” is his instant reply. It’s his turn to tease when he rubs his cock over your needy cunt. “Bite me, scratch me, do anything you want to me. I’m yours.”

Then he pushes into you and all the thoughts and ideas in your head turn to dust. 

Even stretched out, there is still a slight burn, but it feels so wonderful. He starts with slow, shallow thrusts until he is fully inside you, only to settle for a moment. He noses down to your ear and nips at your lobe. He repeats, “I’m yours,” in a low growl before pulling out of you and slamming back in.

The pace he sets isn’t brutal, but it's clear he’s as eager and wanting as you. You drag him back into a kiss, biting at his lips as he gives you exactly what you want - what you need. One hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it but not squeezing. You respond by digging your nails into his shoulder. He hisses into your mouth, but you can tell he likes it by how he reacts.

His other hand grabs you by the hip and tilts your pelvis up so he can drive himself deeper into you. You gasp at the sudden change - his cock is hitting the perfect spot and with each stroke, you feel like you are going to lose your mind and Matt seems to know that. He begins to pepper bites and kisses along your shoulder, sending shocks of pleasure to your core with each one. 

Your anxiety is nowhere to be found, so there is nothing to hold you back from clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. You guide him back to your neck, where his bites feel the best, and give breathy pleas. He digs his teeth into you as your third orgasm starts to build. 

The arm around his shoulder drops to the couch and you reach for the hand that is holding him up. He allows you to tangle your fingers together and you squeeze his hand as you clench your cunt around him. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, just as he starts to lap at your neck.

“Me too,” he pants in reply, “needed you so badly. Need you so badly.” He turns his head to press it hard against your shoulder, and asks the most ridiculous question you’ve ever heard, “do you want me to pull out?”

You shift so you can hook your leg around his waist and dig your heel into the small of his back in response while also tugging hard at his hair. 

“Fuck,” he moans into you, instantly starting to pick up his pace to the point the couch is starting to rock, “Yes, I won’t. Fuck.” He starts to chant your name in between swears and you try to use the leverage of your leg to rock your hips to meet his thrusts. 

You bite into his shoulder, so you do not cry out as your orgasm takes you by force. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses up and your hips twitch violently and euphoria rushes through you. Matt’s hips sputter once before he buries himself in you. 

You lose yourself for a few moments as you quite literally sink into bliss. Your leg relaxes around Matt, sliding down to keep around his thigh as you settle into the couch. He lets go of your hip to allow you to do that, but he follows you down, putting only some of his weight on you like a heavy, warm blanket. 

You lessen your grip on his hair so you can begin to give him light scritches and that makes him nuzzle into your neck with a pleased little noise. You return the noise, then use all the effort left in your body to turn your head to kiss his temple and squeeze his hand at the same time. 

“Stay like this,” you request. Your eyes are getting heavy, and you don’t fight to keep them open.

“Anything for you, My Queen,” he replies, sounding just as gone as you feel. You manage a chuckle and another kiss to his hairline.

“My sweet knight.”

You fall asleep under Matthew Murdock, your legs, hands, and hearts tangled together.  

---

a/n: :3C Next chapter is the zoo.

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[emmyrosee]

Don’t read this bc this is more cute aggression with mr sakusa and this is for me so

Also, yes, these are all things I’ve said to my niece in an act of cute aggression 💅🏼

-

“I could rip your teeth out.”

“That’s nice, baby.”

Kiyoomi is used to you. It’s the only reason, you’re convinced, that he lets you do the things you do, say the feral things you say. Your methods of making him swoon were, arguably, cuter than he’d expect, and he openly tells you that when you used to get self conscious about it.

(“It’s not every day someone wants to squeeze me until I pop.”

“Well, now, it will be. Welcome to your life.”

He smirks, “well alright then.”)

It’s not a lie- he’s never had someone as openly affectionate as you, clinging to his arm at the grocery store, biting his muscles and neck when he’s trying to cook dinner (his teammates ask him constantly what things you two get up to- he doesn’t have the heart to tell them you bit him when he was making some tea) just doing anything and everything to bug him domestically.

Its… comforting, in a bizarre way. To know you find him absolutely intoxicating and addictive. He’s not entirely sure he’d change it.

Even now, when you practically have burrowed into his skin.

“I could kick you; how dare you be so cute?” You pout, laying your head on his shoulder restfully.

He chuckles and continues to scroll through his phone, “it’s strange- I’m so used to Komori being the cute one.”

You roll your eyes and snicker, “you’re so full of it, and you know you are. You’ve always been the cute one, shut the hell up.”

“Handsome, maybe, but never cute-“

In an instant, he’s cute off by your hand immediately darting towards his face. Your fingers fly up at his mouth, trying to grip his teeth. It’s something you don’t do often because he can’t stand it, but it seems like today, you’re on a mission to be as close to him as possible.

“Ah!” He snaps, turning his head away. You retract your hand as he gives you a scolding look. Immediately, you feel bad that the impulsive thoughts won, and you made him so mad. “We talked about that. Don’t do that.”

“But-“

“No. Do. Not. Grab at my teeth.”

You pout softly at the reprimand in his tone, mumbling a soft ‘I’m sorry’ as you settle back down, your head dipping to hide in the crook of his neck. He lets out a sigh and plops his phone on the side table and shuffle a bit.

“You know I like your cute aggressions…. Except that one. Of all the things you do, that’s the one I can’t tolerate babe, you know that.”

“You’re just so pretty. I can’t help it.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” He says, absolutely teasing you and you giggle as you hide your face in his neck. “Is biting me not good enough? Is sniffing me until you can’t breathe not good enough now?” He interrupts his own preach by pecking kisses all over your cheek, holding you tighter as you start to squirm away. “Is coming into my shower not good enough now? Is dropping by extra desserts at practice not good enough? Is sucking hickeys on my cheeks not good enough?”)

You move your head away from his neck to giggle more and try to make an attempt away from his kisses, but this gives him real estate, and he decides to take it. He starts to give you a taste of your own medicine, biting at your cheek and ear and neck and fingers now pinching up your sides and ribs.

“Omi!”

“Is crawling into my lap while I’m on a zoom call not good enough? Is stealing my pillows from under my head when you’re sleeping not good enough? Is taking my clothes when you’re sick not good enough? Is picking. My nose. When I’m mad. NOT GOOD ENOUGH?”

Your struggles to get away from him are in vain, he’s got you gathered in his big arms, your head tossed back and feet kicking for a meek attempt at freedom. He peppers bites and kisses continuously on your neck, smiling against your skin as you scream and whine into the air.

“Are all these things so boring now and you have to grab my literal teeth?”

“Yes!” You titter, and while it does make him stop in surprise, he’s quick to smack the facade back on, pulling his head back to glare at you. You flash him some puppy eyes while you reach up to card the curls from his face, “I’m just obsessed with you… always need more ways to get under your skin.” You laugh as he sighs and leans his forehead against yours, clearly not caring half as much as he says, and taking gentle breaths against you. “I love bugging you.”

“Well, how could you not when you do such a good job?”

“I know right?” Once again, he lifts his head up to glare playfully at you, snickering as you continue to flash him the same innocent beam.

“Can you promise me you won’t grab my teeth anymore?” He asks, shifting a hand to lace with yours; he brings the knuckles of your hand up to kiss them, a way to show his affection and also, sort of, maybe, convince you to promise.

You sigh softly and let him kiss over your fingers, letting the comfortable silence between you both relish. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He groans in faux agony, face crashing down to bury in your chest, and you cackle while he does, your arms tossing around his shoulders to keep him close.

“I hate you,” he grumbles.

“No you don’t. You eat this shit up and you know it.”

He sends a dirty look at you between his lashes before sighing and laying his head back down. “Don’t expose me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

[hypnoneghoul]

Hellooo I have cometh out of hibernation and I am in need of some spicy Raintom or Raindrop or fuck it all 3 of the bugs. I pay in: Rain Cake🎂

ehehe ass

1k words, transmasc dew, vag and anal sex, at once because i love me some classical dp between bros, yk how it goes heh, objectification if you squint, bit of hair and tail pulling

Dewdrop wasn’t as big of a brat as he usually seemed. He wasn’t as aggressive either, it was mostly a facade. He was actually quite sweet and level headed, something he owed to his past as a water ghoul.

That doesn’t mean he can’t be a brat. Far from it.

He is going to be one when he’s too pent up to ignore, but too annoyed by the fact alone, to ask for help. Bratting his way into getting what he wants is his way of asking.

Rain knows that perfectly well, but it doesn’t mean he’s not happy to indulge.

This time it took the water ghoul three days to snap, grab Dewdrop by the tail and drag him away snarling. He was getting exactly what he wanted, yes, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t act highly offended by Rain’s display. 

“Asshole,” the fire ghoul snapped his teeth but didn’t put up much of an actual physical protest.

“As you wish,” Rain told him calmly, leaving Dewdrop confused. Just outside Rain’s bedroom’s door they came across Phantom, staring at them like a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly Rain got an idea. “Come. You’ll get a brat taming lesson.”

He threw Dewdrop inside the room and waited for Phantom to walk in, too, before slipping in himself. He looked over at the fire ghoul standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows raised.

Rain snarled and everything happened so fast then, that Phantom and Dewdrop himself had barely even registered it. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room and the other he was bent over the bed with his ass bare and tail yanked upwards.

“Phantom,” Rain called out sternly. “Strip and get on the bed, on your back.”

The quintessence ghoul scrambled to obey, scared of getting the same treatment as Dewdrop for misbehaving. Soon enough he was in position with his cock standing straight up, hard since the moment he saw Rain drag Dewdrop through the corridor.

“Good,” Rain praised, and let go of the fire ghoul. “Sit on his cock, Droplet.”

Both Dewdrop’s and Phantom’s stomachs flipped at Rain’s tone, as if both of them were nothing more than toys. 

“Boring,” the fire ghoul scoffed despite it, but crawled over to hover his dripping cunt over Phantom’s dick as he stared up at him frozen with his mouth agape. Dewdrop slipped a hand down to run through his wet folds—toying with his clit just to piss Rain off even more on the way—and parted them before sinking down onto the quintessence ghoul’s cock all the way down.

Dewdrop groaned through clenched teeth while Phantom moaned like a whore, still laying limply. The fire ghoul immediately started rolling his hips through the initial sting of spearing himself on the other’s cock but was quickly stopped by a harsh tug on his hair.

“No, you don't,” Rain snarled right into his ear, making a shiver go down Dewdrop’s spine. “Phantom, color?”

“Uh…” Where Dewdrop was already losing his fight, Phantom was already stupid. “G– green.”

Rain didn’t respond, just pushed the fire ghoul down so he’d lay chest to chest on Phantom. “Don’t you dare move, Dewdrop.”

“Uhuh,” he grunted, entirely focused on the quintessence dick filling him so nicely. He could never brat much more with a cock snug inside him. He floated away slightly, his chin on Phantom’s sternum as his eyes fluttered close. Dewdrop loved getting fucked into oblivion but he was a true whore for cockwarming.

He wasn’t at peace for long, though, startling when his tail was yanked up again and a cold, wet finger circled his asshole, “Oh, uh, Rain– what are you–”

“Your idea, don’t you remember?” The fire ghoul didn’t need to see Rain's face to see his smirk. He was still confused, totally out of it, really, but it’s not like he was going to complain. Still, Rain wanted to make sure, “Color?”

“Greeeeen,” Dewdrop whined and pushed his ass back, earning himself a growl from the water ghoul and a moan from Phantom.

“Do. Not. Move,” Rain spat once more and shoved two slick fingers into Dewdrop’s ass with no more preamble. The fire ghoul moaned, all fucked out, and went completely limp.

“R– Rainy, I– I can–” it was Phantom’s turn to whine. Rain knew exactly what he was trying to say and helped him get there by curling his fingers downwards and pressing them into the quintessence ghoul’s cock through Dewdrop’s inner walls. They both moaned in unison, completely out of their minds.

“That’s what I thought,” Rain chuckled and started to really finger Dewdrop, moving his digits in and out with a filthy squelch and occasionally crooking them to remind Phantom he was right there. Of course, he took way too much than actually needed, reveling in being able to reduce both Dewdrop and Phantom to nothing more but babbling, drooling messes with just his words and fingers.

“Rainyyy,” the fire ghoul cried out again. “Fuck me, come on… please, put it in, fuck my ass.”

“Stop whining,” Rain growled, but pulled his fingers out. As much as he enjoyed torturing his ghouls he was starting to get needy himself, cock rock hard and leaking for what felt like hours now.

The water ghoul finally ripped his pants off and moaned when his dick sprung out of its confinement, cold air hitting the sensitive flesh. He grabbed Dewdrop’s limp legs and hooked them over Phantom’s, pushing them together. The tightness made the two ghouls whimper as Rain straddled them and guided the red tip of his cock to the fire ghoul’s slippery hole.

“You can brat all you want, Droplet, but I know you like it best to be just my obedient little fuck doll,” Rain whispered and with one thrust buried himself to the hilt in Dewdrop’s hot, tight ass. High moans rang out in the room, the tightness nearly unbearable for all three of them. The water ghoul had to take a moment for a few deep breaths, lest he blow his load too fast.

When he managed to compose himself as best as possible, Rain leaned to whisper into Dewdrop’s ear again, “Me and our dear Phantom here are going to use your sweet holes. We’ll stretch you out and fill you up, ruin for everyone else. And you are not going to move an inch, do you understand?”

Dewdrop let out a pained little noise, “Y– yes… please.”

“Careful what you ask for, baby.”

[skyjasper]

The Devil and I

Reader X Azriel

Summary: the time for war has come, yet her powers have not. What will she do when everyone she loves, including her mate, is suffering on the battlefield below.

Warnings: gore, violence, light NSFW, talks of sex.

A/N: ik yall wanted a new AZ one shot soooo here you are :))) this is based off of the song Me and the Devil. If you wanna check out my other works you can do so here:

Masterlist.

Word count: 1.07 K (short IK)

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

The war raged on the battlefield below her, screams of agony wailing through the wind. She was completely powerless as her mate fought. She watched her high lord cast waves of his power, killing multiple as he engaged in combat. She was on her knees, hands digging into the land below her. She heard Azriels roaring scream all the way from her cliff top.

“Please Mother. I beg for some forgiveness, please give me a tool to help fight. We are losing, I can’t stand by. Please Mother, grant me the powers that were stolen from you by my ancestors for promise I will return it.” She whispered into the grass with her head bowed. 

Something tugged on her hands, pulling her fingers into the land. A small scream escaped her before the rest of her was covered with roots and dirt. Her body was pulled deep into the ground, small bugs crawling over her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move as something forced its way down her mouth. 

Dirt and dust filled her body, humming as if to say if you want power so bad then have it. Then her body was being forced out of the ground, new things adorned her body. Cufflinks made of root and tree wrapped itself around her arms. Her former clothing, now replaced by a garment made of leaves and flowers, covering the most delicate parts of her.

Vines raked up her legs and around her body, hounding her together. Her hair was now braided down her back with vines and flowers growing out of her hair, the top of her head was now adorned with a crown made of tree twigs and cones. 

She felt the power flowing through her body, thrumming under her skin. A large root grew out of the ground where she stood, lifting her into the air. She felt more than heard the silence on both fronts. When she looked down she was met with a ground looking back at her. She stepped off the cliff, trusting her powers to allow roots to carry her to the ground. As her foot made contact with solid earth the war raged again. 

Yet this time the screams were pointed towards her. The few who attempted to attack her were frozen in place with vines crawling over their feet. The vines and roots slithered up their bodies and down their mouths still opened in a scream. She watched as vines popped out of every crevice, their eyes, ears, noses, even through their pores. She absorbed their power as they were turned into dirt.

She heard Azriels loud grunt from her right. Her head snapped to the sound, eyes zeroing in on the perpetrator causing his pain. She tugged on the gold thread in between them. She walked quickly towards him, slaughtering anyone and everyone in her path. Her eyes were set on her mate and she would stop at nothing to get to him. 

When she did get to him, his attacker was already headless. She turned to her mate, his blue siphons flaring as they made eye contact. She felt his pride and heat flow through the bond. 

“My little huntress.” He whispered as he stalked to her.

The battle around them seemed to disappear as he neared. All she could hear was her heart beating out of her chest. Her hands reached into his hair when he got close enough. He smiled down at her with a predatory smirk, his shadows going crazy around him. 

She smashed her lips to his blood covered lip. Her hands pulled on his hair as his hands met her back side. One of his arms stayed on her butt while the other snuck around her waist, pulling her closer. Rooting swirled over both of their feet as she let out a small moan.

“Show them what you’re made of. Show them exactly how strong you are. Remind them to never underestimate you ever again.” He whispered against her mouth. 

His wings flared as one of her hands grazed their most sensitive spots.

“End this war. Once and for all?” She asked against his lips. With a wicked smirk he nodded.

A matching smirk fell upon her face as she lifted the two of them, slightly above the blood and gore. She turned, her back now flush with the shadowsingers front. She looked upon the masses and with a wicked smile she unleashed her power upon Hybern. 

Multiple thick, stocky roots broke from the ground, obliterating anyone who stood on their ground. Thick ropes of ivy surrounded the other soldiers, squeezing until their body’s burst, blood rained upon the soldiers of Hybern. 

New screams were heard, screams of cheer and victory rang out loud. Her power continued to flow, killing every last soldier. She found the king and wrapped him with a large root, carrying him to the feet of the oldest Archeron sister. Allowing her to exact her revenge.

The blood reached both her Azriel. She felt it pour down her face, over her leaves. She felt Azriels hand tighten around her waist and his lips making contact with her neck. She let her head roll onto Azriels shoulder as he kissed the most sensitive spot on her neck. 

The war was over, they had won. She had obliterated Hybern, all for her mate. She gained power from the mother for her mate. She lowered the pair over to where all the high lords stood. Her head bowed to the powerful beings.

“Do not bow, girl. Stand tall, for you have just won.” Ameren spoke. Her voice was different, clearer now. She was unsure of what all happened in the fight, but she was sure of one thing. That she would no longer be weak. 

The high lords offered her a hand. A voice of sorts. When she called upon the mother to return her power, she did not answer.

Keep it. I have no use for it. Find lands to raise, take care of the earth girl. 

With a nod she shook each of their hands. Then she turned back to her mate, a look of exhaust in her eyes. He nodded with understanding, taking her hand and winnowing them to their tent in the woods.

It was there that he claimed her body, again and again. Their tent was now surrounded by trees and flowers. 

“My huntress.” He whispered into her thighs.

“My hunter.” She responded.

~~~~~~~

A/N:

Here’s a short little one shot :) I absolutely love this one.

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibellesliteraryloves

[runningwiththemarvels]

woki-

summary: Loki turned his head for one minute...

pairing: daddy!loki x little!femreader

warnings: water/drowning/ age regression/

A/N: this is so fluff I cant- it seemed people actually liked my uh other post. if anyone has any story recommendations or critique your more than welcome. ok luv you byeee.

~

The cavern was located deep in the forest of Asgard.

It was hidden by plentiful wild flowers and ivy leaves dangling precariously from the broad trees, which were sheltering the soil below.

you would hop and skip along any exposed branch, clamber upon any tree stumps that were cut down from harsh storms.

It took Loki and you some time to make it to his secret destination. You would slow behind, ogling any bug that wriggled, or leaf that fluttered from the clear sky.

Striding along the path, your daddy couldn't help chuckling to turn and find you plucking stray twigs from the earth, and pebbles that shone brightly. Once Loki had turned away for a second, then found you enjoying the company of a grass snake slithering around your ankle, you insisted on keeping the creature but your daddy was adamant.

The two of you were now settled underneath a willow tree viewing the pond ahead, tall grass surrounded the water.

The sunset would ripple off the water's edge, creating small sparkles. “Here daddy!” You exclaimed, shuffling on your muddy knees to your daddy. Taking the crumpled daisy from your pocket you stretched your arms, shoving the gift in his lap.

He observed the limp white petals “is this for me darling?” he asked kindly, a slight pink dust dusted your cheeks and you couldn't help hide your blush in his chest.

You nodded quietly against him, the scent of tea and old books filling your nose, your ear was pressed snuggly against his beating heart and heard the faint chuckles of loki.

After some time you grew restless, now bored of the mother birds singing, hidden away in the depths of green.

You crawl off your daddy and begin waddling around admiring the pond in front of you, Loki materialises a worn book one that he would read to aid your sleep and begins reading.

“Don’t go too far darling” he cooed firmly knowing you have a habit of wandering off. As you walked or rather tumbled down the grassy bank, you giggled to yourself pushing back the stray hairs in your face.

As the grass brushed against your ankles, you parted the tall green shoots at the lake to get a closer view.

Your attention was directed to the sound of loud squeaks or rather quacks? As the water rippled a mother duck emerged from the lake, you babbled excitedly watching more Fluffy yellow chicks following closely behind.

Her babies followed behind happily, their little legs kicking in the water “Duckies!! You cried shuffling to the waters edge teetering nearer to the deep depth below.

“Hewo mrs ducky” you introduced yourself, stretching out your hand to try and entice the momma duck over.

Call it luck or intuition but Loki's eyes lifted from the book, now scanning the area. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he rose from his resting spot “y/n” he called out to the trees firmly, but you didn't respond.

Continuing to make new friends You peered over the edge, reaching out to pet the head of the smallest chick.

But before you got the chance, the earth below crumbled under you and your balance shifted forward.

You squealed and tumbled into the water “Da-!” Your cry was cut off as you were swept under water. Struggling to keep a float, hands immediately pulled you from your watery grave.

You immediately spluttered using your new breath to cry out fearfully, clawing against your float who was loki hugging you tightly.

“What on earth happened?!” a string of blabbering left his mouth as he checked for any small injuries you caught.

You were inconsolable sobbing into your daddy's neck, your arms wrapped around his neck.

“M s-sorry!” you managed to stutter, shaking in fear and cold as your dress too was soaking. After a few heavy breaths, loki looked down from holding you to see your face stained with tears, and your body quivering quietly “m sorry, jus see duckies-” you kept repeating sadly. “There now, it's ok. I'm sorry sweetheart daddy was just incredibly worried” he spoke calmly.

He lifted your chin to see you staring shamefully, your head somewhat lowered. “Are you okay darling?” he frowned, seeing your lower lip quivering. “Mhm” you agreed, burrowing your head against him, your hands playing with the strands of his hair.

“I think we should say bye to your duck friends and take a warm bath hmm?” he cooed, wiping away your wet hair invading your face annoyingly, you responded with a sniffle and buried your face into his neck sadly.

Loki rocked you back and forth keeping you warm by wrapping his cape around your cold form. By now your pretty gown had lots of mud and rips, as loki bounced you softly turning around to head home you waved sadly to your duck friends.

“Bye bye mrs ducky-” you muttered with a small pout. “Good girl darling, we will see them soon i promise” he spoke gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead, he couldn't help grinning peeling off a piece of seaweed stuck to the crown of your head.

Your lip curved slightly when listening to the fading quacks of the mama duck and her babies. Loki's strides created a calming rhythm making your eyes heavier and heavier with each step.

You awake confused and startled for a moment but your daddies touch reassured you, you rubbed your eyes trying to get rid of any sleep.

“Don't do that darling, you'll hurt your little eyes”  he chatisted taking your hand and rubbing it with his fore thumb gently. You yawn and settle into the warm bath, a concoction of scents and salts settling your body and mind and your daddy right beside you.

“I-i sowwy for ruining da day daddy” you interrupted the silence, barely wanting to see his disappointing gaze. “Oh darling” his brows furrowed deeply and his eyes were glistening like sapphires in the light.

“you didn't ruin anything” he soothed, washing you down.

You were swept from your bath into safe arms, you yawned and felt soft sheets underneath you. With a click of Loki's fingers your hair was magically dry, “I have da best daddy” you claimed as he tucked you in tightly, bundling you up in the sheets

“Of course you do” Loki claimed smugly pointing his nose into the air, you giggled at your daddy who was feeling rather proud.

Loki wandered beside your shared bed and kissed your forehead “goodnight darling I love you” he said watching you cuddle your stuffies tightly “Ni ni daddy wub you” you spoke sleepily in between yawns, Before you drifted to dream land.

You awoke in the morn to the sound of squeaks and shuffles, you yawn and turn on your side and find a box. The box shuffled around, you lifted the lid and squealed.

“ISSA DUCK!” you cried dancing around the room, ready to show your daddy your new friend. Loki chuckled downstairs listening to your squeals, you thanked him with tons of hugs with your new friend that quacked constantly. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Lead Paint

Author's note: More of Hura in Husbandry. @kit-williams and I got to talking more about Hura and the way he can fuck nasty. :)

Summary: hura and his Bonded have more fun in the bedroom.

Warning: smut. Smut with a Nurglite Space Marine, A Nurglite Death Guard. So. Be warned. Let me know if I need to add anything else.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Hura had some time off, and is beloved little mouse also has some time off. So he is pleased to spend that time on his lovely mouse. He lets out a rumbling purr as he watches them.

His little mouse is writhing under him, keening out in pleasure as he continues to tease them, he gives thanks to Grandfather Nurgle that he is still able to remove his helmet as he eats out her cute pussy.

He loves the way they squirm and writhe beneath him. All warm and living. Hrmmm. He understand better why Grandfather clings to Grandmother so.

Feeling her warmth, tasting her wetness, the way her heart beat races at his touch and crooning words. Beloved little mouse. He loves them dearly, this Bond between them is one he wants to keep and cherish for an eternity.

He teases her open, with his massive, slightly bloated tongue. His fingers dipped in lube as he teases his little mouse open for his massive cock.

While some might enjoy the taste of pain and pleasure in their darling partner, it puts him off and switches him into apothecary mode. At least, unless it was a Scene that had been discussed beforehand and they had safety words and things in place. Then it was fun to 'spice' things up a bit.

His little mouse wails in pleasure and pleads for him to fuck him with his cock. He rumbles and says, "you aren't quite ready My little Mouse."

There is a soft buzzing sound, as his insects fly around in a tizzy, a few of them landing on his little mouses perky nipples and nuzzling her cheeks as a few others crawl along her legs.

She wriggles and shrieks a little her cunt tightening around his tongue and her thighs squeezing his head a bit. "Hura! You know I don't like bugs."

"Sorry, My Little Mouse," Hura rumbles as he uses a flicker of thought to shoo his bug companions away. He teases her clit with his fingers and her slowly pouting, frowning face glazes over with pleasure once more.

"You tease me too much." She says running a hand over her bare breasts.

Watching the way his horn eyes swivel and follow her hand as she pinches a nipple. Her hips moving as she rides his lube coated fingers just wanting more always so much more before she is ready.

He watches her arc her back as he scissors his fingers open and closed getting wider and wider each time knowing the limit... His eyes glued to her face as her mouth makes an O shape as he touches her just right.

"Such a pretty rose you have all covered in dew... A pretty pink rose but I think it would look better white." Hura whispers suggestively.

She moans in pleasure, "please Hura~ paint me white."

"Your wish is my command," Hura says, his dual toned purring voice crooning out compliments as he slowly pulls his fingers out.

She whines at the loss as he takes his cod piece of, taking a moment to thank the Grandfather that he still can remove his codpiece and use his cock and fill his little mouse full of his cum.

His cock is slightly larger than normal, and slight off colored- like part of a body that has been left slightly too long in death. He slowly eases inside of his warm, wet, living little mouse. The way her walls flutter and squeeze him.

The way she moans and sighs and cries out his name. He continues breathing heavily, through his nose- so he can smell her arousal, and his scent intertwined with one another.

He purrs in praise how flexible she, her knees are by her ears as tears of pleasure roll down her face just feeling his bloated cock push into her again and again.

Hura himself still under the light effects of the chocolates but he made sure she would be fine no matter how much she was weeping and mewling in need. Only after she was fine from the other effects did he help his little mouse out.

She felt so much better, so much relief as Hura's powerful, slow thrusts hit all of the spots within her just right. Gods- she was always so full and would feel deliciously sore after a such a session with him.

"And Little Mouse promises not to eat Zaarius's chocolate without permission, yes?" Hura rumbles, something teasing and dangerous in his tone.

He gyrates his hips in a way that has you moan and keen in pleasure. God, his cock felt so good, you were on the cusp of orgasm when he pauses his ministrations, tilting his helmeted head, waiting for your response.

"Yes, yes, Hura," You plead, "I'm sorry- I didn't know."

You wriggle and shift your hips, wanting, no needing more of his attention and cock and thrusting movements. Hura is feeling merciful, and thus starts to move once more.

"You do now," Hura says, "I tell you not to do things for reasons, you shall do better at listening, yes?"

"Yes, Hura," You say with a pout.

"Good girl," Hura purrs into your ear and presses kisses to your face and down the side of your neck and nipping lightly at your skin, to love marks on your skin, but careful enough to make sure you don't bleed.

You keen at that and the way he moves inside of you, he continues to move and one of his hands plays with your clit- still having lube on his fingers.

You cum embarrassingly quickly, as you do, you squeeze around his cock more and he groans and shudders a little bit as he cums inside of your warm, wet pussy.

He presses more kisses into you, the chocolates helping him rise to the occasion a lot faster than normal as he fucks you once more, cuming inside. He could continue making love and cumming inside of you several more times.

But- two times was almost too much for you, and he doesn't want to cause tears or fuck your pussy too much. However, just because he can't use your cunt, doesn't mean there aren't other holes he can use.

While he had been using your cute pussy, he had also been stretch your ass open, making sure that it was ready for his cock. He flips you over and you groan- turned on by his strength, how easy it is for him to move you.

"Shall I take your pretty ass?" Hura asks with a purring trill to his voice.

"Yes please!" You beg.

"Good girl," He purrs in approval as he slowly thrusts into your ass, teasing your puffy clit with his fingers as he fucks your ass. It's not as pleasurable for you, but he makes sure to play with your clit so that you get pleasure as well.

After cumming inside her ass once, twice he pulls his cock out and presses more kisses to your tired, sweat slicked form. He knows how tired you are- how draining this has been.

He gently scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom and gently sets you down in the tub and turns on the water and starts to clean you up.

Pressing kisses and helping you clean up and help stretch your muscles so that you aren't terribly sore. Helping you get ready to sleep as you start to nod off asleep.

He ensures that you are properly taken care of for your nightly routine. Lovingly, tenderly making sure that it's done. While you relax limply in the warm water.

He leaves for a moment to put on a new set of sheets for the bed and to set the fluid-stained bedding into the into the washing machine to start.

Hura goes back to you and ensure that you haven't fallen asleep in the bath as he drains the tub and carefully scoops you up and wraps you in a towel and the two of you watch a movie together and you fall asleep against him.

[ollypopwrites]

if you're still taking requests, can you write a fic where Gale has a cold and the others have to take care of him and cook instead 🥺

Anon I've been working on this for so long! My actual partner got very sick and then we had a move and then a weekend wedding getaway -- it's been hectic. But I've got about 3k words of Gale being doted on for you.

A Wizard in Need

Pairings: Mostly gen but also Bloodweave

Rating: M (language mostly)

CW: chronic illness, common colds, self-worth issues, slight body-horror imagery.

Read on Ao3

His whole body shook with the sudden heat, limbs beginning to jerk and shift, and hot liquid pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes — damn, even his ears. Their time has run out, he realized, as his insides churned and changed, the pain unbearable as his bones broke beneath the skin. Soon he would be no more than another thrall, moving to the whims of some Elder Brain and without his own to think for himself. 

But the hunger of the orb swelled beyond anything else he could comprehend. The transformation could not even offer a reprieve. His last dreadful act as his own person is the orbs' imminent final stand – a deafening roar numbed his body to the pain and everything went white. 

Gale shot up suddenly in his bedroll, a strangled cry becoming a hacking cough, as he gasped for breath. His camp clothes were soaked with sweat, he felt them sticking  to his too warm body.  His hands felt at his face, the familiar scratch of his beard, his nose and lips were all present — no tentacles. Gale shuddered in relief, catching his breath. 

But Gods, he still felt terrible. Feverish, his mind in a haze and his head feeling as if it were stuffed full of cotton. 

There was a rustle at the flap of his tent and he saw the slight glow of red eyes. The rest of Astarion’s face was  backlit by the fire outside, hiding most of it in shadow. Gale felt too unsteady to be sure but he thought the perfect lines of his companion’s face were creased in concern before he schooled them back to his usual half-lidded stare. 

“Thought the tadpole might have finally had its way,” he said quietly. 

“For a moment there, I did as well,” Gale breathed a sigh. 

“It’s the orb, isn’t it?”

Gale rubbed at his chest. It ached, surely, as it always did. But the hunger clawing beneath his skin was more of a background feeling rather than whatever this was. 

“No, not this time,” he replied. “It’s-“  he sneezed abruptly, several times in a row, and afterward his entire head throbbed.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion seemed half-amused. “I believe you have a  common cold.”

“That’s — “ 

Preposterous, and above all else annoying. They had tadpoles in their heads threatening to change them every day, a cult on their heels, he had an orb of netherese magic stuffed in his chest and now he had a trifling bug which made him feel like his entire head was about to burst. 

“Inconvenient.” Gale finished lamely. 

“Will you survive?” Astarion asked sarcastically. 

Too ill to even pretend to be jovial, Gale rolled his eyes and started getting out of his bedroll. “I just need some tea and a quick wash up.” 

When he tried to stand, however, the world began to spin. With a quickness that did nothing to help his dizziness, Astarion leapt forward into the tent, keeping him from falling sideways. He helped Gale down, seemed to hesitate with his hand out and then pressed it on the wizard’s sweaty forehead. His hand was shockingly and soothingly cool. Gale couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re scorching.” Astarion noted. 

“I question the validity of your knowledge on the matter,” Gale sniffled. “You’re freezing.”

“Vampire,” Astarion gestured to himself as if he had forgotten. “But I know a flush when I see one, and yours is decidedly not one of debauchery.”

There was a clever remark somewhere he could retort with, just on the edge of flirting, but all Gale could think of was crawling back to his bedroll. He grabbed his waterskin, taking heavy pulls to soothe the scratching in his throat. After which he found no energy to do much else.

“Rest,” he muttered. “I need rest.” 

Astarion said nothing as Gale flopped back into his bedroll. He should tell him to bugger off, Astarion was on watch after all, but he didn’t send him away. The vampire sat still, unnaturally so as he always did, before grabbing his waterskin and walking out of the tent. 

Gale shifted between consciousness, exhaustion taking over but a fit of coughing or sneezing kept him from fully submitting. He felt more than heard Astarion come back, placing his waterskin by his hand again and a cool wet cloth pressed against his forehead. It could have been the fever and the ever changing state of his wakefulness but Gale was certain Astarion kept taking the cloth and cooling it between his hands before placing it back on his forehead. 

As if he had shifted through time itself, Gale woke up what felt like moments later. Except there were birds singing outside his tent rather than the tune of crickets. Sunlight didn’t quite pierce the cloth of his tent but it lit it up from the outside, and he could hear everyone moving around camp. 

He still felt dreadful. Blindly reaching for his water he found it full, and drank as much as he could before slumping back. For a while he tried to use his considerable willpower to sit up, get dressed and greet the next day of horrors which awaited them. But he simply did not want to. 

Just as he was about to force himself up, just outside his tent he heard, “Gale? Are you awake?” From Shadowheart. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” 

There was the slightest frown as she peered in first. “Astarion says you have the plague.”

Gale didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a fever,” he tried to assure her. “A bit of rest and it’ll pass, I’m sure.

“Sk’va it’s the transformation,” Lae’zel hissed just outside. “We should give the wizard an honorable death before it takes hold.”

Gale wanted to remind her that an honorable death would mean a decidedly unhonorable explosion which would wipe out their entire camp and beyond, but Wyll spoke up before he could.

“It’s a cold, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “Nothing some hearty broth and rest can’t fix.”

Everyone seemed to be standing just outside of his tent. Out of view but definitely not out of hearing range. 

“If he is cold we have extra blankets,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Why do we waste our time with broth?”

“No,” Karlach said, “a cold, mate. A bug.”

“Then smash the bug.” 

“It’s not a real bug,” Wyll explained. “It’s a turn of phrase. Gale’s ill, with a common and mostly harmless sickness.”

“Tch’k.”

Sometimes Gale wondered if Lae’zel’s ignorance to Faerunian turns of phrase was merely a bit she was fully committed to. He couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh but that triggered a coughing fit that stole his breath and shredded his throat.

Shadowheart gently pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m more a battle healer, less a medicine woman,” she frowned. “Are you hungry? Wyll’s starting a bone broth but we have porridge.”

“Porridge sounds lovely,” Gale attempted a smile. 

“I’m on it!” Karlach yelled and he heard the heavy stomps of her boots trail off. 

“Halsin went to find some herbs for a tea he thinks may help,” Shadowheart told him. 

That was rather kind of Halsin to go out of his way. Gale thought for a moment he should try to make an attempt to tough it out. They did have very important things to do, after all. But as he woke with the ever present pain of the orb on top of feeling so dreadfully, he was not sure he could stand on his own two feet for long. Typical. Washed up, burdensome old man that he was: he would be the one to get ill on the road. He wasted valuable magical items, was  a constant threat of blowing them off the face of Faerûn and was now too sickly to move. 

He offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “When Halsin returns, have him leave the herbs with the supplies, I’ll fetch myself a cup later.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” 

“Astarion filled your waterskin, drink it,” she said blandly, then disappeared from the tent. 

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Wyll said through the cloth. “Shout if you need anything.”

It was quiet for a bit, the unintelligible murmur of everyone about camp and the birdsong outside would have been comforting if he didn’t feel so dreadful. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his nose was too stopped. Heavy thumping footsteps and a flood of warmth in the tent alerted him to Karlach before she even said anything. 

“Delivery!” She boomed. “I warmed it up for you. One benefit of being a walking inferno.” She clanked on the metal in her chest. 

“Thank you, Karlach,” he said. 

“Of course, bomb buddies gotta stick together,” she gave a toothy grin. 

“Karlach let him rest,” Shadowheart called. 

“Oops, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “Shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Gale nodded. Bomb buddies. He wished he had her exuberance in the face of certain death. After she was gone, he willed himself to eat and had a mind to try and get up to wash his plate, but politeness would have to wait in the face of the dizziness he felt. He drank down some of the water and laid back, trying to breathe again. His chest ached. His fingers rubbed around the mark of the orb, not doing much to aid in the pain but now a habit more than anything. 

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Until suddenly his body wrought out a coughing fit so powerful he thought he may vomit. Suddenly the orb throbbed, his entire body seemed to vibrate and then — he woke up again. Still coughing. A cold, firm hand pulled him to sit, shocking him slightly at the unannounced presence. 

“Easy,” Astarion said simply. “Breathe.”

Gale closed his eyes, catching his breath. He still felt horrible. Astarion placed his waterskin in his hand, helping him lift it to his lips and drink some down. It was a heavenly sensation, the cool liquid soothing his throat and slaking the dry raw feeling from the cough. 

The day had changed into evening, not quite late enough to engulf his tent in darkness but enough that his gaze had to adjust to the low light. 

“Halsin made tea,” Astarion commented. “I’ll have Karlach warm it up for you. Wyll’s broth for you should be done soon, took me ages to find something big enough to boil down.”

Gale shook his head. “We need to make for the mountain pass,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own self. Raspy and nasal. “You all should have sent a scouting party, not wasted time playing nurse.”

“Now is that any way to thank us?” Astarion simpered dramatically. “Lae’zel and Karlach found a path to the crèche, once you're done lazing about we will all head there to see if her little device works. When it inevitably fails, we will head to the Underdark at Halsin’s behest.” He tilted his head, not unlike a curious cat, Gale noted. “We can’t do that without our resident wizard, now can we? Who else will I bother on the road?”

“There’s plenty of people to bother in camp, if you must.”

“They’re not as fun as you.”

Gale was grateful for the fever. It could easily be the reason he suddenly felt his cheeks heat up if Astarion noticed. Without saying anything, Astarion held out the water again. Gale peered past him as he took a drink to a mirror he had in the corner of the camp. It was strange to see Astarion in front of him and not in the reflection. If Gale didn’t know better he’d think him a hallucination, a result of the illness that made Gale’s own reflection have the sunken in look he saw. 

“You should clear off,” Gale muttered. “The last thing we need is for illness to spread through the camp.”

“I haven’t been ill in nearly 200 years, Gale.” Astarion waved him off. “But if you want me to leave, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

Gale didn’t want him to leave, but he was on his way out anyway. Not much later he returned with a piping hot cup of tea. It was not a pleasurable mixture, slightly sour and earthy, the only reprieve from the flavor was the sweetness of honey in the aftertaste. He was not going to doubt Halsin’s knowledge, nor did he want to appear ungrateful. 

Astarion never left. Halsin came in, broad body taking up so much room in his tent he couldn’t even see Astarion behind him. He offered him more tea, some kind words and another cold cloth before leaving. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to want to chat, he simply thumbed through a book and lounged on some pillows. Every so often he would cool the wet cloth for Gale, or run to fetch some more water.

Wyll came in with broth and some bread. Gale found it in himself to sit up long enough to eat and let the others check in on him. The Blade of the Frontiers made quite a decent bone broth; he’d said the cook at the Ravenguard estate had taught him the recipe after many days spent sick in his youth. Lae’zel had grabbed his face and inspected it, as if looking for some errant tentacle that had escaped everyone’s notice. She gave one of her low growling hums out and told him he needed to rest, as if he had been trying to sprint the length of the lake the entire day. The healers had offered teas and potions to help him sleep.

Karlach had shyly offered her beloved bear Clive to sit with him since she couldn’t without burning his tent down. It was sweet, and childlike of her to do so, but he appreciated it more than he would have imagined. It seemed no one had realized just how much he was weighing them down. Perhaps they just didn’t want to mention it.

His chest ached. 

“Do you need a magic item?”

“What?”

“You’re rubbing the mark.” 

Gale immediately stopped, having started the pointless effort to soothe the pain without thinking. “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t be stoic,” Astsrion said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me, in your esteemed opinion, Astsrion?” Gale couldn’t keep the slight lilt of sarcasm out of his tone despite himself. 

“An unfevered flush, I’d imagine,” Astsrion replied immediately. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It always does,” Gale replied, his raspy voice tired and defeated.

“Drink your tea,” Astarion simply said. “Halsin says it’ll help you sleep. Probably tastes like dirt, though. I don’t envy you.”

Gale took a sip, shuddering at the flavor. “It is…earthy,” he conceded. “But the effort is appreciated.”

Astarion’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Astarion,” Gale began cautiously, “why are you still here?”

Astarion looked at him for a long moment, eyes rounding out as he seemed to think. “Someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s a cold,” Gale said, “I’m not at risk of falling over dead just yet.”

“With those grey hairs you can't be too sure.”

“Oh,” Gale breathed out a soft laugh, “you certainly know how to keep me humble, don’t you? And while I’m ill? Your bedside manner could use some practice.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked. 

“Happy to assist,” Gale replied. “Word of advice, don’t mention dying to your ailing patient, it doesn’t inspire much comfort.”

It was quiet for a bit as Gale drank the tea down as quickly as he could. It was not a pleasant taste, and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He gently stretched after setting the cup aside, his back stiff from laying all day and shoulders wound up from tensing them in his sleep. Gods, he wanted to bathe and sleep but he felt the energy draining from him. Halsin’s concoction was working quickly to lure him into a gentle sleep. 

“Say what you will about the flavor,” Gale yawned, blinking blearily. “Halsin’s skills as an apothecary are quite impressive.”

“I’ll pass your compliments along.”

“Without embezzling, if you please.”

Another quiet moment as Gale laid back, ready to let sleep wash over him. He was used to Astarion’s presence now, not sure what the real point of it was, but it kept the worst of the anxious thoughts at bay. And it was a comfort, Gale tried not to linger too long on that, but it was nice to have him there. 

“Everyone offered to care for you, you know,” Astarion said without preamble. “No one complained. Except me, of course, but I’d rather bring mine directly.”

Gale frowned at the ceiling of his tent, unsure what brought that comment on.

“Burdensome is debatable, darling, I’m hardly one to cast judgment about dietary needs,” Astarion tried to hide behind a casual tone, “but washed up is a bit harsh,”

“The tadpoles.” Gale winced in realization.

“Little blighters,” Astarion agreed. “We’re in this together, Gale. Whether we like it or not. We’d all take the bleeding heart kindness you’d offer any of us without blinking,” he tilted his head a bit, “it’s only right that you accept ours.”

That seemed like flawed logic; Gale was, with few exceptions, the most volatile besides Karlach. Even having him with them was expensive and dangerous. But his thoughts could not linger too long on it, as Halsin’s tea had his mind slipping towards blissful rest. The last thing he felt was the gentle coolness of a hand on his forehead, and the soft whisper of Astarion’s voice. 

“Sleep tight, darling. We’ve got you.”

Thank you for reading!

[sixhours]

Firsts - Crawl

Anna learns to crawl.

Rating: Everyone Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, Joel is a sap, mostly follows canon, fluff, fluffy baby stuff, no really this is sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, don't forget to brush your teeth Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I promise it's just fluff this time. Sickly sweet with a dash of humor, nary an angsty cloud in sight. Joel thinks of Sarah but it's not sad.

You can also read Firsts on AO3.

The first rays of morning sun are just peeking into the living room where Ellie sits cross-legged on the floor, entertaining the household’s happiest early riser. Anna, recently fed and changed, has been whisked downstairs to give her mother a rest.

Ellie should be asleep right now, too, curled up in her bed in the garage, but sometimes the nightmares come back with a vengeance. The baby’s solid weight in her lap is a comfort.

“Good thing you’re cute, kid,” she signs as she speaks, interrupting the movement of her hands to cover a yawn.

Joel, up for an early patrol shift with Tommy, is making coffee in the kitchen, one good ear trained on his daughters’ one-sided conversation, soothed by the sounds of Ellie’s voice and Anna’s occasional coo.

When the coffee is done, he settles into the armchair across the room and waits for the caffeine to kick in. 

Ellie gently sets Anna down on the floor. The baby frowns immediately and turns with a soft whine of protest, reaching for her sister, rocking back and forth as she tries to get back into Ellie’s lap.

“So clingy,” she sighs, picking the baby up and plopping her back down on her legs.

“She’ll be crawlin’ any day now,” Joel says, sipping at his mug.

“You think?” Ellie looks up at him, then back at her sister with wonder. “Just think of the trouble you’ll get up to then, little crotch goblin.”

Anna giggles and pats Ellie’s mouth to feel the air of her sister’s words. A bubble of drool pops at the corner of her tiny bowed lips and Ellie wipes it away with her sleeve.

Joel winces, surveying the room with fresh eyes. He sees every sharp corner, every hard surface, every uncovered outlet. He’d forgotten about this part. They really need to start baby-proofing.

After a thought, Ellie stands and places Anna on her favorite blanket a few feet away. She steps back and sits down, then makes the sign for come here .

Anna leans forward on her hands but doesn’t make a move to go further. Instead, she finds a tassel on the blanket and grabs at it, trying to grasp it in her chubby fingers to pull it into her mouth.

“C’mon, bug,” Ellie beckons, tapping the floor to get her sister’s attention, then signing and speaking at the same time. “You can do it, kiddo.”

Joel watches, lips quirked in a smile, as Ellie continues to encourage her sister to cross the distance without much luck. After a while, he eases himself down onto the floor, setting his mug on the coffee table.

“Lemme try.”

“Think you can do better, old man?”

He shrugs. He’s pretty sure Ellie is the favorite, but he won’t tell her that.

“Tell you what,” Ellie says. “She comes to me first, you have to take my stable mucking rotation for a month.”

Joel snorts. “Yeah? And what do I get if she comes to me?”

“I’ll…do the dishes for a month.”

He shakes his head. “No deal. You’ll just eat at the caf.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll…I’ll take diaper duty whenever you ask. No whining.”

“S’a deal.”

Ellie hesitates. “You agreed to that way too fast, dude…”

“She’s on solids now,” he grins. “An’ I have a good feelin’ about this.”

“Oh, gross. Asshole.”

He ignores this and reaches out for his youngest daughter. “C’mere, li’l bug. Show us what ya got.”

Anna looks back and forth between her father and sister and flashes a gummy grin, pleased to find two of her favorite people at her level. She rocks forward, makes a soft, happy noise, and doesn’t move further.

Joel grabs the TV remote off the couch, forbidden fruit, and taps it on the floor to get her attention.

“C’mon, baby girl. You know you wanna play with this.”

“Hey, no fair, dude,” Ellie protests. “That thing is like baby crack.”

“Never said we were playin’ fair, kid.”

Ellie groans and looks around, finding a stuffed giraffe in the basket of baby toys. She holds it out with one hand and makes the sign for giraffe with the other. Anna coos and grins, waving her arms in recognition…but she doesn’t budge.

They go back and forth, each trying to tempt the baby, neither having much success, although Anna remains enraptured by the attention.

Just when Joel thinks he’s got it–Anna is on hands and knees and pointing in his direction–Charlie’s sleepy voice carries from the stairs.

“Are you playing fetch with the baby?”

Joel and Ellie exchange a look.

“She’s not a dog you guys,” Charlie sighs, stepping between them and reaching down to pick Anna up. 

“Hold on,” Joel says, stopping her with a hand to the side of her thigh. “She almost had it. She was comin’ to me.”

Ellie scoffs, “Yeah right, dude. You were about to owe me a month's worth of stable duty.”

“Joel,” Charlie says slowly. “Are you betting on our kid?”

“No!” he protests, then relents. “Maybe a little, but we’re just encouragin’ her.”

“Right,” she scoffs. She frowns, then backs up a few feet and kneels, signing, “Anna, come to Mama.”

“That ain’t right,” Joel grumbles. “Smart girl knows where her food comes from.”

Charlie shoots him a look and quotes him verbatim, mimicking his drawl.

“‘Never said we were playin’ fair.’”

“Hey, you have to make a wager if you want in,” Ellie says. “I have diapers and Joel has stables.”

“And I pushed her out of my vagina,” Charlie says dryly. “I’m exempt from extra chores.”

Ellie grimaces and fakes a gag, but doesn’t argue.

Pleased to be the literal center of attention, the baby bounces on her diapered bottom, makes a raspberry with her lips, and rocks forward on her hands again. A thread of drool escapes her chin and drops to the blanket, and she zeroes in on it, oblivious to the competition around her.

Soon the three of them have exhausted an arsenal of toys and trinkets in their efforts, and Anna is starting to lose interest. They’re so caught up in the little game that they barely register the front door opening, the thud of boots on the living room floor. The vibrations capture Anna’s attention, though, and she turns to find her Uncle Tommy frowning down at them in confusion.

“The hell–?”

They’re settled in a perfect triangle with baby Anna at the center, failed temptations scattered in a loose circle around them, like they’ve performed some kind of sacred ritual and summoned a baby in the process.

Anna gives a little burble of delight and takes off, scooting across the floor on hands and knees like she’s been doing it her whole life. She bypasses Ellie and Joel and reaches her uncle before the rest of her stunned family can utter a word.

One chubby hand reaches out to pat Tommy’s boot, and she looks up at him with big, gray eyes. He bends down to pluck her off the floor.

“Ain’t that a fun new trick,” he smiles as she smacks his cheeks in her tiny hands and blows a raspberry in his face. “When’d you learn to crawl, li’l bug?”

[hype-blue-fixation]

RADIOSTATIC WEEK - DAY 5 - SICK DAY/RAIN

Vox has a virus and he's trying to walk Alastor through the troubleshooting process.

Alastor was at the bar. Eyes on the clock. If he thought he showed up early for their business meetings, Vox always showed up even earlier. But the hand tipped past 12 and the box-headed sinner was nowhere in sight. Alastor fidgeted with his pen. Unable to help the thoughts running through his head. Visions of Vox being caught by thugs in an alleyway. A greedy demon breaking into his house. Blood. Wires. Gunshots. Is this what it felt like to worry about someone? He'd almost forgotten what it was like.

He waited a few minutes longer before deciding it was enough. Hurried clicks on the ground followed him on his way out the bar and down the road. The sound of his own footsteps thundering in his ears in spite of the usual screaming and chaos of the hellscape. Above the rainstorm rocketing down. He stopped at an old apartment complex. Going to Vox's door but not even knocking. Inviting himself inside with the spare key hidden under the doormat.

The apartment seemed to be undisturbed, but dark. As if Vox went to sleep and never woke up. More of those terrible images flashed in Alastor's mind. Pills. Nooses. Guns. Goodbye letters. A strange sort of fear went through his body at the mere thought of seeing any of those beyond the door. To the point that his hand was shaking on the bedroom door handle. Annoyingly so. What were these…feelings? And why were they stopping him? He had only a moment to be repulsed by himself before he forced the door open.

On the bed laid Vox's limp body. Screen dark. But there were none of the things that Alastor imagined there to be, which was at least some sort of relief. He unhooked the charging cord and knocked against the side of the clunky box head. “Vox. Vox. Wake up. We're supposed to have our meeting at the bar at the current moment.” His usual tone sounded a bit louder. A bit faster. Is this what it was like to speak frantically? It had been a long time since he heard his voice sound that way.

His whole body shook with some kind of… joyful rush… when the screen finally flickered on. Vox's face was visible, though distorted by several rainbow colored lines and misplaced pixels. It meant nothing, really. Alastor had seen several broken down pieces of technology in his life. That unreliable stuff had no shortage of glitches and weaknesses. But for some reason, knowing this was the face of someone he'd  come to care for in some arcane way, it deeply unsettled him. Made his stomach want to crawl out of his mouth. If that was even possible.

“What is wrong with you? What can I do?”

He pressed his ears against those speakers, trying to make sense among all the garbled buzz. Nothing. But then he saw one of Vox’s antennas flicker to life. His voice faintly broadcasted into Alastor's head. He focused. Attuned himself to the frequency to hear it more clearly. The voice came faintly.

“I got a bug. Can you help me get rid of it?”

Alastor squinted. A bug? He began checking the other's body, as if expecting to find a wire-eating roach or something boring through the plastic.

“A glitch.” Vox clarified with a weak chuckle, “Open my head. There's a screwdriver in my drawer.”

Alastor wasted no time in answering the whim. He'd already seen the entrails of animals and humans, surely this couldn't be worse than that. Except that seeing the mess of cords inside, knowing they were the only things sparking his business partner to life, gave him a nauseous feeling. What if he bumped the wrong one? Pulled too hard and it snapped? Technology was fickle and fragile.

“There's a green board in there. Do you see it?” 

The deer squinted… finally seeing the green board. His hands shook as he went to unscrew it. Nervous that he'd mess it up. Feeding into the shakiness. A vicious cycle. The voice of Vox echoed in his head to calm him down.

“It's okay. You're not going to hurt me. Just relax.”

One deep breath and some fidgeting later, the board came unscrewed. He held it in his hands like a baby bird. One wrong move and it could snap. The wires going in and out looked so thin. Breakable. It surprisingly wasn't too much different from a human body. One very small piece could be the entire secret to life.

“Alright. Now you see the red wire? I need you to unplug that and put it back in. I'll go offline for a moment, but don't worry.”

Panic really started to settle in. Of the several wires going in and out, he could not decipher all their colors. The oranges, reds, and yellows all blended into one amalgamation of color. “Which one is the red one!?” an unsuspected panic crept into his voice, and he had to clear his throat to make it seem like an accident.

A sweet, staticky chuckle from Vox. “I knew you were colorblind, so I tagged all my wires. It should have a triangle.”

Alastor didn't have time to question how or why Vox would do such a thing, so he only gave it a few moments of thought. Searching arduously for the tag. Humming with delight as he found the triangle. Wasting no time in unplugging it. Startled as the monitor died and all signs of life faded. He nearly forgot where to plug it back in. A moment passed. Another. Still the screen was black. He tapped. Shook. Flicked. Impatient.

He checked the cords again. That strange shaky anxiety building up again. Had he messed up? Was there another instruction after the wire that he didn't give Vox enough time to explain? Suddenly he felt like his chest sank to his feet.

If only he knew more. Had taken the time to study Vox half as much as Vox had studied him. He fondled around on the green board until his finger found a moving piece. A small black sliding button. With no hope left, he switched it from one side and back to the other. Suddenly fans kicked on. Hope returned.

“Vox? Vox, hello?” Alastor tapped and shook as if it would make the booting process go any faster. The spinning circle on Vox’s screen was at least some reassurance that something right happened. Then suddenly a black screen with thousands of tiny white monospace words. Flying down the screen. Registers. Directories. Databases. Drives. It was nothing but senseless garble. But he knew one word: “Deleted”.

And the screen was filled with lines of code. Deleted. Deleted. Deleted. More worries filled his mind, if that's what such thoughts were called. Perhaps every aspect of Vox was being deleted and all he could do was watch helplessly. His personality. His memories. What if he woke up and it was just the same as when they first met on that raining bridge? On a night not so different from now?

A playful chime and startup sound pulled Alastor back into the moment. The screen flashed on. It was Vox's usual face without all the distortion and lines. Text across the screen read “restoring backup.”

The Radio Demon had a vague idea of what that meant. But how far back did the backup go? Would Vox remember him? Would he remember their meeting that they were due nearly an hour ago? Suddenly Vox's voice graced his ears. Not just a broadcast in his head, but something audible and real.

Vox's eyebrows furrowed. “IF YOU SHUT UP FOR 2 SECONDS, I COULD SAY HELLO, TOO.” This explosive display let Alastor know that his business partner was back in his right mind. “I still can't move. Can you unplug the blue wire and stick it back in, please?”

“Vox! Did I do it correctly? Hello? Hello? Hello?” Alastor kept repeating like a broken record. Caught on a scratch of concern. That's what he'd decided this emotion was.

Alastor couldn't be more delighted to. But once he did, Vox's whole body jolted and he rolled out into the floor. Crashing head first on the green board. Whatever this new emotion was, Alastor's face managed to get even more pale. The paralyzation of his business partner possessed his body instead. “VOX!? I'm sorry, I didn't have a proper hold on you!”

I'm sorry? Where did that come from? He'd never felt the need to apologize for anything. Vox slowly pushed himself up. Oddly…laughing? “You're so nervous about messing me up, huh? It's adorable. Really! But I'm not that easy to break.” He offered out the green board. Unscathed. “Can you screw it back in for me, pal?”

Pal? That was something they'd called each other for convenience sake or for jokes. But Alastor got the sense that Vox meant it in a different way this time. Not just a business partner. Not just someone to lick your wounds and be a convenience. But a real friend.

“Of course I can. Pa…p…” Alastor couldn't get the word out. What were all these biological malfunctions today? He wasn't any better off than Vox was only moments ago. But as he screwed the board back into Vox's head, a warmth came over him. This wasn't just a normal favor. Or something done for an advantage. It meant something.

“There. Now shall we have our meeting? We're an hour late as it is… friend.”

The word came out effortlessly. A silent understanding was shared between them as they went to the bar for their meeting. Although this had been a sick day for Vox, perhaps they were both a bit healthier that evening.

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 1)

Prologue | Chapter 2

Content Warning: Soft, safe, unwilling vore

Word Count: 2.1k

------ Chapter 1: A Typical Royal Dinner ------

Six years later… 

Crown Prince Ronny, the adult heir to the throne, sat down at his usual spot at the table, on the right-hand side of his father, the king. King Richard claimed his rightful place at the head of the table, and Princess Bianca, the youngest by about two years, sat across from her brother Ronny. The king’s personal guard Ajax, his shadow, stood discreetly off to the side behind his seat, ever watchful. 

Ronny, dour as always, glared at his sister, who stuck her tongue out at him in response. He scoffed superciliously and removed his gloves for dinner, folding them neatly on the table. He was rescued from having to converse with his loathsome family members by the servants, who came in balancing plates loaded with vittles. Ronny sat in a gloomy silence as Chester, the royal food taster, checked each entrée for poison. He curled his lip with mild disgust when he was given his portion: prime rib, sautéed swiss chard, and scalloped potatoes, with a human dressed in a light sauce. 

Bianca had a similar reaction, poking and prodding the tiny woman on her plate with her fork. The woman winced, but stayed silent and didn’t try to run, knowing the consequences of resisting giant royalty would be far more gruesome. “Daddy, when are we going to get more humans? It’s been a while since the last tribute.” 

King Richard wiped his lips daintily with a napkin as he gleefully swallowed the human on his own plate. “Hmmm… it’s been a while, hasn’t it? We are certainly overdue for some fresh meat.” 

The giantess princess perked up. “If so, can you order some little men this time? Pleeeeeease? Ladies are fine and all, but they’re all we ever get, and I want a handsome boy to play with…” She pouted, scraping her fork with an obnoxious screech on her dish. Her human repast covered her ears and grimaced. Ronny rolled his eyes. 

The king gave his daughter a knowing smirk and chuckled lightly. “I’ll see what I can arrange, my darling.” He picked up his knife and cut into his meat, which leaked blood onto his plate. 

Ronny shook his head and dug into his own meal, flicking the human carelessly off his slab of prime rib. He didn’t understand his father’s obsession with tiny maidens, or his sister’s fascination with miniature men. Why couldn’t she be normal for once and content herself with an attractive giant instead? Humans were fine for eating, when he was in the right mood, but otherwise Ronny found them to be gross vermin, clambering around with their wiry legs like bugs. Distracted by his thoughts, he failed to notice his tiny female side dish had crawled off the edge of his plate. He put a bite of meat in his mouth, and his face puckered with detestation.  

“Ugh!” he groaned, spitting the offending meat back onto his dish without concern for decorum. “Nasty!” His face turned purple with rage. “Bring me the royal chef!” he bellowed. The servants scrambled to obey. Soon enough, the obese chef rushed into the dining room, huffing and puffing with the effort. 

“Yes, Your Highness? How may I best serve you?” he asked nervously, wringing his hands and picking at his blond mustache. He was sweating profusely, his skin ruddy with exertion. 

“Bucky!” Ronny roared. “This food isn’t fit to serve to a dog! The meat is cold in the middle and saltier than the sea! Dumping a mountain of salt on such a bland cut doesn’t improve the flavor, you cretin! I’m a prince, and I deserve only the best, not this offensive rubbish!”  

His temper flared as he got worked up into a frenzy. He stood up out of his chair and gesticulated with his hands aggressively. “You’re a sorry excuse for a cook, you worthless piece of shit! Just look at these vegetables! Wilted strings reeking of too much garlic and swimming in watery juices! And these potatoes! Unpalatable texture, lumpy and uneven, tasteless paste! Unacceptable, reprehensible slop!” 

He picked up the plate and hurled it against the wall with all his might, shattering the porcelain and staining the wall and expensive carpeting with juices. The servants hurried forward to clean up the mess in a hush. Nobody was especially surprised by his tantrum: The servants were accustomed to unhinged outbursts from the royal family. Ronny ignored them and continued to verbally berate the chef, who pointedly stared at his feet. Ronny shoved his finger into his fat chest as he ranted in his face, spitting and swearing. After several minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs and frothing at the mouth, Ronny finally cooled down, dismissing the silent chef with a contemptuous wave of his hand. His face changed from pink back to its usual pasty shade. He crossed his arms petulantly and slumped in his chair. 

“Good job, Ronny,” King Richard praised, grinning wide. “Sometimes you need to put the commoners in their place and make them fear you.” He chomped down on a bite of meat, clearly enjoying his meal despite his son’s scathing condemnation of its quality. Ronny shrugged, still scowling. The servants, so inferior to the royals as to be invisible to them, cleaned up his mess in the background. 

Bianca was unperturbed by Ronny venting his spleen, continuing to toy with the human on her plate as she ate the food around her. Eventually, she got bored and lifted the poor woman up by her leg, studying her wriggling with a cold inquisitiveness. She lowered the tiny woman headfirst into her mouth, licking her face and closing her plump lips around her torso before slurping her flailing legs inside with the rest of her body. She sucked on the delicious morsel for a while, shuffling her from one cheek to the other, before sending her off on a trip to her stomach with a hearty gulp. 

She watched as the servants flitted anxiously back to the table, bringing with them a sumptuous feast of roasted partridge and yams for the picky prince. He sulked as the royal food taster sampled each portion and cleared the food for consumption. The servants backed away, sweating nervously as Ronny tasted the partridge. The bratty prince raised an eyebrow and grunted, but didn’t complain. The tension dissipated among the servants and they disappeared into the background again, relieved not to be on the receiving end of another explosive fit. 

“Hey, Ronny, what happened to the human in your food?” Bianca queried.  

Ronny shrugged as he continued to shovel food into his mouth. “Fuck if I know. She probably ended up as a red stain on the wall.” 

King Richard frowned. “What a waste.” He gave Ronny a stern look. The aura in the room subtly changed, as if the air itself chilled. “Don’t squash your humans so carelessly, Ronny. They are valuable, and we can only extract so many without them revolting against us.” 

Ronny stiffened. “Of course, Father,” he mumbled, casting his eyes downward. “I won’t do it again.” The king assumed a milder expression, accepting his words, and the mood lightened again. Ronny repressed a shudder. 

“I never understood why you don’t just conquer the human kingdom, enslave the populace, and farm them,” Bianca remarked, tilting her head. “Wouldn’t that make more sense? Then you can have as many as you want.” 

The king sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed the humans that are here for a long time tend to lose their unique flavor and vitality? That’s because, if they’re not fed and cared for well, and they grow sad, they become frailer, weaker, and less appealing to the palate. That’s why over time we need fresh tributes, and why I usually dispose of them, when they are no longer of any use to us for our personal pleasure.” 

He licked his lips as he finished the last bite of his dinner. “I prefer my humans to be free-range, so to speak, and of high quality. That standard of health isn’t possible if they were all forcibly imprisoned. Happy humans also multiply in greater numbers, which is even better for us. Let them have their silly little kingdom, go about their lives, and exist in blissful ‘freedom.’ As long as they give us our rightful share and don’t complain, I will be content.” 

He inserted his fingers into his pocket and pulled out a small, trembling woman. “Of course, as you know, not all humans go stale! I still have my favorites, like my cute sweet little Millie, now don’t I?” He grinned roguishly and nuzzled her with his nose. 

“Y-yes, of course, Your Majesty! I would never want to disappoint you!” the poor creature squeaked, out of fright rather than affection. Ronny looked away, repulsed by the display. He hated his father’s distasteful perversions and could hardly stand to watch. Bianca stared at him with jealousy, wishing she had a tiny man to kiss and pet and play with. King Richard always exclusively requested maidens as tribute, and she was fed up with his selfishness. She was used to always getting what she wanted, so the fact that she couldn’t have one irritated her to no end. 

The servants cleared the dirty dishes off the table and brought slices of cheesecake for dessert. King Richard removed a small vial from his pocket full of a glowing blue potion and dripped a drop onto Millie’s head. Her face paled with dread as her body absorbed the substance, a magical anti-digestion fluid that would keep her unharmed inside his stomach. He pressed her into the soft dessert with his index finger up to her shoulders. She turned her head away from him, and Ronny spotted quiet tears glistening on her cheeks. The prince switched his attention to his own dessert and ate in silence, ignoring the display.  

King Richard scooped up Millie with his fork and licked the sweet filling off her body, chuckling at her small whines of discomfort. He gently enveloped her in his mouth, humming with delight. After slopping his tongue all over her and sliding her against the inner walls of his teeth, he took another bite of cheesecake and rolled her around with it, sucking it all up with pleasure. He continued in this manner until he finished his entire slice before finally gulping down the small lady. 

Ronny hastened to excuse himself from the table, grabbing up his gloves. As he lifted them, he noticed an abnormal weight inside, caused by a small, shivering lump. He flipped the glove and dumped its mystery contents out on the table, only to discover the food human that he thought he’d thrown across the room was hidden inside. She tumbled out and landed on the hard surface with a splattering of sauce. 

Ronny glared at her, then at his fancy gloves, soiled inside with sauce. “Ugh! Look what you did, you filthy little rat! These gloves are ruined!” He flung the gloves away, his dark eyes flashing as his white-hot wrath returned with a vengeance. The woman’s eyes widened and she cowered before the giant man looming above her like a mountain. She had already narrowly escaped death when he smashed his dinner plate against the wall; she knew what he was capable of with his volatile temper. 

The giant prince slammed his fist on the table next to her, startling her to her feet. Even standing up, she was shorter than his stacked fingers; he could easily crush her in his grasp like an insect. Her legs turned into useless rubber beneath her as she comprehended the futility of resisting and collapsed to the table. Ronny unclenched his fist and grabbed her up, raising her close to his face. 

“Vile, foul worm,” he grumbled as she whimpered helplessly in his hand. “I’ll make you pay for that.” He knew humans hated to be eaten, so he shoved her into his mouth and swallowed her hard, sending her straight to the fleshy prison in his midsection. King Richard grinned with approval as he observed his son. Ronny stormed off in a huff, stomping on his gloves and kicking them to the side on his way out. 

He clomped down one of the many stony corridors of the castle, fuming with irritation. He could feel the human fighting inside his gut as she was jostled about by his rapid steps. That idiotic human deserved her punishment. Those gloves were custom-made, based on the measurements of his hands, and now he’d have to order a new pair from the royal tailor. Such an inconvenience! 

Chapter 2

[collabwithmyself]

More Pikmin AU writing yahoo!

Maybe fifteen minutes later, Hito finally shoves open the escape hatch. He gets a glimpse of greenery before overbalancing and toppling out onto the soil.

The tumble doesn't do his aching body any favors. His head spins, and his mouth starts to water like he might get sick. Dirt crunches beneath his body as he rolls over, looking up at the sky and what's left of his ship.

It's smoking and seared, looking like a skeletal parody of its former self. It's a miracle it's even partway recognizable. Hito cringes.

According to the pack attached to the back of his suit, he's got thirty days' worth of battery before it stops filtering the air for him. One month to put his ship back together enough to send a distress signal, or better yet, take off entirely.

It feels horrifically daunting. Even thinking about it intensifies his nausea. He has no idea where to even start looking, let alone how he'll get any of that heavy machinery back to the ship...

But he can't just give up. If he dies alone here, with no one having any idea where he went, then... that means...

...

Hito grits his teeth, digs his fingers into the earth, and gets up.

Gravity weighs heavily on him here. He doesn't think it's safe to even jump, with the state of his sore body right now. It's with agonizing slowness that he plods forward, squinting into the wilderness.

The flora here is... huge. Mere blades of grass tower over him. He can make out flowers thrice his height, not far off. It makes him feel like he's found himself the size of a bug in his own backyard. It's not a comforting notion.

His steps are hesitant as he gazes around, pointed ears pricked for sounds. If the plants here are this big, the animals aren't something he wants to run into.

He's so busy looking up, he doesn't notice the object half-buried in front of him. Well, not until it erupts violently from the earth, spraying dirt every which way and pulling a shriek from Hito's throat. He stumbles back and flings his arms over his face as long limbs snake out, jabbing into the dirt on either side of him.

...then it goes still. Hito hesitates, and slowly raises his head.

Above him is a plantlike contraption the size of his body. The shape and bright red shade make him think of an onion. Three green stalks suspend it in the air, several units above his head.

It jolts, and Hito yelps, stumbling back several paces. He gets a glimpse of white petals on top of the onion as they curl inwards- then they spit something into the air.

He watches the object descend to the ground and bury itself in the dirt. His gaze flicks between the onion and its spawn, and he startles a third time when said spawn abruptly sprouts.

The leaf is maybe the size of his hand, swaying gently in the breeze as though beckoning him forward. Hito, frankly, has no idea what to do with it. Should he take a closer look? Is it bait so the onion can eat him? He's wasting daylight, deliberating over this...

Curiosity wins out over self preservation. Hito creeps closer to the onion and the sprout, muscles tensed and eyes wide. When the great structure doesn't move again, he kneels to examine its creation.

The leaf is startlingly warm when he reaches for it, radiating heat like a fire that he can feel even through his glove. He hesitates, but presses a hand against it.

It twitches. Like it's alive. Hito jerks his arm away with a gasp.

But nothing crawls out of the dirt towards him. The sprout remains where it is.

He reaches out a second time, for the stem. The plant twitches again, like it's nudging itself into his touch. His fingers curl around it.

Then, gently, he pulls.

The earth parts around the sprout, revealing a bulb the same color as the onion above him. It's got a sharp protrusion, and he moves his arm so it doesn't slice his suit open-

Just above it, two little eyes crack open and blink at him.

Hito blinks back.

"Um," he says.

The sprout squeaks at him.

It doesn't... seem to be trying to bite him, or wriggling out of the dirt to claw at him. So after a moment's hesitation, he keeps pulling.

The dirt parts around spindly little arms, a thick torso, and squat legs- then he's got a full creature dangling from his hands, looking remarkably like a red carrot with a nose. It doesn't fight him at all, dangling placidly from his grasp.

"...good afternoon?" Hito tries.

"Ihwo!" the sprout squeaks back.

He sets it on his feet, then grunts as he straightens up. The creature watches him curiously, its stem flopping over to hang behind it.

"Right, um..." Hito feels the urge to wring his hands, and instead folds his arms to trap his fingers under his armpits.

The sprout tilts its head. "Haa?"

"It's... nice to meet you? But uh, ha, I'm... kinda busy right now," Hito chuckles nervously. "So... I gotta go. Haha."

"Ih."

So Hito turns to examine the area, figuring the creature will just... wander off. Just grass and rocks, and the smoldering remains of his ship...

...wait. There's smoke trailing from just over the stone ledges walling him in. Could that be...?

His gaze roves over the clearing, searching for some spot he can climb over. But the only break in the stone is shielded by a giant wall of... something.

He heads over to it, testing its strength. Though the wall towers over him, when he scrapes his fingertips against it, it lets out the unmistakable hiss of a cardboard surface.

Is this a box? It's got a little give when Hito throws a shoulder up against it, but there's no way he's moving it alone. He'd need the strength of ten men.

"Huh?"

Hito swears and whirls around. The sprout has followed him like a puppy, standing at attention a couple paces behind him.

"Stars, bud," he sighs, "don't scare me like that. What's up, huh?"

The creature glances back towards the onion, which has remained still, looming over the clearing.

"...you need something?" Hito prompts. When the creature doesn't reply, he starts walking back towards the structure, and the flowers surrounding it. The sprout trails along eagerly behind him.

The onion doesn't respond when he places a hand on one of its legs. And there's no way he's climbing up to its main structure.

"There more of you guys in there?" Hito asks the creature at his heels. "Ha, maybe they can help me move that box."

"Unh," the sprout replies.

"Right," he says, as though that made any sense.

He gets bolder with his attempts to jostle the onion into releasing another seed. The sprout watches with what he suspects is amusement as he tries to shove at the support legs.

"Come on, please," he grumbles, "just gimme something to work with--!"

One frustrated kick has him hopping backwards in pain, and he falls back against the stem of one of the flowers blooming above him. The petals rustle, then--

Hito yelps as something thuds into the dirt right in front of him. It's like a giant seed. Did that come from the flower...?

Before he can get up to examine it, though, the sprout darts towards it, seizing it and starting to drag it towards the onion with little high-pitched grunts. Hito watches it work in bewilderment- it's a startling change from following him around.

As it drags the seed beneath the onion... a light shines down like a tractor beam. In an instant, the seed is sucked up, and Hito looks up as the onion's petals finally curl again. It spits out one leaf, then another, and he watches the sprouts float down to plant themselves.

"...huh," he says.

Somewhere in the very back of Hito's mind, a plan begins to form.

[stories-from-the-shaded-moon]

Chain Avatar Stories

This is based off of The Magnus Archives’s Fear Entities :)

This is Time, Twilight, and Wind’s stories

Time

The Hero of Time was barely a hero. To everyone, even to himself, he was different. No one knew who he was. They only knew the memories of the little boy who would pass by Castle Town every once in a while. But this…this couldn’t be that boy, right?

He knew he wasn’t still that boy. He couldn’t be. Not after everything that happened. But these masks…if he could just stay like one of them then-

He tried. He’d wear one mask for weeks at a time. And it never worked. He could never stay Mikau or Darmani.

But his eyes grew smaller, his body thinner but longer. He could breathe underwater. His back was a shield morphed of rock. His skin grew darker brown. His lips grew bigger, his teeth grew sharper.

What was he?

They all called him a monster.

A Stranger from the forest.

Twilight

While being a Wolf, the Hero of Twilight was used to eating things normal Hylians couldn’t. Raw meat, bugs on occasion. Though he could stomach larvae like a champ.

His ears perked at the sound. He was tired and spent. He just wanted to go home and sleep the rest of his life away. But he didn’t. Instead, he followed the sound. And as he got closer and closer, he could feel his skin crawl, hear a buzz in his head that seemed never ending.

But it was…soothing, like an embrace. He shut his eyes and let it take him, passing out in front of the sound that beckoned him.

When he, no, they. When they woke up from the dirt, Twilight couldn’t feel his skin, only the buzzes from under his skin.

They sat on their knees, staring at the dark sky. A single bright star shone through the sorrowful dark. Twilight reached up to it, feeling a sense of deja vu.

Whispers echoed in his ear, they all said the same thing. Though, not in unison.

We are we, you are we, we are you. We are we, you are we, we are you. We are we, you are we, we are you. We are we, you are we, we are you. We are we, you are we, we are you.

The beehive, the thing that guided him here, hung from the tree silently. Though its former buzzing ate away at his stomach.

All the pain, all of the suffering. He didn’t have to be alone in it all. Not anymore. He had them. He had the Hive.

Wind

Being a kid, the Hero of Winds hadn’t known he had been touched by something akin to a god. He just knew the sky and water called to him.

That’s why he left Aryll and his Grandmother at home. And part of him wanted to leave Tetra too. There were too many people. How could he enjoy the peace that rested in the open sea when there was so much clutter around him.

He missed the King of Red Lions. It was just him and the King on the open seas.

That was when he started to become bitter with Tetra’s crew. Telling them to leave him alone, snapping at whoever didn’t listen. Soon enough, Tetra herself confronted him, telling him to straighten up.

His lips pulled into a thin line before he cursed worse than he ever had. Not at her, at her crew. Tetra told them to turn the ship, that Link needed to collect his shit.

He had never felt betrayed before than in that second. But, luckly, he still had a real friend. One that had been beside him during his entire adventure.

The wind howled in his ear. It was strong enough to make him stumble to his right. His stomach hit wood, the railing. The wind didn’t stop its assault.

He jumped, plunging into the sea regardless of Tetra’s scream.

The water embraced him so kindly. When the initial shock wore off and he looked up, there was just blue. The steady blue of the sea. And down? The same beautiful blue he saw when he looked up.

That was when his barrier broke, water pouring into his mouth, into his lungs. He sputtered, reaching up to the surface so far away, but the water rushed into him. Soon enough, he was…fine. No pain, no fear. It was just him and the sea. Him and the vast sea.

[hanasnx]

Hop hop 🐇 hi Indy :) I came because I missed ya and I brought you carrots from my rabbit garden 🥕🥕🥕 (they have little bites on them sorry 😕).

Baby daddy Jason got me thinking about... Domestic fantasies. Red Hood who's fully settled into the role of crime lord, sometimes solicits one or two of the prostitutes under his protection, just when his skin crawls with loneliness and it feels like the blood won't wash off of his hands. All been with him at least once, he doesn't like to take the same girl twice, a guilt thing maybe, and with Gotham's unfortunate economy there's always new girls.

I just can't stop thinking of Jason Todd pounding his fat cock in and out of a prostitute who's face down, mouth drooling and eyes lazy, while he growls in their ears. It's always the same, too, the girls talk amongst themselves about it. Biting words about fucking babies into their whore cunts and making proper women out of them, tearing the fucking scraps on their bodies they excuse for clothing, burning them and putting them in something more befitting a mother. The mother of his children. Sweet dresses with fucking flowers, and e room enough for their swollen bellies. He makes them beg for his cum in their dirty cunts, and they thank him for it profusely when he shoots because one girl figured out he really likes that too. Red Hood pays well, makes girls cum, and comes to their rescue on jobs gone bad. Sometimes he lays with them in their own mess, cum, squirt, piss, leaves sweet kisses on their temples, splays his fingers over their bellies. Never says a word though. The experiencess with him aren't bad, just bizzare, the girls always need to lie down and think about them for a while after the fact. Feels like they just saw something about the bug bad boss they weren't supposed to.

Anyway, sorry I hope this wasn't too long.

I think we should make carrot cake, what do ya think bug? 🐇Hop jop

i loved reading this i made a sound of excitement when you sent it in bcos its so endearing <3 thank u donnie u always say good shit