#its about identity. its about confusing everyone

[k1llerfr0sst]

Bisexuality and the Body Politic: From Psychosexual Hermaphroditism to Freud’s awfulness

A brief history on bisexuality (specifically, its western medical conceptualization)

Bisexuality (as both a term and concept) developed in the late 1800s and early 1900s. It came out of a period where (mostly European) scientists, doctors, and psychologists were trying to categorize everything, including sexuality and gender. These were the early days of sexology—when the minority world (“1st world countries”) began systematically classifying human desires, and bisexuality got caught in that process.

In the mid-1890s, French sexologists discussed indifférent(e)s—people whose sexual desires were equally or indifferently directed toward men and women. Individuals spoke of no strong preference or the ability to choose either sex freely. This encouraged into a developing theory that human sexuality might pass through an undifferentiated phase during adolescence, where sexual orientation wasn’t yet fixed.

Soon after German researchers developed terminology for those with balanced or alternating attractions, calling the phenomenon “mental hermaphroditism.” They debated whether bisexuality was innate or shaped by environment, and categorized sexual temperaments into hetero, homo, and bisexual types.

Around 1900, Magnus Hirschfeld (a German sexologist) began surveying sexual orientation empirically, finding bisexual attraction more common than homosexuality in groups. He identified bisexuals as a distinct “third group,” even though he never drew clear lines between bisexuality and other sexual types. This helped solidify bisexuality as a constitutional orientation, even though many people did not believe in it.

At the time, one of the leading theories of sexuality was “inversion.” According to inversion theory, gay men and lesbians were essentially the “opposite sex” on the inside—gay men were seen as inwardly feminine, lesbians as inwardly masculine. This theory didn’t separate gender identity from sexual orientation, and it helped create harmful ideas still around today: like the belief that all gay men are effeminate or that trans women are “really just gay men.”

Inversion also erased bisexuality. The idea of being attracted to more than one gender didn’t fit the model. When bisexuality was mentioned, it often referred to intersex anatomy (then called “hermaphroditism”), and bisexual desire was labeled “psychosexual hermaphroditism”—a theory that said the “male part” of a bisexual person liked women, while the “female part” liked men.

The logic was both binary and androgynous at the same time. It treated bisexuals as split in two, reinforcing the idea that desire had to come from a male or female “core,” and bisexual people just had both. Even though these theories were full of rigid gender roles and heteronormativity, they accidentally carved out a kind of “third space”—not a liberating one, but a space where the boundaries of gender and desire got blurry.

In this same period, intersex babies were being operated on to “correct” their genitals and force them into one of the binary sexes. Bisexual people weren’t physically altered, but we were (and are) socially pressured to choose sides—to stop being “confusing,” to commit to one gender, one label, one identity. Both intersex bodies and bisexual identities have been treated like medical emergencies that need resolving.

Freud (of course…) played a major role in how bisexuality got talked about in the 20th century. He believed everyone was born bisexual, desiring (…Freud bro please) both parents, and that “normal” development required repressing that and becoming heterosexual. If you failed to repress those desires “correctly,” you became homosexual. Bisexuality itself wasn’t seen as a lasting orientation—it was a temporary phase in early childhood, something to grow out of. This made ideas like: Everyone/nobody is bisexual, bisexuality is immature or greedy, bisexuality is a passing phase where someone hasn’t found their true sexuality.

In 1948, Alfred Kinsey published Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, introducing the Kinsey Scale—a 0 to 6 scale measuring how heterosexual or homosexual someone was. He said the midpoint was bisexual. Kinsey’s research showed that many people had experiences with more than one gender, which broke the idea of fixed categories. He was one of the first to treat bisexuality as a real ongoing sexual orientation, though his scale still only included men and women—it didn’t account for nonbinary people or different kinds of attraction (like romantic vs. sexual). Kinsey’s work helped people see sexuality as a spectrum. But it also created a problem: if everyone is on a scale between gay and straight, then bisexuality gets flattened—reduced to a statistical midpoint or erased as its own identity.

Bisexuality is often framed as being “half-gay, half-straight,” as though a bisexual person is split down the middle or only partly part of any community. This framing assumes that bisexuality is a diluted version of something else rather than its own full experience of desire. It implies that bisexual people are not “fully queer” unless they’re in a same-gender relationship, or not “really queer at all” if they’re dating someone of another gender.

This not only denies bisexual people autonomy over their own identity, it also feeds into the idea that who you’re with defines who you are—turning bisexuality into a transitional state between two “real” sexualities, rather than a real one itself.

For most of the 20th century, bisexual people were talked about but not listened to. White cishet male doctors and psychologists had the power to define what bisexuality was, while bisexual people were often just research subjects, not voices. For decades, official diagnostic manuals like the DSM failed to recognize bisexuality as a distinct orientation, omitting it or including it under broader categories of ‘sexual deviation.’

Medical attempts to “correct” bisexuality emerged, including experimental hormonal treatments and surgeries, with mixed success. Psychoanalysts, meanwhile, proposed that bisexuality was a fundamental human condition, with monosexuality seen as rare or neurotically suppressed. These perspectives influenced how bisexuality was perceived—as either a stage to overcome or an inherent dual attraction.

Our identities were created and theorized without our input. This happened to a lot of marginalized groups—especially people of color, women, intersex people, disabled people, etc.

But eventually, bisexual people began reclaiming the term. Inspired by the growing gay liberation movement in the 1970s, bisexual activists started organizing their own spaces.

Brenda Howard (a bisexual activist) organized the first Pride March in New York and is celebrated as the “Mother of Pride.” Groups like the San Francisco Bisexual Center and the Boston Bisexual Women’s Network were founded in the late 1970s and early ’80s, which made visible bi spaces. These groups pushed back against the idea that bisexuals were just “half gay” or “not gay enough.”

Still, even in queer spaces bisexuals faced skepticism. During the AIDS crisis in the 1980s bisexual men were unfairly scapegoated as vectors spreading HIV to the heterosexual population, which deepened stigma. Inside gay and lesbian communities bisexual people were treated with distrust—seen as flaky, privileged, or attention-seeking. Many bisexual people felt pressure to identify as gay or straight, depending on their current partner, just to be taken seriously and live as who they truly are. Legally, bisexual people were rarely recognized as a separate group and faced the same criminalization/discrimination as gay and lesbian people, yet their experiences were frequently erased in political advocacy and legal challenges.

In the 1990s the bisexual movement saw a resurgence. Books like Bi Any Other Name (1991) brought together personal stories and essays from bisexual people and widespread bisexuality in thought and visibility. Activists also began updating the language of bisexuality, expanding it beyond “both men and women” to include attraction to more than one gender (not necessarily equally, and not necessarily in the same way)—This shift helped make bisexuality more inclusive of non-binary trans people, and for fluidity in attraction.

In the early 2000s and beyond, bisexuality gained more visibility with the rise of the internet and social media, which created new platforms for bisexual people to share their stories, connect globally, and challenge stereotypes. Bisexual activism expanded to address unique issues faced by bisexual people, including bi erasure, biphobia, and the persistent stigma both within and outside queer spaces.

Medically and psychologically, bisexuality is no longer widely viewed as an immature phase or a transitional state as it was throughout much of the 20th century: modern sexology and psychology explore the spectrum of human sexuality. Researchers recognize that attraction can be multi-dimensional—encompassing sexual/romantic/emotional, and aesthetic elements that vary widely among individuals.

But all this is from a Western history perspective because it was mostly white, minority-world researchers (particularly in Europe and US) who documented, categorized, and theorized bisexuality. These understandings come out of Western medical, psychological, and scientific traditions.

[libraryraccoon]

Dogman and Twisted Wonderland

I'm a little obsess with Dogman and Twisted Wonderland right now, and all I can think is :

"What if Dogman was teleported in Twisted Wonderland ?"

Imagine the cast seeing a real dog head sewn to a human body. They will be terrified.

Crowley will hesitate to keep him at the NRC, as he doesn't want the parents to sue him for keeping this anomaly in the school. Crowley would do real research to get him to return to his world to avoid being sued.

Then he learns about his past. I like to think he'd be a little hesitant to return him to his world after learning that, because if nurses and doctors are capable of sewing a dog's head to its owner's body just to prevent the death of both, how far would they go ?

Imagine if Dogman was teleported right after the surgery, like he just comes out of the surgery, unconscious and *boom* teleports into Twisted Wonderland.

Grim opens the gate for Dogman to fall out, and he sees that it's a human body with a dog's head. He would be terrified after seeing that the head is sewn to the body. He would want to take the ceremonial robe, but at the same won't want to touch Dogman.

Then Crowley and the Housewardens arrive. They are confused, and Crowley decides to check on the new student and why the cat seems scared. Then he sees that the head is attached to the body.

A fifty-fifty chance he'll scream in horror. He would take him to the infirmary and the housewardens would be confused, except some who would be scared because they could see that the head was sewn to the body; in my opinion it would surely be Idia (who would perhaps launch a scanner with his tablet on Dogman, only to scream in terror seeing the dog's head and the human body sewn together), Leona most likely smelled the blood, the medicines and the hospital, and perhaps noticed that it was sewn.

Idia would have told the other housewardens when Crowley left with Dogman, still horrified.

Everyone would be horrified because a dog's head sewn onto a human body ? Who the hell in Twisted Wonderland would be crazy enough to do that ???

In the infirmary, Dogman will be taken care of immediately after the school nurse realizes he is actually recovering from surgery. When Dogman is finally well enough to write, he will have to explain in writing what happened.

I saw the headcanon that Dogman could speak but it was his owner's voice and so he preferred not to speak; imagine if he realizes this when they question him, he decides to try to answer the question "how are you ?" and his answer comes out with his dead owner's voice. Afterwards he doesn't speak at all, maybe a panic attack; I'm sorry but after having his head attached to the body of his deceased owner, he would have many panic and identity attacks.

Dogman has to deal with : 1. Knight's death, 2. that his head was sewn to Knight's body, 3. he's in another world. He cannot catch a break.

Crowley and the nurse wouldn't know how to handle it, so they'd ask for help from other professors and ghosts at the NRC, but also from outside. Like doctors.

Dogman would be allowed to join the school with Grim to monitor him and help him communicate with others only after at least 1 or 2 weeks in the infirmary (with magic the recovery would be faster). They had to teach Grim and Dogman Twisted Wonderland Sign Language so they could communicate in ways other than writing and so Grim could speak for him more easily.

The whole NRC would be scared okay.

Ace would come see Dogman to confirm the rumors, then be scared and avoid making fun of him after seeing it was true.

On the other hand he would have made fun of Grim, which led to the mine and everything; the difference being that Crowley did not punish Dogman and that Dogman left with Ace, Grim and Deuce of his own free will when the doctors and Crowley had their backs turned.

After that Deuce and Ace would become closer to Dogman and Grim, becoming friends; they would learn sign language after Riddle's Overblot so Grim doesn't always have to translate what Dogman says.

The Overblots would be something, because how does this half-dog half-man fight so well without magic coming from a very heavy operation that dates back less than a few months ?

Crowley really thought Dogman was dead when he heard that he was fighting Riddle overblot. Like, he just had a surgery 3 weeks ago, why the f- was he fighting an overblot now ???

Dogman was 100% reprimanded by adults after every overblot, and some by his friends as well. Because no, he shouldn't be beating overblots in his condition.

Imagine the Royal Sword Academy when the VDC/SDC...

HORRIFIED.

(I could rambled about it more, if anyone is interested say it in the comments; could even do a fic)

[captainkirkk]

Concept: Peter actually got bitten by a totally normal spider. It's just a coincidence that his mutant powers were awakened around the same time

[imitor]

im trying to formulate what i want to say and radical queerness is different to radical feminisim but do you see what im putting down. do you see that people weaponise parts of their queerness to target others in the community based on misogyny ?? like are we blind ??

[feridilicious]

eughfhshf what i dont feel so good abt the omori manga suntan if the artist might be a creepo?!??! 😭😭hello???

[selfconsumerofmywoes]

i used the fucking cribsheet!!!!!

[zedleaked]

HEY GUYS... HERES A HUGEEE POST ABOUT RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT SPAMTON AND TENNA AND ALSO A COLLECTION OF ALL THEIR REFERENCES AND INTERACTIONS... AS THE IMAGE SAYS: THIS CONTAINS MAJOR CHAPTER 3 SPOILERS AND MINOR CHAPTER 4 SPOILERS!!! PLAY THE GAME PLEASE IT'S GOOD!!!

UNDER HERE YOU'LL FIND MY RANT:

THERE ARE SEVERAL REFERENCES TO SPAMTON IN CHAPTER 3,, ESTABLISHING A CONNECTION BETWEEN SPAMTON AND TENNA. BUT OUR FIRST MENTION OF TENNA EVER WAS IN: https://deltarune.com/d_a_m_n_y_o_u_t_e_n_n_a/

IN HERE SPAMTON EXPRESSES HIS DISLIKE FOR TENNA BUT AT THIS POINT WE DON'T KNOW *WHY*

HE BLAMES "EVERYTHING" ON TENNA, EVERYTHING MOST LIKELY REFERRING TO SPAMTON'S DOWNFALL, STATING THAT *TENNA* SHOULD BE THE ONE SLEEPING AT THE BOTTOM OF A DUMPSTER INSTEAD OF HIM. HE STATES THAT EVERYONE IS GOING TO PAY! [EVERYONE IN TV WORLD EXCEPT MIKE OF COURSE]

SOME OTHER POSSIBLE REFERENCES TO TENNA INCLUDE SPAMTON MENTIONING A GAMESHOW HOST "FUCKING HIM OVER AT THE GOOD PART", MENTIONING A TV SHOW WHERE BULLETS COME FROM THE HOST'S MOUTH AND SPAMTON SAYING HE DOESN'T NEED [[EASELS]] OR [[CRTS]] [MOST LIKELY SWATCH AND TENNA]

ON TENNA'S SIDE, ONE OF THE MOST OBVIOUS AND KNOWN MENTIONS OF SPAMTON IS WHEN HE IS BREAKING DOWN,, BLAMING HIS LOSS OF HIS VIEWERS ON SPAMTON, HE STATES THAT SPAMTON WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO HELP HIM USE TECHNOLOGY. HOWEVER, SPAMTON DISAPPEARED. TENNA NOW RESENTS HIM FOR LEAVING.

IT'S ALMOST COMICAL HIS HATRED FOR SPAMTON, HE MAKES A HUGE RECREATION OF HIS HEAD IN THE SUSIEZILLA MINIGAME, CENSORING HIS EYES. HE CONSTANTLY INSULTS HIM, TELLING US TO KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! SHOW HIM THAT MR. ANT TENNA IS *BETTER*

EVEN IN HIS QUIZ, THE CORRECT ANSWER IS THAT HE'S BETTER THAN EMAIL! HE'S BIGGER THAN THIS. CONCEPT HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND. THIS CONCEPT THAT SPAMTON IS BASED ON.

[[FUN FACT: EMAILS BECAME RELEVANT AT AROUND THE 1990s-2000s, WHEREAS CRTS BECAME OBSOLETE IN THE EARLY 2000s]]

IN A LOT OF TENNA'S THEMES TOO YOU CAN HEAR HINTS OF "A Real Boy!" DURING TENNA'S MELTDOWN THERE'S A PART WHERE A SPED UP VERSION OF “Now’s your chance to be a” PLAYS, TENNA STATING AFTER THAT IT WAS "WEIRD." THIS IS DURING A PART WHERE TENNA IS REMINISCING BY THE WAY.

A LOOSE BUT NOTABLE CONNECTION TOO IS SPAMTON SAYING "I THOUGHT WE HAD A [Kids!] I THOUGHT WE HAD A [Set!]" IN HIS VALENTINE'S CARD FROM LAST YEAR AND TENNA SAYING "Mike, rebuild the set!! Rebuild my kids!!"

BEFORE I GET INTO DISCUSSION, THERES ONE MORE INTERACTION THE TWO HAVE AND ITS A DIRECT ONE TO BOOT! SPAMTON COMES OUT OF THE DEALMAKERS AT THE SIGHT OF TENNA KEEPING A PIPIS HE GAVE HIM, EXCLAIMING: 'YOU REALLY DO CARE!' WHILE TENNA PROTECTS THE PIPIS, NOT KNOWING ITS SPAMTON

I REALLY LIKE THIS INTERACTION BECAUSE [BESIDES BEING FUNNY] IT SHOWS THAT THE TWO OF THEM STILL HAVE SOME CARE FOR EACH OTHER, SPAMTON REALISING TENNA KEPT HIS GIFT [MOST LIKELY] AND TENNA KEEPING THE PIPIS FROM SPAMTON, GOING AS FAR AS TO PROTECT HER FROM A SUPPOSED THREAT

THEY HAD SOME KIND OF HISTORY BUT WHAT HAPPENED? THEIR HATRED IS MUTUAL. BUT SPAMTON WANTED TO HELP TENNA [AND LATER ON WE'LL TALK ABOUT TENNA WANTING TO HELP SPAMTON] IN THE Z RANK ROOM IT HAS POSTERS OF THE BOTH OF THEM HAPPY, BIG SHOT SPAMTON EVEN WORE THE SAME SUIT AS TENNA!

IN THE BACKSTAGE, THE HIDDEN VIDEO GAME REVEALS THAT TENNA ALSO WANTED TO HELP SPAMTON, PUT HIM ON TV AND MAKE HIM A STAR, GIVE HIM HIS ADVICE! THIS WAS PARTLY BECAUSE TENNA WANTED TO KNOW SPAMTON'S SECRET TO FAME, BUT ALSO I LIKE TO THINK IT CAME FROM A GENUINE PLACE,,

BUT THEN, SPAMTON HAD TO TAKE A PHONE CALL. HE LEFT THE ROOM WITH THE RECEIVER HANGING,,, ALMOST IDENTICAL TO WHEN THE ADDISONS LOST SPAMTON. YOU CAN EVEN SEE THE PHONE ITSELF IN THE Z RANK ROOM

FOR A WHILE I WAS CONFUSED AS TO WHY SPAMTON HATED TENNA, BUT NOW I THINK I GET IT. THAT PHONE CALL MAY HAVE BEEN [THE MAN ON THE PHONE] CUTTING SPAMTON OFF, WHICH IS WHY HE RUSHED AWAY AND WAS NEVER SEEN AGAIN.

SPAMTON HATES TENNA BECAUSE HE BELIEVES TENNA IS THE REASON WHY THE [THE PHONE] LEFT. THIS IS WHY HE SAYS 'EVERYTHING IS *HIS* FAULT! MEANWHILE TENNA RESENTS SPAMTON BECAUSE HE LEFT HIM BEFORE HE COULD GET HIS ADVICE! HE ASSUMED HE CONNED HIM WHEN REALLY [THE PHONE] HURT HIM!

BUT MAYBE TO A DEGREE SPAMTON IS RIGHT... I BELIEVE [THE MAN ON THE PHONE] LEFT HIM BECAUSE TENNA WAS *FATED* TO LOSE HIS VIEWERS AND FALL INTO LONELINESS. THE PROPHECY STATES THAT 'THE LORD OF SCREENS CLEAVED RED BY BLADE',, TENNA WAS *MEANT* TO BE TAKEN DOWN BY THE KNIGHT.

BECAUSE SPAMTON SHARING HIS SECRET WOULD LEAD TENNA TO NOT FOLLOW THE PATH THE PROPHECY MADE FOR HIM,, SPAMTON'S [BENEFACTOR] CUT HIM OFF BECAUSE WHAT SPAMTON WAS DOING WAS AGAINST THE EVENTS SET OUT BY THE WORLD, WHICH DROVE SPAMTON INTO INSANITY!!!

IT'S TRAGIC BECAUSE THEIR DOWNFALLS WERE NEITHER OF THEIR FAULTS, THEY COULDN'T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THIS GRAND SCHEME OR THAT SPAMTON'S [BENEFACTOR] WOULD LEAVE, SO THEY'RE LEFT TO ASSUME ONE BETRAYED THE OTHER. THEY USED TO BE CO-WORKERS. FRIENDS. NOW THEY'RE ENEMIES.

ANYWAYS THATS ALL I CAN MUSTER RIGHT NOW THIS TOOK A LOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT TO GATHER. BUT I HOPE IT'S INTERESTING AND I HOPE YOU SEE WHERE I'M COMING FROM :) I LOVE SPAMTON AND TENNA AND WHILE I DOUBT WE'LL EVER GET MORE, I LOVED TO SEE SMALL PARTS OF THEIR WEIRD RELATIONSHIP :)

[sweetshuga]

String you out ۶ৎ Chratt

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

Warnings⚠︎ Smut!, Suggestive remarks!, strong language!, threesome!, size kink, lowkey breeding kink, pet names, p in v, dp, unprotected sex (do not), oral (m! receiving), squirting, vibe, slight intoxication (but full consent), etc.

Word count. 3k

Note. English is not my first language! Not proofread!

Psa. Matt refers to reader as "pretty" and Chris refers to reader as "ma", just so you don't get confused with the dialogues.

Sum. Everything goes south when you show up at the campus Halloween party in a tiny black witch costume; becoming their prey for the night.

You weren’t prepared when your best friend came knocking at your door with a big duffle bag, trying to convince you to come to the annual Halloween party, but you had already decided to stay in your dorm room and continue doing your assignments.

"C’mon, don’t be like that, I even bought us matching costumes," she stepped inside, letting you close the door behind her. "I can help you do your make-up, please?" Your friend begged, plopping down on your bed. You sighed and rubbed your temple, "I told you already, I’m not going, that Halloween party will probably be just like a frat one and you know how I am about frat parties."

Your friend crossed her arms with raised eyebrows, "no, it won’t be like a frat party, but I guess there’ll be those fraternity guys there since you know... Campus party, everyone’s gonna be there–" you cut her off, "except for me," causing her to collapse back onto your bed.

"Pretty please?" She pleaded again, jutting her bottom lip out dramatically, making you laugh. "No, like I said–" she cut you off with a groan, "c’mooon, Halloween happens only once a year..." her voice trailed off as a grin made its way onto her lips, "if you go this once, I won’t bug you again, like I promise I won’t ask you to come to frat parties with me."

You couldn’t help but be tempted with the deal, clearing your throat as you looked at her, "you serious?" She nodded vigorously, "yeah, I am, I am dead serious, so? will you?" You sighed and nodded, eliciting a happy "yay" from her.

She immediately spilled the contents from her huge duffel bag, tons of make-up products and two matching witch costumes. You picked one up, inspecting it. The costume was incredibly short and could almost pass off as a long shirt.

"Are you serious? This is what you picked?" She gave you a deadpanned look, "it’s Halloween! You know what they say, the only time of the year to be as slutty as you want." She nudged your arm, grinning, "plus I bet guys would go nuts when they see you in this."

𓆩♡𓆪

Your friend helped you with your make-up, and as you looked in the mirror, you felt like you were someone else, in a good way. The costume was short, but it made you feel a bit more confident than usual. The black heel boots you had lying around – that you’ve been wanting to wear for so long – seemed to match the vibe of the dress.

The long sleeves and overall style of the costume had already started to grow on you. "Not too bad," you said as you curled your hair, "yeah? told you so," your friend grinned triumphantly, making you roll your eyes in a playful manner.

The moment you arrived at the party, your ears immediately rang at the loud music, "fuck, why is it so loud here?" you shouted to your friend, trying to get your words across the short distance, but the music drowned out your voice.

"It’s always this loud, you’re just not used to it, c’mon, let’s get drinks!" She dragged you towards the table of drinks, expertly weaving through the crowd. Alcohols that you didn’t even know the names of were stacked in an oddly neat way along with soft drinks, water and way too many solo cups.

A girl standing by the table, dressed as the grinch, offered to make you and your friend drinks, halloween specials. As you were sipping on your drink, you noticed a pair of guys, almost identical looking.

"Holy fuck, you know who they are?" you nudged your friend, jerking your head at the direction of the guys dressed as vampires. She followed your gaze and looked at them, "yeah?" she chuckled, "you don’t?" Shaking your head as you kept your gaze on the guys, unable to take it off of them.

"Of course you don’t, you’re always buried in schoolwork," she clicked her tongue, "they’re quite famous around campus you know?" You let out a huff, taking another big gulp of your drink, groaning at the burn of the mixed alcohols. "So? Who are they?"

"The one with the cap is Chris and the one that doesn’t have a cap is Matt, obviously, they’re identical triplets, but I don’t think Nick’s here today." You let out an "oh" sound of understanding before you took another sip of your drink.

"Heard they got a bro code or whatnot, like they wouldn’t hit the same girl," your friend shrugged, telling you all she knew about them, "yeah... couldn’t care less, c’mon let’s just dance or something," you said pulling your friend away from the table of drinks and onto the dance floor. You couldn’t help but feel interested despite your words.

After one too many drinks and a few stolen glances later, you found yourself in a bathroom, two pairs of hands roaming over your body while you shared a kiss with one of the guys—the one with the cap.

The other one kissed your neck, trailing it down to your collarbone and leaving love bites there before going back to your neck. The one with the cap broke the kiss, "you know our names ma?" He breathed out, "uh... you’re Chris, and he’s Matt, right?" you asked hesitantly, the slight intoxication making your mind a jumbled up mess.

"Mhm—bingo, pretty," Matt whispered, his lips grazing just under your earlobe, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as they continued to kiss and caress your body, your body reacting to every word and touch from them, making their faces light up with smirks.

Their fake fangs nipped at your skin, causing you to gasp softly each time. "Say, let’s go to a more comfortable place?" Chris suggested, "Yeah, can’t really do much in a bathroom," Matt chuckled as he added.

They led you out of the bathroom and weaved through the crowd of people dancing. You tried to find your friend to tell her you were going but you couldn't find her in the crowd. Suddenly, you got a message and a photo from her apologizing saying that she was gonna head home with her boyfriend since it was getting late. How convenient.

You sighed and let the guys lead you out of the party, your costume rode up ever so slightly as you tried to balance on the heel boots in your slightly tipsy state. You were very much aware of your surroundings and the two fellas, dressed as vampires, leading you towards their car.

"Where are we going?" You asked, a bit puzzled but willing. Matt and Chris both chuckled in unison at your confused state, "oh yeah, we’re gonna go to our place, you mind?" Chris asked as he looked back at you, "I mean, if you don’t feel comfortable with that, we could always hit up a hotel," Matt shrugged.

You hummed, looking back and forth between them before making your decision, "no, yeah, i’m good with your place," they both visibly relaxed and grinned, "alright then, hop in, pretty," Matt said as he opened the backseat door.

𓆩♡𓆪

The drive to their place was fairly fast, accompanied by small talks and laughter, but that quickly turned into heated kisses and breathy moans once you got inside their house. Stumbling into one of their rooms, they started to strip you out of the skimpy costume.

Gently pushing you on the bed before they started to strip themselves, your gaze raked over their bodies as you waited on the bed, biting your lip in anticipation. Once they were matching you in nakedness, they sat on either side of you, starting to lavish attention to your body once again.

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful ma, so fucking beautiful," Chris murmured against the swell of your breast, "mhm... so pretty" Matt whispered an agreement in your ear before kissing along your jawline, his hand caressing your body, slowing inching down to cup your mound.

You hissed softly when his fingers made in contact with your swollen clit, slick with arousal, and throbbing for attention. The brothers quickly picked up on your growing need and desperation as they saw just how wet you had become.

Your folds glistened in the dim light of the bedside lamp, the obvious need evident in your tone when Chris plunged a finger inside your tight heat. "Fu—ck," you moaned softly, your breathing a lot more ragged now that he was moving his digit in and out of you, slipping in a second finger and smirking at how you seemed to suck in his fingers.

"Someone’s eager," Matt chuckled, his voice a bit deeper than usual, betraying his arousal. The pads of his fingers started to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting slightly louder moans from you.

The feeling was already so pleasurable, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol making you feel more than usual or just the brothers themselves, either way you knew you were incredibly turned on.

They adjusted your position, easily manhandling you, but their touch was gentle– almost tender if you will. The new position gave them more to work with. You were on your hands and knees and they stood on their knees on either side of you, still squeezing and caressing every inch of skin they could touch.

They were big – huge even – it made you feel a bit nervous. They were easily 10", and who knows how thick, standing tall and proud. You gulped softly when Chris gripped your hip with one hand and led his length towards your aching pussy. The tip of his cock slid up and down your slit, making you whine and push back against him.

They chuckled at your needy gestures and sounds, "you’re so responsive ma, ’s intoxicating," Chris emphasized his words with a slap on your ass, causing you to jolt and whine, his hand gently caressing the reddening skin.

Matt, being the one in front of you, caressed your cheek and made you look up at him by lifting your face by your jaw. Smirking when he saw the desperation in your eyes, "what’s up pretty? Can’t handle a little teasing?" He spoke with faux sympathy, making you all the more desperate.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, you felt the sudden stretch, causing you to move forward—trying to get away from the sensation, only to be held in place by two pairs of hands. Chris clicked his tongue, "relax ma," his hands squeezed your ass, sinking his fingers in your plush flesh as he moved forward, filling you completely.

"Oh fu—ck, Chris too big–" your moans got muffled when Matt fed you his length, groaning at the sensation of your mouth on him and the vibrations from your moans as Chris took you from behind.

Chris’ pupils dilated when he saw the way your ass recoiled against his hips with each deep and slow thrust, he gripped your hips tighter and surged forward with increasing fervor. The force of it pushed you forward, each thrust making you involuntarily deepthroat Matt, making them both groan at the pleasure.

Chris suddenly pulled out, and stood up, "I think I’ve got something nice." Matt chuckled when he understood what Chris implied and pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop. You looked at them confused, feeling empty and still aching with need.

A few minutes later, Chris came back with a vibrator and a bottle of lube in hand. You blinked rapidly as your gaze flickered between the brothers, making them chuckle, "don’t worry pretty, we’ll make you feel good, ’promise." Chris sat on the bed behind you, getting in position again.

"Alright ma, up," he playfully slapped your ass before helping you back in the position you were in moments ago, but this time you were facing Chris with Matt behind you. Your moans filled the room once again when Matt entered you, stretching you deliciously.

Your moans were quickly muffled by Chris’ cock, which you eagerly let in your mouth, and the pleasure was already bordering on too much. Your body tensed when you felt vibrations on your clit. Matt groaned loudly when he felt you clench around him like a vice, his hips picking up pace in response.

Your moans vibrated around Chris’ shaft, making him buck his hips faster, fucking your mouth as he gripped your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Your eyes rolled back briefly as Matt hit that spot deep within you, the one that made sparks dance behind your eyes, the one that made you moan louder.

The vibrations of the vibe increased, making your legs shake as you tried to ground yourself from the intense pleasure that you wondered if you could take any more of. That was when Matt held you by your waist and started to target a specific spot—your g-spot.

The feeling of him hitting your g-spot with such precision and the vibrator doing its job on your throbbing clit, made you squirm, trying to get away from the intensity of it all, but their hands kept you in place. With a loud muffled moan you squirted, unable to warn them due to Chris’ cock in your mouth. The brothers let out breathy chuckles when they saw the mess you were making, but didn’t stop nevertheless.

They followed you soon after, their releases filling up your holes. You couldn’t even keep yourself steady on your legs and arms anymore, it was all threatening to buckle under you any second.

Carefully, they laid you down, and seeing the wrecked state you were in just seemed to fuel their desires further. Their semi-hard lengths hardened once more as they gazed down at you. Your disheveled hair, the hickeys adorning your body, Matt’s release trickling out of you and Chris’ dripping down your chin.

Matt’s hand came up to caress your side, causing a breathy sigh to escape your lips, "you think you can go one more round pretty?" Chris chuckled softly, "mhm—ma, don’t think we can get enough of you, think you can take us both?"

"Both? like at the same time?" you whispered, your voice already hoarse from overuse. They nodded, chuckling as they helped you into a sitting position, "yeah, we’ve got lube, but it’s fine if you’re not up for it, pretty—" you cut him off, "well, I don’t mind, i mean... if it can fit that is..." your voice trailed off as you looked down at their laps.

"Don’t worry, ma, we’ll make it fit," is all you heard before they got in position. Matt laying with you on top of him and Chris behind you. The pop of the lube cap made your body shiver in anticipation, the mildly cold oil jolting every nerve as it ran down your slit, making you shudder.

Matt slowly pushed inside, eliciting a soft moan from you, and as you finally adjusted to his size, Chris nudged himself on your already full pussy. "Shh— ’s alright, pretty, just relax," Matt cooed from under you, his arms holding you in place as Chris entered you from behind. You squirmed under their touch, moaning loudly, and the stretch being too much, too big.

Chris grunted at the tightness as he pushed inside, stilling when he bottomed out inside you, "shit ma, so fuckin’ tight," he hissed through his teeth. Matt chuckled, his voice huskier, "yeah, you like how we stretch you, pretty? how fuckin’ big we are?" You could only mumble a "yes" that sounded more like a whimper.

They let you adjust to their sizes—the fullness and the stretch. Their hands caressed your body soothingly, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, and kissing your shoulders and neck.

You finally relaxed around them, moaning softly at the sudden pang of pleasure from being filled to the brim. Your pleasure didn’t go unnoticed by Matt and Chris, chuckling to themselves as they started to move. Your world blurred as you felt an immense pleasure you’ve never felt before.

Your body moved on its own, meeting their thrusts, wanting more of that delicious feeling. And all that only made them move faster – harder – thrusting into you with renewed fervor. Your hands clutched whatever you could hold, grounding yourself so you wouldn’t get consumed by the pleasure.

"Fu—ck pretty, so fuckin’ tight," Chris mumbled an agreement, both of them holding you in place as they took what they wanted. You could only hold on, and moan for them. "Shit, gonna fill you up so good— swell you with my cum, ma," Chris groaned, "Yeah, fuck— you ready for us pretty?" Matt added, muffling his sounds of pleasure on your shoulder.

You mumbled a plea for them to cum inside you—to which they gladly did, groaning and moaning as they filled you up. Their combined release spilled out from the sides, making a mess.

Gently pulling out from your well-used hole, their chests heaved with exertion. In spite of their softening cocks, they couldn’t help the feral, almost animalistic, feeling when they saw the sight of their mixed release trickling out of your pussy.

They both groaned under their breaths before exchanging knowing glances, a silent conversation between them, and slowly alerting you about their insatiable desires for you. "You okay, pretty?" Matt’s hand caressed your cheek while Chris squeezed your ass, "we’re not done with you ma, not by a long shot."

They chuckled as they saw you look at them surprised, but didn’t protest or say no, instead pulled them closer – a silent plea for more. "We’re gonna fuck this pussy so good," Matt whispered in your ear, "and fill you up with our spend until you swell with our babies," Chris added, whispering in your other ear.

Their words were filled with promises, and that alone made you feel immense pleasure, a need for more.

The next morning, you woke up with a bad headache, and sore all over. It wasn’t a surprise that you had a hangover but it was a surprise when you became aware of your surroundings. You were in an unknown room, entangled with not one, but two guys. It didn’t help that they were brothers, identical brothers.

"Heard they got a bro code or whatnot, like they wouldn’t hit the same girl." Your friend’s words echoed in your head. Guess it wasn’t true after all, their bro code.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 3,086

Isa's notes. I've never written a Chratt fic before, or anything with two love interests, or a threesome in that matter so like... my bad if it's shit.

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

© sweetshuga

[zephyrchama]

Do you ever wonder if the Devildom has silly celebrity TV competitions like The Masked Singer?

A bright green peacock costume graced the TV's screen. The costumed celebrity gripped a microphone and swayed as he sang, commanding all attention from the audience.

"This guy's got a great set of pipes." Mammon was on the edge of his seat humming along to the classic tune. "Twenty grimm says he wins the whole season. And another twenty grimm says that it's Chort."

Satan raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's Chort. Could he even sing? Plus, didn't he disappear because of his massive debts?"

Belphegor nodded. "I heard he's been trying to dig a river for the last six hundred years. The show's hints made this guy seem pretty great. I think it's Vapula.

"You think?" Satan rested his head on his hand and listened. "He's really good."

Hundreds of long feathers splayed out gracefully from the back of the perforner's costume, as if hypnotizing the viewers.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's Chort. He's probably on here to sweep the competition and pay off his debts. Not a bad plan." A scheme began to take shape in Mammon's brain. "If I call these production guys, they'll be beggin' to have someone like me on next season."

Asmodeus laughed, "you? Maybe in a few seasons after me. I know they're waiting to bring me on as a special guest."

"Wait, really?" Leviathan was only watching in case somebody sang an anime or game cover. Most of the time, he was boredly scrolling his phone and making technical remarks about the costumes. "C-can you take song requests?"

"It's not official yet " Asmodeus clarified, "but I know they'll want me on the show in due time. I'm just worried the mask will hide my true beauty."

The singer finished his performance with a dab and a bow. After racous applause began an excessively long commercial break. Interest in the room dwindled. Nobody cared much about curse insurance.

You hugged a cushion to your chest. Being unfamiliar with Devildom celebrities meant you couldn't play along, but listening to everyone's guesses was still enjoyable.

"That guy reminds me of Lucifer."

Belphegor and Satan made faces like they had just swallowed a frog. There was a beat of silence, then everyone in the room collectively went, "Nah."

"Where is he, anyway?" you asked.

"He said something about a favor for Lord Diavolo," Beelzebub replied through a fistful of buttered popcorn. "Won't be back until late."

"Ah."

When commercials ended, the show began to wrap up. The peacock costume reappeared as the judges tried their hardest to guess his identity. Despite its flat plastic eyes, the costume had a majestic air to it. The masked man still drew eyes even when standing still.

"Last chance for betting," Mammon said. He shook his coin purse. Nobody took up his offer.

With plenty of suspense, the emcee began to remove the contestant's mask. There was a solid minute of the camera panning between the stage, the audience, and the judges.

"Hurry up already." Belphegor tossed a piece of popcorn at the TV.

"I can't believe this!" the emcee shouted.

Asmodeus impatiently squeezed his hands together. "Well? Who is it!?"

"It's...!"

Confetti cannons and bright lights obscured the mystery man's face, yet the audience was going wild.

"I can't believe it!" The emcee screamed.

"If they cut to commercials again, I'm leaving," Satan sighed.

Thankfully, there were no more commercials. There were no more pans to the audience or the judges. There was only one person in the camera's focus.

"Your ruler of hell, the Avatar of Pride himself, the great Morning Star! It's... Lucifer!"

There was a sudden chorus of exclamations. "What!?"

Aside from the television, the House of Lamentation became dead silent. Beelzebub stopped, slowly lowering his hand of food while transfixed on the screen. Asmodeus looked like he was about to cry, having his position on the show stolen first by Lucifer. Mammon looked confused and swiveled his head around, stunned, as though his brothers were pranking him. Belphegor narrowed his eyes with displeasure.

You cautiously eyed Satan, ready to command him to stay if things got out of hand. He just stared at the screen coldly.

Leviathan was first to break the silence. "Wait, really? Lucifer's the peacock?"

"I knew it sounded like Lucifer," you bragged. You raised your arms victoriously. Your cushion flopped onto the floor.

Beelzebub was the only one to commend you. "Good job, I had no idea."

"So it wasn't Chort or Vapula." Belphegor began to drag himself off the couch. "Well, that was unexpected. I'm going to bed."

"What's the prize for this show? How much's he winnin'?" Mammon asked.

"Probably nothing. It's a small appearance fee and the rest is just exposure," Asmodeus explained. Him and Mammon both hung their heads.

Satan got up to grab the remote, mashing the power button until it clicked off. "This show sucks. Let's find something else to watch next week."

[sheeezu]

My shifting guidebook.

This is my last post, as melodramatic as I was in my last post, since both the posts I've made on here and reddit i got busy with responding to dms (for those confused check my first post) so i didn't permashift.

Unfortunately i still couldn't respond to all the messages and questions sent to my inbox and dms, mainly because of the different time zones and general laziness from my side.

I appreciate everyone who asked questions, although i felt it's a bit unfair since the answers to very common problems didn't reach everyone, and i want everyone to shift, i want everyone to shift tonight, so i decided i'll make a post to share all my knowledge, whatever i know, sort of like a parting gift.

And this isn't going to be a beginners guide, mainly for people who need a final push, and most importantly, for emergency shifters.

Onto the questions (: Divided into categories, skip through according to your needs :)

Detachment from CR, attachment to DR:

How can i detach from my CR/attach to my DR?

Generally, detachment can be achieved by numbing your emotions in your CR. But first, I would advise you to refrain from extreme and unhealthy detachment, because you'll end up getting stuck in a endless cycle of messing up your CR and not shifting (because you'd have no control over yourself, which would lead to your subconscious getting grounded in the messed up version of your CR; assuming that unhealthy detachment is daydreaming about your DR all day without any sense of where you are, without a strong mindset, when you eventually snap back you'll think even more vividly of your CR)

But- "unhealthy" attachment can be utilised to your advantage, to shift, in a controlled manner.

Pick a day to shift, let it be a weekend. After dusk, only indulge yourself in your DR. (When you're sure you have free time and you won't be disturbed) for me, I hid under the blanket, with a fully charged phone, I spent a portion of the hours listening to subliminals, and a portion of the time scrolling through pinterest with spotify in the background (things that remind you of your DR)

I recommend listening to detachment from CR and attachment to DR subs, and if you are a permashifter, and it's your deadline, go all out.

This is my advice for detachment from CR during the day, during the method it'll be different.

How can I detach from my CR while I'm shifting? I can't divert my attention away from my CR body/mind.

I'm writing in the pov of my own method.

The only way you can let go of the CR while you're shifting is with a calm mind. If you're overthinking about how you're going to carry out your method, whether you'd wake back in your CR, you'll have trouble reaching a detached state.

To detach, first of all, make yourself comfortable, do not try to force yourself into doing something, or laying in a position which makes you uncomfortable. Next, think of thoughts which pushes your CR to the side, your CR is just another reality, and you're the creator of it, treat it like its any other pebble on the road.

Affs: (again, void reality meaning your CR)

"Void reality? Huh, can't seem to remember what that is..."

"It's so peaceful not being in the void reality, going to fix it when I eventually return from my DR" (I vividly remember saying this, if you're a permashifter, make it so it fits your situation)

"..."

(Not saying anything says a lot, fall numb to your void reality and go onto your DR)

Remember, you're not answerable to your CR, its not your boss or captor, it's actually the opposite.

To attach to your DR during the method, in the middle phase of my method, say identity affs until you feel familiarise with your DR self, think of memories, have a small conversation with your DR loved ones, do a small rewind of your DR life in your mind, so you can ground yourself. I won't be going into much details on how to shift by becoming your DR self, my first post says it all.

How to detach from CR body?

Detaching your thoughts is basically detaching your CR body, the 30 second black out state is basically a window to shifting, because when your CR shuts up for a even just a few seconds it will give you the opportunity to divert your attention to your DR, no matter how fidgety you are.

Problems faced while shifting:

Something always itches me when I try to shift, any advice?

Before you're shifting, take a look at you're environmental factors, why are you feeling itchy in the first place?

If it isn't bugs, dry skin, I recall that during the method some symptoms are just itchiness.

Say affs to block off your senses first of all, until then try to control yourself

Affs:

"I have stopped sensing my void reality (CR)"

"I have stopped hearing, feeling, seeing my void reality"

If the need gets overwhelming and you're just starting your method, make yourself comfortable and move a bit, or just itch it, you can still shift.

I always fall asleep when I try to shift, what should I do?

During the day you're going to shift, and you know you're just tired and lack sleep, take a nap during the day.

If you didn't nap, or just generally feel sleepy still, turn my method into a sleep method, by letting yourself fall asleep while you're actively acting, thinking like your DR self (you'll wake up in your DR the next day)

Sleeping is a good tool for shifting, especially if you're starting to doze off while doing your method, you can achieve other states such as sleep paralysis, lucid dreaming or mind awake body asleep state, so don't get discouraged, if you prefer awake methods, there are some subliminals you can use to stay awake.

I always fear or dread shifting while doing my method and back out at the last minute.

(Copypasted from reddit)

Familiarise yourself with your DR, it's not scary if you know where you're laying, who you are, what's next to you and who's going to be in the room.

If you already start acting like your DR self then in theory fear shouldn't be here (why would you be scared being yourself in an environment which is supposed to be familiar to you?)

It also depends upon the kind of fear

Fear of spirits snatching your soul mid shift - listen to safety and protection subliminals (no, I wasn't personally possessed by demons last minute but it will put your mind at ease)

Fear of the unknown - familiarise yourself with your DR and shifting

Fear of symptoms - don't focus on them

Just know that nothing fearful will exist as long as you don't allow it to exist, you're the creator of your reality.

Trouble focusing while shifting.

Once you're even a tad bit detached from your CR, you would have no trouble focusing, because it's only your CR body's mind which is causing you trouble, the semi-void state in my method (when you don't feel your body that much, you force yourself to not have thoughts) is all you need to do to go onto the next phase of your method, and trust me, it'll feel very easy for you.

Prior to shifting, listen to frequencies, subliminals, basically flood your subconscious with your desired affs (calm mind subs, focus subs, general shifting and void state subliminals) when you're shifting, stare at the blackness and think of it as a milky way, like you're stargazing, I don't know why but your hyperfixation allows you to focus; count to a hundred, visualise your DR memories, youll eventually reach a trance state where you're focused and ready to shift. (if you can't visualise, then think of it in the form of a story)

Misc:

For folks with ADHD:

(Copy pasted from reddit)

I'd recommend try listening to subliminal (especially bundles) when you aren't feeling like doing anything or if you think your messing up.

Also try to keep yourself as comfortable as possible, if you can distract yourself in a way you aren't attached to your CR activities, for example watching movies or shows or youtube video which require minimal effort and attention

And im saying this only if you're utilizing a single day for shifting, or practicing LOA

while doing the method, i'd try to use as less time as possible, and if you feel off, then you can open your eyes and try the method after a small break.

Can I shift to-

Yes, yes, yes. You can shift to anywhere your mind can think up of, it really is that simple. You can shift to the past, shift to prevent a certain event, you can shift to a reality with a confusing concept, you can shift to become a chair.

Did you shift to a animated DR? How was it like?

I shifted to a pokemon DR where I studied pokemons for a living, but I quickly shifted back after 2 days because I got bored.

Personally for me I get creeped out of anything that's eerie or out of the ordinary.

So basically I scripted that it'll feel normal and I wouldn't even question it.

So I didn't, and now that I think about it, everything was proper, people had noses it wad 3D and everything, so just this reality except everyone looked unnaturally good and the world's graphic were different. If the entire world looks the same then nothing feels weird.

Your opinion on clones/time period?

I don't really care about clones or what they are, mainly because I believe in the consciousness theory, and the multiverse theory is a subdivision of consciousness theory, you basically let yourself believe there is a multiverse and for that reason it exists.

So in perceptive of the multiverse theory, your "clone" is just a body, which comes under your command or control.

It can't mess up your CR life, it'll make the same choices as you like you would have made if you were present in your CR.

Personally I had scripted that when I shift back I will wake up the next morning, following the night when I was shifting.

So my "clone" was just sleeping.

Secondly, stop stressing over your clone,

It'll just do what you want it to do, or just live life how you'd normally would

If you script your clone is a superhuman for the time you're in you DR, you'll shift back to a parallel reality of your CR where a superhuman lived your life for a while, but if you want you can just shift to a better CR like I did.

...

Those are all questions that came in my mind, I tried looking back into the chats and inbox to find more commonly asked questions or something I didn't clarify in my first post but most other questions had straight forward or a clear enough answer.

I really wanted to expand this post with more sections and questions, but in my opinion my first and this post combined are a lot of their own, I think I clarified a lot.

It's been a week being on Tumblr, and I loved helping people out, everyone was kind and unique in their own ways, I looked through my followers scripts and blogs and I enjoyed everyone's dedication to shifting, and their DRs (btw, I hadn't expected to get so many follows and notes, I'm genuinely suprised even now)

It had been a lovely experience being on shiftblr, in my opinion it's the best shifting, or just generally the best community on the internet.

As much as I would like to stay and blog regularly on here, I have to go back home, I'm permashifting in (from the time this post went up) 7 hours, and this time I'm not staying, so refrain from asking me questions after that, I won't respond, but this post will still be up.

Farewell, I hope your shifting journey conclude today and each of you live happily in your DR, with your well deserved love, respect and peace.

Goodbye c:

(Within the 7 hours, I may be partially active, if there is any question that is truly different and a genuine struggle for you, inbox me, I'll try my best to answer; I may as well post my DR script in my last few hours, since some people asked, remind me if I forget; also not posting on reddit, ive already annoyed the mods so much by breaking several rules)

[like-ribbons-in-your-hair]

another breakdown! Yayy! so really i wanted to incorporate a lot of different signals in this drawing. the "scrapbook" aesthetic, it loosely symbolizes how their relationship is somewhat artificial from an inside standpoint. guest looks at chance almost confused, and chance stares back with a playful smile. in the background, I wanted to portray their own internal struggles. guest's silhouette which is behind chance, has his heart "complete" but his mind isn't. its supposed to exemplify his own struggles within identity (tell me, do you think a man like guest doesn't have some kind of problem identifying his own identity? the man that lived and fulfilled everyone's expectations but his own?), and chance's has his heart and brain switches places. the heart is where the brain should be, and the brain is where the heart should be. it's supposed to symbolize his own internal struggles with his mood (i.e, gambling for short lived dopamine, guilt from trapped); he is impulsive. the stars and the "dream on" sign thing are supposed to be a vague reminder to them that they are privileged in a way with their relationship. not a lot of gay people get to show their love like that. not a lot of men like guest get to experience the things he does. not a lot of people like chance have the opportunity to be born in a golden crib. the background being flesh- loosely supports the idea of the intensiveness of their love- how its almost obsessive. and lastly, the poem reads: "and it all might sound like a big lie but when I saw in your eyes mine bloomed a flower of flesh living, breathing, pulsing in your hands it bled spilled on the cold concrete close your eyes." it can be viewed from two different perspectives- how guest "saved" chance, and chance "bloomed" into guest's hands. how chance showed guest a whole new world, making him "bloom" to his true self, the self that is still being built and discovered. As you can tell I am very normal about toughluck

[bewitched-hours]

Wakey wakey.. eggs and bakey.. okay so what if tanuki!reader x 007n7. Because imagine if you see a fat thing on ur chest but in reality it's just UR partner

LMFAO THAT LAST SENTENCE I LOVE IT

Reader's getting They/Them for this kek-

It's not everyday that something like you pops into the survivor cabin.

At first you looked completely normal and everyone assumed you were just another Robloxian.

But you didn't bother hiding your real identity so it didn't take many questions to find out you were a Tanuki. You were just able to switch around between being a Tanuki and a Robloxian. You even had 'in-between' forms that you were able to show off.

And not long after, you were declared a support class. You didn't have much of a punch in you but you were faster than most of the survivors and could tank a few hits while healing your teammates using fruits and berries that no one is even sure where you get them from but they still heal so they won't question it.

But your favourite so far has been 007n7. He didn't understand why you'd stick by him so much and at first, it was simply because he listened and sometimes made the effort to teleport with you so you didn't have to tank as many hits for him.

Of course, you also listened to his ramblings when he finally opened up, offering comfort instead of pushing him away and sometimes even just enjoying the silence between you two.

It wasn't awkward. Ever. Just comfortable.

Sometimes he even found you taking a nap outside the cabins and bring you back to your or his cabin to keep you comfortable.

You weren't a light sleeper either. You didn't move much but the fact you were so hard to wake up at first was a little annoying.

It was a good thing you enjoyed having your routine so much.

What wasn't good, was that you failed to hide your favouritism towards 007. Everyone knew.

And a few of them took note of your odd but subtle behaviours.

You had a big ol' crush on the ex-hacker. But you hid it under the excuse of Tanuki instincts.

Most were fooled by it but you'd admit it to some of the survivors you actually befriended. Mostly Elliot and Dusekkar.

And both would simply wish you luck because 007's self-confidence is too low to allow himself to think you actually fell in love with him. At least the 'instinct' excuse made him feel a little better but still-

You'd have to tell him one way or another, you couldn't exactly tell if the Spectre would ever feel a little more cruel and remove either of you from its cruel game. So, you hatched a plan.

Over time, you'd find yourself coincidentally 'napping' near 007's cabin and waiting for him to carry you inside before cuddling up against him, still pretending to sleep.

His increased heartbeat told you what you needed to know for your plan to work.

Next, you'd bring him little gifts outside of rounds. they were always heart-shaped to make your interest obvious. Still, he didn't say anything about it which told you it was time for your last step...

Just... Straight up confessing...

You wanted it to feel special but part of you knew this loveable idiot wouldn't take the hints and despite knowing both your Raccoon Dog and Yokai ancestors would not approve of this man in the first place...

Ah, to hell with it, you were never one to actually care about tradition anyways.

So tonight, you decided to visit 007 yourself.

You puffed up your chest a bit, taking deep breaths before knocking at his cabin door with a smug but determined smile on your face.

7n7 was a bit startled when he saw you standing there. "[Reader]? You don't usually-"

But you cut him off with a huff. "I need to tell you something and I can't have this bothering me any longer." You said firmly but quietly, waiting for him to step aside before making your way to his bed and sitting down with a relieved sigh.

Of course, he was confused but looked worried. "Did something happen??" He asked as he sat down beside you.

He wanted to comfort you but you simply leaned up against him, both surprising and flustering him as he attempted to figure out what you were about to say.

"It's no secret I favour you over the others but the thing about it being to blame on my instincts is... Sort of a lie..." You began to grow quiet, feeling your heart bump loudly in your chest.

It was more a relief when you could feel 007's heart pounding against your side while he held you awkwardly, stammering to find a response.

"Truth is... I love you. More than I can put into words to be all cutesy or sweet but if we ever get out of this hell, I'm hoping I'll get to find you again so we can continue life together..." You felt your face heat up from letting all that out, not daring to see 7n7's response as an awkward silence fell between you both.

But with a heavy sigh, he simply managed to press a kiss against the top of your head and leaned down slightly to whisper into your ear with a flushed red face. "I... Love you too... It felt almost selfish to wonder if you felt the same so I never really cared to express it but I'm happy you do..."

Now you were both flustered beyond belief and cuddled up awkwardly... Lovely-

But something told you you'd have many more 'mornings' to wake up on the ex-hacker's chest... Wether that's as a person or a Tanuki...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[cheralith]

cw : gn!reader, no pronouns used, size difference so reader is implied to be shorter/smaller than bunny a/n : im already heading to the walk of shame ok don't say anything

"remember when i was taller than you?"

"yeah. good times, right?"

you glare at bunny from across the table, to which he only serenely smiles at you back with closed eyes, a spoon balancing between his teeth.

puberty is a tricky thing—it being a fairy godmother of sorts to those who it finds potential in. it did some favors for you when you blossomed out of teenagehood, but you think it was just simply saving all of its magic for your friend.

if it weren't for his hair and his eyes, you'd think that the pictures of him when he was younger versus the man in barcha's promotional posters over barcelona were two different people, considering that puberty had hit like a truck.

not just in facial features, but in height and build too—though you think the latter is more reliant on the fact that he was a professional soccer player. and even if he wasn't, your longterm friend has always had a rather buffer build in comparison to the other boys in your classes.

"are you gonna eat that?" bunny asks, pointing to the last torrija on the platter. you sigh and shake your head, examining the differences in plates between you and him.

you can't blame him for all the food he's consumed; athletes' appetites are larger than the average person and bunny was still somehow growing even at his age—something about a second puberty of sorts.

you thank the waiters in the restaurant as you both head on out, him putting on a medical mask again to conceal his identity when he spots the rather large and bustling crowd ahead. bunny leans down and whispers, "careful. stay close to me, now."

you can feel his larger hand slither to your lower back, a thumb hooking into your belt loop to secure him to you. a shiver runs down your spine.

the metro isn't far, but like the ground above, it's just as crowded. patience wears thin too, as everyone packs into your cart like sardines once the train pulls up to your station.

fortunately, bunny becomes a human barricade between you and the packed crowd, enclosing you into him and the wall of the cart you're pressed up against.

the train starts with an interruptive jerk that harshly compels some people without a proper grip on something forward. you yelp with a stagger in your step, trying to find your bearings.

bunny's lightening-fast reaction comes into play right before you slam into the wall, hoisting an arm around your waist and pulling you back into him.

you grunt out with a slight pain, a little confused to whether you had just bumped into a human or another wall of sorts given by the hardness of his body.

pulling down his mask, he leans down again, breath hitting the shell of your ear. "you okay?"

"'m fine," you choke.

you pat his arm to signal to him that he can let go, that you can balance yourself, but his grip only tightens when the train finally picks up its proper speed.

"i can handle myself," you mutter.

"mmh," he hums, drumming his fingers on the side of your waist. "there's no pole or grab rails nearby. you'll get hurt."

"i'll manage," you try again, attempting to pull yourself from his grip.

but when you try to combat it, bunny only holds you tighter—almost adamant in keeping you in place.

"hey," you gripe.

"this is better for you," he says assuringly, though you think there's something else that his words veil. "i don't want something to happen. just stay close to me."

you frown but stay quiet, letting his hold on you remain despite your protests as you go limp in his grip. he hums contently again when he feels you loosen up, bending to his will.

the crowd in the train eventually dissolves with each stop but bunny refuses to take his hold off of you even when some grab handles and bars become available. when you try to point them out, he only smiles that artificially sweet grin at you again and shakes his head.

"those are dirty, you shouldn't touch them," he advises despite his other hand clearly gripping a grab handle.

you point out the irony in his statement, brows furrowing. "but you're literally holding one. and i take transit all the time—i'm used to this."

"i know," he states almost passively, as though he was ignoring your words. "but this is safer. trust me, i know what's good for you."

he gives another smile to you again, with teeth now. only this time—you can see there's this gleam of warning in those pearly whites, almost tempting you to try again to see what happens.

you shrink yourself down unconsciously, blinking at its subtle menace. has he always had that?

bunny lets out another content hum at your lack of response, caging you within his walls once more as the train starts.

[sincerelyrki]

you don’t look like an angel

being heavens highest angel, lee heeseung was completely and utterly fucked. he’d made the one mistake that could cost him both his wings and his immortality- he had summoned a demon into the most sacred paradise on earth. it was only his luck that it wasn’t just a regular impure demon; no, it was worse. he had summoned a succubus.

paring : virgin!angel!heeseung x succubus!fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. slightly dubcon (heeseung didn’t know what was happening). corruption. religious guilt. begging. unsafe sex. marking. oral (m). riding. slight degradation. begging. profanity. blood. cumming untouched. demons hiss and purr.

wc : 5.9

a/n : idk what this is but i had to read the entire thing out loud to make sure it sounded right and i think it’s safe to say that this might be one of my favourite works i’ve ever written so far? something about heeseung and corruption…anyways, as always i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts 🤞

written perm taglist : @vousty @ilololoveyou @moon0fthenight

Heeseung was just finishing his final prayer when it happened, his hands still pressed together at the base of his forehead. Earlier in the day he’d heard about a new prayer, one that was said to be extremely popular with the rising youth. 

It was spoken in another language, one far too complex for Heeseung to understand. But the words were simple, easy to pronounce and fairly similar to a chant he’d heard his mother pray with. 

Due to its simplicity, it allowed more room for error. One small mistake could change the outcome of any prayer spoken through an angel's lips. Their loving prayers were far more powerful than any other beings, their direct connection with the lord strengthening their pleas. 

With the ability to heal an unknown disease with a singular sentence, an angel's voice was the most sought-after remedy.

But as the old saying says, with great power comes great responsibility. 

With a voice as strong as theirs it was bound to be heard. Whether it was heard from the lord or other angels, someone was always listening. 

What Heeseung failed to realize was that the language of his new prayer was the language of the unknown. No living human understood the language, their own interpretations being nowhere near the direct translation.

But like all other sayings, their false words made their way through the clouds. The wind was listening, the echoes of their translations meeting the ears of a few young angels.

They weren’t of the right age to learn about the wind's voice yet, so they did what they thought they had to. They spread the word, the listening angels hearing their prayers. 

It was a cruel game of telephone, the words jumbling together until it was forced to make its own poem. Heeseung just happened to be at the receiving end of one of one.

For a room that was well above the atmosphere, it was oddly humid. The freshwater flowers that thrived in his usual cold room were now completely withered. Their once vibrant petals were now dyed a terrific red, the hue straining their pure white appearance.

Heeseung watched with the utmost confusion as they contorted within seconds, the vapour diffusing into a puddle of red acid that gathered alongside the vase, identical red streams dripping from each individual stamen.

His hand moved on its own, his fingers a hairstring away from the mysterious liquid before a loud voice echoed from the other side of the room. Heeseung’s main light went out, his bedside lamp coming to life on its own. 

“You shouldn’t touch that.” Heeseung jumped in place, his wings springing free from their confinement in his attempt to defend himself. 

He was light on his feet when he spun around, unfortunately for him- he saw nothing but darkness on the other side of his room. Your figure blending right into the background. 

He grew panicked when his hand was met with air when he reached back for his bow, the situation drawing down fast on him. Not only was he stuck in a room with a mysterious creature but he was left defenseless in said room with the mysterious creature.

What were the chances that you were another angel?

“Are you looking for this?” The angel's jaw fell in shock when his missing bow dropped by his feet, the riser snapped clean in half. His heart sank at the sight, pain creeping across his chest. 

His bow was crafted with the finest materials, the limbs harvested from their most sacred willow tree’s aged bark- embezzled with an intricate carving for each of his greatest accomplishments. 

In an instant Heeseung grew nervous, he knew he wasn’t in the presence of an angel. Each angel was sworn by an oath, and the roots of the tree webbed across their every bone, making it impossible for them to harm such a sacred weapon. 

His jaw remained open when you finally revealed yourself, you were the envisionment of sin.

Yep, you definitely aren’t an angel.

Your breasts were held up with the tiniest fabric he’d ever seen, nothing but two small triangles hanging from your shoulders that were attached with a thin knot. The article did nothing to hide your body, everything except for your nipples out for him to see. 

His cheeks grew inflamed by an invisible force pulling his eyes down to follow the curvature of your exposed waist.  A slightly larger triangle sat hugging your hips, the right side of your hips was exposed, the fabric cascading in a diagonal slit towards your left thigh. It took him several seconds after staring at your legs to realize what he was doing. He slapped his right hand over his eyes, lips opening to recite his prayers.

Heeseung felt ashamed of his reaction, as angels weren’t supposed to observe nudity in a sexual manner. He’d never viewed another person's body in the way he did yours and he’d spent many hours aiding the other angels bathe during their sicknesses- this was a whole new territory that he’d never dared to think about. 

You, of course, noticing his ashamed prayers couldn’t help but take offence. Why would he beg for forgiveness after he called out to you? It wasn’t god who he should be worshiping, it should be you. 

“You can’t help your reaction, my body is supposed to make you feel like that.” You humoured him anyways knowing that none of this ashamed shit that he was feeling would matter in an hour. 

Heeseung vigorously shook his head in denial, your words not helping his inner turmoil at all. You were wrong, you had to be. He was supposed to be an angel and angels don’t act upon sin. 

He’d spent his entire childhood learning about each sin, spending hours of his life drowning in the promise of devotion. 

He had been loyal since the day he was born, temptations weren’t even a thought in his head anymore. He was the living epitome of purity. How could he honour his mother if he gave into the word of the demon? 

Heeseung kept his eyes on you whilst he completed his prayers, his final words building a sanctuary around his untainted blood. The blood of a virgin. 

You started your advance with small steps towards him, your bare feet making no sound as you neared him. The closer you got the more potent the blood’s smell became, iron heavy in the air as your body heat drew closer. 

You stopped halfway across the room, your mouth was practically watering by the time you were able to make out the small pool of red, the pretty flowers only making it seem more appetizing. 

“Do angels ever crave blood the way we do?” You knew they didn’t, it was against their entire existence but some sick side of you wanted nothing more than to see the angel’s reaction to your question.

Pretty boys were your weakness and Heeseung was so fucking gorgeous. You grew jealous of your future self, loathing that she got to touch him- to fuck him the way you’re imagining it right now. You couldn’t wait to watch him shake beneath you, begging to whoever was listening for you to stop. 

Heeseung’s mouth dropped in horror, you craved blood? He looked at you like you were insane for your completely valid needs like he couldn’t fathom craving something so inhumane. He wasn’t completely sure if you meant human or animal blood but after seeing the way you looked at him he’d say had a pretty lucky guess. 

“Because I've never craved it more.” Chills went down Heeseung’s spine while he tried reading through your words, were you a vampire who smelled him from Earth? He knew angels smelt the best to them. 

His questions answered themselves through the sudden wave of iron clashing with his sensitive nose. He looked over his shoulder towards the flowers that were now completely drenched. 

“Whose blood is this?” He was barely finding his voice before he forcefully stuttered his final question, his throat burning with a newfound emotion.

Your head cocked to the side while your lips pulled up into a side smirk, your pink tongue quickly coming out to wet them. It was almost an endearing sight, almost. 

Heeseung stumbled back with a small shriek when you suddenly appeared right in front of him, your chest pressing flesh against his for a few seconds too long. 

He watched the way you kept your eyes on him whilst reaching one of your fingers out towards the pool of blood, a gasp crawling up his throat when you brought your fingers to your lips.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out, trailing your finger from the bottom up before you stuck in between your lips. 

You let out a small hum of approval, the sweet taste of his blood tasting better than any you’ve tried before. You finally understood what your friends meant when they swore that a virgin’s blood tasted the best, however, they never got the pleasure of tasting it from an angel. 

“It’s your blood, who else’s would it be?” You watched in amusement as the angel’s face blanched, his wings twitching behind his back as he attempted to curl into himself. ‘Cute’, you hummed to yourself as you mentally took a shot at this moment. If there was one rule about angles that every species seemed to agree on was that angels have always been beautiful. But there was something about this specific one that felt so different. It could’ve been the fact that he was untouched, or it could’ve been the way his fear shone so obviously in his eyes that turned you on so fucking much. 

Typically angels smelled of a plethora of flowers, gardens growing from their untainted hands. Usually, the scent bothered you, your body being much more used to the fruit-like and sensual scents that the demons claimed as their own. 

Many angels assumed that demons would smell of burnt flesh and plied wood and sometimes they definitely weren’t wrong. But most smelled like you- after all, you needed to smell as good as you looked. No one wants to fuck someone who smells bad, even demons had class. 

“What are you?” Heeseung questioned, his wings still pulled behind his back. Even though he knew you weren’t an angel, he still had his doubts. Demon wasn't even a word in his vocabulary, it was one of the few words that were forbidden to be spoken in heaven. Sure, you had wings and the same flawless skin he sported but your wings… they couldn’t be any more different. 

Your wings were almost double his size and they appeared much more feathered, looking as if they’d been plucked from the most gracious birds and dipped into the darkest ink, black and red sunsets carving up each intricate row of feathers. 

He just never expected you to become his beautiful devastation. 

You ignored his question and continued observing the way his body reacted to you. His smell quickly became addictive, your adulterated temperament wearing thin the longer he lingered in your senses. 

“What do you want me to be?” You purred out in your most seductive tone. While waiting for his response you took it upon yourself to move closer to him, your steps much less hesitant than earlier. 

There was no denying that the man before you was truly captivating but there was something else that caught your attention much faster. His pearlescent wings were practically glowing in the dark, a layer of pale blue surrounding the smoothed edges. Which, after thinking about it for a few seconds didn’t make very much sense to you since the angels tended to constantly stay in the light. 

“An angel?” You made a sound of disgust at his disrespectful words, you? An angel? Honestly, you’d rather be a troll which says a lot considering their reputation. 

“I’ll be your angel if it helps?” Heeseung tried hiding his very evident fluster by attempting to turn away from your vision but when he tried to move, he couldn’t. 

You giggled out loud watching the panic spread throughout his face, your mind fogging with all the ways you could use him whilst he’s in this state. There was something so satisfying about having complete control over another person's body, whether it’s through your mind or actions. 

“Aw, what happened?” You cooed, acting dumb has always been one of your strong forts. It came in useful at times like this, the ability to feign innocence with a singular pout. 

Heeseung, unfortunately for him, fell right into your trap. He was naive enough to believe that you had nothing to do with his state, which is way beyond you. It would’ve been obvious to anyone else that you were controlling him but perhaps angels thought differently.

“I can’t move.” Heeseung nearly screamed when your hand pressed on the spot where his heart lay beneath his chest, his heart thundering louder than before. It was only racing because he was scared, there’s no way your touch was affecting him. Angels don't feel lust. 

Lust. The definition is described as a “disordered desire for inordinate enjoyment of pleasure.” Heeseung lived by the word of the lord. He’d spent his entire life bending backwards to live by the commandments that were shoved down his throat, his lungs choking against the words bubbling to come out. 

It wasn’t hard to drown into the mold that’s been made to best fit him but it was nearly impossible to escape. He thought he was fine in this confined space, lonely sure, but free of sin. He was accepted by the lord and that’s all that he’s ever wanted.

But he was made for sin because he was made for you. 

“Then I guess I'll have to take care of you. I can’t leave you here all alone, not when you’re this vulnerable.” Poison disguised as worry spilled from your lips and slipped through Heeseung’s mind. 

Your words drew more than reassurance through Heeseung, it drew guilt. Guilt for doubting your intentions, for believing that you could’ve been here to harm him. He felt so wronged for you, you must’ve been so angry at him. But still, you offered your help. Maybe he’d slip you into his nightly prayers, thanking the lord for gracing him with your presence. 

All the thoughts frozen when your hand touched the edge of his wing, his body electrified with a foreign feeling. No one else has ever touched his wings before, it was an action that was far too intimate to allow anyone else to try. 

He knew his wings were sensitive but he never knew they were this bad. His wing twitched under your touch, pushing itself closer to your hand. 

You watched in amazement as his wings awoke from their state, your touch bringing them to life. You never controlled his wings, the action far too cruel for even a demon to pull. 

You tested the touch again, pressing your palm flat against the parts that were attached to his spine. They fluttered again, a brighter light emitting from the edges, oh. His wings don’t always glow, they won’t glow when they’re being stimulated.

Your wing's nerves were linked to the ones that spread across your pelvis and down. You’d witnessed many demons talking about using it as a pleasurable advantage. Succubus was seen as a sex symbol, so obviously their experience matched the description. 

But you’d never gotten the chance to test the theory for yourself. Now that you have you weren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to stop. 

Without Heeseung’s knowledge, his cock jumped with each touch. It wasn’t that he was aroused, just overstimulated. He loud out a quiet whine, one that stopped as soon as it came. To you, he was so fucking pathetic. Whining after getting touched twice? But just as pathetic as he was, he was hypnotic. 

“Sh, I’m helping you in the best way I know.” You shushed his whines before you moved to stand in front of him, pressing your chest against his. Heeseung wasn’t sure what you were doing when you did that but then something surprising happened.

Your chest began letting out these small vibrations. Your eyes stared up into his whole you enhanced the force, your purrs reaching your throat. 

He was so pretty standing all pliant, unmoving as you controlled his body. The purrs came out of nowhere, the sudden affection catching you off guard. But you soon appreciated it, Heeseung deserved only the best.

It was at this moment that you decided that you wanted to keep him. There was no way in heaven or hell that you’d let anyone take him away from you, you’d let the world burn before a singular finger touched his- your- skin. From this second on he belonged to you, wholly and completely. 

You’d mark him after mating, your gums were already aching at the thought. As a demon, you could mate however many times you wanted. But you could only have one mate, your bite would solidify the union. 

But for now, you just returned your hands back to his wings. And as expected, he choked out another whimper, his mouth gaping open at the liquid heat gathering in his stomach. 

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Heeseung, thinking he was still sin-free, nodded his head. He adored it. 

You let out a cat-ish grin, your pointed canines poking from beneath your top lip. Heeseung knew of only two species who had pointed canines but only one had retractable ones. 

You were a demon. 

It didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t say an extra prayer in the morning. 

And like always, you could tell that he had found out. “I’m a succubus, you summoned me.” Through Heeseung’s cloud of pleasure, he couldn’t make himself question you. Yeah sure, he totally summoned you. He’d believe anything you said as long as you keep making him feel like this.

His head flew back when your hand touched a specific spot on his wings, the only bare spot.

For both angels and demons alike there was a singular spot on the top corner of the right wing. It was bare of any feather, it was strictly skin. There was a small string of skin that held the strongest nerve in your entire body. 

The nerve was used for connections, it was what allowed them to converse with the wind. But it wasn’t until now that you both learned that it was much more because the second you touched it, you felt him.

You felt his every emotion, the warmth in his stomach, and the pounding of your cunt. 

It all happened too fast, gone before you could relish in it. But if you allowed it for now, there would be many other opportunities for you to test out the connection. 

After all, Heeseung would become yours for eternity. 

Your mouth widened in amazement as Heeseung came untouched, his mouth opening with zero sound coming out. You weren’t even sure if he knew what was happening, it made it all more enjoyable for you. 

“You came untouched?” It was a rhetorical question but still, Heeseung had no idea what you were talking about. All he knew was that there was a euphoric feeling rushing throughout his body, he’d never felt more alive than at this moment. 

All he wanted was to feel it again and again, uncaring about what you tabled it as. He didn’t know he could feel this good without sinning, he honestly couldn’t wait to tell his friends.

If only you could hear his thoughts, you’d bathe in them forever. It was cute how Heeseung thought that he was still sin-free, not knowing that he’d committed one of the worst ones yet.

The feeling faded away after a few more seconds, his mind clearing as his consciousness rushed back. He was now much more aware than before and finally noticed a new detail.

You noticed the way he was trying to look down and decided to be a bit kinder, allowing his head to move on its own. Heeseung didn’t seem to notice that he now had full control of his neck, all he saw was the giant wet patch on his bottoms. 

It was also now when he noticed he was crying, his tears making smaller marks around his wetness. 

“What is-“ He was cut off by your hand grabbing his chin, pulling his confused eyes away from his soiled pants. 

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” Heeseung nodded through his crocodile tears, his puffy cheeks stained with his fallen tears. You gave Heeseung a small smile, making a point to soften your eyes to appear more trusting. 

“I’ll help you out if you promise to… I can’t say it, I know you’ll say no.” You knew how to play your cards with a man who was desperate enough to do anything. 

“Please, I’ll do anything!” Heeseung didn’t know a thing about being manipulated. It was a concept that didn’t exist in his world. Or maybe it did but was disguised as something much less sinister. 

“Do you promise?” A hiss. All it took for Heeseung to doubt himself once again was the small hiss that made its way through your throat. It sounded far less human than he was comfortable with, but he trusted you, did he not? 

The lord swore forgiveness to everyone who’s wronged him, why wouldn’t Heeseung do the same? 

“Anything, please I promise! J- just help me.” An angel's promise. It was the only thing you needed to know that you finally had him. 

The only other thing that every species knew about angels, was that they could never break a promise. It was the greatest sin of all, a betrayal that wasn’t worth forgiving. No one, not even the lord, forgave promises. It was the highest honour an angel could give, their promise. 

Heeseung knew that he couldn’t go back and undo what had been done, to take back the words that were spoken in a sense of urgency. And he didn’t really know if he wanted to, not when he was finally able to move his arms.

“Sit on the bed.” Heeseung’s legs moved under your command, the promise allowing you to control his every move. What he didn’t know was that you didn’t need his word to control him, it was part of your demon abilities. 

He had no choice but to comply with what you said, he wasn’t labelled heaven's highest angel for no reason. 

You weren’t completely sure where to start because usually you just did whatever you wanted, uncaring about the other person. All the other people who’d summoned you had already been asleep when you arrived and stayed asleep the entire time. Their mortal minds were far too weak to handle the pheromones releasing from your body, even the other supernatural species couldn’t handle it. 

“Mate me.” It was easier to get straight to the point, there was no need for any foreplay at this stage. The connection that you’d made with him was enough to prepare you for him, it was in your dna. 

Heeseung on the other hand, didn’t take it as well. He denied it right away, his head practically exploding at your words. Mate you? The lord would never forgive him, he’d be breaking his promise to him. 

Promise after promise, it was all Heeseung was good for. He’d promised his life away, his celibacy. He’d be banned from heaven, shunned of his wings. He’s already made the grave mistake of bringing you here, but this? This would cost him everything, his entire life. 

But still, you made him feel alive. You made him realize that he’d never felt anything before- not even joy. He’d been a cast of a person who he was forced to be, who even was he anyway?

A follower. And that’s all he’ll ever be for the rest of his life. He’s never hated anymore more than how much he hates you for making him come to terms with his life. 

It was his prayers that did this, why would the lord give you him if it wasn’t supposed to happen? You were supposed to be here, the lord approved of you. Why else would you come? It had to be what was happening, Heeseung was finally allowed a pass to be the person he’d locked away many lifetimes ago. 

But it stung, deep. His guilt came out in a wail of tears, angry fists banging against the bed beside him. His tormented thoughts roared with life, he was finally letting go. 

Fuck the commandments, fuck his promises, and he only hoped the lord would let him fuck you. 

And so with a wave of fresh tears and forgotten fears, he did what you said. He stood from his spot, your mind open and free of the handles you had strapped to his wrists. 

He’d pulled his pants down in one yank, his underwear pulling down with them. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was alive. alive. Lee Heeseung was finally alive. 

The air smelt different, curtsey to your pheromones. Your hands felt rougher when they met his now bare chest, the bed feeling softer as his wings cushioned his fall. 

His head was clear when he felt your hand grab his cock, his heart void of guilt when he felt your mouth wrap around him.

But as the circle goes, it comes back around. 

Knowing that other men enjoyed thinking that they’re too big for you, you fake choked on him. Your eyes filled with fake tears as you pretended to gasp for air. Your chest heaved at an uncontrollable speed, fingers numbing at the thought of making him feel good.

Sex came naturally to Heeseung, which was something the two of you didn’t expect. His hands pulled your head back toward where he needed you the most, his thumb pulling your lips apart before he pushed you down to suction around him.

“God- you feel so fucking good.” He doesn’t even recognize himself anymore, his mind too full with the feeling of you to realize that he’d spoken the lord's name in vain. 

He wasn’t just betraying himself, he was giving up heaven. He'd give it away a million times more if it meant that he’d spent his life with you. Your name was the only one rushing from his mouth, the only one getting worshiped as your tongue wrapped around his bulbous tip. 

You used your tongue to trace circles around the small slit at the top of his cock, collecting everything he was giving to you. He tasted so sweet, nothing like anything you’ve tasted before. 

He didn’t warn you before filling your mouth, his amateur thrusts being overshadowed by your much more experienced lick.

You’d pulled away from him after holding him in your mouth, waiting to feel him soften before pulling him off. Heeseung’s head tilted to the side in confusion when you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. 

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing- oh…

You felt a surge of confidence rushes through your body at the feeling of him hardening against your hands. “Already? you’re so needy.” 

You rose to a stand, grabbing his hands to pull him to stand instead. All it took was a snap of fingers for your clothes to be gone, leaving you completely nude. 

Heeseung felt like every moment of his life had led up to this, you were his final destination. Without him noticing, he whispered one final prayer. Right when he went to recite the trinitarian formula, he noticed.  

Guilt was unforgiving but so was hesitation. He hesitated to give in earlier, but now? 

“Are you ready?” Heeseung didn’t recognize his voice anymore, a much deeper one coming out. His hands moved on their own when he pulled your legs around his waist, pushing his hips forward until his cock pressed against your lips. 

You nodded once, pushing your legs further apart as you waited for him to make the move. He looked down at you cunt in appreciation, the lord really did take his time creating you. It’s too bad that his favourite creation was going to ruin it.

Heeseung wrapped his hand around his base before giving an experimental squeeze. Heeseung had never touched himself before today, having no idea what was supposed to feel good. 

He ignored his embarrassing inexperience and used his other hand to open you up for him. His mouth watered at the sight of your bare in front of him, you looked so welcoming. 

He tried not to stare for too long because he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using his mouth first. But he’d much rather finish it all off by licking you clean, drinking everything you have to offer. 

He tapped the head of his cock against you, watching from under his eyebrows at how you reacted. From the way your hips pushed up, he knew exactly where to touch you. 

He kept his head pressed against you as he pushed down, stopping once he reached your entrance. This was the moment that would change his entire life, he was never going to be the same way he was before. 

And when he finally pushed in, his head fell forward with a loud moan. The blood of the virgin became the blood of the demon, he was no longer considered an angel in the lord's eyes. 

Your hands grabbed his biceps as he pushed in deep, his cock hitting places you’ve never felt before.  He sped up, his hips slamming against yours over and over as he grew into a routine. 

You obviously liked the way he was moving if your moans meant anything. 

“Bring me to heaven.” You managed to plead through your now real choked gasps. Your head was filled with explosions of colours, real pleasure rushing through your blood. His big cock felt too good pushing against your gummy walls, each curve of him fitting perfectly in your crevices. He was made for you. 

Heeseung sucked in a harsh breath, a teasing smile growing on his opened mouth. His eyes were now open, staring into your own as he ravished your body for what it was. 

“But you’re a demon, and we’re already here…” He let out a small grunt at his harder thrust, his eyes closing once again. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d reached this specific spot in your body, but he was certain that once he found it again he wouldn’t let it go. 

“Not that heaven-” your smile matched his as your body burned with the same flame, your impurities mixing with his. You shakily raised one of your hands up towards his face, your fingers wrapped around his jaw as you forced his face close to yours. 

His eyes opened once again, his irises now completely black as he let himself fall into the pit of pleasure. “Your heaven” Your back arched with a moan while your legs tightened around his waist.

Heeseung swore he was in love. With you, and the feeling of you. Nothing could turn him back now. He pulled your legs over his shoulder, his chest pushing away from yours as he pushed all his weight into his legs and hips. 

He pressed kiss after kiss against your ankles, biting down to create indents across your calves. He knew this angle hit deeper into you because finally, he felt that spot and and over.

Both your volumes rose into near screams when you both reached your peaks. Without thinking twice Heeseunf pressed your knees flat to your chest, his neck stretching out to bite against yours. 

Your blood filled his mouth 

Angels too sealed the mating process with a bite, but it was different. The magic was stored in each individual tooth. The pockets of their poison were located in their mamelons. And so when the angel bites into their mate, the pockets open into small needles. Three sharp needles accompanied each tooth, it was the only part of the tooth that got pushed through the skin. 

Heeseung wasn’t lying when he mentioned not craving blood, but now? His arms shook when had to pull himself away from you, the desire to drink from his new mate stronger than anything. “Thank god-“ He didn’t know what he was thanking anyone for, but he needed something to fall back on. It just happened to be the roots that caught him. 

Your broken moans were drowned out by your returning purrs, your eyes white as they rolled into the back of your head. Holy fucking shit, Heeseung marked you first?

Without allowing Heeseung to pull out you flipped him over, his back flat against the bed while you sat flush against him. He looked up through tired eyes, his mind coming back to normal as he softened inside of you. 

“Don’t thank god, he had nothing to do with this.” You growled at the angel before you released more pheromones. They seemed to do their job as he was hard again within seconds. 

You felt him throb inside of you before you rose the tiniest bit, dropping down right away.  Heeseung’s hands gripped your ass, helping your waist move forward and back with each raise and fall. 

His hips buckled to meet yours, loud slaps echoing across the room as you sunk into him over and over. Heeseung forced his head up enough to look at where the two of you were connected and god, the sight didn’t fail. 

There was a thick ring of cum formed around his base, sticky strings connecting the two of you with every new raise. He’d almost come on the spot once again, his body way more sensitive than yours due to his inexperience. 

You saw the way his face scrunched up and automatically knew that he was trying not to cum. You used your mental hold on him to remove his hands from you and pinned them by his head. 

His eyes were wide when they met yours again. He felt his heart stutter at the glare on your face. Has he done something wrong? Is he not pleasing you correctly? 

“Don’t keep anything away from me, give it all to me.” Your hips momentarily stopped, only his tip remaining in as you stared down at him. 

“Breed me.” Your quiet whisper caused an eruption of pleasure to burst through his chest. He had you lying back on your back in seconds, his instincts putting you into the mating press. 

“Don’t start what you can’t end.” He didn’t say more before he pushed into you once again. He leaned his head down to meet yours, his lips pulling your bottom one between his teeth.

He gently tugged at it once before he forced his tongue between your lips, your mouth tasting of his earlier release. “You don’t look like an angel,” He ignored the harsh look you threw at him, giving you a small smile before he pressed his lips against your pulse point. 

He breathed in a deep inhale, his body welcoming your new scent, one that was mixed with his. He bit the skin twice, the second much harder than the first before he soothed the wound with his tongue. 

He trailed small kisses up your neck, all the day until he reached your ear. He pulled your earlobe between his teeth before placing a gentle kiss against it. “But you definitely taste like one.”

[panakina]

We are in desperate need of Death in the Family rewrite, instead of trotting out a horribly racist and bizarrely paced, thematically confused story like it’s one of the greats just because it’s load bearing. This is what i’d want from it.

Bruce is again the POV character, but he is explicitly a biased and unreliable narrator. We don’t hear Jason’s narration outside of a few key moments, but we are shown what he’s doing in direct contrast with Bruce’s theorising about his spiralling. Bruce never explicitly asks. Him and Alfred make well meaning, overbearing decisions on his behalf.

Jason is struggling with Batman and Robin’s catastrophic mishandling of several sexual assault cases in a row. I haven’t decided if we’re alluding to Jason being a victim of this himself, that might be overselling it. Either way he is deeply affected by these, and he is the only one. There’s a sense of isolation and injustice around him. He thought bruce cared. He thought batman was a solution.

Jason leaves to find his birth mother, leaving only a note and no explanation. Bruce sees the robin suit is missing and is annoyed. He doesn’t investigate, prioritising the hunt for the joker.

The death and build up happens exclusively in Africa, in a country with its own local vigilante, who wants to know what this American is doing here. (I don’t know enough about DC’s African heroes to know who it should be, but it needs to be one who is already established and competent in his own right.) Batman is in a state of awkward overreach with a patronising tilt to the way he hoards knowledge in the pursuit of the joker in someone else’s backyard. They agree to a partnership that in practise is unequal in Batman’s favour. We are externalising the themes here, mirroring Bruce’s personal relationships with his professional ones.

Jason and bruce run into each other by accident once again. Both are surprised the other is there for a different mission. They opt to combine forces anyway, since they’re both here. Bruce is touched and naively optimistic about Jason’s search for his birth mother. He is projecting. For a moment it is blazingly obvious bruce identifies as a fellow orphan to his sons first, and a father second.

There are local victims, arguably of the joker but it’s not definitive. Their deaths aren’t just numbers. They are real people. The local vigilante is very angry. Jason sympathises heavily, but he too is an outsider here. He sits apart from the funerary rites, listening in, uninvited, unable to mourn, unable to move on. Batman calls him to continue working the case.

Bruce isn’t blind, Jason is struggling. He makes a plan to reach out to him if they don’t find his mom, which will of course negate the need for action.

They find Sheila.

It all falls apart in the same way as the original. Jason does not try to take on the joker, although that is how it’s interpreted after he’s dead. He is trying to rescue his mom. She gets clobbered over the head by a joker goon on the way out and bleeds out while the bomb’s timer is still ticking down. Jason dies, alone, trying to shield the body of his dead mom.

None of the post-death UN stuff. Stupid.

Bruce disguises the death for publicity’s sake. He changes Jason out of robins clothes and hides the joker’s presence there to protect batman’s identity.

Time skip. The African vigilante knows he has been lied to. His country’s legal system paid off, and justice perverted. He comes to Gotham in pursuit of both the Joker and Batman, looking for justice.

At this point Bruce is in deep grief, swinging wildly between rage and self hatred. He is shutting out everyone. He loses track of a human trafficking case in crime alley to focus on the joker and the other vigilante.

The ending is an echo and inverse of the climax of Under the Red Hood, but nobody has set it up, it’s just the way a messy fight between the three remaining players works out. Bruce must choose between inaction and saving the joker. He doesn’t choose. He is frozen, and we do not know if it’s a choice or if he shut down too much to act. He is not in control. Joker appears to have died.

Joker is found, injured but alive, and gets locked in Arkham. The vigilante goes home, disgusted, having gotten what little justice Gotham offers.

The human traffickers escaped in the background of the fight. It isn’t called out, just a detail in the artwork.

Batman goes back to work in an empty house haunted by the dead. Jason’s grave stands alone. Everything has changed. Nothing has changed. Batman won, and everybody loses.

[ateliersss]

Oh, take me back to The Night we met

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: 1936, eighty-eight years ago, you met him, the creature that changed your life in a way that goes beyond human imagination. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Attempted Rape, SA, Murder, English isn't my first language Word Count: 10.162 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ Surprise! I hope you are surprised because I was starting to doubt myself. I actually believed I wouldn't even finish it this year. Anyways, I wrote the finishing 6.800 words in the last seven hours and my brain is mush. I hope it didn't affect the pace or logic of the plot. If so, I will edit it in a few days. Comments are always appreciated.

⇨ Also, if you tell me I wrote an unrealistic reaction to seeing a Yautja's face for the first time, let me tell you, you and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't reacted the same.

1936, Earth

"Thank you, ma'am." The soldier in front of you returned your identity card, the national animal printed on it facing you.

You returned his bright smile with a tight one. You were already used to identifying yourself to patrolling soldiers after work. It was for "safety measures", according to the government.

While you were busy putting away your identity card, the boy looked nervously over his shoulder to his comrade who nodded back to him, encouraging him to finally man up and just tell you what he had rehearsed a dozen times already to eventually make a move on you and ask you out.

"A-And thank you for your service, ma'am!" He blurted out, louder than he intended to, with a soft blush covering his cheeks.

You closed your purse and looked up at him in confusion.

The boy, you now noticed, had to be at least five years younger, probably around the same age as your younger brother, Emil. And you recognized him now, too. He was patrolling around this area two to three times a week.

At your confused face, he gestured a little awkwardly to your uniform, the white dress and blue-grey blouse underneath it. "D-Doctors and nurses are in desperate need in times like these a-and saving lives is a remarkable job!"

"Oh." You looked down at yourself before you pulled your coat tighter around your body and smiled softly at him. "If that's all, I'll take my leave now. Have a good night, gentlemen."

He visibly deflated at your words and mumbled a quick "Have a nice evening, ma'am." but you barely got half of it when you turned around to continue your way back home. The second your back was facing them, your smile dropped.

You hated it, hated this, this so-called life you and everyone around you had to live. Horrible and disgusting things were happening, but no one dared to speak up. You were all trapped, too scared to act, too afraid to do something.

And the people could feel it, the tension that was stretched so tautly that was just waiting to snap. The whole world was holding its breath, deferring that one moment when the match would ignite and reduce everything and everyone to rubble and ash.

Meanwhile, your brother was beaming with pride as he was now considered old enough to join the army and could finally fight for his country. On the other hand, your father, the only other family you still had in this world, was far more reluctant when it came to the plans of the government and his son's naive blindness of patriotism.

No one was talking about the horrifying wrongs your home country was doing for years now, but everybody knew, everybody saw. And if someone even dared to utter a word about it, they disappeared.

That didn't stop your father from ranting about it behind the closed doors of your home. He did so, of course, in Emil's absence. He was family, yes, but nowadays blind obedience could manipulate even a brother and son to go against his own kin.

You loved your brother dearly. He was a good guy and he only held a very strong pride for his home, his people, and his culture. But sadly that was the only thing he acknowledged around others. He denied the "rumors" of a genocide going on and overlooked unintentionally the more sinister motives of others in the world of politics and the military. He was truly and utterly blind, but you couldn't condemn him for that. Not really.

The Great War ended when Emil was three years old and you remembered him crying when your father told him he couldn't participate in it anymore. Ignorant of the horrors that happened at the Front, he and a few boys from around the neighborhood would play war and were disappointed when they were told it was over. The worst part was the elder men sitting on benches near their battlefield, telling them their people were the superior power since they had been able to hold their own against three opposing countries in the end.

You sighed and started to fumble around in your purse for your keys as you reached your destination. After a quick look into the mailbox — the usual evening newspaper and another flyer that encouraged men between the ages of twenty and forty-five to sign up for the military — you made your way up to the first floor and poked around in the lock with the key, a little distracted by the newspaper as you were searching the headlines for anything concerning. There was another report about a skinned man found hanging upside down from a church tower. Unbelievable. At times like this and there was a maniac running around, killing people in the most grotesque way for fun.

"I'm home!" You called into the dimly lit hallway, knowing your father was sitting in his usual spot in the living room.

After dropping your purse next to the wardrobe, toeing out of the white pumps, shrugging off the coat, and hanging it on the coat rack, you walked through the corridor and past five doors. The ones leading to the bathroom and the kitchen were open as always, just like the door of Emil's bedroom. Although it hadn't been inhabited for a few months now, you would always leave it open after cleaning. It was false reassurance, but that way it seemed as if he was still home.

"How was your day?" Your father asked gruffly from his spot on the wing chair, the morning newspaper still in his hand before it got replaced by the evening issue you handed to him with a kiss to his temple.

"It was…"

Screams.

Blood.

Wails of a newborn.

A cold body.

"…long."

"Mhm." Your father hummed, his eyes scanning the front page before turning it. "Hah! Sightings of another black cloud of smoke and the authorities tell the public another farmhouse burned down. Do they think we are stupid? Unbelievable these people! Think they will get away with it, hiding it from the public eye, and no one would notice!"

You weren't entirely sure if he had even listened to you, but you didn't care. You weren't very eager to start a conversation with him anyway.

"I'm in my room. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Though you didn't expect a response, you waited a few seconds — maybe today he would ask if his son had finally sent a letter — before you turned around to retreat to your room.

Since your father had lost his legs in a bomb attack at a munitions factory where he had worked during the Great War, he had changed. A lot. Before, he was quite a gentle and jovial man who worked hard and never shied away from showing how much he loved his family. Nowadays, he was resentful and bitter towards everything happening around him.

It was exhausting, not only listening to his complaints day in and day out but also being nothing more than a maid and caregiver to him. You were the sole breadwinner in this house. You worked yourself to the bone in a business that was equally about life and death but gave you more grief than joy. At least it made the medical care of your father a little easier. The surgery, the medicine, and the wheelchair would have cost you a fortune.

When you would get off work, more would await you at home. Taking care of the household was your responsibility for nine years now since your father wasn't capable of doing it anymore. After the first week of dusting and sweeping, washing the dirty laundry and ironing the clean ones, going grocery shopping and cooking, as well as taking care of your father like washing him, helping him get to the toilet, and such, you cried yourself to sleep with the thought of quitting and running away.

But you didn't.

You were miserable, yes, but you stayed. You stayed with the hope of a better life in the future. Maybe you will be married to a nice man in a few years like your girlfriends already were. You had experience with men, sure, but none of them you would consider fit to be your husband.

In your bedroom, you quickly got rid of your uniform until you were only in your undergarments, a baby-blue silk panty that flowed around your mid-thighs and an uplift brassiere of the same fabric and color, both with a lacy hemstitched design. You were about to throw the white and grey-blue dress into your other dirty clothes when you noticed red speckles on the left sleeve.

Yes, the day had been long, too long for your taste, and when your shift did end, you felt hollow once more. You could still see her in that bed, screaming and crying.

Watching her, you had wondered if you would ever end up like her.

You shifted in your place, second-guessing before you finally turned and looked at your reflection in the mirror that occupied one corner of your bedroom. You hesitantly lifted your hands and placed them on your belly.

No. Your job showed you women struggle and in pain every day. You would never do that to yourself. Being a mother was not worth the probability of taking your last breath during labor, giving your own life while granting another to your child.

Today was another reminder of that.

The girl in the delivery room, Johanna, was sweet and lively. You met her occasionally on a monthly check-up when you assisted the doctor who took her into his care. She would tell you about her and her husband trying for this baby for years and how excited she was.

You bit the inside of your cheek when tears once again started to well up in your eyes when you thought of how helpless you had felt when you stood in that room. Your colleague, an older and more experienced woman, was holding the crying newborn in her arms. The doctor was doing his all to save the unsavable while Johanna's body got colder as the dark red spot grew bigger on the white linen of the bed.

Today had shown you once again that you would never let something like that happen to you.

"You have to incise into her abdomen."

Not ever.

"No!"

Not in a million years.

"No, Mi'ytiar… you have to, you have to."

You would never put someone else's life before yours, not even the one of your never-going-to-happen baby.

"Save our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please."

Sighing, you got ready for bed. You were far too tired this evening to get anything done. The laundry had to wait until tomorrow and your father probably already had eaten, so there was no need to get to the store. For now, you needed to stop thinking.

A whole week passed and you had followed your everyday routine like every other day. Occasionally, when you walked past the room where Johanna had delivered her baby and made her husband a widower, you paused and stared. Instead of the freshly made bed and the stark white linen, you saw her dying as she bled out. You saw the doctor, yourself by his side and the nurse holding the baby at the foot of the bed.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see said nurse smiling pitifully at you.

"You are still there, right?" She asked softly, her eyes scanning your face.

You swallowed and nodded. "It's like that every time I come here. I don't know why. She's not the first I watched dying during childbirth."

The elderly woman patted your cheek and guided you away from the delivery room by the crook of your arm, pulling you away from the sorrowful abyss before you could drown any deeper in it.

"You liked her, that's why." She started, "I had a Johanna, too. A long, long time ago. Although she was a lot younger, she was just as excited to be a mother. Poor thing died just like her baby."

You gasped and now it was you who looked with pity at her. "Why?"

"The baby was stuck." The older nurse sighed, "She pushed and pushed and tore. By the time the doctor started to cut her open, she died of internal bleeding." She had to clear her throat before she continued, "The baby died with her. A little boy. He got himself tangled up in the umbilical cord."

You turned your gaze from her face down to the ground and watched your feet walk an unknown route. Swallowing down your tears, you forced yourself to concentrate on not stumbling over your own feet.

You did like Johanna. You had empathized with her, even though children would never be part of your life. She had just wanted a baby, a part of her and the man she loved united in one body, and all that she got was death. She hadn't deserved it. At least the thought that she might be together with her baby in heaven now, thanks to her belief in God, soothed your heart a little.

"Go home, (Y/N)." The elderly nurse interrupted your train of thought.

Looking up, you saw her holding up your purse and coat. Apparently, she had led you to the lounge where the doctors and nurses spent their lunchtime.

"But I still have six hours to go." You tried to argue but bit down your lower lip when she shook her head.

"If someone should ask for you, I will tell them you didn't feel well and that I sent you home. There are certain benefits as the head nurse." She winked at you, pushed your belongings into your hands, and shooed you in the direction of the exit.

"I promise I will feel better tomorrow." You called over your shoulder and waved at her, giving her one last smile before you shrugged on your coat and left.

Thirty-two minutes later, you got off the bus and turned around the corner into your street, your purse dangling back and forth on your wrist. With your extra five hours, maybe you could finally start that book on your bedside table if your dad wouldn't find any reason to turn your attention to him.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, you walked a little faster, already searching for the key. Like always, you checked the mailbox — nothing again — before you hopped up the one flight of stairs to your apartment, the sound of your heels on the wood filling the otherwise silent staircase.

The noise seemed to attract the woman living across from you because you barely reached the top of the stairs when she ripped her door open and stared at you with wide eyes.

You paused and looked at her in concern. "Mrs. Walter? Is everything okay?" You asked and carefully inched closer to her.

For several moments, you didn't get an answer. Only when you opened your mouth to ask her again did she slowly lift her trembling arm and point past you at something you could not see.

Strange. The only thing back there was your apartment door, so…

The slamming of Mrs. Walter's door barely reached your ears when you turned around. All you could hear was eerie silence, not Mrs. Walter quickly putting her distance between her and the door, not the dog barking from above you that got awakened by the slamming door, not the traffic noises outside.

The door that you diligently locked every morning before you got to work and unlocked every evening when you returned home hung on its hinges. In quick strides, you reached it and ripped off the note that was nailed into the wood under the peephole. Your eyes scanned over the words as you pushed the door open and entered the apartment.

A search was carried out here due to a tip-off of a conspiracy against the country and its people. All residents are requested to report immediately...

Tears clouded your view and made it impossible to make out the rest of the words. But there was no need to. You already knew what you needed to know. Your father was dead, no questions asked, no evidence to prove that he was innocent or guilty, no interference by the judiciary. He had dug his own grave since he started to badmouth and criticize the current sins committed by the government.

You slowly navigated your way through your destroyed home, your hands supporting yourself against the wall, careful not to get caught in something with your pumps. You had to duck under the big shelf close to the entrance of the living room. It was tilted to the side so that the upper part was now leaning against the other side of the wall. Everything that had ever been placed onto it — pictures, plants, certificates, and other little knick-knacks — was now scattered on the floor.

It got even worse in the living room. Everything had been turned upside down. Your father's chair was thrown to the side just like the couch and the coffee table. The books from the huge bookshelf that covered the length of the smallest wall in here were pulled out and tossed on the floor, pages ripped out and strewn on the floor. Pictures were taken from the walls and the glass crunched as you stepped over them. Dirt was covering the floor as if someone had been digging in the soil of the potted plants. The carpet was overturned, partly thrown onto the couch, and revealed the wooden floor it usually covered.

Your living room had been thoroughly searched and you doubted the rest of your home looked any different.

In a daze, you carelessly let your purse drop to the floor and shuffled to your bedroom. Opening the door, you were greeted with a view you had expected — your bed was tilted to the side, clothes from your closet were now scattered on the floor, and your mirror was lying face down on the floor.

When you saw the pictures of you and your family carelessly thrown into the corner, you couldn't hold the sob in any longer. You sank to your knees, curled into a ball, and cried to your heart's content with your eyes squeezed shut.

You lost your mother at a young age, lost your father for the first time after his accident, lost your brother to the country, and now lost your father for the second and final time. Now, you were wholly and utterly alone. Not for long, though. If you didn't come forward and turn yourself into a possible fair trial in the next sixteen hours, you would be taken just like your father and die the same way he did.

Your breakdown had been apparently so nerve-wracking and tiring that when you opened your eyes, it was dark inside your room and outside your window. Groggily, you propped yourself up and looked around, disappointedly ascertaining that you hadn't been dreaming at all. Your eyes scanned your room, still a little out of it, until you spotted your clock on the wall, surprisingly intact. 9:24 PM. Now you had less than ten hours left.

How would you spend your last ten hours in freedom? You didn't know, but you for sure wouldn't do it in here. You needed to leave.

As quick as you could you switched your nurse uniform to a skirt and your favorite blouse, fixed your make-up and your hair to look less like a mess and more like the respectable woman you usually were, and left the apartment after putting on your shoes, coat and grabbed your purse. At first, you strolled around with no real destination in mind, but the darker it got the higher the risk of being stopped by a patrolling soldier.

You had enough money with you to occupy yourself with a few drinks, so why not enjoy yourself, let a little loose? You never really got the chance to try it out. Your job unironically prevented you from unnecessarily damaging your liver and you had the responsibility to take care of your family. Your girlfriends always invited you on girl's night, but sadly, you had to decline almost every time, be it your father or another night shift forced upon you. They had another planned on the weekend in a few days, the first one in a very long time you would have had time for. Not anymore. When they would sit around a table and share the newest gossip, you had already started to rot away in a mass grave.

You entered the first, non-shady-looking bar and plopped down on one of the bar stools on the right. When the bartender finally took notice of you, all he needed to do was to take in your gloomy figure pitifully slumped in your seat to grab a glass and fill it with a brown liquid. No words were spoken — you didn't feel like it and he noticed that — as you grabbed the glass, tossed the liquor back, and placed the now empty glass back down. The alcohol, whatever it was, burned like hell and you couldn't help but cough, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. The bartender, meanwhile, wordlessly filled your glass again and without any hesitation, you emptied that one too.

You spend almost four hours like that. Losing count after your sixth shot, your head started to feel funny, like the world around you was spinning too fast. You mused what your life would have been like if your mother hadn't died when you were just nine years old, if your father hadn't lost his legs when you were seventeen, if your brother had chosen a normal job at your current age. You could have grown up like any normal girl, could have joined your friends more often to hang out, could have started going on dates again after your last boyfriend dumped you for neglecting him.

And what about your future? What about the man you wanted to marry in a few years? Every day, you daydreamed of someone who would just sweep you away in his arms and take you far, far away from here. There had to be a place somewhere where you could live your life in peace without a brewing war and the constant fear of death. You waited for someone who would make your life easier than it currently was, who would take the weight from your shoulders and not add some more on them every single day. Someone who loved you passionately and would spoil you after nine years of labor where you worked yourself to the bone. Someone who would take charge and let you rest when you needed it. Someone who was the other half of your soul that hopelessly awaited to be rejoined with its counterpart.

When you reached out to your glass for the nth time, a hand softly clasped your wrist. Looking up, you saw the bartender giving you the same pitiful look you had received for God knows how often today, from your colleague at the hospital to some of the other patrons who entered and left the bar during the last few hours.

"I think you should get home." He said firmly and pulled his hand away.

No longer being hindered, you lifted the glass up to your lips and emptied it in one go. "I no longer have a home." You dully answered, your speech a little slurred.

"We close in a few minutes." He tried another route, anything to get you to stop drinking.

He may not be interested in what personal business you have to drink yourself under the table, but even he wouldn't let a young woman like you do that to herself.

"Fine." You mumbled, grabbed your purse, and searched for the money that was stored somewhere in there. You hummed when you finally found it and without looking at it, you dropped it down on the counter. "Here."

You held onto the sleek surface of the bar to lift yourself up and from your seat, supporting your whole weight with one hand while you needed several attempts to grab your coat. Not bothering to put it on, you turned to leave and even you were surprised that you could still walk in a (more or less) straight line.

"Hey, you paid too much!" The bartender called from behind you.

Not bothering to stop or turn around, you simply proclaimed, "Keep it. Where I go I won't need it." and pushed the entrance door open.

Outside, you tilted your head up, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath of the cool night air. It instantly freshened you up and cleared your mind a little. Looking left and right along the sidewalk, you decided to take the left and began strolling wherever it was taking you, once again with no actual destination in mind. You had no idea what time it was, but you guessed you had around five or six hours left. If you're lucky and didn't get held up by some patrols, you could visit the park one last time where your parents, Emil and you would hold a picnic every summer when you were younger. It would only take you ten minutes on foot. It wouldn't hurt to visit the place that held so many good childhood memories and bask in them in your final hours.

You were walking for a mere two minutes when you heard a whistle from your right. Halting your steps, you turned your head to the side and looked over to the source. There, on the other side of the street, were two men sitting on a bench and two standing around them. One was holding a beer bottle while the others were smoking their cigarettes.

"Hey, pretty lady." The one with the beer bottle called over to you and lifted it to toast to you.

You quickly snapped your head back forward and continued on your way, your strides bigger and faster to create as much distance between you and them as possible.

When you thought you were safe, you felt a hand clasping your wrist whose owner pulled you back and against his strong chest.

"Hey, hey, hey." The voice of the man with the beer bottle breathed against your ear, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. "Don't be shy. We were just celebrating my friend's promotion." To your horror, he put his hands on your hips and turned you both to his three companions who had seemingly followed him, all of them wearing leering grins. "Why don't you join us, hm? We could need a little entertainment." He murmured against your neck, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Before he could place his lips anywhere close to your skin, you struggled out of his grip and stumbled a few steps away from him. "I-I'm sorry, but I need to go home. I'm already late."

The man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch stepped closer to you, smirking when you accidentally walked right into one of his friends. The guy immediately held you against him, keeping you in place.

"I think you could spare a couple of minutes." The leader said firmly and reached for your blouse.

Fear seemed to be a great way to quickly sober one up because the next thing you did was stomp down on the foot of the man that was holding you, your heel hitting his toe perfectly, causing him to let you go with a cry in pain and a curse. Next, you rammed your knee into the crotch of the man in front of you and when his body doubled over, you pushed him to the side and bolted down the sidewalk.

Not daring to look back, you sprinted as fast as you could, but the alcohol made it hard to keep balance, not to mention the nausea that bubbled up in your stomach. But you ignored it and tried to keep it down when you heard their calls from behind you, coming closer and closer.

This was not how you wanted to spend your last night, this was not how you imagined it. Tears clouded your view and you narrowly escaped the grabby hand of whatever guy that was closest to you when you ducked down and sharply took a left turn into an alley.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched.

The next thing you felt was hard concrete as you fell forward when a heavyweight collided with your back. You cried out in pain when you hit your head, then hysterically screamed in panic when you felt hands on your skirt and you started kicking around, not caring if you hit something or not. You heard a grunt when your heel finally made contact with the shoulder of one of them, but you barely had time to bask in your little victory when a punch to your face almost knocked you out cold. Your body went instantly slack, a long-winded groan leaving your mouth.

"Move your ass and hold her down." The voice of the leader sounded from somewhere above you. "And turn her around. I like to watch their face when they give up."

Hands turned you on your back as your screams and cries accompanied your attempts to fight their hands off.

"No… please no." You begged as your wrists were pinned above your head by a pair of rough hands. "No!" You screamed louder, in a high-pitched, panicking voice when your blouse was ripped open, your brassiere following suit, and your chest got groped by a calloused hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt an eager mouth around your nipple, harshly sucking on it while your breasts were still in a painfully hard grasp. You tried to gather your last strength, the drinks earlier and then the hit to your head from the fall tempted you to just fall unconscious, but you bucked your body up in hopes you could throw whoever was above you off of you.

Only you couldn't move. Someone was straddling your thighs, hindering you from moving.

You finally forced yourself to open your eyes and the blurry image of the leader pushing up your skirt presented itself in front of you.

"Stop, please! Help!" You started screaming again, causing the leader to sigh in annoyance.

"Could you please shut her up, for fuck's sake? I'm trying to enjoy myself here." He growled at the guy who was holding your hands down, his patience growing thinner with every passing moment he wasn't able to force himself inside you. "When I'm done with her, you get what's left of her."

"No, no, no..." You wailed when you heard the clinking of his belt and a zipper being opened, but you soon got silenced when a palm pressed down on your mouth.

Rather than keep watching him, you closed your eyes in defeat, now only feeling how he moved closer to your crotch, his fingers pushing your underwear aside, and positioned himself against your entrance.

A dull thud behind your attackers stilled them for a moment, but a raging roar got them to whip around. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see whatever feral animal was going to maul you and those men.

A scream, something wet splashing on you and something, someone, heavy landing on top of you got you to finally open your eyes again. You stared right into a gaping hole where the head of a person normally should be. Maybe it was the shock of almost ending up left on the ground in this alley, covered in bruises, blood and bodily fluids after they were done with you, that kept you from screaming.

In a daze, you pushed the corpse off of you and looked down at your body. It was covered in blood, parts of a splattered brain, and white fragments that had been the skull of the leader of the group. His head had burst into pieces. No animal could have done that and no human either. There was no weapon on earth with that much destructive power, so what…

With slow eyes, you looked up from your soiled legs. The guy now lying dead next to you had been obscuring the view of a large creature standing no more than three meters across from you.

Whatever it was, it seemed livid. Its body was heaving with wrathful breaths and its long fingers were twitching, clenching into fists before relaxing them again. Its massive form was hidden by darkness and you could barely make out its silhouette.

It felt like an eternity with you just staring at the creature and it (probably) staring right back. The other assaulters, two of whom had fallen to the ground in shock with the sudden attack on their leader, hadn't dared to move a muscle. Maybe they were in a trance just as you were, not for the same reason, of course.

"H-Hey!" The fourth guy squeaked, breaking the tension that seemed to suffocate the whole alley. "Wha-"

In a practiced, seemingly effortless movement, the creature whipped out its arm, and something silvery shot out of the darkness. It wrapped around the throat of the man, choking him and sending him to his knees. He was clawing his neck and tried to remove what seemed to be a whip made out of sleek silver and grey material. 

You watched him as he desperately tried to free himself and blood started to flow from where the whip was wrapped around his neck down to his shirt, turning the light blue fabric deep red. Your eyes then traveled along the bladed chain, you now noticed, to the other end of it, and found the large creature moving towards you.

If you would have been able to make a sound, you would have, but you were still too out of it that no noise escaped your bloody lips when you were finally able to distinguish your savior. 

It was indeed huge, a massive body that was dwarfing any human being you could think of. Its appearance was bizarre. Its feet and calves up to its knees were in unusual boots made out of metal instead of leather with an interesting design. You wondered if it was the skin of the creature or if it was wearing a net-like cloth that was visible on every body part that wasn't hidden beneath armor like the chest plate that bled over into a full sleeve of its arm. It was covering the left side of its chest but not enough to conceal a rather fit upper body. You found yourself staring a lot longer at the well-defined, almost sculpted abs of it. It was no doubt a male.

As you were eyeing the creature up, he yanked on the whip. You were only aware of a dull thud when the bladed chain cut off the head of the man who had been in its hold. 

You didn't register when more blood sprinkled on you as you were too busy trying to imagine a face underneath that strange mask. With his green, brownish, and beige reptilian skin, the long black tendrils sprouting from the head, the long claws, and the animalistic posture, he was, without a doubt, not human. 

An arm wrapping around your throat from behind, preventing you from breathing evenly, brought you back to reality. You immediately put up a fight, scratching it and pulling on the arm in hopes he would let go.

It was one of the attackers that had fallen to the ground when the creature had appeared. He must have scrambled over to you when his last companion was foolishly enough to run up to the murderous beast, trying to do something quite laughable, only to be impaled by a spear and was now hanging on the wall to the right like he was a portrait above a chimney, the spear rammed through the brick of the apartment building.

The idiot behind you thought the creature would let him go if he was holding you hostage as if he wasn't going to kill the both of you just like his buddies. So foolish, you internally sighed.

"S-S-Stop! I'm warning you!" He screamed at the towering figure which was closing in on you. "I will… I will kill her!"

The creature stopped a few steps away from you and reached behind his back. Quicker than your eyes could keep up, his hand shot forward and he threw something of the size of an orange at the man.

Yelling, the man loosened his grip, his instincts kicking in to fight against whatever was sticking to his forehead. In his struggle, he fell on his back and started rolling around on the floor when the little device made a strange wiring noise. His body went stock still when he was engulfed in a net, restraining him. Then the man screamed bloody murder when the wiring noise grew louder and the device pulled the net tighter around him.

You turned to him, only to see the strings cutting into his skin, drawing blood, until only pieces of his body were left of him, leaving him unidentifiable to whoever would find him and his friends.

Now, it was only you in that alley. You, the beast that saved you and the bloody massacre, turning the place into an image of horror.

You were going to get sick if you stared at what had been a living and breathing human once any longer. Rather than wanting to face the creature when it was going to kill you, you turned back around and then startled back. Said beast was crouching in front of you, the head cocked to the side.

He reached out a clawed hand and you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for whatever gruesome death he had planned for you. You thought back to everything you had achieved in your life, every person that was still dear to you, said goodbye to every place you loved to visit, to the movie you had wanted to watch in a week with a friend, to the unread book on your bedside table and every dream you had wanted fulfill — you had actually planned to do that in a few hours. At least he was going to give you a quick death and not whatever the authorities had done to your father.

Something poked your cheek.

Your eyes snapped open and you were met with a closer view of the strange mask covering the creature's face. His hand was outstretched and a finger was prodding your skin. A strange noise was coming from behind the mask, something you could only describe as a rumbling purr. 

You stayed still, afraid if you would only move a muscle, it would set the creature off and let him drag his clawed finger up to your temple where a trail of blood had started to run from the wound you got from the fall. You hissed in pain when the pad of his thumb stroked — probably unintentionally hard — over your lower lip, the rough skin touching where it was busted. He pulled its thumb away only to replace it with the back of his pointer and middle finger to caress your jaw and down to your throat. The touch caused you to swallow which he most likely could feel. Only when you felt the scaly sensation on your skin dip too deep, too far beneath the ripped remains of your blouse, you gripped his wrist.

The creature's head snapped up where it had followed his exploration. You flinched back at the sudden movement and quickly loosened your hold on his wrist, pulling it away like you had burnt yourself.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, your voice hoarse.

What if you had just signed your death? What if you touching him like that had triggered him? What if he thought you were a threat now? What if he thought of it as highly offensive? What if he was going to kill you now? What if-

A low thump caused you to flinch when he hit the left side of his chest with his right fist. With parted lips, you looked from his fist up to his masked face and then back again, confused, both at the gesture and the lack of aggression towards you. Almost as if he could understand the look on your face, he repeated the action with a little more determination after he inched closer to you. You were more focused on his sudden closeness, daring not to move back, but you hastily turned your gaze down to his fist. It was a little hard to concentrate on what he was trying to tell you after the vast change of demeanor — from murdering in cold blood to trying to… communicate with you?

"You?" You tried hesitantly.

It really was your best guess on what he could mean.

A soft growl reached your ears from underneath his mask, making you tense up but relaxed in relief the second his attention turned to his forearm. You watched in curiosity as his clawed pointer finger ghosted over the armor-like wristband that started flashing in a bright red and made strange beeping noises like when a caller on the other line hung up before you could. Your mouth opened without you even noticing. You had never seen something like it, probably no one ever had. How was it functioning without cables like your telephone and radio did?

"Are you telling me you are married?"

You jumped back a little when a male voice chimed from his wristband.

"To a cup of tea, I will never say no."

"I can't believe you put the jar in the oven!"

You looked at him in astonishment as more voices sounded from his forearm. Human voices.

He kept repeating the same three sentences, but they seemed to get shorter with every replay.

“-telling me you are… telling me… me.”

"-a cup of tea… tea."

“-you put the jar in the… you put the jar… the jar… jar.”

He seemed to be satisfied as he let out a deep, low-pitched chirp before he played the cut and put together word snippets to you, his head facing you now.

“Me-tea-jar.” He hit his chest once again before playing the word again. “Me-tea-jar.”

"Meetja?" You tried the word, tried how it felt on your tongue.

He let out a deep grumble before he played the same word again and leaned even closer to you.

“Me-tea-jar.”

"M-Meetiar. Mi'ytiar."

With his head slightly cocked to the side, he tilted it forward in a one-movement nod as if to say, "Now you got it." and his fist hit his chest one last time.

"You. Mi'ytiar. T-That's your name?" You asked and hoped you put the puzzle pieces together correctly.

Another nod before he pointed at you.

"Oh." You softly said, shifted your hips slightly, and nervously placed a hand on your own chest. “(Y/N). I'm (Y/N)."

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounded from his forearm when he touched his wristband. “(Y/N).”

You couldn't help the small smile and you nodded. "Yes. (Y/N)."

The creature — Mi'ytiar — lowly grumbled in appreciation and you breathed out the air you had been holding in your lungs with a laugh. You couldn't believe you talked, more or less, to something that undoubtedly didn't belong on earth while you were surrounded by death after being spared from something that would have scarred you for life just because you had been out drinking to have one last night in freedom until you would follow your father in an early grave. Your life really had taken a strange turn in just a few hours.

"What are you?" You asked him and tilted your head to the side.

"Hunter." He communicated with the help of his wristband.

"Where do you come from?"

"Sky."

"Sky." You repeated the child's voice and looked up.

So he came from the sky. You wondered if he meant the clouds or maybe the moon. It could be the stars for all you knew. Was he the only one living there, or were there more? Maybe one like him lived on each star the night sky had to offer.

As you were looking up in thought, Mi'ytiar took his time to admire you. You were, what you humans would use, adorable. He didn't hunt humans very often as they weren't much of a challenge, but sometimes he would visit earth out of curiosity. Your kind was interesting and his ancestors had been quite fond of them when they used them to breed their prey centuries ago. Humans have continuously developed from then to now, so it was fascinating to watch.

Like he watched you now. He admired your wide eyes, the curve of your nose, and your rosy cheeks that displayed the dried tear streaks of panic and fear. He admired the shape of your lips and the cut that had caused you pain when he touched it. He admired your shiny hair that had once been pulled up in a neat bun but was now hanging loosely and messily around your face, framing it like it was a piece of art. He admired your small, shaking hands that were desperately holding the ripped-open blouse together, protecting your modesty and the naked skin of your trembling shoulders when the fabric had slipped down to your biceps. You had been so incredibly warm and soft when he had touched what you were hiding now.

A quiet hiss got you to look back at him and you watched with uncertainty as his fingers first pulled on the one tube that was connected to his mask and then the other before he removed it anxiously slow. You mentally prepared yourself for the most horrific sight of your life, but when the top half of his face was laid bare, you sucked in a breath. It wasn't the foreign shape of his head, the texture of his skin, or the spiky triangle-shaped bumps that circled the sides and the back of his head like a crown, clearly dividing where the roots of his hair ended and his face started. It was his eyes, though an abnormal orange, that was salient and captivating you. They didn't look like what your wildest fantasies had to offer, but they somewhat seemed almost human — a black pupil surrounded by an orange iris. And not just any orange. It was the kind of orange that stretched across the sky at every sunrise and sunset. The only difference you spotted from your own eyes was that he had a black sclera instead of a white one.

You would have gotten lost in them if he hadn't removed the mask fully, so his lower face was showing too. You wouldn't exactly describe it as terrifying, but the sight of his mouth was, to say it simply, unnerving. It was hidden behind four tusks that represented his mandibles. You were fascinated when he suddenly made a clicking noise but were taken aback when he extended the fleshy texture to reveal two rows of teeth. It was like he had two jaws, one when the mandibles were retracted to his face and one when they were extended and showed his actual mouth. His upper jaw held three teeth with two larger fangs on each side, his lower jaw held the same amount only were they a little thinner, so his fangs wouldn't hinder his mouth from closing.

Even after the initial shock subsided, you wouldn't exactly use the word pretty, but there was something about him. Thrilling and particular, astounding and intriguing, but also alluring.

The longer you looked at him, at Mi'ytiar, the more accustomed you got to his appearance.

Another clicking sound reached your ears and you stopped mapping his features with your eyes, only now realizing how he looked down at you with his head tilted to the side. When you mumbled his name, almost as if it took all your courage, he straightened up and his eyes snapped to your hand that had loosened its grip on your blouse. He followed its movement, getting closer to his face, and when you turned your hand so your palm was facing him, his own hand reacted fast and grabbed your delicate wrist.

Bad idea, real bad idea, you thought. He wasn't exactly hurting you, but his grip wasn't exactly soft.

Instead of tugging against his hold in an attempt to free yourself that would obliviously fail, you let your arm go slack. Instead of panicking, you remained calm. Instead of screaming at him to let you go, you kept your mouth shut and waited for his next move. If you triggered him in any way, he would surely kill you.

Mi'ytiar, on the other hand, was amazed by you and in awe. He wouldn't be the first Yautja to be enthralled with a human in this kind of way, sure, but he hadn't expected to be one of them one day. You were extraordinary in the way you looked at him, didn't mind the proximity he had put you in, and apparently seemed to seek for it.

Contrary to what you believed, he pulled your hand closer to his face by the wrist, causing you to move from your side-sit on the floor to get on your knees. Your lips parted in surprise when he pulled his mandibles in and he himself brought your hand up to his cheek.

The sensation underneath your touch was unusual and new. His cheek wasn't like that of a human when you would press the fat until you could feel the jaw bone. It was springy, considering it was only a fleshy layer that covered his mouth. You moved your hand down to his outer jaw, which consisted of his mandible, and followed its length with your palm. You could feel the firm muscle and bone and gave it a gentle, experimental squeeze. Almost automatically, he made a soft purring noise like that one of a cat and you blushed at the possibility that he was enjoying the caress.

You, of course, had no idea that you were touching a highly sensitive part of his anatomy and would be alive to tell the tale afterward.

Just as you were curious about him, he was eager to explore you as well. Carefully, he reached out and through the ripped-open front of your blouse. Seconds later, his palm made contact with your stomach and he could feel how you tensed up. He looked up into your eyes, but when he found nothing that indicated that you despised his touch, his hand ran along to your waist and down to your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your belly. It was strange how you could feel his thumb near your navel and, at the same time, his other fingers on your lower back, taking the width of your hip like it was nothing.

The both of you were too busy in your explorations that you had grown ignorant to your surroundings, so when a scream filled the previously quiet alley, you grabbed his extended arm, not to push it away but to hold onto it in panic, while Mi'ytiar whirled his head around to the two outlines standing near the street at the end of the alley. Your body was hidden by his massive one, so it looked like a monster was kneeling among his freshly killed victims, basking in the glory of his crime.

Mi'ytiar's mandibles flared and the guttural roar that left his lungs made you cling to him in fear. Not of him, but the consequences that you would have to face if those who had stumbled upon this scene without context would call for the patrolling soldiers. You heard more screams and hastily retreating footsteps as the couple ran as if their lives depended on it.

Large hands grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder, causing you to squeal in surprise, and you had barely time to hold onto him before he started climbing up the metal scaffolding of the balconies of the apartment building, jumping up and landing on the roof. With an arm secure around your waist, he jumped and ran further and further away.

And you let him.

2024, Yautja Prime

"What you smiling for?"

And all of a sudden, those purred words were taking you from your past life to your current one. You hadn't even noticed you had stopped drawing random figures and forms on Mi'tyiar's naked chest. At some point, you had started daydreaming with that far-away look in your eyes and a smile slowly making its way on your lips as you were lying on him, between his legs.

"Just thought of the night we met." You drawled lazily and rubbed your cheek against his reptilian-like skin. "My hero in shining alien amour."

"My amour does not shine."

Now you had to laugh. Sometimes, you couldn't help yourself when he was so bluntly clueless. Humans and their analogies were oh-so confusing.

"It's a human saying, my love." You explained as you crossed your arms on his wide chest and rested your chin on them. "A male who saves a female from danger. A male who would sacrifice himself so the female can get away without harm."

Mi'ytiar reached towards your face and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek before he dragged it over your lower lip. You were dreamingly looking up at him, basking in his loving touch. You were placing your hand on his and turned your head to the side so you could pepper his palm with light kisses.

He couldn't help his body's reaction, he just couldn't. He was starved of your touch.

You suddenly stopped your sweet kisses when you felt something big poking your stomach. You looked down, although you could only see how your breasts were pressed against him, before you looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You are insatiable." You smirked and hoisted yourself up after placing one last kiss between his pecs.

You straddled his midriff but left enough space between you and him so you could reach underneath your body and grab his semi-hard cock. Even at this size, you had a little trouble fully embracing it and getting your fingertips to touch.

You hissed when you felt the familiar sting of his sharp mandibles and teeth digging into your skin. You tilted your head to the side and offered him more access. Mi'ytiar let out a feral growl when your blood finally hit his tongue. He relished in it, tasting so sweet, just like the rest of you.

Grasping your hips with both of his hands, his claws scratching your delicate skin, he pushed them down to his crotch.

He needed you again, needed to be so deep inside you, so he could see the bulge of his cock forming in your tummy. Just the thought of it made his hips snap up, barely missing your entrance and dragging his cock through your sopping wet folds that were covered with your combined releases from your last mating moments ago. It elicited a whiny moan and a wiggle of your hips.

"Stop teasing, tanhì. Put it in." You groaned and started rubbing yourself up and down his rock-hard cock, coating it with your mixed cum that was still leaking from your hole.

Mi'ytiar wrapped a large arm around you and started to get up, his other arm supporting himself to manhandle you on your back to be on top. The second your hazy mind registered what he was doing, you placed both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back down. You preened when his body immediately went slack, allowing you to do as you pleased with him.

He was staring up at you with flashing eyes. You didn't take the lead very often, preferring it to be dominated by your mate, but when you did, he was gladly giving you the power you wanted.

The first time you had tried to be on top, it had gone from steamy to ugly pretty quickly. You had been on your back when you tried to push him and switch your position, but since he had been unmovable like a rock, you had untangled yourself from him and told him to lie back. You were straddling his hips, humping his hardening cock for exactly thirty seconds before he flipped you over and on your back again. You had then mewled and tried to push him back once more, causing him to growl. For your attitude, he bit roughly into your throat, hoping it would keep you submissive. You let out a cry and hit his chest with both of your fists. This time, Mi'ytiar showed you his displeasure more vocally when he slammed his flat hands next to both sides of your head and roared right into your face. Safe to say, it scared the living daylights out of you and caused you to escape his caging arms. He, of course, followed you quickly and tried to amend his outburst with purrs and snuggles rather than words.

The next time you were on top, he vehemently focused on staying seated on the edge of your nest with you on his lap as you rode him with his helping hands on your hips. His eyes strayed from the spot where his cock was disappearing inside of you, to the bulge in your stomach that grew and shrunk with every movement, to your bouncing breasts, to your pleasure-contorted face.

After that, he couldn't get enough of you being on top.

The same was the case now as you slowly inserted his throbbing cock into your-

A wail broke the sensual atmosphere, causing the both of you to jerk your heads to the doorway connecting the room to the rest of your home. With your maternal instincts kicking in, you practically jumped up from your mate, his half-inside cock slipping from your tight heat, and ran to the room where the sound was coming from.

Mi'ytiar slumped back with a displeased grunt. He loved his pup dearly, truly he did, but he hadn't been able to mate with you for an eternity — five months, double the time the healer had advised you to keep from being intimate with each other after the pregnancy because a certain someone had been overly cautious with you — and his cock throbbed painfully at that sorrowful thought.

He got up from the nest and followed the direction you had run off to. Your five-month-old pup was sleeping alone in his room for only a short part of his life. Before that, his crib had been standing next to the nest in your room, quickly accessible and in reach should he need any sort of attention. Now, he was sleeping in his big brother's former nursery, which you had lovingly prepared when you had been pregnant with Akail, your first pup.

Mi'ytiar watched you standing in front of the crib in the middle of the room, your back to him, as you rocked the whiny pup in your arms. The wholesome thoughts of his beautiful mate taking such good care of his youngling quickly turned into an animalistic need to breed you once more when his eyes trailed over your curves that had gotten bigger after bearing his second son. They fixed on your legs where trails of semen were running down your skin from between your inner thighs.

He was faster by your side than you would expect from a being of his size. He pressed his bare body against your own, hands on your hips pulling you closer, his cock digging into your back. Mi'ytiar bent down to snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, purring lowly.

"He was just hungry." You whispered as you watched your pup falling back to sleep.

Bending over, you placed your little one back into his crib, careful not to disturb him. You had to bite your lip when you felt Mi'ytiar pull you back against his crotch to rub himself against your ass. All you needed to do was push your ass back into him for him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and turn to leave your son's nursery.

Giggling, you looked back to the pup's crib and whispered, "Dream of the stars, my little Toyah." before you got carried back to your nest.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid

⇨ Want to join the tag list?